Chapter 1 #2
I found him wrapping up cords on the amphitheater stage. When we made eye contact, he hopped down and made his way to me. I didn’t expect the hug he gave me, but returned it eagerly.
“Want a tour of backstage?”
“Of course.” I took his outstretched hand, and he helped me up onto the stage. When I stood straight up, instead of letting my hand go, he twirled me under his arm like a ballerina—as if he hadn’t already made me dizzy enough.
He was good. I had to give him that.
“I’m glad you came.”
I ran my hand down his arm. “Of course. I am a little nervous about skating though.”
“The fearless Lydia Bennet is nervous?”
“I simply don’t have time for injuries.” It was true. With helping at the bakery, finishing my degree, and well…my other interests…ahem, handsome fae rockstars, I didn't have the time to nurse an injury.
“So responsible. You are a Bennet girl after all,” he said so frankly that it came across as an enormous compliment. Though in the back of mind, I hoped he remembered which Bennet sister I was. “We’re going to have a great evening, I just need to put a few more things away.”
“Oh, let me help,” my voice was a bit too eager.
“Sure,” he said. Instead of climbing off of the stage, he led me around the back door. “I know you’ve met most of the band, but I don’t know if I’ve officially introduced you to everyone.”
Backstage, a few people stood around chatting and organizing supplies.
Wickham caught their attention and introduced me.
“Lydia, this is Zoe, who sings female vocals, and Ernesto, who sings male vocals. Mathis is on drums, Harley plays keyboard, Bradley’s on lead guitar, Tim is on alternative strings, and Alex is our manager.
And you’ll probably forget that the moment you walk out the door. So—no worries.”
“Yeah, hi. I'll remember. I’ve already met most of you.” Everyone waved or gave me that subtle nod that says, What’s up?, which was the best I would get for the time being. They were moving equipment around and weren't interested in conversing further.
“I just need two minutes to load my stuff.” Wickham patted my shoulder and turned to the manager. “Hey, Alex, have you seen my new bass?”
“No. Seriously, Wickham, we just bought that.” Alex’s aura flared red and orange.
There wasn’t an entirely accurate guide for interpreting auras, but I guessed that meant anger.
He gave Wickham a frosty stare. “We really need to be careful with our budget if we are going to promote the band. You should know where it is.”
Wickham rolled his eyes. “Hey man, I know it’s here. I just don’t see it.”
The other band members glanced between Wickham and Alex like they were worried a fight might break out. But Wickham ignored them and searched behind a pile of boxes, brow furrowed.
“Can I help?” I asked.
“If you see a blue bass—” Wickham started.
“Well, I hope it’s not just sitting out of its case,” Alex chided. He had to be about a decade older than most of the band members, with slicked-back hair, barely graying at the temples. He wore a button-up shirt with designer sunglasses indoors.
Wickham’s mouth tightened into a line. “Relax, man. I see it in the corner. I’m going to load it into the van. See all of you later.”
Alex said nothing, but the other members of the band nodded or waved goodbye.
Once we were back outside, Wickham’s eyebrow twitched.
“Sorry about Alex. He’s been so on edge lately, mostly about money.
He thinks he can treat me like garbage because I borrowed some money from him a while back.
It’s tempting to fire him, but then I’d have to pay it all back immediately.
We obviously have some major things to work out. ”
We walked across the icy parking lot, our breath visible in the night air.
“That’s a tough situation to be in. He’s kind of holding the money over your head. Uptight people are the worst.” It never occurred to me that Wickham might have serious problems or concerns with his rock star life. But it mustn’t all be fame and excitement.
Wickham shoved his guitar case into the gray van parked by the amphitheater. Then he turned and smiled, revealing his signature dimples. “But you and I aren’t like that, and we’re going to have an amazing night.”
My heart fluttered. This was a little too good to be true. “Of course.”
He took my hand, so naturally, it was like we’d been together for ages—-like I was already his. If it had been some other guy, I might have wanted a bit more time, but with Wickham, it was perfect. He was perfect.
We walked together to Regency Meadows Pond, where a few couples were already skating to music, courtesy of a hired DJ.
Fairy lights decorated the surrounding trees.
And while a winter night in Austen Heights was usually unbearable, I was comfortable with my overcoat, due to the fae enchantment.
The waning gibbous moon bathed the world in silver light, and glittering snowflakes danced on the breeze.
I gasped. “Wickham, this is lovely. Only, I hope I don’t fall while we’re skating.”
He smiled at me and brushed a lock of his dark hair from his face. “We can just try it. No worries.”
After we donned our skates, Wickham stepped onto the ice first and reached out his hand. “After you.”
“Thank you.” I took his hand and joined him.
I wobbled a lot, and a few times, Wickham caught me before I slipped.
But, just as I steadied my legs, a little girl flew in front of me.
I had to choose between sacrificing myself or landing on her.
To avoid injuring her, I whipped my body in the other direction, stumbled over my own feet, and landed on my knee.
Searing pain shot through my entire body.
Too embarrassed to scream or cry out, I bit my lip.
“That had to be painful. Are you okay to stand?” Wickham turned around to help me up. His eyes widened as he pulled me to my feet. "It was brave of you to protect that kid."
“Is she okay?” I whimpered, testing my footing as Wickham steadied me. The confused little girl looked back at me, unaware I'd spared her from catastrophe. “I’m not sure skating is for me.”
Music pulsed like a heartbeat as Wickham steadily guided me to the bench. “Let’s give you a break. I brought a thermos of cocoa. Want some?”
“Yes, definitely. Thank you.”
We arrived at the bench on the side of the pond, where we’d left our shoes and bags. Wickham brushed the thin layer of snow from the seat and pulled a small blanket from his bag. “I know it’s a bit cold for a picnic, so a blanket on a bench will have to do.”
“It’s perfect.” I said as I settled onto it. “So, tell me more about the famous George Wickham.”
“Well, I play bass.” He shrugged.
“There's far more to you than that. Spill.” I leaned closer, nudging him with my elbow.
“I played hockey in high school, and I teach guitar lessons on the side, but you know that. Your eyes are gorgeous—it’s distracting.
I was born in Manchester, England. But I came to the States as a kid and lived in upstate New York for much of my life, except while I was at university, and during my stint in the reserve.
Enough about me. You’re probably finishing up with college pretty soon, I’d imagine?
” He gave me an inquisitive look. If he thought my eyes were distracting, he should try looking in a mirror.
“Yes. I don’t advertise it, but I’m more scholarly than people believe. I graduated high school with my associate's degree, so I’ll finish my bachelor's this spring—art history major—and then I’m hoping to go to Europe for a while,” I said, wondering what it’d be like if he came along.
“Are you traveling alone?” he asked.
How to answer that one. “If I can arrange it, I’ll be going with some friends. My sister Kitty may come if I can drag her away from her boyfriend. Currently, I’m just trying to fund the trip." I gave him the gentlest nudge. "But, you know, I wouldn’t fight anybody if they wanted to join me.”
“Sounds like the trip of a lifetime. Europe is amazing. I miss my family’s holidays to the continent.” His dark eyes grew distant for.a moment.
“The continent . . . oh, European continent, of course. Sorry. Well, nothing’s official yet,” I answered. "You've had an adventurous life, it seems."
"You could describe it that way." The side of Wickham's mouth turned up, and he dug through his canvas bag. “I must’ve left the cocoa in my car. I’ll be right back.”
I stayed, resting my knee while Wickham jogged toward the parking lot. A few minutes later, he came back with a thermos of hot cocoa and some chocolate-dipped strawberries.
“You went overboard.” A twinge of guilt shot through me since he’d gone to so much trouble and I’d only fallen and banged up my knee.
Wickham scooted right next to me and wrapped his arm around my shoulders. With his free hand, he offered me the thermos. “It’s warmer this way.”
“Ten, nine . . .” The DJ started the New Year’s countdown.
“Wait, is it already almost midnight?” I asked, butterflies exploded in my stomach as I processed the implication.
The crowd shouted together, “ . . . three, two, one. Happy New Year!”
Wickham smiled. “Hadn’t even crossed my mind. Happy New Year, Lydia.”
And then we had our first kiss.
If I ever had to describe our first kiss to our posterity, I’d tell them to imagine what a first kiss between a rock star and a witch would be like. Ours was better. Almost too good to be true. And I will admit that he tasted like strawberries.
I love strawberries.
Everything was perfect. Until we got back to the amphitheater.