23. Solomon
TWENTY-THREE
SOLOMON
“Are you sure this was a good idea?” Em asks for about the tenth time since Jay and I told her about our plans.
Her brother groans from my kitchen—where he’s scrounging for snacks to steal from me before we leave for the concert, even though Cecelia assured us there would be catering back stage before the show.
“No one said you had to go!” Jay calls. “Stay home if you think it’s such a bad idea.”
But I can see Em looking at me out of the corner of her eye and I know she’s too worried about me and this entire situation to skip it. She doesn’t think I’ll be able to handle the night out.
The truth is, I’m not sure if I agree with her or not.
Crowds and loud noises are not my favorite thing.
And it doesn’t help that I’ve been forcing myself to deal with way more socialization than I’m used to over the last few weeks.
I just haven’t wanted Cecelia to feel like she has to miss out on things because she’s sleeping with a loser who can’t keep his shit together.
My tolerance for this kind of thing usually follows a pretty specific pattern. If Jay drags me out to a party or a bar, I can handle it okay so long as I get plenty of time to decompress before he makes me do it again.
I haven’t been giving myself much time to decompress lately. And that’s usually when I have problems.
But I still can’t say that I would change anything.
The last few weeks with Cecelia have been amazing.
I get to see her every day, listen to her talk and see her laugh up close.
I get to touch her whenever we want—so long as we’re not in public.
But even then, she doesn’t seem to mind if I hold her hand under the table or something.
I’m not sure if she realizes how much it calms me to be able to feel her warm skin against mine.
The voice in my head hasn’t gone away, not completely, but it is quieter now. It only warns me that I ‘better enjoy this while it lasts because she’s definitely going to leave soon’ a few times a day, instead of all the time.
I rub my forehead, tired of myself. I’m dating an amazing woman who wants to take me to do cool things, like see a popular band from the VIP section and hang out with them backstage. There’s literally nothing for me to be anxious about.
But that doesn’t stop my stomach from clenching with nerves when I get the text from Cecelia letting me know the cars are downstairs to pick us up.
“Sweet!” Jay says, abandoning his search for food to shoo us down the hall to the door. “I wonder if Cade convinced them to get the party bus.”
Instead, we find two sleek SUVs on the curb. Cecelia is just climbing out of one and she grins when she sees us, making my heart do that stuttering thing yet again. “I was going to come up and get you.”
“Jay was too excited to wait,” I say drily.
A window rolls down in the other SUV. “Hey, you guys!” Vega calls, sticking her head out and waving. A second head joins her in the window and I do a double-take. It’s another woman about our age, maybe a little older, and she looks almost exactly the same as Vega.
“That’s Vega’s sister, Santana,” Cecelia says, rolling her eyes. “She’s very excited to meet you.”
“Hi!” Vega’s sister calls. Then, in a stage whisper, “he’s even cuter than you said, V.”
Cecelia glares at them before turning back to us. “I guess I should apologize for my family right now, because God knows they’re only going to be more annoying as the night goes on.”
“I’m not annoying,” Cade calls from the car door Cecelia left open. “But I am hungry as fuck. Can we get moving or what?”
“Yes, please,” Cecelia mutters. “We’re in this car, you guys.” She gestures at the open door, waiting for Jay and Em to pass her. “Um, Emery, I like your boots.”
“Thanks,” Em says, her voice a little tight. I’m pretty sure I see Jay pinch her as they climb into the car. There’s a brief second while we wait for them to get in where it’s just Cecelia and I standing on the sidewalk.
“Hey,” she murmurs, going up on her tiptoes to give me a quick kiss. A little risky, since I live so close to campus, but I can’t help deepening the kiss. I’m still feeling anxious, and nothing grounds me more than the feel of her lips on mine.
“It’s good to see you,” I whisper against her mouth.
Her eyes study mine, and I wonder if she’s looking for signs that I’m not up for this. I force the anxiety down even deeper, determined to just be normal tonight. “It’s good to see you, too—”
“Can you stop sucking face so we can go?” Vega calls from the other car, and Cecelia takes in a deep, clearly annoyed breath.
“You sure you don’t want to ditch them all and go do something else?” she asks, sounding hopeful.
My honest answer would probably be yes. But I know Cecelia really does want to see her brother and cousins play. So I give her my most easy-going smile and nudge her toward the door. “Are you kidding? I haven’t been to a concert in ages. I’m excited.”
But I feel a lot better when we get settled in the car and she immediately takes my hand in hers.
It’s just the four of us and Cade in this vehicle, with the twins, Vega and her sister in the other SUV.
From what Cecelia told me, she’s expecting more of her cousins and possibly her two oldest brothers to be at the show as well, but she says the parents won’t be attending.
I’m pretty relieved by that—this night already feels stressful enough without meeting the parents. One of whom is a famous rock star.
Cade tells us about the band on the way to the venue. “The five of them are the only cousins who got really into music.”
“And Santana,” Cecelia says, pointing at the other SUV in front of us in LA traffic.
“But she wants to be a country singer,” Cade says, voice dripping with disdain. “So that doesn’t count at all.”
Cecelia laughs. “True.”
“I guess it’s rock or nothing with you guys, huh?” Jay asks.
“Pretty much,” Cecelia agrees. “Oh, and my brother Will plays guitar for his wife, Eva, sometimes when she tours.”
“Eva mostly does pop stuff,” Cade says. “But we love her anyway.”
“What does your other brother do?” Jay asks.
“He’s a classical piano player.” Cecelia gives a sheepish smile. “So I guess Cade was kind of underselling it when he said Ruby Roads were the only ones who really got into music.”
Cade snorts. “Yeah, I guess it’s more like half the family.”
“Your mom, too, right?” Jay asks.
“Yeah. Mom’s the lead singer of Intrigue.” He says it like it’s the most natural thing in the world, like it’s not weird at all to have both your parents be in the rock and roll hall of fame.
“Aunt Haylee is the shit,” Cecelia says. “Way cooler than any of the Ransome men.”
On the bench behind us, Em makes a little squeaking noise.
“Is she going to be there tonight?” she asks, voice high-pitched.
I grin to myself. Em has had a massive crush on Haylee Hunt, Intrigue’s lead singer, since we were in junior high.
Maybe if Cecelia can introduce them at some point, Em will stop being so cold toward her.
“She better not be,” Cade mutters. “I want to have a good time tonight, and I don’t need my mother there messing with the vibe.”
Cecelia snorts. “Your mother adds to the vibe, dumbass. She’s the coolest woman alive.
” She squeezes my hand. “But none of the parents are supposed to be there tonight.” I can tell she’s relieved by that.
Maybe she’s as eager as I am to avoid an awkward parent meeting at this point in our relationship.
It’s early enough in the evening that LA traffic doesn’t slow us down too much, and we get to the venue before the openers have gone on stage.
The SUVs bring us to a back entrance, but the line to get in the front door is so long it’s stretched past this point.
When we climb out of the car, some of the fans start screaming.
I hear shouts for Cecelia and the other five Ransomes, but then the SUV drivers flank us.
They’re joined by a few burly guys dressed all in black that stream out of the venue—clearly security.
They circle our group and usher us into the building.
Are the SUV drivers security guards too?
Does Cecelia often need security? The thought sends a little jolt of unease through me.
“That would be so freaking weird,” Em mutters next to me. “To have people cheering for you just because of who your parents are.”
I nod, my eyes still on Cecelia. She doesn’t look the slightest bit bothered as she’s hurried into the building, like she’s used to this kind of thing. I guess she must be at this point, but I still really don’t like the idea of her needing security.
“Your family is in the dressing room with the band,” one of the burly guys says as we enter into a crowded back hallway. “Right this way.”
Cecelia takes my hand again and looks up at me. There’s no disguising the worry on her face now. “If it’s too much, you’ll let me know, right?”
I know she’s concerned about the crowd, about the noise.
She’s just looking out for me because she cares about me, but God, there’s a part of me that hates it.
Hates that she feels the need to do this.
Hates that she has a good reason for worrying about me.
Hates that just about everyone in my life assumes I can’t be trusted to handle shit.
“I’m sure it will be fine,” I say, trying to keep the sharpness out of my voice. But from the way she winces slightly, I’m not so sure I succeeded.
But there’s not much time to worry about it, because a moment later we’re being ushered into what I assume is the dressing room.
There’s a chorus of shouts and welcomes, loud enough to be heard over the blaring music.
“The Littles have arrived!” someone yells and then I’m being pushed into the room with the rest of them.