“Girl, are you about ready?” Tabbi calls from outside my door.
“Just a sec!” I respond, before diving into my closet one more time to find my favorite jean jacket to put on over my magenta skater-style dress. I slide my arms in and then roll up the sleeves, just enough that my tattoo peeks out. It’s been a few days, and it’s healing nicely. I run my fingertip lightly over the pink petals and black outline, smiling at the memory of that day. After one last quick look in the mirror, I open my door and head to our shared common area, where Tabbi and our other two roommates, Silvia and Monica, are waiting.
“I love that dress, Mia.” Silvia raises her drink at me, and I smile. These girls have been the biggest boost to my ego since the day we met. Tabbi and I are both from the States while Silvia is from England and Monica is from Australia. We are all here as part of a study-abroad program, and we bonded on our first weekend together with ice cream and wine, not together, but copious amounts of both were consumed. An innocent conversation about how Silvia broke up with her boyfriend of three years before entering the program led to all of us sharing our heartbreaks and boy stories. Needless to say, I ended up with the saddest tale, and if it was a competition, I would have scored the gold medal. It could have been the wine, but it was as if our souls all recognized each other, and we’ve been best friends ever since, cheering each other on, sharing our triumphs and losses as we navigate our new lives here. These girls are the closest thing to family I have had in years. After a few months in the dormitory area, we decided we wanted more space and freedom, especially since each of us had a part-time job. Silvia was able to talk to her father, who arranged a four-bedroom flat for us, that allowed us to be closer to our jobs, the beach, and the bars.
“Manning said the fire is already going and the band will start soon.” Tabbi checks her phone before slamming her drink. We all follow suit and then head out the door. Our place isn’t far from our favorite bar, Cuckoo Nest, so we always choose to walk.
“Did Manning say who’s playing tonight?” I ask, leaning toward Tabbi. Even in the dim lighting, with the sun setting, I can see a slight pinkish blush on Tabbi’s skin. About a month after we arrived, Tabbi started hanging out with Manning. He’s a bartender at Cuckoo’s Nest, and he managed to topple my prickly friend right off her, no-relationships high-horse that she came riding in on. Tabbi is a wild spirit and fiercely independent, except around Manning. Somehow, the burly bartender managed to not only talk her into a relationship, but he’s become just as head over heels for her as she is for him.
“I think he said it’s Rise Above,” she answers, while also playfully giving me the middle finger, making me laugh.
“Oooh!” Monica jumps. “I know them! I saw the poster in the grocery store. The guitarist is from my hometown, Sydney, and the lead singer is from here in Auckland. They are both so fucking hot!”
“Oh yes, I heard about them too. Everyone says they’re really good. They had a deal with a record company, but it went bad. They had to replace their drummer and bass guitarist because of it,” Silvia informs us. She works at Lola’s House, another popular spot downtown, and hears all the gossip. The rest of the walk there, she keeps us laughing with all the drama that occurs at her job daily. Thankfully, working at Dark Magic Ink, there is no drama. Fletch keeps the place running smoothly and the other artists who work there have a strict schedule that does not allow for mess-ups.
We get to the bar right as the crowd is picking up. Just as Manning said, the bonfire is lit, and he’s busy working behind the bar. When Manning sees Tabbi, he nods at her, and we make our way over.
“Hey ladies, the usuals?”
“Yes, please!” We nod excitedly. I wave at a few others in the crowd I know from school or just from hanging out here. Everyone is getting drinks and making their way to the stage that is set-up in the sand.
“This crowd is crazy,” I remark, and Manning nods.
“It’s the band. They’re a big deal in Australia and in some parts of Europe. They could have been huge in America, but there was an issue among the band members,” he tells us, shrugging his shoulders.
“When do they start?” Tabbi leans in and Manning’s attention is snagged instantly on her and the low-cut black tank she is wearing. He smiles, and she blushes.
“In just a few minutes.” Manning manages to get us all our drinks before taking the money Monica offers him. We thank him and join the crowd out on the sand.
Pink, yellow, blue and green lights dance over the stage. The band’s equipment is already set-up. Their logo is displayed over the drum set. When the lights go down, I can feel the energy and excitement buzzing around us. Four bodies, silhouetted in darkness, take the stage. The baseline from the bass guitar hums, and my heart rate accelerates then drops in response. The drummer’s beat becomes steady, and soon, the notes from the electric guitarist meld together so in sync, that the melody sends my blood thrashing in my veins. I couldn’t take my eyes off the stage if I wanted to. They hold my attention the same way as the rest of the crowd. Everything goes silent while we wait, and something tells me this concert is about to change my life.
Screams and cheers kick-up when the lights slowly lift, and right when my gaze lands on the man front and center, the most haunting yet beautiful words are sung from his mouth.
You said goodbye and I let you.
Did letting go mean forever? It’s all lies, baby.
Maybe I should have known better.
Goosebumps rise on my skin and I feel a lick of energy slide down my spine, putting me on edge, yet offering comfort at the same time. I watch the singer’s mouth move, singing a song that my soul recognizes. The lyrics are lonely yet inspiring, his voice is harsh, but so full of a methodical smoothness. And holy shit, he’s beautiful to look at. His dark brown hair is shaved close to his head, just barely half an inch longer on the top than the sides. The complete opposite of the long, inky black strands I’ve imagined running my fingers through. This man’s features are rough, with stubble over his angular jaw and around his plump lips. Instead of the warm honey orbs I used to dream about, his eyes are as dark. Even from here, I can see a hint of mischievousness in them. They are the types of eyes that hide the truth and play roulette with lies. It’s probably just a trick of the lights, but I swear he looks right at me, with every verse that tells a tale of a one-sided love and letting go.
“Why haven’t I ever heard of these guys before?” I lean into Tabbi and say in her ear.
She smiles and turns back to me. “Because some of the best music isn’t always born in the states.”
“Clearly,” I turn back to the stage, “what’s his name?”
“Becks Wilson,” Monica answers and bumps her hip with mine, dancing along with the beat. “He’s fucking hot.” I nod in agreement.
And, just like that, an ordinary night is becoming a night I won’t forget. I mentally take note of their band name again, determined to see them play anytime I can. Song after song, the band plays their original material, and I keep falling in love with their sound. I dance with the girls and we take turns heading back to the bar to get drinks. I have an enjoyable buzz going on.
“Thank you, everybody. You all look beautiful tonight!” Becks yells into the mic, his voice breaking slightly and sounding throaty from being used all night. The crowd erupts into cheers for them, once again, as they exit the stage.
“That was unbelievable,” Silvia gushes next to me, and I wrap my arm around her waist.
“So good,” Monica agrees with her. We head back to the bar, where Manning is pouring last calls. I slide up to the bar and wave at him. He nods then goes back to pouring.
“I have to go to the bathroom,” Tabbi whines a little, next to me.
“So go,” I laugh at her, she is clearly a little tipsy. “I’ll get this last round then we can leave.”
She nods and heads toward the inside of the bar. Monica and Silvia chatter excitedly while they follow her. Smiling to myself, I slide to the farthest corner, where the bar is almost tucked into an alcove, away from the crowd. I turn back toward Manning and wait for our drinks.
“Hey girl, Mia, with the flower tattoo,” a husky voice that I recognize says next to my ear. I whip to the side, my face only inches from a smiling Spyder. Without his hoodie on, I can see the crop of blond hair on top of his head, sweat dripping down his temples. His cheeks are red and he almost looks out of breath. His t-shirt and jeans look very familiar.
“Oh my god! Were you on the stage? Are you in the band?” I turn to him, giving him my full attention.
He chuckles lightly and holds a finger against his lips. I glance around and realize that no one has caught on to him standing here yet. A blush tinges my cheeks, and I lean closer. “Sorry!”
Spyder shrugs and grabs the water that Manning places on the bar in front of him. They nod at each other and fist bump. “What did you think of the show?”
I hesitate. It’s been a very long time since I’ve talked with anyone about music, usually pretending that I know nothing about it. Tabbi knows I used to sing and play piano, but I’ve pushed that part of me deep down inside. That’s the old Amelia, and I prefer being this newer version of Mia. My eyes flick up, and Spyder’s crystal blue gaze is on mine. Warmth heats my veins. “You guys were really good. Your drummer kept the beat right, the bass guitarist knew when to crank the tempo and the electric guitar…” I trail off as his smile grows wider. Shit. Did I say too much? I should have just left it at really good.
“Keep going,” Spyder nudges me lightly, a playful smile on his lips, “I want to hear about how I made your heart race and panties wet with my electric guitar.”
I laugh out loud. “That’s pretty presumptuous.”
He shoves his hands into his pockets. “Okay, how would you describe it then?”
I tilt my head. “I was going to say that your playing gave life to the song, no one stopped dancing the entire time.”
“I like wet panties better. Maybe I even created a few spontaneous orgasms,” he jokes, and I can’t help laughing along. Despite his name and the slightly predatory gleam in his eyes, I feel comfortable around Spyder. Familiar. And we only just met days ago.
“How’s your new ink?” He changes the conversation and glances down at my arm, where the pink petals tease the edge of my jacket.
“It’s healing.” I shrug and fidget with my drink. I notice farther down the bar that the girls returned from the bathroom and are eyeing us. Tabbi winks, and I feel my blush move down my neck. Great. They probably think I’m flirting with him.
“What kind of flower did you get?”
“Show me yours first.” I raise my brow at him. I feel protective of my new tattoo. It’s a piece of my history that no one will ever understand. How do you explain the years of heartbreak and yearning wrapped into the symbolism?
“Babe, I’m all about a little show me yours and I’ll show you mine.” He winks.
“You’re terrible,” I tell him, pointing my finger at his chest.
“And you look like you could be trouble.” Spyder grabs my hand, and before I can react, he pulls my arm out, the jean material riding up, exposing my tattoo.
“A magnolia?”
“Means endurance, nobility and beauty,” a new voice says next to us. One glance at the newcomer, and my eyes widen.
“Bout time you got here,” Spyder says, and lets my arm go from his grasp. “What did Trisha say?”
“She said we’re playing in Hamilton tomorrow,” Becks answers, but keeps his intense eyes on mine. “Did I get it right? Your tattoo.”
My throat feels thick as I tear my gaze away from his and glance between them. Both Becks and Spyder are staring, watching, like they actually care what I have to say. “Magnolias look delicate, but they’re actually very tough. They’ve had to adapt to survive.”
Becks’s eyes glint, but he doesn’t say anything. He nods, as if he knew, and maybe was impressed that I didn’t just pick a Magnolia for no reason. I don’t know.
“Mia here is crazy into music. And not just about how sexy we look performing,” Spyder tells Becks. I turn back to him and push away from the bar slightly.
“And that’s my cue. I promise I’m not a groupie. While I appreciate your art, I draw the line at having you think I’m after something I’m not.” I glance once more at Becks. “Your lyrics are good, but your rhythm fell a fraction of a second behind in the second verse. Your drummer needs to build a tempo there, or you need to deliver the line slower to match.”
I grab my drink and push my body through the crowd to where the girls are waiting.
“Were you just talking to Riggs Mitchel and Becks Wilson!” Silvia dances excitedly in place.
“I thought his name was Spyder?” I scrunch my nose then slam my drink. The tequila from the margarita burns slightly, but it’s quickly chased away by the ice.
“Only his band members and a few people close to him call him that.” Monica’s eyes get bigger; a hint of awe laces her tone.
I roll my eyes and laugh. “Alright, that’s enough googly-eyes, let’s get home.” I take the lead and shuffle everyone out the front door. The minute we hit the fresh air, a slight breeze rolls past. It feels amazing not to be pressed against so many sweaty bodies.
“Are you waiting for Manning?” Monica asks Tabbi who shrugs. She opens her mouth to answer, but her words halt—
“Mia,” Becks calls from next to me. The smokey tone of his voice curls around my name. I turn so fast I stumble. A warm hand lands on my arm, keeping me from falling. I glance at the strong tanned fingers up to the tattooed hand and glance right at Spyder.
“Thanks.”
“You okay?” Becks asks, a serious expression making his eyes tighten while he studies me. I nod, unable to speak. Are they following me?
“Look, I wanted to apologize. I wasn’t trying to make you feel like a groupie,” Becks eyes me warily. He glances up at my small group of friends and gives them a smile before stepping closer to me. My head tilts up to look at him. “I’m sorry.”
My brain fritzes. The tequila has chosen this moment to render me speechless. “Mhmm,” I manage to get out, and Spyder laughs.
“We broke her.”
“Look, I want to hear more about what you have to say about the music. Are you free to maybe see our show tomorrow? We can talk more after?” Becks tilts his head, a small smile playing over his lips. I find my gaze straying there, and I fight to keep my booze brain from staring.
“Okay,” I finally get the word out.
“Great.” Spyder claps his hands. His fingers dive into the pocket of my jacket, and he pulls my phone out. He hands it to me, and I unlock the screen. He types in a number then his own phone lights up. “You have my number and I have yours. I’ll text you the venue name as soon as our manager gives us the information.”
“Looking forward to it, Mia.” Becks leans down so we’re face to face. He smiles, and I shiver slightly.
“Yeah, me too,” I respond. An arm slides around my shoulders, and Spyder gives me a side hug.
“See you tomorrow, beautiful.”
I watch as they walk away, completely frozen on the sidewalk.
“Did that really just happen?” Silvia slides up next to me. I feel Monica at my back, and Tabbi steps up to my side.
“Holy shit. That was fucking epic!”
