I could’ve been content fixing cars the rest of my life. That was, if I’d never known what it was like to step out on a dark stage with the wave of ten thousand screaming fans washing over me. I happily drowned in the sound, the feeling near-euphoric. There was nothing like it, no way to put it into words or explain to someone who’d never experienced it.
Before our first massive show, Unrequited had been four guys bonded through a common goal, and after, we’d come out even closer. We’d gone to battle, and now we reaped our spoils.
I’d been wary about sharing that bond with someone new. But Maeve had slid into Diego’s boots, and for better or worse, each show brought all of us closer. We were feeling less like a band plus Maeve, and more like the new incarnation of Unrequited.
Every time we played “Eighty Nights,” I couldn’t help turning my back on the audience and facing her. Watching her drum out the rhythm was surreal. This was her song, and she had no fucking idea.
I like to stay up late at night
Sometimes I even see the morning light
Drinking the taste of peaches away
Seeing the end coming like a freight train
I run toward it, ’cause we all know the dawn never stays
Yeah, we had eighty fire nights
You struck a match and set me ablaze
Yeah, we had eighty secret days
You said your piece, put me in a daze
Yeah, your bullet was just a graze
You shot me down eighty different ways
I had hard rock Snow White in my palm
But I didn’t get it right, I said it wrong
Teardrops beating to a heartache rhythm
Watching her walk out on me instead of him
Doesn’t feel like much of a battle won
Yeah, we had eighty fire nights
You struck a match and set me ablaze
Yeah, we had eighty secret days
You said your piece, put me in a daze
Yeah, your bullet was more than a graze
You shot me down eighty different ways
Summer days have come and gone
Floating to careless worship and endless bonds
Gotta get up and forget her pretty pink mouth
Spread out a map, think I’ll head south
Moving on, gotta keep rolling on
Her eyes flicked to mine as she played, shooting sparks low in my belly. When she was on stage, she was so damn hard, it was like seeing a different person. The attraction that burned deep in my chest when I’d first met her had been nothing compared to this. She was a fantasy I’d never been creative enough to dream up. Hard and soft, fierce and sweet. Her silky ponytail bobbed as she played, and the black rimming her spring-leaf eyes made them stand out in stark contrast to her flushed cheeks.
My fingers moved over my bass of their own accord. I’d played these songs so often, I rarely had to think. My hands knew where to go. And thank god for that, since every time I played this song to Maeve, my brain flatlined. The crowd faded. The noise quieted. All that was left was her beats.
Thump, thump, thump.
Holy fucking shit, I was in trouble.