The Freshman (College Years 1)

Understatement. She’s wearing a white tank with a black bra beneath, the straps showing, the entire thing showing since the tank is extremely thin. Skintight black jeans that make her legs look endless. Red Chucks on her feet, meaning she went for comfort and I like that. Her eyes are heavily lined with black, and her lips are this deep, ruby red.

“Thank you. Gracie had this whole aesthetic she wanted to present tonight, so she’s the one who dressed me. We’re groupie girls.” She holds up her hand, her index and pinky finger straight up along with her thumb, and sticks her tongue out. “Like we hang out at the Roxy, circa 1983.”

I have no idea what she’s talking about.

“I had to Google it. It’s a venue in Hollywood where a lot of the eighties rock bands would perform,” she further explains. “Robin is very much into that nostalgic vibe, according to Gracie.”

“That’s…interesting,” I say.

“Right? Weird. But I’m having fun, so whatever.” She laughs. Scoots closer to me so our bodies brush against each other’s. “I’m glad you came.”

“Yeah?” I touch her hair, push it off her shoulder, my fingers brushing against bare skin. The tank top is plain yet sexy. Especially with the black bra beneath showing through. I stare at her chest for a moment, not caring if she knows. Pretty sure the bra is lacy.

Also pretty sure if I keep staring, I might be able to see her nipples. Never did get to see them last time, which is a damn shame. Hope to rectify that soon.

“Yeah. At least I don’t have to suffer alone.” She laughs.

Unable to resist any longer, I kiss her.

She stops laughing, circling her arms around my neck as she clings to me.

The room goes dark for a moment, a hush settling over the crowd. I break away from Hayden, our heads turning in the same direction when the bright lights come back on, three beams of light shining upon the stage. Coming together and illuminating a lone figure in the center. He’s sitting on what looks like an ornate wooden throne, a guitar resting on his lap, his face in shadow because of the lights.

The girls start hysterically screaming. It’s a deafening sound and Hayden pulls away from me, her eyebrows raised in shock. She turns to face the stage and I loom behind her, my hands on her hips, both of us watching. Waiting.

Once the screams die down—somewhat—the guy leans forward, longish blond hair hanging in his face, his mouth so close to the mic, his lips brush against it as he speaks. “Good evening. My name is Jackson Rivers,” he says before he starts strumming his guitar.

The girls scream even louder.

“WHAT THE FUCK!” Caleb yells over the din, glancing over at me, his eyes wide with surprise.

Yeah. That was unexpected.

I’m in shock. I had no idea Jackson was playing at Strummers tonight. Or that he played at all.

Well, that’s not true. He’d throw parties and always sing and play his guitar, but I figured it was a way for him to get chicks. Not once when we were hanging out together over the summer or ditching practice, did he ever mention he played for actual money. I didn’t think he was serious about it.

At all.

“DUDE! Did you know about this?” Caleb is hollering at me.

I slowly shake my head, my gaze going back to the stage.

He’s playing a song I’ve never heard before, and the girls are losing their damn minds, singing along with the lyrics.

As in, they already know the lyrics. To a song I’ve never heard before.

“What in the hell is happening right now?” Caleb cups his hands around his mouth and screams at the top of his lungs, “JACKSON, I’M YOUR BIGGEST FAN. YOU MAKE MY PANTIES WET.”

Gracie grabs my arm, glaring at me. “I hate your friend so fucking much.”

I’m laughing. I can’t help it.

This is the most surreal moment of my life.

Sixteen

Hayden