The Freshman (College Years 1)

I glance over my shoulder and send her a look that says, what the hell are you doing?

She just shrugs like she can’t help herself.

“You two shouldn’t speak to each other for the rest of the night.” Tony readjusts himself so he’s standing behind me, arms wrapped around my waist, chin resting on top of my head. Oh, this is nice. “We’re keeping you guys separated.”

“Whatever,” Caleb mutters.

Guitars start playing, and we turn our attention to the stage. Robin and the lead guitarist are both angrily strumming, and the sound is nothing but noise. Not necessarily a song.

There was no announcement, no introduction. Robin leans into the mic and starts singing. He’s slightly off-key, and I can’t help but wonder if he has a frog in his throat, but Gracie is hopping up and down, screaming for him.

Cheering him on.

I do the same. I hear Tony yell his encouragement. Even Caleb joins in.

And thank God, he doesn’t say anything inappropriate.

It goes on like this for a solid thirty minutes. They perform song after song, not any I’m familiar with, despite Gracie playing their music for me in the car on the way over. Actually, she’s played them for me a few times. They’re on Spotify, of course, or was it Sound Cloud? Probably both. As they play on, they start to sound better, but I have to admit…

Jackson Rivers is a better singer and guitar player. Not that I would ever say that to Gracie.

There was something so intimate about Jackson’s performance, though. Despite the constant screaming from the audience, the way he plucked at his guitar and crooned his lyrics into the mic, it was as if he was singing to me and no one else.

Watching Robin, it seems like he’s trying too hard. Maybe he’s nervous, since he knows the record exec could be out here, watching them? I don’t know.

But now I feel sort of bad.

I start swaying to the beat, trying to get into it. The drummer is actually pretty good. I pay attention to the lyrics, and I have to say Gracie is right. They’re not bad.

Tony keeps his hold on me while I move, his hands resting lightly on my hips. People start to crowd us, trying to get closer, and Gracie becomes annoyed.

“I can’t see!” she yells.

“Sit on my shoulders,” Caleb leans over us to yell at Gracie.

She crosses her arms. “Over my dead body.”

“Fine.” Caleb shrugs. “I offered.”

I keep moving to the beat. Tony laughs in my ear, his mouth so close it tickles. “They’re ridiculous.”

Within minutes, Gracie makes her way over to Caleb and he’s hoisting her on his shoulders. She shouts with delight, a giant smile on her pretty face.

“I can see everything!”

She sings along with the songs as loud as she can, her thighs clamped tight around Caleb’s head, his arms gripping around her knees so she doesn’t fall off. She points at Robin when he finishes the song and the crowd goes wild, but he scowls at her. That’s his only acknowledgement of the girl he’s dating.

What a jerk.

The band launches into another song and Tony grabs hold of my hand, murmuring, “Come with me,” before he yanks me away from the crowd gathered around the stage.

I follow him, not wor

ried about Gracie. Despite her irritation with him, she’s safe with Caleb. I think he’s just trying to get a rise out of her.

But all thoughts of Caleb and Gracie and their argumentative foreplay disappear the moment we’re tucked behind a wall, near the back exit. Tony wraps me up in his arms and lifts me, his big hands cradling my ass, and my legs automatically wrap around his waist. He’s so strong. I should’ve known, considering he’s an athlete who trains daily, but still.

I’m impressed.