Thomas & January (Sleepless 2)

Another deep breath. “I’m not having fun there.”

Janet went to the sink to clean because that was what she did when she felt overwhelmed or wanted to slap one of us or both. “Cleanse the violent tendencies,” she’d always say. Kind of liked that one.

“Fun,” my dad asked incredulously. “It’s Berkeley, January. Berkeley! Speak to me, love. Tell me why you don’t want to return.”

“I just want to write my music, Dad. I don’t do well with structure.”

Janet turned back around, seemingly calmer, and sat next to my dad across the table from me. “Oh, January, I fear you’re finally going to kill me this time.”

“Janet, stop being dramatic,” I told her, rolling my eyes. “It’s not the end of the world.”

“You’ll lose your scholarship! A full ride to Berkeley’s Department of Music, Ralph! Gone!” She straightened her slumped posture and looked me dead in the eye. “How are we going to tell Grandma Betty?”

That was her last resort strategy. I knew she had topped off her desperate meter when she brought grandma into the conversation. That probably would have worked accept I’d already told Grandma Betty. In fact, she’s the one who encouraged me to follow my dreams. The day I told her I wanted to learn the piano, she encouraged me. It was no different when I phoned her with my intentions to quit Berkeley. She always supported me. Always.

“Janet,” I said, leaning over and grabbing her dish-gloved hand, “I’m not going back.”

That night, I agreed to go to my friend Casey’s show. I promised I’d help him fine-tune a few of his songs so he could be ready for ACL in September in exchange for use of his couch since my parents kicked me out with a “have fun.” I was surprisingly unworried about my predicament. I knew something would come up for me. I had a gut feeling.

“What’s up, doc?” I asked Casey.

“What’s up, baby girl?” Casey said, lifting me up and spinning me around. “Every time I see you, you just get more and more beautiful, January MacLochlainn. Still single?”

“Ha, ha, Casey. What are you playing tonight?” I asked, as he led me back to his makeshift studio, otherwise known as his garage.

“Thought I’d start with Pampered Life. What do you think?”

“That’s a strong start. Show me your list.”

I sat down at his keyboard as I read over his list. We spent most of the afternoon cleaning up his set, then stopped by The Salt Lick and ate before heading toward Stubb’s where his band, The Belle Jar, was opening for Circumvent.

Word around town was a talent scout for Seven Seas would be there to check out Circumvent. I really wanted The Belle Jar to be at their best. They were just as talented, if not more so, than Circumvent but had only been an Austin staple for about eight months.

“That’s him,” Casey said, nudging my shoulder with his. He pointed toward a blond guy wearing all black, but I could barely see him through the people crowding him.

“Who?”

Casey looked at me like I was a fool. “The Seven guy, doofus. Come on, we’ll get closer. Try to edge in on him. Can I use your body to get me noticed?”

“Oh, by all means.”

“Thanks, buttercup,” Casey said, ignoring the bite in my words and disturbing the top of my hair.

“You’re an idiot, Casey.”

“I love you too, January. Fix your hair, it looks like shit.”

I rolled my eyes at him and ran my fingers through my hair. We hedged through the crowd to AWOLNATION’s Not Your Fault, finally finding this mystery guy slumped over the bar, again, surrounded by twenty people hoping to get his attention. Let me clarify, the twenty girls trying to get his attention.

When we got close enough and I could get a good enough view of him, I was forced to stop short. My heart beat wildly in my chest. My tongue swelled in my mouth and my chest felt constricted. My blood rushed through my veins, heating up my face and neck. He was unbelievably gorgeous. My hand flew to my neck to hide the obvious red I knew was painted there, a telltale sign that I was intrigued by something. Casey knew about this little trait I held and never let it down when it made an appearance.

He was tall, taller than most everyone in that room. He rested his forearms on the bar in front of him, a pair of callused hands, giving him away as a musician, nursing a pint on the flat wood before him. His hair reached just below his ears, which he tucked behind, and his goatee was a little scruffier than I usually liked but then again, I’d never been attracted to an actual man before. Mostly, my silly crushes belonged to some fellow teenager and usually ended as quickly as they started. He was frightening yet compelling all at the same time. I felt like a moth to a flame. My hands itched to run my fingers through his hair and along his jaw line. My eyes were transfixed on his mouth.

Snap.

“Come on, redneck.” I cringed. “Yeah, didn’t think I’d see that, did you? Well, I did. Come on.” But just as Casey reached him, the lead for Circumvent beat him to the punch. Casey retreated.

“What are you doing?” I asked him. “Go up there.”