The line felt like it moved slower than waiting on a social media following, but I did manage to get the water and a soda for me. I needed the caffeine which was embarrassing to admit. It was only seven o’clock on Friday night. Didn’t other kids my age party to all hours of the night? And nerdy me couldn’t even make it to ten on a weekend.
Claire and Jack were nowhere to be seen when I returned.
I shut the door, listening to the little click as it shut fully.
Wyatt raised his head from staring at some book when I entered. “Thanks.”
I handed him his change and the water. “No problem.”
He slugged down a lot of the water.
Was he nervous or just lubricating his pipes for the performance?
“Did you all figure out the song lineup?”
He nodded. “I lost on one vote, but it’s whatever.”
“Shouldn’t you be the number one chooser since you sing lead?”
“Nah. We’re a team. We agreed in the beginning to make this work, we all had equal say, no outvoting someone based on band position.”
“That’s good as long as it works, I guess.”
“It has so far.” He tapped the sofa cushion next to him. “I wondered if we could talk about my supply and demand paper.”
I nodded and sat where he asked me to. “Besides deciding the overall topic, have you made any progress on it?”
He shook his head. “I tried focusing on English first. Now that I have this, I’m not sure if my topic is a good one.”
“Well, the only constraints were to think of the effect of supply and demand on a consumer product. You know a decent amount about guitars, I’d presume, right?”
He rubbed his hand at the back of his neck. “Yeah, but not research. I know the guitar information for how to use it and when to use it for the type of song or music I am playing, not how supply and demand impacts the product.”
“Okay, fair enough. Think of it this way. You’re a consumer because you buy products, in this case a guitar.” I pointed to his guitar leaned against the side of the sofa. “What made you pick that guitar at a store?”
“I didn’t. My mom bought it for me.”
“Okay …” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “If you lost that one and had to buy another one, what qualities would you look for in the guitar?”
“I guess the cost. I can’t pay for an expensive one right now. So, it’d have to play decently and not be a million dollars.”
“Exactly. So as a consumer you’d need a product that is decent, but cost isn’t too high.”
“Okay, so what?”
“So that’s the point. How many high-end guitars are bought? Who buys them? What about the middle-class people? What’s their likelihood of buying a more costly guitar? If it isn’t expensive, what’s a good price point for a store to make a profit, but also meet the demand of that group?”
Wyatt stroked his chin. “I focus on the prices of guitars based on how many people could afford it and what makes sense?”
“Exactly. And Mr. Andrews only asked for two sources minimum, so finding statistics on guitars will take care of those requirements. For the rest, just think as a consumer because you are one. We all are. Based on what we buy affects the market. That’s all he is trying to get the class to understand.”
Wyatt nodded. “I think I could do that.”
A smile crept across my face. “Considering how good your English paper is? I’ll say. I need to put that on some graphics and market it for my tutoring abilities.”
Wyatt chuckled. “Please. I am far from your best success story.”
“I don’t know about that. That paper puts you pretty far up there. Although I didn’t do as much hands on for that. Makes me wonder.”
“Wonder what?”
“Why exactly you need help in the first place.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Just got away from me I guess.”
“But—”
Jack and Claire burst through the door carrying Claire’s drums. The door smacked against the door stop, jolting me.
“Hey, Melissa’s band is up next. Want to catch them live?”
Wyatt glanced from them to me. “Want to go check out the competition?” He proffered his hand once he stood.
I drug my hands over Sage’s capris as I pulled them closer to my body. “Sure, I guess we should get to the concert part of the night.”
Wyatt grinned as I placed my hand in his. “My thoughts exactly.”
Once I stood, Wyatt slipped his hand from mine, but he did hover near me. I wasn’t sure if he was just trying to keep the whole group together or if he was trying to be closer to me.
But just as quickly I dismissed that idea because why would he? I was the one who suggested fake dating. He didn’t have a need to make it real. He pegged me from the first day as a goody-two-shoes. Guys like him didn’t date girls like me for real.
Once we passed the bouncer, the sea of people had grown substantially. There was barely any room to move through the crowd of people.
Wyatt stopped several feet from the front of the stage, in a small pocket of room. He whispered something to Jack, while Claire stood on my other side.
Melissa’s band was introducing their set. From what I could see it seemed like a mixed band like Broken Axles. The lead singer was a female, with a male drummer then male and female guitar players. They wore somewhat of a uniform. They had complimentary colors on and each band member had a similar style.
They seemed more cohesive on their appearance, but would that matter if they weren’t good?
Claire leaned close to my ear. “This group is crazy competitive. When they see something we do, they copy it. It’s ridiculous.”
“That seems unnecessary.”
“That’s what you do to be seen. This is our career. We do what we have to. They just happen to do a little more.”
The lead guitarist silenced the crowd with their first strum. I didn’t recognize the song, but they played nicely. The lead singer had a beautiful voice, almost haunting. It suited their style and the crowd around us swayed with their playing.
The skin on my arm prickled. I could see why they were concerned. They had a decent stage act. The next song had country vibes, not that I recognized it either. I didn’t listen to country often, despite living in a rural area. It wasn’t my style.
By the final song, I could see the appeal. Each song they performed was versatile. None like the other and the lead singer’s voice was matched with the abilities of the others and their playing. To an untrained ear, they had a good chance.
The crowd erupted in cheers and shouting. They bowed, then exited the stage.
Wyatt gestured to a quieter corner and led us in that direction, while Claire and Jack remained where they were.
Wyatt picked at the leather cord from his band around his wrist. “What do you think?”
“Honestly?”
He nodded.
“I can understand the competition. To me, they sounded good.”
“Yeah, to me, too.”
My brow arched. “When did you know you wanted to be in a band?”
“I don’t think there was ever a conscious choice. I always knew music spoke to me.”
“Spoke to you?”
“It just made sense. I could hear the melodies and rhythms in all kinds of things. And when I learned different instruments or practiced? Everything just clicked and felt … I don’t know. Like home I suppose? Like I was free to be anything or do anything.” He adjusted his beanie. “That sounds cliché.”
“Not at all. I feel that with numbers or schoolwork. I get excited to figure out a hard math problem or unlock the theme of a book.”
He smiled lazily as something crossed his expression.
“What? I know I’m a nerd.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Your face did. I’m sure it sounds ridiculous to you.”
“Not at all. We all have our own interests, that’s pretty standard as a high schooler.”
“Well, at least yours is more socially acceptable. It’s okay to lose yourself in music. Numbers is a little weird.”
The next band took the stage. Claire and Jack had disappeared. “Do we need to go?”
He shook his head and reached for my hand.
My eyes couldn’t look away from his gaze as our fingers touched. What was happening?
“I want to try something.”
My eyes widened and my stomach plummeted. “Try what?”
He tugged on my hand, leading us back toward the middle, he placed me in front of him, then stood right behind me. His hands settled on my shoulders. “Close your eyes and when this band starts to play, keep them closed.”
I gulped but did as he asked. His hands were warm, but the touch was soft. It didn’t feel like he had put all of his weight on me, but I couldn’t be sure. I sensed him lean closer before I felt his breath on my neck. My skin prickled.
The first note played; it was a slow song. “Rest into the melody. Let it drift you.”
Drift me? Like move? Did he think I would dance? I was not talented in dancing.
The song continued and I tried to drift the best I could, until his hands turned me to face him. He placed my arms on his shoulders and settled his around my waist, then pulled us a little closer.
“Just relax a little.”
“I’m terrible at dancing.”
“So what? It’s about the song, not about the talent.”
“Is that your way of saying to let loose and express myself without worrying about other’s judgment?”
“Maybe.”
“What about Claire and Jack? Won’t they need you before your set?”
He shifted my gaze to meet his. “We’ll go back soon, but I figured you should enjoy a concert like a real date and not just dissect the competition.”
Like a real date? My heart skipped a beat at the thought. It was incredibly kind to worry about that for me, even though our arrangement was fake. “But going to a concert is all it really said.”
“Well, enjoying the music with someone is the best part.”
We swayed to the beat, his hands still planted on my waist. When the song ended, he removed his hands, and moved through the crowd.
“Do you usually take dates to concerts?” I asked.
“Nope. You’re the first.”
My eyes widened, but he had already turned to the bouncer to tell him the band’s name. The moment lost.
When we arrived back, Wyatt pulled out his notebook and began writing his paper for Mr. Andrews.
I should have brought a book or my own homework. The silence between us felt deafening. What did it mean that he never took anyone to a concert? Or that he wanted me to experience it firsthand?
My messages were empty. Sage was still probably too busy with the new hire to harass me any further. I had texted her the photo we took in the parking lot of school, but even that went unanswered.
Eventually, Jack and Claire arrived back in the room. Jack sat on the edge of the couch next to where I sat, waiting while Wyatt worked on his paper.
“So, Marley, how’d my boy Wyatt manage to get you as a tutor?” He eyed Wyatt then a mischievous sparkle filtered in his eyes. “Did he pay you?”
Wyatt didn’t even glance up. He either didn’t hear him or had decided to ignore his comments.
“No. I actually offered to tutor him.”
“Pretty girl like you wanted to tutor him?”
My eyes widened. “I … uh.”
“Jack!” Claire and Wyatt shouted in unison.
He grinned. “What? You want me to ignore the obvious? She is pretty, there’s no way I believe a pretty girl like her wants to look at your mug all day.”
Claire rolled her eyes.
Was he serious? Not that I was comparing, because really I wasn’t, but Wyatt was like a nine, whereas Jack could be a seven, but that was more from his humor, at least when it wasn’t directed to me.
“I really did approach Wyatt. I may have cornered him in the parking lot.”
Jack whistled. “She cornered you? Man, how didn’t I find you first?”
To this Wyatt glared at Jack. “Lay off, man. Marley isn’t some object; she is sitting right there. And she didn’t corner me. I don’t think that’s possible at her height, but she did ask to tutor me. Now can we lay off so I can concentrate maybe?”
Jack placed his hands up in surrender. “I concede.” He glanced at me and winked before moving closer to Claire and strumming his guitar.
Wyatt eyed me carefully.
Was he worried that I took offense to Jack’s comments or did he suspect that I hadn’t expected a compliment like that?
Because I was a nerd. I was even sure I had a class at some point with Jack, maybe gym class sophomore year and I was even more certain I didn’t garner that kind of attention from anyone, let alone someone as attractive as Wyatt was.
“Look, Jack can be … intense. He means well but his filter settings aren’t great.”
“I’m fine.”
“You sure?”
I nodded.
He searched my expression then went back to handwriting his paper. Next time, I’d bring a book.
* * *
After way too long staring at the walls and trying not to interrupt Wyatt’s workflow, it was their turn to perform.
He managed to push his way through the crowd enough for me to get near the front before he took his place behind the curtain as they were announced. The speaker stated they were the next band and I could feel as the crowd around me took a step forward. At least that was a positive sign, right?
If they hated them, they wouldn’t move closer.
As soon as Wyatt took his place in the center of the stage, his whole demeanor shifted. His smile cranked up the charm and he batted those eyelashes like he attempted to flirt with everyone in the crowd.
It was like he was a completely different person. When we did the dates or tutoring, I noticed a small flicker of that energy, but on that stage, guitar in hand, it was like someone cranked it all the way up.
He seemed lighter and much easier to talk to, which was crazy. How could he change so much?
“Good evening White Marsh! We are the Broken Axles and can’t wait to play for you.” He shifted his guitar strap on his shoulder, strummed a note or two, then launched into a rendition of Fast Car. The tempo was sped up from the original, but it’s catchy tune and lyrics had the crowd clapping and swaying along.
Most of the crowd seemed pleased with smiles and moving with the beat. I couldn’t blame them. With Wyatt eying the crowd and his own smile, it was infectious. I too found myself smiling and moving along, although, if anyone asked later I would deny it for eternity. I also didn’t dance. Not alone, and certainly not with a partner.
Their transition into the next two songs were fluid. I supposed they had to be in order to use the time to their best advantage. Why waste the fifteen minutes on speaking in between?
The fourth song was Carry on my Wayward Son and was much slower compared to the other songs in the set but showcased Wyatt’s range or at least I thought it did. And at least the crowd continued to respond, they swayed, danced, and sang along with them.
Claire and Jack also radiated energy into the crowd as they had solos or songs that showcased their abilities too. Overall, I could see how the song choice was important. It showed the judges their skills as a band, not just Wyatt as a lead.
“Okay, White Marsh! It has been a pleasure playing for you all tonight,” Wyatt said through the mic. “Here’s our last song. We hope we see you all real soon! Check us out on Instagram at Broken Axles.”
The first few notes of Nickelback’s How You Remind Me emanated from the speakers. My dad actually listened to Nickelback, so I had heard this song before, but their version was different. As Wyatt sang through the chorus, goosebumps erupted over my skin. His voice was harrowing.
I could feel his anguish through the song. It was unlike anything I had heard him sing so far. What connection did he have to it? Because while his presence seemed good, I couldn’t imagine he could fake emotion like that.
While he sang, the crowd had stilled. But when he finished? They erupted louder than with their competitors. With that thunderous reaction, I thought they had a chance.
Wyatt, Jack, and Claire waved as they exited the stage. I walked toward the bouncer and released a breath as he waved me through. I waited a few minutes before they bounded in.
Jack was first.
“That was electrifying!”
Claire high fived him. “That was our best yet.”
They turned to Wyatt. “Could you feel the crowd’s energy? They practically froze on the last song.”
Wyatt nodded, but his demeanor was subdued compared to the others.
“That was so amazing,” I said. “I had goosebumps on that last song.”
Wyatt’s gaze snapped to mine, but he still didn’t say anything. He was figuring something out, that much I could tell after the past week around him, but past that? I had no idea what he was working through.
Claire came up and squeezed my shoulder. “She comes to the rest of the concerts. She was our good luck charm.”
“Please, I’m the only good luck charm we need,” Jack said as he puffed out his chest.
Wyatt chuckled, but the heavy energy draped over his shoulders, merely shifted, instead of releasing. “I don’t think Marley wants to trail us around everywhere. She’s too busy for that.”
I laughed. “Marley Wix, roadie. I can’t say I expected that to be an adjective to describe me.”
Claire pouted. “Well, local shows?”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
She grinned. “I’ll take that!”
Wyatt walked past and placed his guitar in the case, then piled up his books in the bookbag.
I checked the time on my phone—9:30.
“Ready to go?” he asked.
“If you are. I thought you had to stay for the results?”
“No, they won’t tell anyone tonight.”
“Oh. Sure then.”
He nodded and slung his stuff over his shoulder. “See you guys later.”
Claire waved and Jack fist-pounded Wyatt.
Instead of walking through the front crowd, we went out a backdoor on this side of the curtain. It was a longer walk to his truck, but it was certainly quieter.
Once he loaded all his stuff in the backseat, we left.
“That was really good tonight.”
“Did you mean your comment about the goosebumps?”
“Of course, why would I lie?”
He glanced in my direction.
I picked at a string from the hole in the capris on my knee.
“What else did you think?”
My lips twisted to the side. “The crowd reacted to your energy. They felt alive with the music.”
A small grin spread over his features. “Have you made your verdict on our band?”
I tapped a finger to my lips. “I think you’re decent.”
“Decent gets you goosebumps?”
I laughed. “Fine. I enjoyed the performance. You’re like a completely different person up there … so light and charming.”
He arched a brow. “Charming, huh?”
Did I say that out loud? Crap. “Well, isn’t that supposed to be a good adjective for lead singers?”
“Mm-hmm I suppose.”
I hoped he bought that because I did not want him to think I thought he was attractive. “When will they announce the winners?”
“In a few days. We will see.”
“Well, I’d pick you guys.”
“You didn’t even see all the bands.”
I shrugged. “That’s my opinion and I’m sticking to it.”
He chuckled.
“Will you be awake enough to handle the hospital thing tomorrow?”
“You don’t think I can wake up early? It’s not even late yet.”
“Well, we aren’t home yet.”
“Maybe not, but I’ll be fine.” He eyed me warily. “Will you be fine though? I’d suspect goody-two-shoes is usually in bed by nine.”
“No.”
He cocked his head. “Ten?”
I crossed my arms. “Not always.”
“Ah, I see. Well, Miss Rulebreaker, I applaud the flexibility.”
“Whatever, I can’t help if I’m predictable. Some people find that to be a good quality.”
“I never said it wasn’t. Stability is comforting.”
Comforting? What teenager said that?
“I merely mean that I don’t see it as a negative thing, even if I tease you for it.”
“Oh.”
Silence settled between us, but I couldn’t tell if he thought it was awkward or just me.