The Night We Said Yes (20 page)

NOW

12:15
A
.
M
.

“Hey guys,” Matt says, walking past Kiki’s karaoke stage and taking a seat next to me.

It’s awkward, as expected. It’s obvious he’s nervous, as his normal charm doesn’t shine through. It’s like we’re back in the car and he’s playing with his watch again. Nothing is more interesting than his watch. But this time, he’s looking at us, darting his eyes between Jake and Meg. Asking the parents for permission to date their daughter. A part of me feels bad, wants to grab him and tell him it’ll be okay. But another part wants him to feel the shame, the exposure. I want to test him, too.

“Matthew,” Jake greets him, ever so properly.

“Jacob,” Matt says, a glimmer of a smile poking through.

“Hi again,” Meg says.

“Hey Meg,” he answers.

More silence. He hasn’t quite met my eyes yet, but I can feel him next to me. I can feel the air between us, both pushing us apart and pulling us in. And I can see the nervous looks everyone is exchanging.

“Well, this isn’t awkward or anything,” Matt finally says, breaking the ice. As I let the relief wash over me, I laugh, giddy with the feeling of confusion and exhaustion and just . . . everything. Finally, he looks over and catches my eye. And he smiles. I feel our same old spark, that electric shock, between us. It somehow feels new every time.

“So I hear you’re back?” Jake asks, finally giving in to the conversation.

“Um, yeah, just moved back. Going to UCF in the fall.” I can feel the table nudge from Matt’s leg repeatedly tapping.

“So are we,” Meg says politely. She’s restraining herself. For me.

“So I heard. It’ll be nice to have familiar faces around.” He pauses, and I can almost see the realization form on his face. He doesn’t know if they actually want to see him around. “I mean, if we hang out or anything. The school is big, so bumping into one another won’t be easy. . . .” He fades out.

“We have a new bassist. Just FYI,” Jake continues, I’m sure still reeling at having to find a replacement on such short notice. And, while he won’t fully admit it, losing a friend.

“I heard,” Matt says softly. “I’m sure he’s better than me. Remember how much I messed up?” He acts nervously self-deprecating as he did the first night I met him. It makes me want to smooth things over, start from scratch.

“We’ve had some awesome gigs, too. Big shows,” Jake says, and I watch Matt almost visibly shrink.

“That’s great,” Matt responds, his voice low and unsure. “I’m glad the band’s still together.”

“Not for long, with everyone moving away. But whatever,” Jake announces, glancing at me, and then back at Matt. Jake’s challenging him. I stare at Meg, and thankfully she can pretty much read my mind.

“Jake’s starting a new band soon,” Meg cuts in, easing the tension. “Maybe you can join him, if you’re still around.” Jake shoots her a look that says
We’ll talk later
, but she just grins in response. She doesn’t have to ask him for permission; this we know.

“Yeah!” Matt answers excitedly. He leans forward, and his leg stops tapping. “That would be great! I mean, if Jake wouldn’t mind having me.”

“We’ll see. I’m having auditions, so . . .”

“Jake,” I cut in, fed up with his ego.

“What? I am,” he answers me.

“Well, I mean, I can audition,” Matt offers. “I haven’t played in a while, so I hope I’m still okay.”

“Shit, you were a godsend.” Jake waves him off. “But if you pull that disappearing crap again—”

“I won’t,” Matt says, quickly, as if he expected the threat. As if he was prepared for it to be brought up. And it was, and I can actually feel it hanging in the air. The thing that broke us all apart. And the thing that’s oddly bringing us back together tonight. The fact that he disappeared on us all—not just me, but everyone—is out in the open. Not everything I learned tonight, but this part. This is the part that affects us all. “I won’t,” he repeats, looking at me this time. It makes me a little nervous the way he’s looking at me, like he’s trying to prove what he’s saying, but they’re just words. I think seeing Matt look at me like that makes Jake nervous too, because he barges right in, as if to warn Matt not to look at me that way if he doesn’t mean it.

“It really sucked how you left,” Jake is saying. “And, yeah, Ella, I know you said not to mention it, but I have to.” Matt stares down again, hand on his watch, and I don’t know how to feel. They’re hurting him, just like he hurt us. I don’t really want to be a part of that.

“What Jake is so eloquently trying to say,” Meg joins in, and I shoot her a look that begs her to stop mentally kicking him. I did it enough to him tonight. “. . . Is that we like you, but we don’t want you to leave again.”

“I won’t,” Matt says, a boy scorned. “I just got back. Give me a chance.” The strength in his voice surprises me, though I suppose it’s warranted. They were hard on him. They were testing him.

A silence fills our table as the music in the background
plays on. “So . . . where are you living?” I ask, the only thing that comes to mind. I want to change the subject, not discuss the past. I learned enough tonight.

“Oh, an apartment complex right by the school,” Matt answers. The lines on his forehead even out, and I can tell he’s grateful for the change in topic. “Jackson Point? It’s all right, I guess. My roommate Anthony is . . . special.”

“He hit on me at the party,” Meg says, mostly for Jake’s ears.

“Is that so?” Jake asks, eyeing her.

“He’s all right,” Meg answers. “We just talked.”

Matt looks at them, confused, clearly wondering if they’re together or not. “Yeah, I’m glad that’s all you did with him. I’ve been there for three days, and each night he’s brought back a different girl. On the plus side, I’ve met new people.”

I visibly glare at the thought of him and his new friends; I can’t help it. I can’t stand the thought of girls spending the night at his place. I can’t stand the thought of him seeing them first thing in the morning, even if they’re not there for him. As the jealousy seeps through I realize one important thing—everyone was right, I’m clearly not over him. If I was, I wouldn’t be feeling this, I wouldn’t be wanting to kick girls I don’t even know. And I certainly don’t want to think about the fact that I won’t be here in three months, and what will happen after that.

“They’re all pretty gross, though. And they hate cheesy jokes.” He eyes me quickly.

“How are the girls in Texas? I hear they don’t live up to ours here in Florida,” Jake interjects, spoiling the moment.

“Jake.” I glare at him.

“Ah, yeah. They’re fine, I guess,” Matt answers. An expression passes across his face that I don’t quite catch. It’s gone before I can register it. “But nothing like the ones here.”

I glance down, trying to hide the redness spreading across my face. I notice Jake staring at me, and his face softens for the first time since Matt got here.

“So, do you guys come here often?” Matt continues, changing the subject. “I’ve never been before.” And there it is, another separation between him and us. Between the time he was around and the time he wasn’t.

“We found it a while ago,” Meg answers. “We’ve been a bunch since. Celebrated Gabby’s birthday here last month. God, what was that song she sang? It was awful.”

“It wasn’t as awful as Barker’s backup dancing,” I add, laughing at the memory of him attempting to do the robot.

“Or Jake thinking he could take two shots at once,” Meg adds.

“It was an experiment!” he protests. “A quicker way to get drunk, am I right?” he asks Matt, and Matt just shrugs in response. Of course he doesn’t remember Gabby’s party or the robot or the shots. He missed every party, every birthday. He looks down at the table, waiting for the conversation to pick up again, but making no attempt to start it.

“Hey, remember when we got El to make it to three
drinks?” Jake keeps going, laughing more comfortably. “Dude, Matt, you should have seen—” Meg lays her hand on his arm, interrupting him. “What?” he asks, looking right at her. She raises her eyebrow in our direction, and he gets it. “Oh. Yeah. Well, you didn’t miss much. I mean, she was El, but like, ridiculously happy. Anyway.”

Anyway is right.

“If you’re here for her birthday this year, you’ll see it,” Jake continues. Despite it being backhanded, it’s an invitation to hang out. The iciness in Jake is thawing.

“I’ll be here,” Matt says, at once forceful and irritated. He’s not sensing that Jake’s easing up. I’m sure he’s tired of defending himself by now, tired of being tested.

“So, wait, are we going to do karaoke or not?” Meg asks, clearly excited to skip to the end of the story. Solve the problem and move on. Will Matt join our group again or not? My stomach churns, but this time it’s not from the idea of singing in public.

“Yes,” I answer, a bit too enthusiastically. I’m just glad to be talking about something else, something that hopefully doesn’t make Matt want to crawl under the table. And it’s in that moment that I realize how funny it is, that tonight I’m going to end up singing again. Just like last year.

“Yeah, okay,” Matt says, a bit apprehensively. “Although, I’m terrible at it. That’s why Jake always took lead. That is, when you didn’t,” he adds, staring at me, reminding me of one of the best memories we do share. Despite the time
apart, we still have that. Under the table, I feel his leg come closer to mine, almost touching it. Jeans against jeans. A small contact, but one nonetheless.

“Let’s be honest—Jake would have taken the lead even if you were the best singer in the world,” Meg says, and we laugh.

“I’ll get the book.” I get up and rush over to the karaoke DJ, and bring the book full of songs back to the table, eager to see what happens next; if it ends the same way it did last year.

“‘Living on a Prayer.’ Boom. Done,” Jake announces, pointing to the Bon Jovi song he always sings. He does a great punk cover of it during shows.

“No surprise.” Meg rolls her eyes and playfully nudges him. “I’ve got ‘Like a Virgin,’” she decides, writing it down and eyeing me from across the table.

“I know for a fact you’re not that,” Jake says, wiggling his eyebrows and leaning into her.

“Shut up,” she says, pushing him away.

“What are you thinking?” I ask Matt, leaning over the book with him.

“I don’t know.” He’s twisting his watch around his wrist again, looking at the words, not me. Maybe he just needs to be pushed, awakened. He dared me to sing once, it’s my turn now.

“You know, I’m pretty sure it’s still tonight, so I think you
have
to say yes to singing something. . . .” I say, egging him on.

“How could I forget.” He shakes his head.

“They don’t have a great list, really, unless you like songs older than our parents. . . .” I joke, trying to ease the mood. I turn the page of the book, looking for a song for me to sing as well, when a piece of paper falls out and onto the floor. Matt grabs it first.

“Well, it looks like the last person here was a Green Day fan,” he says, handing me someone named Scott’s song choice, “21 Guns.”

“And was too chicken to sing,” I agree. If the song is here, it wasn’t submitted to the DJ. I know the song, I know it well. Meg and I went through a Green Day stage a few years ago, and then it reemerged when she learned they turned their songs into a Broadway musical. It was so weird it worked. We screamed out the lyrics to “American Idiot” regularly. And it all clicks instantly. Another found object that somehow perfectly dictates the night. And though I don’t believe in his notes and photos anymore, I think this one might work.

And once again, I know what I’m going to do. Looking at Matt, I’m ready to take a leap. I’m ready to move without being pushed or prodded. I’m ready to sing.

“I’ve got my song,” I say, crossing out
Scott
and writing in
Ella
.

“Really?” Matt asks, eyeing me. He knows the song, too.

“Really.”

THEN

1:10
A
.
M
.

Standing on the stage at One Spin Records, I was reminded of my past. When I was young, I’d put on all of my mother’s fake plastic jewelry, paint my lips red, and stage elaborate spectacles just for myself. I’d sing along with the radio, pretending I was Madonna or Britney Spears. With no understanding of the lyrics, I’d belt them out as if I were performing at Madison Square Garden. I learned later that my mom would sometimes hide behind the wall and watch. She knew I’d stop if I realized she was there, but she loved seeing me perform.

I thought of that as the first few lyrics left my mouth. As my guard came crashing down and I was left exposed. But as
the lyrics came, I realized that I was okay. That there was no one yelling at me, or saying I was bad or wrong. And that I was . . . fine. I was glowing.

My voice wasn’t perfect, far from it. I would never be a rock star, or a famous Broadway actress. But I kept singing because it
felt good.
I thought of my mom hiding, secretly cheering me on. Even when I stopped letting her into my life—when I found a friend who understood me better—my mom still was always in my corner. Much like Meg was earlier, in the dressing room. And Jake, and Matt, and Barker, and even Gabby. They were all hiding in plain sight so I could let that little kid become a star. That knowledge was all I needed to let loose.

I shouted, screamed, sang the lyrics. I closed my eyes, let go, let the music flow from my body. I danced along onstage, weaving in between the guys. I looked at the crowd and threw my voice at them. I wouldn’t have known if they were cheering or booing. But it wouldn’t have mattered. It was my moment.

And it ended all too soon.

I powered out the last few lines, giving them to the crowd. As I knew the last lyrics were coming, I finally brought myself back to the stage, back to myself. I saw the guys behind me, all smiles. I saw Meg screaming her head off to my right. I saw the microphone, the lights. I saw it all. And I was a part of it.

And then it ended.

I crashed back into the reality I was used to, and prepared myself for feeling embarrassed or shy . . . but as I looked out into the audience, I didn’t feel any of that. I felt
alive.

The cheers came in and they were raucous and loud. No one expected me to do something like that, no one. After all, I wasn’t
that
girl. I wasn’t loud, I wasn’t the girl you’d expect to see singing with a band. I was Ella. But that girl was in me, and now she was in the world.

I’d never felt so in the moment, so in control of my present.

I took a bow, adrenaline pumping through my body. I couldn’t stop smiling.

I looked over at Matt, who was beaming. He flipped his bass over his shoulder and charged toward me. My heart jumped as he got closer, closer. Right in front of me, he grabbed my face and brought it up to his. And we were kissing, only this time without someone daring us to. It was as if an electric field brought our lips together. I felt his body move into mine, and I pressed mine back. I couldn’t get enough of him. He moved his arms down and wrapped them around my waist. I threw my arms around his neck as he lifted me off the ground. My heart was thumping, as I thought only of him, and his lips and his arms and his touch.

The microphone slipped out of my hand and landed with a loud thud. We jumped as the noise brought us back to Earth. He put me down and leaned his forehead onto
mine. Our cheeks became a hotter pink, Matt’s face echoing mine. We were both grinning madly at each other.

“Oh, don’t worry about us. You keep making out. We don’t need to finish the gig or anything,” Jake said. Embarrassed, we broke apart. I couldn’t look at anyone; my face was on fire, and I threw my hands up to cover it. I couldn’t believe what had happened with me, and between Matt and me, and in front of everyone. My pulse was pounding and I couldn’t stop beaming, despite the embarrassment. I turned around and stepped off the stage and into Meg’s embrace.

“You, my dear, are a rock star,” she loudly whispered into my ear.

And for once, I actually believed her.