Punk 57(82)

Lots of distraction.

I wear my bikini under my jean shorts and shirt, even though I’m not really planning on getting in the pool. But Ten said he might, and I’m not leaving his side, so...

I’m trying not to think about Trey being a piece of shit pervert or about Lyla and how she would be thrilled to see me fall off my pedestal tonight. If I stay with Ten, maybe I’ll have a drink, dance and laugh, and get sedated long enough to forget the last few weeks for just five damn minutes. I need this. I need to do something to feel normal again.

“I doubt he’s going to make it to prom, girl,” Ten tells me. “If his parents haven’t taken it away already, they will after this.”

“I’m not worried.” I don’t even know if I’m going anymore, and I’m definitely not going with Trey.

We trail outside and hook ourselves up with a couple of beers from the keg, but when Ten lifts a bottle of tequila, I push it back down.

“Nope.” I shake my head.

“Why?”

“I’m driving,” I remind him. “You go for it. I’ll stick with a beer.”

He shrugs and pours a dram into the little plastic cup. I wince, smelling the pungent odor. I’ve done tequila before, but that isn’t chilled. How can he do that?

He licks the salt off his hand, tips the shot back, and gives a little grimace before sticking a lemon wedge in his mouth.

I laugh. I’ve known him long enough to know he usually likes his liquor mixed with Coke or juice or something.

“Come on!” He pulls me along. “Let’s dance.”

I smile, taking my beer and feeling a little better already as he leads me over to where the music is. “Dirty Little Secret” plays, and the warmth hitting my stomach from the beer filters through my limbs, as I sip my drink and join everyone else, getting lost in the noise and excitement.

Over the next hour, we do nothing but dance. He replaces my empty cup with a water bottle and another beer, and I double check to make sure he’s the one who poured it. The slight buzz I had from the one has smoothed away the edges, but I think it’s more the music and the energy of everyone around us that’s intoxicating.

We jump up and down, laughing and dancing, and Ten leans into my ear. “You feel better now?”

I nod, shouting over the music, “Yes! A lot more relaxed, actually.”

“Yeah, they say alcohol isn’t the answer, but it’s nice to be able to turn off your brain for a little while.”

I finish my drink and toss my cup away, grabbing a bottle of water to drink for the rest of the night as Ten joins me at the bar.

“Another one?” I chirp, pouring him a shot.

He smiles, shooting it back without the salt and lemon this time.

I lean into him, smelling his heady cologne. It feels kind of good to be there for him for a change.

I keep everyone—my friends, my sister, my mom—at a distance, because I started to believe that no one could really like me for me. That’s why I had to change. And any attention my family or Ten gave me was simply them pretending.

That’s why I loved Misha so much. It wasn’t distant. It was close and real, and it felt good.

But good things are still around me, despite what I’ve done to keep them at arm’s length. They’ve been around me the whole time.

Ten pulls away and picks up the bottle again, grabbing the shaker and turning around to look at me. He studies me up and down, twisting his lips to the side.

“What?” I ask.

He jerks his chin at me, a smile playing on his lips. “Spread your legs.”

Huh?

“Come on,” he teases, shaking the salt. “I want to see what you taste like.”

I snort, widening my eyes. “Absolutely not.”

“Pleeeease?”

“No!” I burst out, nearly laughing at his sad face.

No way in hell! I am not doing that.

Not a chance.





Malcolm beats through the fill, the kick drum vibrating under my feet, and Dane eases in, playing the transition while I keep time on the guitar, backed up by Lotus.

Belting out the lyrics, I feel a high hit me as I close my eyes.



Bookmark it, says the cheerleader

I promise we’ll come back to this spot.

I have shit to do first. You won’t wait a lot.



I can’t make her stay,

and I can’t watch her go.

I’ll keep her hellfire heart,

And bookmark it ‘fore it goes cold.



Malcolm is razor, keeping the energy up, and sweat glides down my back as I savor the rush of playing again. Sticks, a favorite Thunder Bay hangout, has been closed for renovations for over a month, but the owners are still great about letting us use the space when we need to practice without an audience.

Dane’s guitar whines as he cuts off the note and stops playing. “Alright, stop, stop, stop!” he interrupts. “I think we should break it up at the point, add a riff.” He points to Malcolm at the drums. “You back me up with something creative, before we dive back in with vocals.”

“Keep it high-energy,” I say.

But he just sneers at me, like duh. “Yeah, I know what you like.”

“Alright, count it off,” Lotus calls out, but I hold up my hand, pulling the guitar strap over my head.