Authors: Mimsy Hale
“What’s got you in such a good mood?” Aiden asks, nudging his shoulder while they walk.
“I’ll tell you later,” Jake replies.
A little of the day’s heat lingers, taking the edge off the cool breeze coming up behind them; for once Jake feels as if he’s being carried comfortably along rather than riding the back of a hurricane and holding on for dear life. He feels buoyant, jubilant, excited. His chest clenches every time he pictures that softness around Aiden’s warm eyes, the one that spoke of affection and desire and, yes, love. Jake knew that look as soon as he saw it, more transparent than plate glass and plain as day.
Aiden is in love with him, and he loves Aiden back, and now… now it’s finally time to come clean.
He’s planned it all down to the last painstaking detail: the colors he’s wearing—green for luck, white for renewal, purple for transformation—what he’s going to say, how he’s going to do it. He even texted April to change his song to one that better sums up his feelings. It’s going to be a call—and, knowing that his solo performance will come before Aiden’s, he can only hope that Aiden will respond in kind.
When they arrive, they find the gay bar a flat one-story building painted sky blue and off-white with a neon sign proclaiming
Cheer Up Charlie’s.
The band is already set up under the marquee in the courtyard.
“Disturbing new development,” Jake says in a low voice, nudging Aiden’s side and gesturing toward where Liam and Ethan huddle together behind the stage, heads too close and smiles too wide as they talk. Liam wears a tie-dyed tee bearing the slogan
Keep Austin Weird.
Jake hopes the choice was ironic.
“Didn’t April say they were barely speaking the last time we were all together?” Aiden asks, sounding utterly confounded, and Jake nods.
“Yep. Something about Green Day, I think? Either way—”
“Guys, you’re here!”
Jake whips around to be greeted with a hug from April and a characteristically shy half-wave from Marcie before Aiden lifts her off her feet and spins her in a circle. She’s blushing when he sets her down, and fiddles with a few strands of hair that have fallen out of her sleek up-do.
“What’s with Liam and Ethan?” Jake asks without preamble, and April rolls her eyes.
“Really?
That’s
the first thing you ask about,” she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm, her hands on her hips. “What about, ‘Hi, best friend! It’s been too long, and I feel awful about not calling you for longer than five minutes since
Michigan,
and how’s your throat now, and oh my god, that outfit looks
incredible
on you!’ How about
that,
Valentine?”
“Okay, I get your point, I’m sorry,” Jake says, raising his hands in submission. She doesn’t look appeased; it is as if she towers over him in her floaty, sky blue maxi dress and black heels. “I
do
feel awful, and that outfit
does
look incredible on you. How
is
your throat?”
“That’s better,” April says, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m still getting over it, so I’m just doing some backup singing for the next few gigs. And by the way, the Liam and Ethan thing is your fault.”
“What? My fault?” Jake asks, affronted.
“She told them about you and Aiden,” Marcie interjects.
“What, and they thought it was a good idea?” Aiden asks, chuckling. His eyes dance with humor as he glances at Jake, slowly looking him up and down. At Marcie’s nod, he adds, “Well, it does get lonely on the road…”
April scoffs. “Yeah, okay,
loneliness
was a factor in you two finally getting it on.”
“April,” Jake warns.
“If that’s your story, stick to it. I don’t care,” she says, flicking her long red hair over her shoulder. Jake’s jaw sets and he takes her by the elbow, leaving Marcie and Aiden to exchange a glance as he steers her through the crowd and toward the fence that borders the courtyard.
“I need you to stop,” he says, and April just rolls her eyes again.
“Jake, come on. I
know
you, and I know Aiden, and this thing you have going on? Anyone with
eyes
can see that it’s more than just—”
“I’m in love with him,” Jake interrupts, and it’s almost comical the way April freezes, her eyes going wide and her mouth hanging open. “What, like you’re surprised?”
“No, I just never thought I’d get you to admit it,” she breathes and grabs his hand. “Jakey, this is so exciting! Does he… I mean, of
course
he feels the same way, the way he looks at—oh my god, have you told him yet?”
“I’m planning on doing it tonight,” Jake says, gaze sliding to Aiden and Marcie as they talk. Marcie keeps pulling at her fingers and smoothing down the front of her ivory lace sundress, but she seems to be relaxing degree by degree; it looks as if Aiden is managing to pull her out of her shell. “She’s really sweet on him, isn’t she?”
April doesn’t respond, and when Jake looks at her, her face is stony.
“Shit. I’m sorry,” he says, but April shakes her head.
“Let’s just… not,” she says. “I really need to not go there right now.”
Is it his own good judgment or the look in April’s eyes that betrays her? Against his better instincts, Jake asks, “Did something happen?”
April glances at Marcie one more time and then crouches low against the fence, the bottom of her dress fanning out around her. Jake joins her when she beckons him down and carefully watches her face. She crosses her arms and rests them on her knees, letting out a deep sigh. “We all got drunk after the show last night and she kissed me.”
“
What?
”
Jake asks, his voice way too loud. They get odd looks from the people standing nearest to them, but he shrugs it off and focuses on April. Quietly, he continues, “Shy little Marcie Stevens got drunk and kissed you? How did that even
happen?”
“It was almost closing time, and we were sitting on one of the couches inside,” April begins. “She had her head on my shoulder, and she was tracing these stupid patterns on my leg, and I was like, freaking out internally because… well,
you
know how it is.”
Jake nods, and gestures for her to go on.
“We’d been drinking tequila and I should have known better than to give her that stuff because it always makes her super melancholy, but anyway… she was getting kind of down on herself, and I swear I just said like, one nice thing and the next thing I knew she was all over me.”
“What did you say to her?” Looking anywhere but at him, April mumbles something that Jake doesn’t quite catch. “Say that again?”
“I told her she’s the only girl I’ve ever fallen for, okay?” she says, her eyes screwed shut and her mouth twisted into a grimace. She opens one eye and looks at him. All he can do is smile at her. “Okay, fine. I was drunk, too. Just shut up.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Well, whatever you’re thinking, don’t. Sappy asshole.”
“I just don’t see what the problem is, honey,” he says, reaching out and putting a hand over hers.
She smiles a little—she knows Jake isn’t touchy-feely with most people—but it fades quickly as she says, “She doesn’t remember any of it.”
Jake laughs humorlessly. “Is she me?” At her confused look, he waves her off—Philadelphia is another story, for another time. “How do you know she doesn’t remember? Are you sure she isn’t just embarrassed and acting like nothing happened?”
“Please. There’s a reason she never declared as a drama major,” April says. “Can we just change the subject now? I’d really like it if we could stop talking about this.”
“Okay. But if you need me…”
“I know. A five-minute conversation is one phone call away.”
Jake winces, but doesn’t contradict her; instead he shuffles forward in his crouched position and gives her an awkward hug. She drops her forehead to his shoulder, hugging him back after a moment, and asks, “Are you nervous?”
“I’m a Valentine, honey. We don’t get nervous.”
April pulls back and levels him with a single look. “Jake, are you
nervous?”
Jake swallows and gives her a tremulous smile. “Terrified.”
“Piece of advice.” April gets to her feet. Jake follows as she brushes herself off and adjusts the skirt of her dress, looking up at him with earnest eyes. “Do
not
break eye contact with him when you do your solo. After that, you probably won’t even need to tell him.”
“You’re really sure he feels the same way,” Jake says. He feels like a teenager all over again; he can’t help needing the extra reassurance.
“You forget that I know what song he picked,” April reminds him with a wink, and links arms to lead him toward the stage. “Now let’s rock the shit outta this place, and get you your man while we’re at it. You game?”
With much more conviction than he feels, Jake nods and says, “Bring it on.”
Five minutes later, all members of The One with the Band are assembled: Hugh behind his drum kit, Drake on bass, Liam and Ethan on guitar and keyboard off to Jake’s right, Jake at two backup microphones with April and Marcie on the left and Aiden center stage to open. The main lights drop; the only remaining illumination is provided by the giant screen behind them, undulating between deep and pale shades of blue. The crowd noise has died down to a murmur punctuated by a few coughs and cleared throats. It’s enough to have Jake’s stomach churning with nerves and anticipation.
A single glimpse of Aiden’s reassuring smile, and the nervousness is gone.
A fleeting brush of their reaching fingertips, and
Jake
is gone.
There’s no introduction this time, simply Liam counting off and strumming the introduction of their opening song
.
It’s fun and energetic, and sure to get the crowd interested. As Hugh joins in and the lights come up, Aiden stands with his feet shoulder-width apart, his back straight, both hands curled around the mic.
He starts singing and Jake watches the crowd fall for him, cheering when he manages to work the name of the bar into the second line. Jake grins and joins in with April and Marcie’s over-the-top, cheesy backup choreography. The song is a fantastic choice to open the show—it is bright and bouncy enough to engage the audience but doesn’t show off everything the band can do.
During the final refrain, Aiden takes the mic from the stand and struts across the stage, slotting himself between Jake and Marcie and snaking his arm around Jake’s waist. They trade lines, calling and responding exactly as Jake’s been hoping they would, and when Aiden is back at his mic stand, the song drawing to its close, he breaks his rapport with the crowd to sing the last line directly to Jake.
Shouldn’t I be asking
you
to stay? Isn’t that my line?
Jake wonders in distraction, half listening as the guys play through the song’s final bars and the crowd bursts into applause louder even than in Ann Arbor.
“Cheer Up Charlie’s!” Aiden shouts into the mic, raising his arms. “A
very
good evening to all of you! We’re absolutely thrilled to be here in Austin, so thanks for having us. We’re playing two sets for you tonight, and we’ve left some song lists scattered around because we’ll be inviting a few of you up here to jam with us in the second set, so don’t be shy! If there’s a song you want to sing, write your name and song on a slip and bring it up to us.
“I’m Aiden,” he continues, and gestures to each of the other band members in turn. “Behind me on drums you’ll see Hugh; over on guitar and keyboard you’ll see Liam and Ethan; on bass we’ve got Drake; there’s April on backup vocals; and Marcie on trumpet.
“And next up, ladies and gentleman, we have Jake,” Aiden says, his voice soft around the sound of Jake’s name as he motions him over to the mic.
With weak knees and trembling hands, not really knowing how much of it is coming from his adrenalin rush, Jake takes the stand and kisses Aiden’s cheek. Aiden’s hand momentarily lingers at his waist and then Jake is alone under a spotlight. It’s almost as terrifying as the thought of offering himself to Aiden, flaws and all.
Jake watches Aiden climb down from the stage—his anchor, his touchstone, his reason—and glances over at April, who smiles at him reassuringly. It does little for his resurgence of nerves. He can only hope that the song he has chosen to encapsulate everything manages to resonate. The song says it all, and says it all with hope—from his point of view, at least.
Hugh takes up the percussive introduction of Jake’s song, and Jake draws in a centering breath.
This is it, Jake. This is where it begins.
Ignoring April’s earlier advice, he fixes his gaze upon the middle distance as he starts to sing—and oh, how liberating it is to do so freely now, without his throat closing up and his words stuttered if they come out at all. This song is soulful; though it isn’t the sort of thing Jake is used to singing, and though his upper range is still somewhat unpracticed, he finds it easy to let his voice run over the notes in a comfortable flow. Being onstage and feeling Aiden’s eyes on him, singing for him and letting one hand grip the mic and the other drift up into his hair, Jake feels… sexy. Powerful. He can do this.
He sways in time with the flowing beat and notices the crowd getting into it, waving their arms from side to side over their heads. Jake’s eyes finally come to rest upon Aiden during the second verse; drawing him in is easy, and keeping him is easier. Their eye contact is charged—Aiden
has
to know Jake is singing about him, to him,
for
him. The possibility that he might not, that he might unwittingly let his lifelong self-confidence issues get in the way, is a thought that Jake quashes as immediately as it occurs to him, lest he let the knot in his stomach travel too far up and make him start biting his tongue again.
The song is a contradiction, and the lyrics illustrate the war that Jake has waged against himself for longer than he will probably ever know, but no more—they could be the worst, but they could also be the greatest. All he has to do is leap, and put aside the fear that Aiden won’t be there long enough to break his fall.