Free Falling

Finn and Tyler were back on stage, whipping the crowd into a frenzied state as their second set of the night progressed. They’d spent their break laughing at the bar with Lexi and me, and – not that I’d ever admit it to Lexi – it had been so much fun I was actually looking forward to the possibility of double dates in the future.

After they left us to go perform, Lexi and I had claimed a small high-top table on the outskirts of the crowd where we had a prime vantage point for ogling the band and watching the writhing people on the dance floor. We were giggling at the sight of a stumbling-drunk couple sloppily making out against a thick ceiling support column, when Finn’s voice cut through the noise of the club and immediately caught my attention.

“Alright, alright, alright!” Finn yelled into the mic. “You guys enjoying the show?”

The crowd screamed their approval.

“We’re gonna slow it down a bit now, so bear with us. This next song is really important to me, ‘cause it says everything I never seem to be able to find the right words for.” Finn smiled as he looked out over the crowd, his eyes coming to rest on me. “This one goes out to my special girl – she knows who she is.” He winked at me.

There was a collective sigh from the females in the audience; it was obvious that 99.9% of them believed he was talking about them.

“And, actually, I’m gonna need her help to sing it,” Finn told the audience. “She’s probably going to kill me for doing this, so I’ll need your help getting her up here. Let’s give her some encouragement! Make some noise for BROOKLYN!” He held his arms out at his sides and waved them up and down, pumping up the crowd’s volume to an ear-splitting decibel.

“You call that loud?” Finn yelled into the mic.

The crowd roared even louder. This was unprecedented; never once in Apiphobic Treason’s history had they ever called someone from the audience up on stage.

“Come on, princess, get your ass up here!”

He was laughing into the microphone, undoubtedly amused by the look of murderous rage that was beaming from my eyes. I began vigorously shaking my head back and forth so he would understand that there was no way in hell I was getting up on that stage.

“He means you, dummy!” Lexi shoved at my arm. “Go!”

I looked at her in horror. “I’m not going up there! Whose side are you on?” I yelled, appalled.

“Finn’s!”

Traitor!

By this point the crowd had started to turn around, curious about the identity of Finn Chamber’s ‘special girl.’ Then, the chanting began – a slow-building crescendo of my name, called out in unison by the nearly three hundred people.

“BROOK-LYN, BROOK-LYN,” they chanted relentlessly, the room vibrating with the sound.

Whoever was working the stage lights located me in the crowd – Finn had probably tipped them off beforehand so they’d know exactly where I was standing – and I suddenly found myself illuminated on all sides by a spotlight.

Well, there goes my plan to escape unnoticed out the back door.

“Come on, princess, don’t be shy,” Finn’s voice teased, booming through the speakers at me.

“BROOK-LYN, BROOK-LYN, BROOK-LYN,” the crowd screamed.

“Go!” Lexi cajoled, giving me a push from behind and sending me toppling off my chair in the direction of the stage.

Fuck.

I moved through the dense crowd, the spotlight following my every step, and club-goers parted around me like I was freaking Moses navigating the Red Sea. I kept my eyes locked on Finn’s as I neared the stage, and felt Lexi’s presence hovering close behind me, her hand clasped tight around mine.

Traitor or not, the girl always had my back.

As we ascended the stairs and found ourselves on stage, Lexi leaned forward so her mouth brushed my ear. “Thank god I took the time to curl your hair. And you wanted to wear it up in a ponytail, of all things! Can you imagine?!”

Her voice was teasing and affectionate, full of the reassurance I so desperately needed to calm the nervous butterflies swarming in my stomach. My nerves eased slightly as I laughed at her ridiculousness, and I sent her a warm look as she gave my hand a final squeeze of support. She winked as we parted ways, dropping my hand so I could make my way to Finn while she went to stand by Tyler’s drum kit.

The warmth immediately faded from my expression as I turned to look at Finn. He was waiting for me, unbothered by my wrath, with one hand outstretched. I slipped my hand into his and dug my fingernails harshly into his palm.

He didn’t even bother to flinch, the bastard.

“What the hell are you doing, Finn!” I whispered, careful not to project into the microphone. He winked at me, then turned to face the crowd.

“Ladies, gents, here she is – I give you Brooklyn Turner, everybody! Make some noise for her!”

Great, he was ignoring me.

The crowd, however, was not; from the loud, appreciative catcalls and male yells I heard emanating from the audience, it was clear that The Dress was not only appreciated, but a very welcome change from the all-male entertainment Styx usually boasted. I couldn’t help but smile a little.

“Now, like I said earlier, this song is special to me and Brooklyn. You might even say it’s our song,” he said, grinning at me. “Right, princess?”

“We don’t have a song,” I muttered, appalled. I really didn’t like where this was headed. “We aren’t even a couple!” In spite of my growing alarm, I managed to keep my voice low enough that the microphone didn’t project my protests across the club. Finn ignored me, throwing an arm around my shoulder and hauling me close to his side.

“We can’t hear you!” a voice shouted from the crowd.

“Yeah, what’d she say?” another yelled.

“She agreed with me,” Finn told the crowd, his body moving with suppressed laughter. “So, without further ado, for our first performance as a couple…this is Home by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros!”

Couple? What the…what?!

Before I could protest or even fully process the bomb he’d just dropped on me – and approximately three hundred random strangers – Scott, Trent, and Ty started playing the intro notes. My cue to sing was approaching too rapidly to move or think or even breathe – all I could do was react.

Thanking my lucky stars that – due to countless practice runs in my shower – I knew all the words to this song by heart, I took a step out from under Finn’s arm and grabbed the mic stand. If I was going to do this, then I was going to do it right; you just can’t half-ass a song like “Home.”

Looking out over the screaming crowd, I forgot to be mad at Finn. My mind cleared completely, and all that was left was the feel of the microphone gripped in my hand and the utter rush of adrenaline coursing through my veins.

Then even that was gone; I was empty of everything except the lyrics, and I was singing my heart out.

Finn and I traded off verses seamlessly, as if we’d practiced this song together millions of times. In reality, we’d only sung it once – when it played yesterday as we’d painted my bedroom.

The song’s tone was playful, and we laughed as we sang and circled each other on stage, eyes locked on one other rather than the audience. Despite the lightness of our performance, the lyrics conveyed a deeper and infinitely more meaningful message. I didn’t fail to notice what Finn was telling me by selecting this particular song.

Home.

It’s wherever I’m with you.

It was a strong statement to make to anyone, but it was especially powerful for me – a girl who hadn’t had a true home for most of her life. His choice hadn’t been accidental; he knew better than anyone what my life growing up had been like. The bits and pieces I’d revealed had painted him a pretty good picture of my childhood, even if he was still missing some of the more vital details.

So him choosing this song? It wasn’t a coincidence, or an oversight, or a mistake.

It was a declaration. It was an assurance I’d never before been offered. It was a promise that, even though I didn’t have a traditional home with two loving parents, a white picket fence, and a golden retriever in the front yard, it didn’t matter.

He would be my home.

It was in that instant I fell in love with him.

I know people always talk about love like it’s a realization you have one day – a sudden moment of clarity where you realize you’ve been slowly falling in love with that person for days or weeks or months. People talk like it isn’t really falling at all, but instead, a gentle recognition that you’ve already hit the ground.

It wasn’t like that for me.

It wasn’t a slow epiphany, or an awareness that I’d floated down into love weeks ago, without ever realizing it.

It was as sudden as a flashflood, as violent and terrifying as diving headfirst off the side of a skyscraper. I hadn’t fallen; No, I was free-falling – spiraling down into an abyss and waiting for the ground to rush up and meet me.

I didn’t even bother to brace for impact, because my landing was inevitable. Gravity was pushing me down, speeding my descent. Faster, faster, faster, I crashed down into love, with no hopes of ever pulling myself back up the side of building to safety.

When the pavement below came into view, canvased in a sidewalk-chalk tableau of broken hearts and crushed expectations, I waited for the forthcoming pain of impact. My arms didn’t flail, my legs didn’t bicycle the air. With detached acceptance, I anticipated the hit; the splintering of bones, the splattering of flesh and marrow on concrete as love – that horrible, destructive, immovable force – destroyed every atom and particle of my being.

So, when that inevitable crash happened – when I landed so hard against the realization I that loved Finn, it stole my breath and nearly made me stop singing – I was shocked that no parts of me shattered.

My bones didn’t break, my lifeblood didn’t spill, my heart wasn’t pulverized. Instead I felt the telltale crumble of every wall I’d ever barricaded my heart with, as they fractured to dust against the ground.

When the debris settled, and I found myself standing unharmed at the bottom of an impossibly tall skyscraper, I realized that I’d done it.

I’d jumped. And, more importantly, I’d survived the fall.

The walls I’d so meticulously constructed to keep everyone out had cushioned my fall and were now simply gone, as though they’d never existed in the first place.

I loved Finn Chambers – I freaking loved him – and there wasn’t a single barrier left to keep him out of my heart.

My face must have registered awe or fear or a mixture of both, because when I snapped back into reality I realized that Finn was looking at me strangely, with questions alight in his eyes. Thankfully, even during earthshattering realizations like the one I’d just experienced, I liked to think I could keep a pretty good poker face. Since I’d never even stopped singing, it was likely that Finn and Lexi were the only ones who’d recognized the glazed look of panicky joy in my eyes.

With a wink of reassurance in Finn’s direction, I turned back to the crowd and finished out the song with a secret smile on my face. When Scott and Ty played the final notes, I grinned as the crowd at our feet jumped up and down, applauding madly and yelling their approval. Finn waved to the crowd before grabbing my hand and tugging me toward him. Heedless of the hundreds of people watching us, he pressed his lips to mine and gave me a searing kiss.

The catcalls, if possible, grew even louder.

“Brooklyn Turner, everybody!” Tyler yelled into the mic he used for backup vocals, his voice breaking Finn and I out of our private moment. I tried to move away, but Finn didn’t let me get far; keeping his arms locked firmly around my lower back, he rested his forehead against mine. He didn’t even bother to look at the crowd – he had eyes only for me.

“You are so amazingly talented it actually stuns me,” he said, his gaze intense. “This is what you’re meant to be doing with your life, Bee.”

“Singing?” I asked, incredulous.

“Yeah,” he whispered, pulling back so he could kiss my forehead. “Just promise me you’ll at least think about it. Deal?”

“Deal,” I whispered back, pressing my lips against his to seal the agreement. When we pulled apart, Finn turned back to the crowd, keeping one hand locked with mine.

“Can’t you see why I’m crazy about this girl?” he asked the audience, holding our joined hands over my head and twirling me in a slow circle. There were cheers from the men in the audience; the fangirls, however, were uncharacteristically quiet.

I’m could almost hear the sound of thousands of hearts breaking all across campus as girls texted, tweeted, and blogged the news that Finn Chambers was officially, inconceivably, off the market. The girls nearest the stage were either staring at me with thinly veiled jealousy and hatred, or looking longingly at Finn, as if at any moment he’d announce that it was all a big joke and call them up onstage instead.

I waved at them cheerfully as I walked off stage with Lexi at my heels.

Bitchy? Maybe. Satisfying as hell? Definitely.

Lexi and I were the recipients of more than a few judgmental looks as we made our way to the bar to grab another round. We decidedly ignored them, paid for our drinks, and walked back to reclaim our small table near the stage.

“Girl, if you don’t lock that shit down, I will. That boy is so fucking hot, every girl in this room would kill to be you right now,” Lexi said, her light blue eyes wide as she stared at me across the high-top. “In all seriousness, though, watch your back. Some of these bitches wouldn’t bat an eyelash as they sliced your throat with a lethally manicured fingernail and left your body to rot in the dumpster outside.”

“That’s comforting, Lex. Thanks so much.”

“I try,” she grinned.

“I think I love him,” I blurted.

Lie. I totally knew I loved him.

“Yep, “Lexi nodded sagely. “You were a goner the minute that boy sauntered into your life.”

“He doesn’t saunter,” I pointed out, sipping my drink.

“You’re right. You were a goner the minute he scraped you off the pavement when you fell over that fire hydrant.”

“After I fell?” I asked. It seemed Lexi and I remembered the events of that day very, very differently.

“Yep,” Lexi giggled.

I shot a glare in her direction.

“You love him,” she sighed happily, a dreamy look drifting over her face.

“Lex,” I said, warningly. Admitting it out loud was one thing; discussing it casually over drinks was another.

“I know, I know,” she grumbled. “You don’t want to talk about it.”

“I’m going to run to the bathroom,” I told her, rising from my seat. I needed to clear my head. “Be back in a second.”

“Want me to come?” she offered, her eyes fixed on the stage.

“Nah, stay here and guard the table. I won’t be long.”

“Mmkay,” she murmured, practically drooling as she watched Tyler perform a kickass drum solo. I cast a final look at Finn, who was fully engrossed in his performance, his eyes closed in concentration, and I felt my heart swell with so much feeling I thought my ribs might crack under the strain.

Tearing my eyes away, I turned and headed for the back hallway where the bathrooms were located. As I pushed open the door to the women’s room, I froze in the doorway when I saw that all of the stalls were occupied, with several girls waiting in line. Every head swiveled to look at me as the door swung open, and I abruptly realized that I would never be able to think surrounded by so much female hostility.

Allowing the door to swing closed again, I turned my back to the bathroom and glanced down the dim hallway. The walls were dingy, covered in peeling gunmetal gray paint and a myriad stains whose origins I had no desire to discover. A single bare, flickering light-bulb swung from a wire on the ceiling, and the hallway’s other two doors offered passage either into the men’s room or out into the narrow alleyway running adjacent to Styx.

It wasn’t exactly an environment suited to finding one’s inner Zen.

In under a second my decision was made and my feet were moving, carrying me toward the door to the alleyway. I needed to breathe the night air, to see the ever-present night sky and regain an iota of control over the parts of me I felt spiraling wildly.

The door was constructed of heavy, soundproofed metal and, judging from its worn, rusted appearance, it didn’t appear to see frequent use. It squealed on its hinges as I pushed it open, flecks of rust falling like ashes into the dim alleyway beyond. At my feet was a lone cinderblock, pushed against the wall as a makeshift doorstop. Leaning down, I used one hand to grab it and dragged it over to prop open the door.

Yellow light from the hallway spilled out into the alley, illuminating a small section of the otherwise dark passage. Stepping through the doorway and down two concrete steps, I acted on an instinct so deeply ingrained I couldn’t quite remember its origins; my head tilted back, gaze lifting to the night sky, and as the stars swam slowly into focus, I was overcome with a feeling of infinite calm.

I’d craved the grounding serenity of the stars for as long as I could remember; the vastness of the galaxies above had always made my problems seem somehow smaller or more manageable – whether it was from my perch on the Victorian’s rooftop, from the French-style balcony off my bedroom in my father’s estate, or from a dilapidated porch stoop in a long-forgotten foster home. Now, thanks to Finn, I could even see the stars from my bed as I looked up at my ceiling. The thought made me smile into the dark night.

I leaned back against the cool brick wall opposite the club door, head tilted up to the constellations above. With an efficiency born from years of practice, I rattled off their names in my mind.

Andromeda.

Pisces.

Aquarius.

Pegasus.

Eventually, I felt my mind clear and allowed my eyes to droop closed. The minutes ticked by as I listened to the muffled music leaking out the propped door into the alley, trying to work up the courage to go back inside. It wasn’t that I was scared to see Finn. In fact, it was the opposite; I was so eager to be alone with him, it was taking every modicum of self-control I possessed not to storm back on stage and forcibly drag him to my apartment.

My eyes flew open at the unmistakable sound of the heavy metal door slamming shut with a resounding boom that shook me to my very core. Even more startling was the sudden quiet, as if the darkness had thrown a thick woolen blanket over every sound – the music, the laughter, the chatter of rowdy patrons as they bought drinks. It was all gone now, leaving me alone in the utter stillness.

And the dark.

Every trace of calm in my system had fled along with the light, and my mind was abruptly full of panicked thoughts that pinged around the inside of my mind faster than I could keep up with.

Did someone close the door, or was it the wind?

Are you an idiot? There isn’t any wind, Brooklyn.

Okay, so someone closed it.

Did they know that I’m out here?

Shit, does anyone know that I’m out here?

Or, worse…is someone out here with me?

I forced myself to stop thinking along those lines before I induced a full-blown panic attack. My eyes, unadjusted to the sudden darkness, reeled wildly as they searched for something, anything, in the pitch-black alleyway. Every muscle in my body tensed as I prepared for an attack of some kind. I took stock of the situation, my hands curled into fists and my body poised on the balls of my feet as I prepared to take off at a moment’s notice.

I had two options: either feel my way back toward the door and try to open it – which I wasn’t even sure was possible, given the fact that I hadn’t seen a doorknob on the outside – or follow along the wall I was leaning against until it led me to the street in front of Styx. The alley was probably only a hundred feet long – it would have taken me no more than a few seconds to find my way out under normal circumstances.

Now, however, with only my hands and ears to guide me, my feet strapped into a pair of Lexi’s highest heeled sandals, and fear coursing through my veins, I knew it would take me much longer to reach the street. Especially if I was bumping into dumpsters and wading through refuse the entire way.

I cursed my own stupidity. I’d broken every rule in the Girls Who Don’t Want to Get Murdered at College handbook by going outside alone and not bringing Lexi or even my cellphone with me on this asinine escapade.

I decided my chances of prying open the heavy door were better than attempting to navigate a garbage-filled cobblestone alley in five-inch stilettos. With my luck, I’d probably end up tripping over a hobo or falling headfirst into a dumpster.

Taking a tentative step forward into the darkness, I kept one hand planted against the wall behind me, the brick surface rough beneath my palm. Despite the faint light cast by the stars above, the alley remained too dark to make out any shapes at all. Initially, I’d been optimistic that my eyes would adjust to the shadows, but after nearly a full minute had passed with little change, my hopes had dwindled.

Without my sight, my other senses were all on high alert; I could smell the cloying stench emanating from the dumpsters and, if a mouse had scurried anywhere within a half-mile radius, I was sure I’d have heard it. So with each passing minute that the alley remained utterly quiet, I grew more confident that I was alone.

I felt some of the tension uncoil from my shoulders. Though I was still uneasy about the situation, I was beginning to think that the door slamming closed was the work of a jealous fangirl, rather than some kind of creeper-rapist-monster-zombie.

More assuredly, I took another step forward into the darkness, taking me farther from the wall at my back and leaving only the fingertips of my left hand on the bricks. I was reluctant to relinquish that final tactile connection to the world, irrationally worried that, if I did, I might find myself lost in the darkness.

The alley was relatively narrow; standing directly in the center, I thought I might be able to reach both walls with my arms extended out to either side. Anxious to reach the doorway and get back to the safety of the club, I swung my right hand out into the darkness, hoping that my fingertips would strike the cool metal of the door, or the hard concrete of the steps.

They didn’t.

Instead, they came into contact with something infinitely scarier.

Something that made my heart seize in my chest and my lungs constrict with a sudden loss of air. Something that froze the blood to ice in my veins.

Because that thing my fingers had grazed?

It was a man’s chest.

Date: 2015-02-16; view: 669