65. Reese

My ears ring.

The opening band filed off the stage ten minutes ago, but I still feel the effect of their music fizzing through my veins.

I stand just backstage, watching the roadies set up for Jonah’s band. The crowd is electric. I can hear the indistinct hum of their voices buzzing in my chest like a swarm of bees. Looking back over my shoulder, I watch Jonah and his bandmates get ready to go on stage. Adjusting earpieces, checking mics.

It’s hard to believe that this time last year, half of these band members wore college tees and worn-out chucks. They played acoustic guitars and bongos. Now they wear black tees, ripped jeans. And there’s ink. So much ink. Jonah’s added an entire sleeve of tattoos since we were together. He catches me staring and gives me a quick smile.

I guess we’ve all changed. In college, my standard concert outfit was an oversized hoodie and jeans. When I was getting ready, I found myself picking out clothes based on what Jonah would approve of. Old habits die hard, but at least I caught myself. I look down at my mini skirt and crop top and grin. The look of surprise on Jonah’s face when he first saw me was pretty good.

And then they’re passing by me, filing onto the stage to the sound of a thousand screaming fans. It’s dark at first, with only a spotlight on Jonah. The crowd has fallen completely silent.

The first song is called ‘Certain’ and it’s almost like he’s singing it just for me. His body moves with feline grace, like the words have to work their way up from the ground, through his lanky limbs. He sways, turning to look at me, back at the crowd, and at me again.

I’d look away, but I can’t.

I’m being treated to a strange tableau. A beautiful work of art. Tragic, customized just for me. It makes me feel a little unmoored.

This guy, beautiful and talented in his own right, is currently obsessed with a little country girl like me.

There’s any number of women out in that crowd that would probably throw themselves at his feet.

And all I can think is… they can have him.

I was once obsessed with him too, but now I just feel nothing. The timing is off. The girl who loved Jonah Craig is gone. And the girl Jonah thinks he’s in love with doesn’t exist anymore.

I’ve evolved.

I guess you could say I grew up.

This dream of Jonah’s is big and exciting, and I’m genuinely impressed by him. Happy for him. But this is his dream, not mine. And I don’t want to be just a planet caught in his orbit.

I want to shine for myself.

I spend the rest of the set thinking about stars and wondering if there are any galaxies with more than one star at the center.

It’s not until they cut the lights and the band is slipping past me that I realize the show is over. Jonah takes my hand and tugs me behind him. I let him have my hand, but my thoughts are elsewhere.

I have heard through the grapevine, otherwise known as Mitch, that Skyler has started dating. I have a brief, vicious fantasy of taking a selfie of Jonah and me and posting it online. But I dismiss the idea. As much as I want to show Skyler that I can move on too, I don’t want to send Jonah the wrong signals.

Before I agreed to come to the concert, I was very clear that it was just as a friend.

When your famous rock star friend is in your own city, it’s bad form to skip the concert. With the show over, the bandmates look to me to pick the spot for the after party.

Of course, I pick the tiki bar on Pearl Street. It’s quickly become my favorite spot and the first place I’ve ever been a regular at.

We file in, easing back into our familiar conversations. Once upon a time, these guys were some of my closest friends. Now, they seem like distorted, living memories. Taking up my usual spot at the bar, I shoot Mitch a text telling him to come down with his friends.

I sit back, enjoying the owner’s response to having a rock band invade. I’m not a social media expert, but if I was, I’d say the optics couldn’t be better. Fluorescent pink lights and campy décor. The bandmates immediately start taking pictures of everything.

Mitch shows up, bringing the energy and noise. He’s a one-man traveling party. Sitting at the bar, I sip a Mai Tai and watch the party unfold around me. It feels good. It feels like home.