“This is going to be so weird,” giggled Blakely, pulling me along beside her, into the venue. “The last time I saw them play was in Rian’s basement senior year before a gig.”
“I’ve actually never seen them,” I sighed, feeling slightly nervous despite the pep talk that I’d given myself while getting ready. This does not mean anything that he invited you to come see the show. Put miniscule high school crushes behind you, you idiot.

After flashing our passes to security, we walked in the direction of the yelling and screaming that was clearly audible from the opposite end of the long hall. It had to be them. Sure enough, as we rounded the corner, Jack and Alex were jumping around, singing some unintelligible song as their tour manager tried to get them to listen. Rian and Zack were, more calmly, laughing and sipping on waters.
“Guys!” Matt yelled at them, then gave us an exasperated smile.
“Presley!” screamed Jack, running over to give me a quick hug. He also bid hello to Blakely, as the others greeted us, though he had barely taken his eyes off of me. I began to feel uncomfortable, but then felt relieved as they were called to backstage; the show was about to start. The screaming had become more intense, and all of the guys looked at one another with determined smiles.
“Ready?!” screamed Alex, and they all yelled in return.
Jack was making his way out the door when he quickly turned and spoke to Blakely and I, “You can stand in the crowd or watch from backstage, your choice,” he flashed a quick smile, along with a wink at me, and then was gone.
The show was amazing, just as I’d expected it would be. Watching from backstage felt so much more special, probably just because Jack kept glancing my way every now and again and flashing a grin as he sang along. His hyperactive personality shone even brighter on stage; he ran, skipped, and jumped from place to place. There wasn’t one part of the stage he hadn’t been on by the end of the second song. It was entertainment enough just to watch his dizzying circles, in-tempo jumping, and facial expressions.
Before Blakely and I made our way back home, the boys each gave us four sweaty hugs despite our disgust and protest, and Jack walked us to the door leading outside.
“Hey, thanks so much for coming,” he smiled brightly, wiping his sweaty forehead with a towel. “It means a lot.”
“Thank you,” I replied, returning a wide smile. “It was so awesome of you to give us your tickets.”
“It was really no problem! I’ll see you around, I need a shower. I’m sweating more than a whore in church. Bye, you guys,” he laughed and gave us one last smile before turning and making his way back down the hall.
Just as we had made our way out the door, I heard frantic screaming from inside the venue, and turned in fright. Jack was running back towards us, his t-shirt in his hand and his jeans both unzipped and unbuttoned.
“Cell… phone,” he panted, holding out his left hand as his right rested on his hip.
“Excuse me?” I raised an eyebrow, but complied and handed him my phone.
His breathing slowed as he typed quickly into my cell phone.
“Got it,” he smiled, handing my phone back, as well as earning a giggle from both Blakely and I.
“Okay, goodbye for real this time. You girls be good,” he gave me another wink, and the both of us a sincere smile before retreating.

I sighed when we reached my car, and Blakely looked at me knowingly. “Don’t even say it, Blakely.” She pretended to zip her mouth shut, even rolling down the window to throw the key into the landscape that flew by as we drove home.
I fell onto my plush comforter, the afterglow of a concert still buzzing through my system. I was sure Jack had something to do with the euphoria as well, but I wasn’t about to admit that to even the conscious part of my own mind. I pushed the thoughts away, and forced myself to change into pajamas. Just as I felt myself drifting into sleep, I heard my phone go off noisily from somewhere in the bed. It took me a moment to find my phone, its blaring hurting my post-concert ears.
I flipped the phone open, and smiled to myself, also allowing a quick eye-roll before opening the text message that flashed across the touch screen.
Thanks so much for coming tonight. Sorry we didn’t get to talk too much. Coffee or something tomorrow? :) –Jack
My fingers flashed across the screen, replying to his quick but sweet message as I scolded myself for getting too excited. Presley, just stop, I thought to myself.
Hey, I understand completely! Thank YOU so much for letting us come, it was a blast. Coffee sounds great, as long as you’ve showered by then, of course. No more sweaty hugs please ;) Goodnight, Jack. I knew he had my number, or would know who it was, so I felt no need in ending the text with my name attached. As I lay back in my bed, looking into the dark abyss of my room, my mind started wandering. I’m sure he invites girls he meets to shows all the time. What if I’m just a number, what if he doesn’t know who my text is from, and just has to guess? What if I sounded way too forward and desperate?
The more mature, more intelligent, part of my brain told the other half to shut its stupid mouth and stop worrying so damn much.
Just as I drifted off to sleep, I told myself not to get my hopes up. If anything, Jack’s friendship would be optimal at this point. I remembered all the fun we had in high school, and if sacrificing an increasingly much-desired relationship with him, one that would most likely fail in the end, meant getting those fun times back as friends for ever, then I was okay with that.

The next morning was a clusterfuck from the second I awoke from much-needed sleep. I had forgotten to turn off my early alarm from work the previous day, meaning that a loud beeping erupted from my obnoxious alarm clock right on the dot: 6 AM. I groaned, smacking the alarm clock to shut it up. After noticing the time, I mentally cursed myself for forgetting to turn it off and settled back into my sheets. Seconds later, however, my mom burst through my bedroom door.
“Oh, you’re awake already? Which of these clothes here are dirty? I’ll just put them in with ours,” she rambled while bustling about my room, moving things and asking too many questions.
“I’ll do my own laundry, ma. I’m going back to sleep, I’ll do it when I wake up.”
“It’s okay, just tell me which ones are dirty,” she said, her sweet tone annoying me more than anything. I muttered angrily to myself as I stomped over to where she was, sorted the clothes, and shoved the dirty ones into her open arms.
“Someone’s grumpy,” she said chirpily, laughing loudly as she shut the door behind her.
Again I attempted to get comfortable, and managed to drift into another two hours of uneasy, and for some reason, nightmare-filled sleep. I woke in a cold sweat around 8, quickly pulling the covers off of me to get a drink of water from my bathroom. I looked at myself in the mirror, noting the smeared makeup, as well as the natural, frizzy curl that had crept back into my hair.
“Attractive,” I muttered sarcastically, making a face before turning on the shower.

Making my way back into my room, I managed to stub my toe on the doorframe, cursing under my breath as I dressed myself. I noticed an abandoned pile of train cars and interlocking tracks sitting on the other side of my room, and sighed.
“Ma, tell Damian to take his trains out of my room,” I asked, pouring orange juice into a crystal glass, smiling at my father as kissed my mother’s temple as a good-morning gesture.
“Oh, your work called, they wanted to know if you would work a double shift tomorrow,” my dad told me just before he walked out the door for a day’s work. I groaned. Tomorrow would be my first day off in over a week, as I had work later that day.
At least I had my coffee date with Jack to look forward to. Not a date. A… get together. An outing?
Just a few moments later, I found myself yet again cursing obscenities under my breath; I was breaking a record this morning. Damian had, indeed, moved his trains out of my room. He had placed them, quite conveniently, in the wooden-floored hall just outside of my room. One badly placed caboose, and I found myself falling dramatically. If it had been a cartoon, one could have easily replaced the misplaced train car with a banana peel; it was picture-esque.
“Fucking trains,” I grumbled, kicking the little red car across the hall.
I heard my phone beeping almost as immediately as I entered my room. I unlocked the phone, seeing that there was a missed call from Jack. My heart fluttered, which I adamantly ignored, and I returned the call, wiggling my toes nervously.
“Hello?” he answered, his voice still a bit sleepy. I smiled.
“Hey, Jack, it’s Presley,” I said brightly.
“Elvis!” he said quickly. I giggled at my newly-earned nickname.
“So what’s up?”
“Oh, right! Shit, I’m so sorry but I have to cancel on coffee this morning.” My heart sank. “We got a last minute call for an interview that we can’t turn down, do you want to go out tonight?” More sinking.
“I can’t,” I said disappointedly, “I have work at 4.”
“Damn,” he muttered. “Okay, well how about tomorrow? We leave at 7, you want to do an early date?” My heart was metaphorically to China by now.
“I have work in the morning, too,” I said, my voice sadder yet.
“Aw, Elvis!” He whined. “I’m so sorry, this sucks.”
I sighed, “It’s okay. Maybe next time you’re in town, right?” I knew well enough that they were hardly ever in town. I was surprised that they were so accepting of being away from home for so long. Of course, Jack himself had mentioned that their tour bus was basically their first home, everything else only a close second.
“Hey, definitely! It might be a while, but how about I at least give you a call here and there? I can probably squeeze a text or two as well,” he said, and I could practically hear the grin on his face.
“That sounds really great, Jack,” I allowed a small laugh.
“Alright, Pres. Well, I really hate to cut this short, but we’re about to leave for the interview in a few minutes. But, hey, I’ll definitely call you or something soon, deal?”
“Alright, yeah. That sounds great,” I repeated, smiling to myself. “Bye, Jack!”
“Bye, Elvis!” he screamed into the phone just before I clicked the End button.
I laid across my bed, sighing at my own luck. Or lack thereof.