Focus

They Don't Really Suck

Tuesday passes in a blur, and so does most of Wednesday. My nights are restless. Random flashes of Saturday night come in bits and pieces, making it hard to concentrate during my classes, but I'm still eternally grateful that I'm not getting any special attention. When the bell rings I feel a surge of relief and make a beeline directly for the arts building. Today's the day I get to meet Calum's band. My heart races with excitement and nerves; if they're anything like he is, I'm doomed. I skirt around the edges of the crowd in the music room and push open the back doors to the percussion area. Even though the practice room door at the end of the hall is closed, I can hear the myriad of guitar chords and cymbals and I feel my stomach drop. This is it, I think. My feet are slow as if I'm dragging my legs through a pool of molasses. Finally, I gain a sudden surge of confidence and jog to the door, pulling it open. I scan the room taking in the scene in front of me. Ashton is behind a black drumset near the back wall, and he's doing riffs on each drum as a warm up. His muscular arms move fast, drumsticks flying, and his soft hair is pulled back in its usual bandana. I stare for a second, amazed as his face scrunches up in concentration, and then tear my eyes away, looking for Calum. He's propped up on a stool with his bass, and sitting on either side of him are two boys. One of them has his long legs crossed underneath him revealing the holes in his jeans; he's wearing a black shirt and holding a guitar, lightly strumming along with Calum. My eyes sweep hungrily over his broad shoulders and strong arms. Then my gaze flits up to his face. His features are soft - he has light blue eyes and fluffy copper hair that's styled upwards over his forehead, and his jawline is firm but he has a gentle mouth and smooth cheeks. A small hoop circles over his lower lip. My heart sinks. Jesus, I think. He's gorgeous too. I'm almost afraid to look, but I turn my head slightly to focus my eyes on the other boy. His hair is white and spiky, with a blue stripe down the middle, and he has a piercing on his left eyebrow. By far, he's the palest out of the group, and his eyes are a vibrant ice blue. I'm stunned. My instinct forces me to take a step back out of sheer intimidation. He looks like the kind of boy your parents wouldn't want you to bring home. A bad boy. He gazes up at me with an intense stare before setting down his guitar and standing up.

"You're the girl we're playing for, right?" he says in a much softer voice than I expected. As he talks, he squints one of his eyes and tilts his head to the side, looking me up and down. "Yeah," I begin uneasily. Calum looks up from his guitar and notices me. His face lights up with a smile and he stops playing. When he stands up, the copper haired boy seems to take the hint and stops also, looking up at me; soon, Ashton does the same. Now, the room is silent, and all eyes are on me. I shift uncomfortably. "This is Hannah, you guys," Calum says with a grin. The pale boy says, "I'm Michael." I smile at him as he picks up his guitar again and strums absentmindedly, waiting for someone else to start talking. I give an expectant look to the quiet boy sitting next to Calum. He looks up at me and turns bright red. "Oh, um, yeah, I'm Luke," he mumbles, staring down at his fingers pretending to be distracted by the strings on his guitar. He reaches up and nervously twirls his lip ring. I develop a sudden affection for him; he's shy and quiet, and just as nervous as I am, and I suppress a smile. "Nice to meet you guys." "I'm not really sure why we're doing this," Michael says with a chuckle. He runs his hands through his hair. I let out a little sigh. I'm in a room full of guitar playing male models. What do I do? He shakes his head, and adds, "We're not really very good." I shoot Calum a stern look, and he smiles apologetically. "So I've heard," I mutter. Luke rises from his chair and walks over to the riser. Michael follows him, and so does Calum.

As they plug in the speakers and start tuning equipment, they play a few warmup notes, and Calum pulls off his flannel shirt, tying it around his waist, revealing his muscular arms in the loose black tank he's wearing. "What are you guys gonna play for me?" I prop my face up on my hands. He turns to me and says, "We've written a few songs as a band so far. If it's okay, we're gonna play one of those first." "Absolutely!" I exclaim. Excitement replaces my nerves, and I sit up a little straighter in my chair. "Whenever you guys are ready." Luke exchanges an uncomfortable look with Michael, who in return gives him a curt nod of approval. Luke's ears flush red as he steps up to the mic. "This is a song I wrote with Calum," he begins. "It's called Don't Stop." Michael taps his foot a few times, and then Ashton plays a starting riff. An upbeat tune begins to play and they roll their shoulders to the beat. I nod my head, already impressed. Luke takes a sharp breath, and brings his mouth up to the mic.