Angsty - Enemies to Lovers - Slow Burn
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Hitch Pepper might've had a stupid name, and a personality that drove me crazy, but that didn't stop her from being gorgeous. Everyone knew it, guys and girls alike.
And my buddy Phil Childre...
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IN LATE AUGUST of 1977, Rock on the Water was opened. It was a concert venue built by the city to bring in more tourists, a stage set in the middle of a pond right next to the riverfront.
It would close after only one concert.
And I was there to see the reason why.
I don't remember exactly who played, or if they were even good or not, but the rest of that night was seared into my brain like a branding.
It was hot and muggy, moisture hanging in the air and carrying every scent it could with it—booze, weed, body odor. It reeked.
Gail and Rome sat on a blanket a couple of yards away from me as I leaned up against one of the light poles on the small hill behind the crowd of drunk teenagers and college kids, keeping an eye out for Hitch.
I couldn't help myself. It was the whole reason I came in the first place.
It took me halfway through the set to finally spot her. She was by one of the light poles where the crowd started to fan out, trapped under Byron's arm and tucked into his side as he drank a beer and bobbed his head to the music. She had a beer of her own as well and wanted desperately to dance. I could tell as much. She swayed her head like she wanted to move her body along with it.
I glared at Byron.
Let her dance, douchebag, I thought. Let her be herself.
If I had to guess, I didn't think he wanted people looking at her while she danced. She'd already stopped wearing her normal clothes, showing up to the concert in a pair of flared jeans and a red t-shirt instead of her usual denim cut-offs and crocheted halter tops she liked so much.
The Hitch I knew was fading away by the second, allowing Byron to chip away at her until he was satisfied with what remained. It troubled me and made me question if she had ever really been herself around me at all.
What was the real Hitch like? Who was she? Had I met her?
I honestly didn't know.
My eyes were locked on her when a girl approached me, her face so clouded with shadows and the red light from the stage that I could barely make out her features until she was under the warm light above me.
"Marlene?"
She smiled timidly. "Yeah, uh, how are you doing?"
My eyes flickered over to Rome before landing back on her, he looked as shocked to see her as I was. "Uh, good . . . You?"
"Good. I, um," she sighed, "I just came over to apologize. You know, for blowing up on you how I did."
The image of her angry, screaming face popped into my head. I sighed.
"It's fine," I told her. "I guess I should apologize, too. I wasn't a good boyfriend to you. I realize that now, and I'm sorry for that."
She nodded. "Yeah, you weren't, but I'm over it." She shrugged. "I also heard about Phil. I wanted to offer my condolences." She smiled wistfully. "He was such a sweetheart."
