Somewhere in the Middle

Post Show High

Jamie was comfortable on stage—more comfortable staring at the sea of unknown faces before him than he was anywhere else. With his two best friends backing him up, playing the music they loved, it felt like anything was possible, like he could do anything he wanted, like the world wasn't such a shitty place after all.

And there was nothing like a sold-out show—people from all different walks of life who came together for a night of music. Their screams filled the air with a thick buzz of adrenaline, the sound vibrating enough to create a pleasant thrum under Jamie's feet on stage. Their passion fueled his, and gave him a high he could never recreate with alcohol, drugs, or even sex. He knew because he'd tried.

Over and over again.

"THANK YOU, LOS ANGELES!" he yelled into his mic over the roar of the crowd. The band was still rocking out behind him. "We love you all so much."

He jumped around a few times, banging his head along to the beat, his sweaty hair whipping into his face as he strummed the last bit of the last song on his electric guitar. The crowd was going insane, and he and the guys were making every second last, like they did every night, in every city. The last five drum beats hit, and without even realizing what he was doing, Jamie was on his knees, feeling the rumble of the instruments as they died down, combined with the loud vibrations of the crowd's screams as his guitar quivered with the last note in his hands.

And then it was over. The screams went dull as they ran backstage, as they handed off their instruments, and were handed towels and water bottles on their way back to the dressing room.

"Holy fuck," Greg exclaimed before opening his water bottle and taking a long pull from it. He was dripping wet, his gray shirt saturated with enough sweat to appear black. Then, through panting breaths, he said, "I think that was one of the best shows we've ever played."

"Dude, you say that every night," Lucas said with a laugh as he flopped down on the couch, running the towel over his sweaty curls.

Greg tossed his now-empty water bottle at Lucas, only causing him to laugh more. "That's cause it literally gets better and better each time we go out there."

Travis, their touring guitarist, stayed quiet. As usual. They needed the extra guitar. It gave the music a much fuller sound on stage. And Travis was a nice guy, and a ridiculously talented guitarist, but quiet. Kept mostly to himself. He was a bit older than the rest of them, and had a wife and kid back home in upstate New York. So after shows, he wasn't looking to make conversation. He wasn't looking for anything more than to talk to his family. None of the guys seemed to mind.

Jamie didn't contribute to the conversation, either. The high after shows always died down too quickly, and he hated to hurry the process. But he couldn't help but agree with his friends. The show was fucking ridiculous. And he already couldn't wait to do it all over again tomorrow. But for now, he was only concerned with making the high last longer. Wiping his brow and neck one more time for good measure, he tapped out a message on his phone and hit send.

"Jamie." He looked up at the sound of his name to find both Greg and Lucas staring at him.

"What?"

Greg rolled his eyes, and Lucas' smile faltered.

"I said your vocals were on point tonight." Lucas's voice was low and unenthusiastic, his eyes moved from Jamie to his lap.

"Oh. Thanks, Luke."

Lucas didn't reply, and Greg heaved a long sigh, keeping himself from saying the words Jamie was sure he wanted to, then stood and walked into the bathroom. Rather than try to keep up the conversation with Lucas, Jamie relaxed into the couch and stared down at his phone.