Amnesia

There's A Party, You Can Come If You Wanna Go Tonight (Alright, See You Later)

Hey, pretty girl, what's your name, what's your number?

I got the keys to my dad's yellow Hummer.

There's a party, you can come if you wanna go tonight.

Alright, see you later.

"What can I get you hun?"

Six words that changed my life in ways that I'd never imagine. Sometimes I wish I'd never heard those words. That we'd never sent that stupid demo tape and accepted the offer to play that show. Or that I'd sent Michael or Ashton or Calum to get the beers instead.

Without that damn tape or show or the beers, I wouldn't have met her. Maybe she'd have just been another one of Michael's one night stands after a show. A girl he dazzled with that charm he reserves specifically for the one night stands. I don't know now if that'd have been better or worse.

But without all of those things happening and combining in the way they did, I'd never have known her in the way that I do. I wouldn't know that she loves the rain, but is terrified of thunder and lightning. That her laugh gets impossibly high pitched, occasionally disappearing altogether, when she finds something truly funny. That when she cries, really cries, she gets cold and bundles up in a big, baggy sweatshirt that she most likely stole from one of us. That tequila makes her loose lipped and unconcerned with personal space.

And I wouldn't be here right now, watching the world and the life that she's spent almost 2 years rebuilding for herself, falling apart around her in the middle of a grocery store.

*Luke's POV*

"What can I get you hun?" The bartender saunters over to my end of the bar to take my order, shouting slightly over the music and leaning halfway across the bar to hear my response.

I do a slight double-take as she walks up, all legs and hips and hair. I realize I must have been staring and quickly shake my head, pretending to have been lost in my thoughts.

"Umm. Yeah, sorry. Four beers, please. Corona, if you have it." I tell her.

"You don't really look like you're old enough to drink." She says, smiling at me as she pops the tops off the bottles despite her comment.

"I've been getting ID'd since the day I turned 21. The curse of looking permanently like a teenager." I laugh.

"I can imagine. You're with the band that's going on next, right?" She asked, sliding the beers towards me.

"Yeah." I began to reach for my wallet.

"Don't worry about it." She said. "You guys drink on the house tonight for entertaining masses."

"Can you do that?"

"I can do whatever I want here." She smiled at me. "One of the perks of being the daughter of the owner. Besides, the better of a time people have, the more they drink."

"Oh. That does give you a bit of leeway I suppose. Thanks. I'm Luke, by the way." I said, extending my hand out to her. "How'd the owner's daughter get stuck tending bar? Aren't there usually employees for that?"

"Frankie." She hastily wipes her hand on her jeans and leans across the bar to shake my hand. "And, yeah, but we were short handed tonight and the manager called to ask if I could come in to help out. I don't mind. Gives me an excuse to see the bands we get in here."

"LUKE! MATE! LET'S GO!"

"Sorry. I gotta..." I pointed over my shoulder at my band.

"Absolutely. Good luck up there." She said, smiling at me as I grabbed the beers and walked back towards the stage. I quickly turned back around, suddenly having an idea.