And Then There Was Vince

Chapter 13: Get In Loser, We're Going Gigging

I took my place in the last open seat at Vincent's lunch table the next day, passing his cleaned Tupperware to him with another statement of thanks and trying to assess the strange looks his friends gave him. They only lasted for a few fleeting seconds before everything snapped back into place. The one named Kelsey spoke.

"So I hear you want to go see Wreckers with us next weekend," she said from under a fringe of jet black hair.

I felt a little saddened to hear the "us" for a moment. It wasn't that I wanted to be there exclusively with Vincent, but I was never good at having fun with multiple people I hardly knew.

"Yeah," I replied sheepishly. "Vince asked me to go last night."

"We know," she shot back, rolling her eyes sassily before casting a sly look at him. "Vince," she continued, enunciating his name in an odd way, "Has never begged me so hard for a favor in his young adult life."

I watched as a burnt pizza crust hit her directly in the forehead, thrown quite accurately by the boy himself, who was also avidly avoiding my gaze. He must have REALLY liked them to want to go see them so badly.

"Anyway," he said, turning his attention towards me quickly. "We figured out we should be on the road by no later than 4:30. It starts at 7 and is gonna take us at least two hours to get there."

"So he'll be ready by 2 and agonizing about whether or not he looks good enough to be seen in your presence, is what he means," Kelsey teased further, dodging a straw paper that had been crumpled into a projectile.

"Just be ready by 4:00, V," He commanded, dodging returned shots from Kelsey and leaving me confused. He'd never called me V before.

We spent the rest of lunch discussing music, only hyping ourselves up further for the show.

When the day finally came, I was the one who was ready by 2 and agonizing over how I looked in the mirror. I didn't know why, but I was more nervous about my plain appearance than I had ever been before. I blamed it on residual agony leftover by disobeying my parents.

The pair pulled up earlier than expected, in a beat up minivan at 3:30.

Kelsey came from a family of 5, of which she was the oldest sibling. Her mother didn't let her take the nicer car out for any spins.

"Get in loser, we're going gigging," she yelled from the window as I stared at them from the porch.

"To be honest, I didn't expect that reference from you," I told her as I flopped into the back seat. Vincent didn't even turn to look at me.

"Mean girls is a timeless classic," she said as she let up on the brakes.

It was mostly just her and I shooting the shit for the journey. Every now and again Vince would chime in, but he lacked his usual energy. Was he really not interested in this at all?

It took almost the whole trip for his excitement to peek through. I may have actually let out a relieved sigh when he started gushing about the music.

The venue was small, but still a lot more crowded than I had expected. For a new band performing mostly unheard of music, the reception was amazing. Nobody could sing along, but we also couldn't stop moving. Maybe we all needed something like this in our lives.

By the end of the show I'd lost count of how many times I'd been jabbed in the ribs or mistaken for a ping pong ball. My muscles were throbbing, but I felt elated as we made our way back to the soccer mom wagon. This had been one of the best nights I'd ever had in my life. I sincerely didn't want it to end.

I took Vincent's place on the return drive, losing any of my aforementioned energy as it was replaced by the melancholy of going home. He and Kelsey sang and chattered excitedly from the front, almost as if I didn't exist. It was a weird feeling, like even they could go on without me.

When we pulled in front of my house at just after 11, I hesitated to let myself out.

"Thanks Kelsey," I said, slowly tugging at the door.

"No problem," she said. "I had a good time, and Vincent would have probably actually cried if I had said no."

I stole a glance at him as he stole a glance at me.

"Thanks for inviting me," I said, smiling. My eyes lingered a bit too long on his, and I felt my cheeks flush a bit when Kelsey cleared her throat.

"I'm technically not supposed to be driving this late," she reminded us. "So you can carry on eye-fucking each other some other time."

We both muttered words of protest and attempts at disgust as I hastily threw myself out of the van.

I plopped right down on the couch when I made it into the house, unable to get my shaky legs to carry me all the way up the stairs. My cheeks were still burning a bit, my ears were still ringing, and every now and again I felt the room spinning. I'd never felt more exhausted or better.

But I kept replaying my last few seconds in the car over and over, growing more and more embarrassed by them.

I don't think I'd call that eye fucking. I think the appropriate word would be discovering. It was like I was seeing him differently, but for the first time ever.

And I think maybe he was experiencing that, too. Maybe.