Tonight

Chapter 9

Joe tilted his head back and let out a belly laugh - the type of laugh that he wasn't used to showing other people. The one that was reserved to close family members, and maybe Caspar. The type that made his face smush up and caused tears to run down his cheeks  He always tried to keep this laugh at bay - nobody wants to see a smushed up face full of tears.

But Dianne did. Clearly, she enjoyed the smushy faced Joe, because she kept saying funny things, causing him to laugh harder than he'd ever laughed in his life. They'd each scarfed a piece of pizza, going back for seconds and thirds, before finally collapsing on a bench, their full bellies and lack of sleep slowly beginning to catch up with them.

"So then my Dad came back to the car, and keep in mind, I was a tiny child...only three...and there were flames coming from the radio. Straight up flames," Dianne giggled, "I guess I had climbed to the front seat and played with the cigarette lighter, because nobody had thought to buckle me in. But at the time they all thought I was like the devil reincarnated or something. Able to conjure up fire."

Joe shook his head, wiping the tears off his face at the conclusion of one of the many childhood stories Dianne had decided to tell him that evening. "Jesus, Dianne. I can't take anymore Buswell Specials...I'm all cried out..."

"Now you owe me one in return," Dianne grinned, leaning back on the bench. "Tell me something about you, Sugg. And make it good."

Joe shook his head again, "I genuinely don't think I have anything as good as that. My childhood was just...fine."

"Ooh, that sounds ominous," Dianne teased, nudging him with her shoulder.

"Not really," Joe mused. "It's just a very typical story. Grow up in the countryside, mum, dad, sister. Mum and dad divorce. Buy a guitar and a piano and became an angsty teen who channels his inner turmoil into music. Meet my best friend at university, start a band."

"And now you're playing at Glasto. That's not so typical, Joe. That's incredible. You should be proud," Dianne replied, her voice soft. He felt the urge to reach out and tuck the strand of hair that had fallen in front of her face behind her ear, but resisted it, the echo of her earlier words about Delilah echoing in his head.

"I guess, but I mean,  you're here too. Do you feel proud of yourself? Of your band?" Joe asked.

Dianne smiled, "Of course I do. We still have a long way to go, but I'm proud of how far we've come together. I...I tend to get caught up in the day-to-day operations. I'm kind of a drill sergeant with rehearsals. None of us are perfect, Joe. But today...onstage...I let myself feel proud. I don't think there's any shame in that."

Joe nodded, before blurting out, "Sometimes I think I'm just immune to emotion like that...to feelings...immune to it all, really."

He could feel Dianne's eyes on him, studying him carefully. He wasn't sure why he felt the need to dive this deeply into his own insecurities with Dianne - the woman who was handcuffed to him against her will. But he felt, and had been feeling for a few hours now, that she was different. Different than the other girls he'd met and chatted up and dated and slept with. She listened to him, and it seemed as though she actually cared about what he said - while at the same time, she was unapologetically herself, not afraid to tell him her thoughts and feelings in return. It was refreshing. It was new. It was the complete opposite of Delilah.

"It's okay to protect yourself," Dianne started slowly, turning her body to face his on the bench. "I do the same thing. But it's not okay to ignore what your body is trying to feel. To let yourself be proud, or be happy or be sad. You have to feel those things, otherwise the feelings will get buried until one day you'll just...explode."