On the Edge of Tomorrow

Chapter 1

Break-ups are best at a rock club. The grungy backdrop with plumes of smoke, drink-covered floors, and blistering music makes a public break-up private. Scream as loud as you want; it'll never match the music's chest-thumping volume. At least I thought the crowd safely hid me.

"Are you alright?" His voice came low and painfully hoarse.

He blazed in the night, his pale skin almost translucent as it caught the distant hue of a streetlight. His dark hair matched his dimmed eyes. The smoke of his cigarette came in a tight snake from the corner of his mouth. My eyes clung to him, desperately trying to understand the familiarity of the unfamiliar face. 

"Yes," croaked from my throat from confusion. 

"You can do better," he added. 

I wasn't hidden; he had seen me in the club. "I know." I tried to choke back the laugh, but it got the best of me. "You saw us?" I should have felt alarmed by a stranger taking notice of a private moment. I didn't think Chris and I had made a scene. Chris' shock muted his emotions. We silently parted. 

"Bird's eye," he murmured as his eye apologetically fell to the ground before him. Another plume of smoke obscured his features. 

"You're in the band." My realization fell from my lips. "You were..." My words dropped as I realized how little attention I had given his performance. 

"Intruding," he finished for me. 

"I was going to say in the band," I corrected. 

"You're kind," he didn't lift his face, but I could still see the wince of a smile. 

"No." My mind was moving slower than my instincts. The word came before I realized I had an impulse to defend him, even to himself. 

"So, you're not kind." His eyes finally lifted to meet mine. They pulled me into a swirl of curiosity and shyness. The childlike pools contradicted nearly every other aspect of his being. 

"Any place to get a milkshake at this hour?" He stamped out the butt as he spoke.

"Yeah, there's a place." 

He had a soothing excitement about him; not dangerous, but not safe. Rationally, accepting an invitation from a stranger was gnawing at me, but the buzzing that erupted in my chest drew me to him. Confusion lands that way; the tangibility of rational thought wars with intangible emotions foreshadowing something with an electric current of excitement and warning. 

"Lead the way, heartbreaker."

He stood at least a foot taller than me, making it easy for him to keep my pace. A saunter from him would easily match my most determined stride. Two, four, six, eight blocks passed with no complaint. I would steal glances at him as we walked. His shoulders rolled to a slump bringing him slightly closer to my level. The erratic mane of hair that crowned his head fell into his face. Occasionally he would purse his lips as though he had the fleeting idea of speaking, but then, as his hand rose to tug his hair from his face, the thought would fail. He tugged, I noted. Many would casually brush the hair from their face, perhaps tuck it behind their ear as a semi-permanent solution. This enigma tugged. He warred with his locks, yanking on them in a mix of frustration and thanks. As much as the hair in his eyes obscured his view, it protected him and provided a privacy that fed his shyness. 

He remained silent as I turned to the brightly painted dilapidated building; he held the door for me with a bear paw hand and a slight bow of his head as I passed. 

"Billy," he murmured almost to himself as he played with a few errant Tinker Toys that mixed within other kitsch in the waiting area.

"Lily," I matched his low tone as I stuck a red flag on the top of his creation.