The Sophomore (College Years #2) - Monica Murphy Page 0,87
of the bunch.
We’re closer to the stage, but there are still a few rows of people ahead of us. The lights go down, girls start screaming, and when the curtains lift, a band is on stage. All of them young, baby-faced cuties.
The girls start shrieking as soon as they launch into a fast-paced song.
“Who are these guys?” Ava shouts into my ear.
I shrug. “I don’t know.”
“They’re Cupid’s Bow,” Gracie yells at us with a big grin on her face. “Aren’t they adorable? They came up with the name because one of their moms told them they look like a group of cherubs, since they have such pretty faces.”
I want to roll my eyes, but I keep myself in check. I pay close attention, the way they smile out at the crowd, pointing and winking at girls. Making it seem like they’re singing at one girl in a particular. There are two guitarists and a bassist, and they’re not bad. Their voices are a little shaky, but I’ve heard worse. And their enthusiasm makes up for any lack of skill. They look like they’re truly enjoying themselves. And from all the incessant screaming, I’d guess the majority of the audience enjoys them too.
Hmm, maybe they all aren’t here just for Jackson. Maybe this band is attracting a bunch of groupies too. Smart to put them together.
The set goes on for over a half hour and it’s continuous teeny bop sounding rock music. I could easily imagine these guys on the radio. I find myself moving to the music. Gracie and I dance around each other in circles, laughing as Gracie sings along with the chorus. Someone is clearly a fan.
This is what I love about Gracie. She embraces everything and everyone. She’s interested in all sorts of different things, and she’s open to everyone. She’s not afraid to say what she feels either.
I could take lessons from her. In fact, I have been, and she’s been a big help. Showing me how much stronger I can be.
That’s what I need. To be stronger. To stand up for myself. To ask for what I want, instead of expecting someone to figure it out on their own.
Like Jackson.
The band ends their set with a ballad, and all the girls sway with their arms up in the air, clutching their phones with the flashlight on, brightening the room. The couples I’m with are all cuddled up with each other, while Gracie, Caleb and I stand together, me in between them. I catch Caleb glancing in Gracie’s direction what feels like every few seconds, and I wish these two would either make it happen or give up. He also needs to do that with Baylee. Either tell her he wants to be with her, or cut her loose.
He’s not good enough for her. She’s put up with that shit way too long. Longer than I have with Jackson. I’ve gone to school with Baylee for what feels like forever. I’ve never really gotten close to her though. She moved in a different circle than I did, plus she’s a year older than me. And while she’s hung out with our group a few times, Caleb doesn’t bring her around that much. He actually told us he didn’t want to put ideas in her head by letting her hang with us.
That’s kind of messed up. But that’s exactly what the two of them are.
Like Jackson and me.
He put way too many ideas in my head, and now look at me. Pissed and hurt, ready to walk away for good. I’m even willing to give up my friends, so I don’t have to deal with his dumb ass anymore.
That’s actually infuriating.
When Cupid’s Bow finish their set, the curtains drop and the girls are left screaming at nothing. Once the regular lights come up and background music starts, some of the crowd thins, giving us more room to inch closer to the stage.
“Hope he brings it tonight,” Caleb says, shaking his head. “That band wasn’t so bad.”
“You’re into the One Direction sound now, hmm?” Gracie teases.
“That shit went a lot harder than 1D,” he scoffs, shaking his head. “Besides, I happen to like Harry Styles. That fucker does whatever he wants and no one judges him for it.”
“Are you serious?” I ask him, shocked. I don’t think I’ve ever heard a guy admit he likes Harry Styles. Not even Jackson, and he appreciates all kinds of music. Even boy bands.