pitched a little low for her. She stands very still and sings the lyrics carefully, and I help, without drowning her out.
We sound awesome, if I do say so myself.
When we hit the chorus, she sings it full-out. And I instantly get the chills. Her voice is silky over the crunchy guitar, and I feel her voice roll over me.
It’s exhilarating.
The next verse goes the same way, and I’m really enjoying myself as we hit the chorus again. And I risk a glance to the right as we build up to the crescendo on weirdo.
She picks the same moment to glance my way. And she smiles.
And then… I don’t know what happens to me. I get a prickly sensation all over my scalp. My face gets hot and it’s suddenly hard to get oxygen into my lungs. I glance at Daphne again, and it’s like hardcore déjà vu. As if I’ve been here before, but maybe on an acid trip.
I keep singing on autopilot. Or maybe I’m just mouthing the words.
It’s a short song. Daphne sings the last quiet line alone, and then the bar erupts in cheers, especially from our table against the wall.
Daphne smiles, but it’s forced. She’s shooting me strange glances.
What the hell just happened? I’m having a panic attack for no reason at all.
We walk back toward the table, but the tightness in my chest isn’t loosening up. “I’m gonna smoke,” I grit out. Then I make a beeline for the door.
Outside, it’s a pretty summer night. The light is fading already. That’s August in Vermont. I kick a foot against the bricks, lean against the building and tilt my head up. And I just breathe.
I stay out here alone for a few minutes, just trying to figure out what triggered me. That song, maybe. But why?
The door opens and Daphne comes out, her bag over her shoulder. “I paid the bill. We can leave if you want.”
“We don’t have to,” I grunt.
She shakes her head slowly. “I think we do. What happened in there?”
“No idea.” It comes out as a sigh, because I’m so tired of making excuses to this girl. “Why, uh, did you pick that song? It made me feel…” Crazy? Possessed? I don’t even know how to explain it.
She looks uncomfortable. “Because we sang it together before.”
“What?” The prickles on my scalp are back. “Where?”
“In your car,” she whispers. “On our road trip.”
“Fuck. Really?”
She nods.
“Holy shit.” I put my head back against the wall. It’s tempting to bang it right into the bricks.
“God, I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to screw with you. I just saw it on the list.”
I reach out and grab her hand. “It’s okay. I want to remember.” As I say these words, I am nearly consumed by self-loathing. “But aside from having an episode of the creeps, I don’t actually remember. Christ.” I’m a delicate fucking flower, apparently. “What else did we sing in the car?”
“Whatever was on the radio. And also, um, things you had on cassette tape. Joan Jett and the Black Hearts.”
My laugh is bitter. “Prince?”
“Yeah, ‘Purple Rain.’”
“Journey? Or maybe not. I wouldn’t have wanted you to think I like Journey if I was trying to impress you.”
“Maybe you did like me, because there was no ‘Wheel In the Sky.’” She squeezes my hand.
“Of course I liked you,” I snap, sounding like an asshole.
“Joking,” she whispers.
“Sorry. Can we go home?”
“Yeah. Come on.”
Daphne offers to drive, but I turn her down, as usual. She doesn’t argue, but she shoots me worried glances for the first few miles.
I’m a broody asshole all the way home, too. And when we pull into the driveway, I realize I haven’t said a word for thirty miles.
Shit.
I kill the engine, and the silence practically throbs.
“Sorry,” I grunt. “I’m a little tired.”
“Oh please,” she says, not letting me off the hook. “You're freaked out. Can’t you just admit it?”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Uh huh. I know you will. But you just spent the whole summer trying to get me to trust you. And when I finally decide to do that, you clam up. So why do I have to show you my whole bag of crazy when you never show me yours?”
“It’s not the same.”
She snorts.
“I’m serious. Everything that’s gone wrong in your life right now is someone else’s fault.”
“That’s crap, Rickie,” Daphne fires back, with her trademark lack of bullshit. “What you don’t understand is that the only reason I do trust you with the darker things is because I’ve gotten a glimpse