Kissing in the Rain ☔ ✔

☔️ part 10

Boys only want love if it's torture
Don't say I didn't, say I didn't warn ya

TAYLOR SWIFT- "BLANK SPACE"
♪

"THANK YOU," I huffed, collapsing into a worn love seat as Carla handed me a bottle of water.

"You were great! All the girls loved you."

If their cheers were anything to go by, Carla was right. Everyone seemed to be having a marvellous time. While the acoustics at Pascal's, a quaint coffee shop about an hour bus ride from campus, weren't the best, all the girls were enjoying the cozy concert vibe and unlimited coffee and goodies.

Despite free food being part of my payment, the same couldn't be said for me.

"Really," I stated dully after finishing the entire bottle. "My hair's a mess and I barely hit the high E."

Carla rolled her eyes. "Oh, stop being a party pooper. You were perfect— you are perfect."

"I barely hit any of the notes of 'Wild Things,'" I complained, tucking the empty bottle next to me and lying back.

"Look," Carla said, hands on her hips. "I know something happened between you and Grant, but that's no reason to act all... like this." She flung her hands up in the air, motioning around us. "You worked hard for this and now you're just acting miserable. Do you know how many people would pay to be in your shoes right now? Here?"

"I guess."

"Well when you figure that out, I'll be over there,"— she pointed toward the coffee bar— "eating cookies."

"Carla—"

"Hayden!"

Looking to my right, I found the birthday girl's red-headed older sister. She was beaming as she trotted over.

"You were wonderful! Kyla's having a great time. I just wanted to see... you're playing some Taylor Swift in the next half?"

I thought about Grant and how he'd undoubtedly tease me if he knew just how many of Taylor's songs I'd be performing in the next hour.

"Yes," I answered, forcing a smile. "I saved Kyla's favourite songs for last."

"Oh good! She'll like that."

"Well, I'd better get setting up then."

I grabbed another bottle of water from the barista before heading back to the makeshift stage. Halfway through the next half of my set, the girls started getting up and dancing along, so I decided to stick to some faster songs, picking up the tempo slightly.

Seeing everyone smiling, laughing, and just having a good time, that was why I performed. It felt so good to be contributing to that, to know that in my small way I was making somebody's day brighter while also having fun.

I'd just finished playing "22" when a cheer erupted, a group of girls requesting "Blank Space."

"Okay, okay," I said into the microphone. "Maybe I should have brought a blonde wig and a guitar?" I teased, eliciting a laugh from the group of girls as I began playing chords in the key of "Blank Space."

When I looked up again, my gaze landed on Carla, who was chatting up the brown-haired barista. She didn't see me as she popped a cookie into her mouth, listening intently as the boy, who looked about our age, said something while wiping down the counter. Carla threw her head back as she started laughing, and the boy placed a coffee in front of her, his lips pulling into a smile.

Taylor's character was making a pretty serious accusation. What if boys didn't want to torture us girls? What if people just made mistakes? Just because somebody hurt me, didn't mean I had to be so cold about it, it didn't mean I was stuck in an eternal state of gloom. Maybe sticking up for yourself didn't mean living in misery.

When I was a little girl, my mother used to tell me that someday I would understand. She would tell me that one day I would understand why I was the reason my father left us. Someday I would understand why it was okay for her to call me an annoying little brat. One day, she said, some man would realize what an obnoxious, stupid person I was and would walk out of my life without looking back. It would break my heart, she said, and then I would understand.

But knowing and understanding were two different things, and I was never going to understand why it was okay to devalue somebody else.

I had known my whole life why my father had left us. His choosing to leave was not a reflection of my or my mother's worth. We both deserved so much more than to be left alone, to be abandoned.

When I'd found Landon with his lips pressed against another girl's, snuggled up with her on our friends' couch last New Year's Eve, I'd felt so ugly, so ashamed. I hadn't been good enough, I'd thought, and that's why he was lip-locked with a pretty blonde girl.

Nobody deserved to be treated like that. Yet I had let it happen. I had let others' decisions determine my worth.

That was going to change.

"I hope you all enjoyed the music," I said into the microphone. "It was a pleasure playing for you. Kyla, I'd like to wish you a very happy sixteenth birthday, and enjoy the rest of your party."

A round of applause erupted throughout the room, and a moment later pop music started coming from the speakers behind me.

"Carla! Carla!"

Carla whipped around, her brows furrowed. "Hayden? What is it?"

"I'm sorry Carla. You were right."

"About?"

I shook my head, a smile on my face. "Never mind. Just thank you. For being here today."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world."

Stepping forward, I wrapped my arms tightly around my friend. "I know."

Now there was only one person left to make things right with. I'd messed up, but that didn't mean I didn't deserve a second chance if he would let me have it. But that was the thing that scared me most, the possibility that maybe it was just too late.