Stormie

Chapter Thirteen - Austin

Austin

At home, it felt like there was pressure on me, constantly. The pressure to keep my dad happy, to not let the secret get out about my music and to keep Sammie separated from it all. I actually felt like when I was at home, I couldn't be me. There wasn't just a restriction from my father, but I physically couldn't. There was too much of the person I used to be surrounding me there.

It wasn't toxic, but it was pretty close.

The Rebel Club took that all away. Here, even though my car and choice of clothing seemed to stick out a little, I still fit in with the people. Just music lovers all drinking and laughing in one space, with almost no apparent cares in the world. What could be better?

And Sam was here too. The club meant her; music meant her. I couldn't play a song on the guitar without it running through my mind how I saw her a month ago. She was bent over the strings, her hair hiding her face, as if what she was doing was to be kept a secret from everyone else.

Every time certain songs came on the radio, I could picture Sam in the passenger seat, critiquing the lyrics or telling me what chord progressions she would do differently. She brought out the pieces of me I liked the best, and sneaking out tonight just to feel a little bit lighter was definitely worth it.

I had made it just in time to catch her and the ragtag band climb to the stage but even if she had tried to be subtle, I still caught the search she made over the crowd. Maybe she wasn't looking for me or maybe, even though the chances were slimmer, she was. I cheered and screamed all I could and when I met her eyes, something in my chest dropped to my stomach.

The stage was her home. That was where she belonged and she let out a real smile to show everyone just that. This time, she looked away from me first and finished looking over the crowd before she began playing. She didn't look at the strings anymore and her hair tonight looked crazy and free; a look that showed off just how beautiful she was.

The first few words to the song told me I didn't know it and it was about thirty seconds in when I realized this was original. Over eight years of friendship and borderline something more, she never played her songs for me. She'd always retract back into her shell when I asked and would push away as if the question itself was hurting her from the inside.

Maybe it was a courage thing. Or maybe it was me. I didn't really care at which that moment; I'd never seen anyone look so free and disconnected from the world as she did up on stage. Her fingers strummed away and her body moved around like the music was flowing through her blood. Even from the back of the crowd, I could see and hear clearly, and I had to adjust myself a few times to not make my attraction to her anymore obvious.

The ones who weren't too drunk to pay attention were focused solely on Sam because no one could deny what she was doing up there. They were clapping and screaming and she hadn't even finished yet. I had never been so damn proud of anyone in my life more than I was of her tonight. I didn't know if she still hated me or where we stood in terms of speaking, but I was still proud and I'd still tell her because I had a feeling she didn't hear it enough.

I tried to concentrate on the words, knowing they might give me something, anything as clues to who this new Storm is. But over the increasingly noisy crowd, I couldn't hear anything anymore besides the mumbles of her words moving through the hundreds of people. When her last song was announced, I pushed through wasted and sober people alike, finally finding a seat at the bar to hear the last phrase or so.

Take me back to the winter, the rooftop

too drunk to care about the cold.

We spill words of lovers and promises of summers.