The Lunacy Fringe

Forty-Three

"You've been quiet almost the whole night," Felix said when we were sitting in Aaron's garage later.

His brother was throwing parties almost all the time, and prom just happened to coincide as the perfect excuse for an after-party. The truth was that they would probably be having a party anyway. Quinn finally decided to drink, even though he swore he'd only have a little. Thankfully, we already had a ride home planned. And okay, I drank too. But unlike Quinn, I actually meant it when I said I'd only drink a little.

"Just thinking," I told Felix.

"About?"

"Nothing. I just—talked to Meg before we left." He turned away and nodded thoughtfully.

"I take it she had nothing nice to say about me." He took a sip of his beer.

"She said you broke up with her because of me." He shrugged and focused on the foam in his cup.

"That's only partially true."

"She also said you'd get what you want from me and break my heart just like the rest of them. She said virgins are your favorite. Like it's a game to you." He pinched his eyes shut and shook his head.

"Okay, I'm going to tell you something, and I need you to listen, okay?" He turned back to me and took my free hand. "Meg hates me because she took a chance on me, and I broke her heart anyway. I didn't break up with her because I got bored or distracted. I just didn't love her, and I didn't think I ever could. And I don't want to waste my life with someone who doesn't make me feel anything." He shook his head again but opened his eyes and turned them on me. "Half of what people say about me isn't even true, Ruby."

"I know, but...."

"When my parents were still together—they hated each other. They only stayed together because of me. And they were so miserable my dad thought the only way he could escape it was to disappear and let us live without him. And my mom—she's a lot happier without him."

"But you're not." He shrugged again.

"I don't even remember him. But—I'm angry at him. And I just—I know that I have a problem with jumping from one relationship to another. But—I don't want to waste my time on someone I don't feel anything for. Because I don't want to end up like that. And I've only been in one relationship I thought could actually go somewhere. But I was a kid, and I wasn't ready for something serious. So I panicked, and she hates me for it. And she's obviously not the only one. But they're going to say a lot of mean and untrue things about me just to hurt me because they think I did something awful to them. Even though I was doing them a favor. Who the hell would want to be with someone who didn't want to be with them?"

"I get it."

"I just—I'm not as horrible as people make me out to be. Even Quinn. He hasn't trusted me after that incident with his ex-girlfriend. I know Billie told you about it. And he had these unspoken rules about which girls I was allowed to like and which ones I couldn't. Billie and any other girl he likes is off-limits. And I guess you fall into that list too. So, of course, he's angry at me because he thinks it's proof that I don't care about his stupid rules. But I made you a promise, and I won't break it. I can't promise that things will work out, and I won't break your heart. Just that you make me feel something now, and I think it's worth pursuing." I nodded slowly.

"You didn't know I was a virgin, did you?" He took another sip.

"No."

"Does it bother you?" He shook his head and looked down at his cup.

"No, it doesn't bother me," he said. "But it worries me a little bit."

"Why?"

"Because I never want you to think I see you as a conquest. And it just—if I did end up fucking this up, and we did have sex—you're going to blame it on that. You'll think it was my plan all along."

"Do you think you'll fuck it up?" He glanced at me but then looked off past my shoulder.

"I don't know," he admitted. "Every time I start something with someone, I think it'll be different. And then I always end up screwing it up. I either get scared and push them away. Or I realize nothing is coming of it, and I give up. I know my faults. I know I have bad habits I need to work on. I just don't want you to ever think I was only out for your virginity. Like I wanted to prove something. Or win a game." I nodded slowly and picked at the edge of my cup.

"I don't want you to be afraid of me," he said quietly. "I don't want you to think I'm using you. And—if you ever feel like that—I'd rather you just tell me. We should have trust—at the very least." I nodded again.

"How can I be sure this isn't something you say to everyone?" I had my eyes on my cup, but I could see the momentary flash of pain on his face.

"I guess all I can do is prove it to you. But I'm not gonna go all in if you aren't."

"How can you prove it?"

"Time, I suppose. How else could I?" I nodded again. "I just—I really want to try, Ruby. I can't make promises that everything will work out. And I don't expect any promises from you either. But if you're willing to give this a shot, I'm willing to go in one hundred percent." I reached out to take his hand and squeeze it.

"I want to try," I told him. He took my hand and kissed my fingers.

"Then I'm yours." Then he leaned over and pressed his lips against mine. I took a moment to let my shield back down, but it quickly melted at his touch. And I know he felt it too. He pulled away and stood up. "Let's play something," he said, holding out his hand. I got up and followed him to where the band's equipment was set up. He handed the white guitar to me and went to take the ugly Flying-V that belonged to Jack. "I know it's not a Les Paul, but it works." He smiled, and we plugged in.

"Well—I guess I'll just have to make it work." We strummed a few times to test them. "What do you want to play?"

"Play something of yours." My face felt hot, and I turned away.

"I guess that means I can improvise?"

"Is there any other way to play a Ruby?"

"Well, there is one I've been working on. It's still kind of sloppy and in the early stages. I'm working out the kinks."

"I can help you."

"Okay, so it starts like this." I played the first riff, and he walked closer, watching my hands.

"Like this?" He tried to mimic it.

"Kind of. A little slower at first. Speed up toward the end."

"Gotcha. How about that?"

"Almost perfect. Move your finger higher on the fret. A little tighter, but not on the bar."

"Got it. How was that?"

"Perfect, actually."

"Cool. I have an idea, then."

"What's that?"

"Remember that day in music when we both played and just sort of—combined songs?"

"Yeah, that was really fun."

"Let's do that. You lead, and I'll make a rhythm."

"Sure, okay, yeah. That sounds fun."

I took a deep breath and tried to play the song I was working on. He took a moment to study me and then jumped in. It was weird. It wasn't as easy as the piano was. The song already had a sound, and he was just trying to enhance it. Whenever I changed tempo, he took a moment to catch up. So it obviously sounded sloppy and rushed. But we were clearly having a fun time. Occasionally making suggestions back and forth. Neither of us seemed the least bit bothered by the constructive criticism. We were building something as a team. And if I hadn't shown it to him, I probably never would have worked out those kinks.

"You're a lot better without the cast," he remarked while we played. I smiled.

"It's definitely easier when you can move your wrist. Still a bit sore and stiff, though."

The garage door opened, and the rest of the band showed up. Minus Jack because his mom had him on a curfew, and he'd already left. Without a word, they picked up their instruments and began to play along with us. They caught on quickly, realizing that I was leading, and then they followed Felix's rhythm and added to the Frankensteined song. Quinn didn't sing. Instead, he stood back by the couch to watch us. And when I finally stopped, they all did the same just after.

"Was that yours, Ru?" Quinn asked when the room filled with the buzzing of quiet amplifiers and murmured voices.

"How could you tell?"

"I've never heard it before, and you were leading."

"It's just something stupid I've been playing around with."

"It wasn't stupid. Still in the early stages, but it sounded great."

"Thanks."

"Do you guys want to keep going?" He stood up and went to the setup. Everyone agreed. "You know some of our songs now, don't you?"

"Only like two comfortably. But I mean—I don't want to impose on your band or anything," I explained.

"It's cool, Ruby. Jack's not here. He won't care," Aaron assured me. I wasn't so sure about that, though. Jack and I weren't really friends. And I'd probably be upset if I found out my band was playing my songs with someone other than me.

"Are you sure?" I asked anyway.

"Don't even worry about it," Quinn said. Then he turned to Felix. "What have you taught her?"

"Almost everything. She's amazing. She's just humble," Felix replied. He named off the songs we'd been working on. I didn't really know their names. Mostly because the titles were things like "Song 12," "The one song we wrote in Aaron's garage that one time Fred puked on his drums," and "Serial Masturbator."

Of course, none of the songs had anything to do with their titles at all. But I didn't really want to play a song they'd fondly named after masturbation. I, at least, hoped they'd have the titles changed if they ever recorded anything.

"Alright, cool," Quinn decided. "You pick what you're comfortable with, and we'll just jump in."

I started the song I was the most familiar with. Thankfully it was named after a number and not anything gross or stupid. The guys jumped in as soon as they realized what I was playing.

It was awesome finally hearing the whole song put together. It sounded a bit amateur, but it was fun. There was energy and passion. And that deep longing I had to be part of it was returning. I wished I wasn't the girl outsider. Not a sister or even a girlfriend. But one of them.

After we played the songs I knew, Quinn went back to the house to find Billie and the rest of the band disappeared. I went to sit on the empty couch while Felix had a conversation with one of Aaron's brother's friends. He came back holding a Polaroid picture in his hands.

"Here, I have something for you," he said, handing it out. It was a picture of all of us. We seemed to be really into whichever song we'd been playing. Felix was standing much closer to me than I realized, his eyes on my hands. We looked a bit silly, all dressed up in formal attire in a garage playing beat-up old instruments. I smiled.

"This is a great picture," I said, handing it back out.

"You keep it." He plopped down next to me.

"Thanks." I slid the picture into my small purse.

"You're really good at what you do. You know that, right?" When I looked back up, he was staring down at me. I smiled again.

"Thank you. So are you."

"No, I mean it. I'm not saying it because I'm surprised or anything. Just that I don't think you get enough credit. Your entire gender, I mean. Sometimes I kind of wish Jack wasn't in the band, so I could ask you to join." I laughed.

"That's not a very nice thing to say." He smirked.

"I love Jack. Don't get me wrong. It's just hard to make a band when one member is constantly MIA. And—he's not as good as you. As mean as that sounds. He just doesn't feel it the way you do. I can tell by the way you play that you love what you do. And Jack really sucks at writing his own material." I looked down at my lap again. I wished I could join his band too, but I didn't want to say anything about Jack's abilities. I had other things to say about Jack, but that wasn't one of them. He was good the few times I'd seen them play. But he did play rhythm to Felix's lead. It wasn't as easy to judge his skills when Felix's guitar dominated the melody.

"Why is it that sometimes you're really outgoing, and then you get suddenly very shy?" he asked.

"Just the things you say," I admitted. "You make me nervous sometimes."

"I know exactly how you feel." Then he flopped over onto the rest of the couch, half lying down. The adrenaline from playing with the band had faded. We'd both been up since the crack of dawn, thanks to Billie. It was finally starting to take its toll. He reached out a hand and motioned his fingers for me to follow. "Come here?" He said it like a question.

"What about Quinn?"

"Quinn can eat a bag of dicks."

I snorted and moved to lie next to him on the couch.

There were only a few people left in the garage now that the music had stopped. The door to the house was still open, though, and I could hear someone's record player seeping out to us. But it was quiet enough to be comfortable. The way I sometimes played my radio at night. Felix stretched his arm out for me to rest my head on. Then he wrapped me in his arms and sighed like he was exhausted and comfortable.

"Ruby," he said like he had something important to say, but he never got it out. He stopped and then reached down to kiss me again. But this time, it didn't feel like the few quick kisses we'd gotten through the night. It felt like the kiss from the night before. When we couldn't get close enough to each other and were so full of adrenaline, it felt like we needed to kiss to keep breathing. He broke away, and his eyebrows creased as he looked down at me.

"It's your neck," he noted.

"What is?"

"Nothing." Then he went back to kissing me. His other hand traced over my arm, shoulder, neck, and cheek. And then I figured out what he meant. When he traced his fingers over my neck, my skin would tingle, I'd take a sharp breath, and my fingers would involuntarily grip the front of his shirt.

But after a while, he let go, closed his eyes, and smiled contentedly.

"Are you tired?" I asked him.

"I'm so tired," he admitted.

"Maybe we should just sleep until everyone is ready to go home."

"Maybe."

He yawned, and it made me yawn. Then my eyes drooped closed. And we must have fallen asleep because the next thing I remembered clearly was Quinn shouting, "Wake up, Spooners!"

I felt Felix jolt behind me. I must have turned over at some point. We were still on the couch, and I was using his arm as a pillow. But I had my back against his chest, and his arm wrapped tightly around me.

"What the hell?" he groaned.

"Time to go home," Quinn replied, hovering over us.

"What time is it?" I sat up and looked around in confusion.

"You promised my dad you'd have her home an hour ago."

"Shit. I really wanted to keep my fingers." Quinn snorted.

"Don't worry. I got your back."

"You must be drunk," I remarked. He grinned, looking just as disheveled as I felt.

"Maybe. Either way, there's no harm in spooning. Get up, fuck faces."