I don't know when this became my life, glancing between the door to the bathroom and the clock. I'm going to be late again, I think to myself while I wait for the water to shut off. Caleb, my boyfriend of three years, finally emerges from the bathroom. Steam follows him in plumes while he dries himself. off. Even after all this time I feel the tightening in my core while I watch his abs ripple over his lean form, and the drops of water drip off his cropped hair.
"We are going to be late," I tell him, putting a hand on my hip. I've been ready for twenty minutes now. "We have to be at the bar in 15 minutes and I haven't ordered a car yet," I reiterate, fighting the urge to get angry with him over something so small.
"Are you wearing that?" he asks me, I look down at the plain black t-shirt dress with a flannel tied around my waist and Vans on my feet.
"Well yea-" I start to say, but he cuts me off.
"Don't you think it's a bit short?" he asks rhetorically. I know if I don't do something to show him it's not too short I'm going to have to change, or we will get into a fight.
I lift the dress up showing a pair off all black yoga shorts, "I put shorts on under it. Can we go please?"
"Oh, I'm not going, I thought we were meeting Dusty at Rippy's," Caleb says to me, like I've forgotten. I don't forget plans, and I wouldn't have agreed to have a basic Friday night with his best friend from college, that we see all the damn time.
My best friend is playing a series of shows, and I promised I would be there. I stopped promising we a long time ago, but I always showed up for my wild, and insanely talented friend Finn. Finn has been my best friend since the first day of middle school. I was new in town and no one wanted to talk to me, except for Finn. He shared his lunch with me and the rest is history. Well, except that time in high school we tried to date, it was super awkward and we never tried again. We were best friends, and that was it.
"I have to go to the show, I promised," I sigh, I know where this is headed. The fight I narrowly avoided earlier, is about to start now.
"Alright, I guess we can go," Caleb says, like he's doing me a favor by keeping his word. Alright is Caleb speak for everything is not alright and he's about to make me miserable.
"Why don't you meet Dusty, and I'll go see the set. Maybe I can catch up with you after?" I try to smooth out all of the prickly edges that is my relationship with Caleb.
"Yeah, okay, just don't drink too much, you know how you get," Caleb says, kissing my cheek. He never kisses me on the mouth anymore, not even when we have sex.
I nod, "love you."
He mumbles, "me too," in response as I run downstairs to meet my ride.
As I slide into the backseat of the Uber, trying to politely make small talk with the driver I'm in my head. I don't know how a relationship that was so perfect became this complacent and unpassionate thing. Caleb and I are closer to roommates than lovers.
Truly, I love him with my whole heart, I think somewhere along the way he got comfortable and thinks I don't need him to be like he used to. I'm not really all that needy, I just wish he would say I'm pretty instead of You're wearing that?
I tell the driver to have a nice night before I pull myself from the car. I smooth my dress down, suddenly self-conscious that I'm alone, again. I'm too flat, stomach, boobs, ass all flat. I'm too skinny, and I wasn't blessed with a single curve. I'm sure when my voice cracks people assume I'm a prepubescent teen.
I slide my fingers through my hair and flip it to the right side, another nervous habit, and head to the bar for a drink. I'm twenty-six, but my lack of shape and chubby cheeks make me look more like I'm 14.
"Are you sure this isn't a fake?" the bartender, and overweight man with a red beard and a t-shirt with the sleeves cut off, jokes. He laughs like it's the funniest thing he's ever said. I've been hearing that line for five years now, so I give him a tight lipped smile. A smile that says I'm a good southern girl and polite, but I'm not amused.
"No, honey, it's not," I say and take a long drink of the Terrapin I ordered. If he's going to be condescending, I could play that game too.
I'm cranky and I know it.
"Lanes!" I hear a shout from behind me. I turn, and I feel a grin spread across my face.
"Finn!" I say, equally enthusiastically. He's always been the yin to my yang. He's wild and I'm decidedly not. He pushes me to do things I wouldn't normally do, and I would like to think I ground him.
"I'm glad you came," he tells me, embracing me and twirling me in a circle. That's the thing about Finn, he gives the best hugs and he always treats you as if you haven't seen each other in months. We had lunch just yesterday.
"I told you I was coming," I tell him as he sets me down. I take a long drink of my beer and survey the scene. This venue is unpleasantly small, single bathrooms are right inside the door to the right, the bar is just past that. It's mostly an open space with a small stage and a "balcony" area, but really it's just a platform and leads to the green room.
Finn has been playing with a band he created a few years ago, Bloody Organ, they've built up a local following and he's doing a series of shows in the Nashville area. Finn is ridiculously talented, and I'm positive I'll never get tired of hearing him play. He plays the bass, which is actually kind of perfect for him. It's understated, but without it the guitar and drums couldn't come together.
Finn ordered another beer and dragged me behind him in pursuit of the green room where his bandmates were unwinding. The green room was even smaller than the rest of the venue, and there were twelve intoxicated men and women crammed into the space. It reeked of pot, sweat and whiskey.
Someone I didn't know handed me an open bottle of Jameson, I turned the bottle up and handed the bottle off to Finn. I turned back to the man who had handed me the bottle. He was tall, so tall I had to crane my neck to look at him properly. He was openly staring at me.
"Can I help you?" I ask, weaving my fingers in my hair and flipping it to the left side.
Finn chokes on a laugh before introducing us, "Lanes, this is Noah, he's playing with the supporting act, Exit Wounds. Noah, this is my best friend, Delaney."
"Charmed, I'm sure," Noah drawls in what I can tell is a fake southern accent, he's making fun of me I'm sure. He bows to us before sauntering off to entertain two women who immediately begin fighting for his attention. I don't notice I'm glaring at him until I'm trying to drink my empty beer and Finn is desperately trying to get my attention.
"Delaney!" Finn shouts.
"Yeah?" I reply, like he hadn't already said my name four times.
"We are about to go on, go get a good spot," Finn says to me and shoves me towards the door. I nod, but I don't need to find a good spot. I need another drink.
"Another beer, sweetie?"
Sweetie? In the year 2016?
"Yes," I say, my tone clipped.
I finish my beer as the opener finishes, they were an all girl three piece. Two of the girls were the girls hanging on the charmer I met earlier. I clap, politely, but I really hate most female voices. Feminism aside, I think I expect more out of them than men. It's not fair, but it's how my preferences lay out.
I order another beer, and ignore all of the comments that comes from the bartender.
Which started with, you aren't like most girls and ended with do you like all of that screaming shit?
Exit Wounds is up next, I spot a mutual friend of mine and Finn's and stand next to her. Jenna has a different colored hair every time I see her.
"Delaney!" she gasps and pulls me down into her huge breasts for a hug.
"Hey, Jenna, I love your hair," I say as I examine her hair and return the hug and try to get a breath from in between her chest.
She picks at the blue strands self-consciously, "really?"
I'm not sure why she wants me to confirm my statement, anyone who knows anything about me knows I can't lie. If I had hated it, I wouldn't have said anything. Pointless polite comments don't make sense to me. Why tell me you like my hair to go behind my back and say you hate it? Why say anything at all? I don't care if you hate my hair.
"Yes, Jenna. Hey, I think the next band is coming on," just as the words leave my mouth we are overpowered by sound.
Finn's band is more metalcore, with screaming and clean vocals and double bass pedal. Nice guy Noah is dead center of the stage, no instrument in hand as four guys play behind him. Their music is melodic and a completely different sound from Finn's band, but I could see how they got put together.
All the guys in Noah's band have long, dark hair. The drummer's hair is a shorter than the others, but it still flops in front of his face while he beats the drums like his life depends on it. The bassist weirdly looks like he's competing with Noah and throws off all my preconceptions of bassists. There are two guitarists, with matching dark hair, the only differences between them is one has ice blue eyes, and the other is a little taller than the other. Both are covered in black artwork.
Noah stands center of the other guys, smirking at the crowd. His long hair hangs in wild waves that sits below his shoulders. Whiskey colored eyes travel over us standing under him, standing in all of his rockstar glory in his tight black jeans and he's twirling the mic around in circles.
Noah starts singing with the upbeat music his bandmates are playing. I was hoping he was going to be awful, he's not. His voice is incredibly deep, and there's a harsh rasp to it that is probably a result of the joint I saw being passed around backstage.
There's an honesty and rawness to hearing him sing, damnit, I want to hate this but I don't.
I shout tell Jenna I'm going to get us more drinks, because now Noah is looking at me and I don't want to give him any positive reactions. By the time I return the band is exiting the stage.
Jenna turns to me, "they were really good," in the same breath - like it was the same subject, "Where's Caleb?"
After year one of dating you and your SO become one entity. Every time I come to a social gathering without my escort people want to know why.
"He's hanging out with his friends, you know how it is when you live together. You really like your space apart," I laugh it off, like it was planned. Like he wasn't bailing on our commitments.
Her husband of five years comes up behind her.
"Hey Thad," he also embraces me. Lord, I hope he's not drunk.
He points at me, he's definitely drunk, and he's definitely about to tell me how I'm to thank for their relationship.
"Laney, I just want you to know, how fucking thankful I am that you brought that wonderful woman to me," Thad hugs me again.
"I just love her so much, and if it wasn't for you we wouldn't have started hanging out. And here we are, Married!" He pulls Jenna into the hug, who is eating the shit up.
No, she has no idea what it's like to want space from her husband because they fucking adore each other and they keep their promises to one another.
Thankfully, I'm saved from further awkward conversation by Finn's band taking the stage. I love a good metal band, it's actually what I prefer. My best friend, however, hates metal. I have no idea how he ended up with this group, but they're good. I just wish he could find a group to play with that's more his speed, prog rock; psychedelic jams.
I've seen Finn play enough to know most of their songs, so I scream along with Feron and sing with Steven. Alec sits at the drums, already sweaty and pounding away. I feel Noah take up space beside me. He's sweaty, and his t-shirt clings to him. His waves are almost black, and plastered to his forehead. I'm suddenly self-conscious about singing so loudly, so I take it down a notch and just nod my head to the beat.
I subtly move to the other side of Jenna and Thad and start to relax again, suddenly more into the music than I had been before. They transition to the second song, and then a third and I'm completely caught up in it. My best friend is without doubt the most talented person I know.
I see Noah smirking at me from the corner of my eye. He has to go out of his way to look at me this way, and it's irritating me.
All too soon, Finn and his bandmates are coming off the stage. I close out my tab and wait for Finn to come find me. I need to get to Caleb soon, or he's going to start another fight.
"Finn, you guys killed it," I say, ignoring how sweaty he is and give him a hug.
"Thanks, bitch. We're gonna head to Red Door, do you wanna come?" Finn says to me.
"No, I'm meeting Caleb at Rippy's," I say, sadly. I do want to go with him, it's closer to my apartment and it's a better atmosphere.
"Lannnneeeesss," He draws out. I literally can't say no to him.
"Fine, let me just see if Caleb wants to come too," I roll my eyes at his theatrics.
I step outside in the already sticky May air. "Hey, babe," I say when he finally answers. Loud country music plays in the background, "do you wanna go to Red Door?"
Caleb isn't even hearing me. "Are you on your way?"
"Not yet, I was asking if you want to go to Red Door," I repeat, and bite my lip. I have just noticed Noah standing in the shadows, watching me. I turn and walk away from his scrutiny.
"No I don't want to go to that dump, just come here," he replies, and laughs at something Dusty has said. Dusty is most likely talking shit about me, like he normally does.
"I would rather go to Red Door, and spend some time with my friends," I tell him, I'm literally biting my tongue.
"You've been with them all night," I can hear the anger in his voice too.
"Fine, I'll be there in a few minutes," I groan. I should just go home, I already don't want this.
I hang up, I don't want to hear anything else he has to say. I let out a screech of frustration, forgetting Noah is standing on the other side of the building.
"Lots of anger in that little body of yours," Noah says in his slow and calming tenor stepping around the corner.
"Why don't you mind your own business?" I brush past him, embarrassed that he witnessed my meltdown.
I rush back into the venue and tell Finn that I'm not feeling well and I'm going home. I hug him and promise I'll see him next weekend for the next show. It's not a lie, I'm angry and I am going home.
I text Caleb telling him that I will not be coming to Rippy's and get in my Uber home.