"Steven! Hurry the fuck up!" Goddammit, Joe, just let me think for one minute!
I was nervous. Not only because I have no fuckin' clue how to roller-skate, but because I was about to see Charlie again.
Why I was nervous around her, I don't know. I try not to show it because, well, I'm Steven Tyler for Christ's sake! She made everything seem out of proportion. Like, a rainy day is a good thing, or... A rockstar is a pre-pubescent boy in the math club trying to get the head-cheerleader. She makes everything seem... Like, what the fuck? I find myself thinking that a lot after I say something to her. Why would I say that, why would I do that, why would I... I feel like an idiot, to say the least.
What if the band doesn't really like her? What if her dad doesn't like me? What if her step-mom is as scary as her real mom? What if Charlie doesn't feel the same way about me? What if she's really with that Nicky kid?
Finally, I emerged from the apartment to meet four impatient people. "You rush us out the door, but then you take seven years to get ready!" Tom says. I wish they'd all just shut up. "Where are we going, anyway?"
"What is this something amazing?" Joe's making fun of me, I know it.
"Yeah, man, what're we getting into?" Tom agreed. I made them dress nice because this is Charlie we're talking about! I made them wear shirts with no holes, no stains... Only the best for my gir–
What the fuck?! Why would I think that? Only the best for my girl. Really?!
"You're acting a lot like my mom on Sunday morning," Joe whined.
Oh my God. Stop talking. "Why do you look so nice?" Joey demanded.
Jesus. Shut up! "Because he's in love," Brad replied smartly.
Alright. That tears it. "I'm not–" I say fiercely, only to be cut off by four laughing people. They don't believe me. "Shut up. All of you!" They don't listen. Aren't I supposed to be the band leader? "Would you shut the fuck up?"
I don't know what told them I was being deadly serious. Maybe it was the fact that I was pissed beyond belief at how embarrassed I got when Brad said... What he said. Maybe it was the deep red color my face had taken on–both in anger and... Yes, embarrassment.
He's the second person that's said the word love. Joe was the first, way back when I first really talked to Charlie. God, Charlie. The most beautiful girl in all of the world, and she's just about mine.
That's the problem, though. Does she feel the same way? I'm not entirely sure how I feel, but I know there's something that's making me go after her–not just the want of one fun night, because with the way she seems, I won't be getting that any time soon.
Joe interrupted my thoughts: "Nervous?" he asked quietly, falling in to step beside me on the way down the stairs.
"Psh, no," I say as though the idea where ridiculous. He shakes his head with this little laugh thing, watching his feet. "Okay. Fine."
"Thought so," he mutters.
"Shut up," I advise him yet again.
When we were all packed inside the car, ready to go to Charlie's house, I told the guys where we were going. I didn't tell them before because they would've blatantly refused to come with me. Why I wanted them there, I don't know. I guess I just didn't want to embarrass myself all alone. I don't know why I wanted to take her roller-skating. It's a terrible idea, really. I can't do it; I've never done it. How I am I supposed to, well, play cool when I'm making a complete fool out of myself?
"We're doing what?" Joe demanded from the passenger seat.
"Shut up and like it," I said, keeping my eyes on the road. Multiple groans and complaints met my orders. "And you'll get a reward."
"It depends what it is," Tom says, probably thinking about one of two things: the correct answer, or Joe's original thoughts on what the Something Amazing was going to be. And those went something like this:
After dropping off Charlie, we came back home to the apartment. We all crashed in chairs and on the couch because we had played a rather grueling show last night. And may I just say that if I quit high-school to pursue music and get high, I should've just gone to college. All those people wanted to do was drugs and each other. And listen to us playing while they were at it.
So I said, "Don't plan anything tonight."
"Why?" Joey asked.
"Because you are going to participate in a Something Amazing with me and Charlie."
"Who the hell is Charlie?" Tom asked.
"My girlfr–uh, the girl from the hotel with the sister who hooked up with Joe," I said.
"Oh. Right."
But then Joe came out of the kitchen with a beer saying, "Whoa, whoa, whoa. I know we're a band and all but is that really necessary, Steven?"
So guess I could've worded my request a bit better. My bandmates were obviously assuming the completely wrong things.
Like, why the hell would they get in on that?
But anyway, that's what they were probably thinking when I said the reward as we were driving to Charlie's. So Tom asked the question of what the reward was and...
"Can't tell you," I say slowly, "but you'll like it." I grin for good measure, congratulating myself on how effective my manipulative skills worked.
--
I knocked on the door with a shaking hand three times. A man that looked almost exactly like Charlie answered the door. Behind him was the little lady I met this afternoon. She was smiling. He was not.
The guys were in the car. I was alone. "H-Hello," I stammered. Dammit, Tyler, get it together! "I'm Steven... I'm here for Charlie?"
This is so new to me. Normally it's waiting in the street, and the little cutie slipping out the back door. She probably wouldn't be home until the next day, too. It's new, weird, and I don't like it. Well, I like the Charlie part of it, but, not the 'hey, I'm Steven' part. I know they don't like my long hair, my too-tight jeans, or my equally (if not tighter) too-tight shirt. But my jacket covers it up. I hope her stepmom doesn't offer to take it. Or worse–her dad.
"Yes, Charlie lives here," Charlie's dad replied. "Come on in. I'd like to have a word. Where's the rest of your band?"
What? Why's he want the band? "Uh, in the car." He stares at me. Alice looks apologetic. "Should I... Get them?" Charlie's dad nods slowly. I hang in the doorway. "Hey guys! Joe!" I yell. Finally, Joe rolls the window down.
He blows some smoke from his mouth as he yells, "The fuck you want now?"
Ah, shit. Mary Jane and the notorious 'f-word.' Awesome. "Get in here!" I hope that they didn't hear or see Joe.
The boys come inside, partially stoned and seeming a little pissed that I interrupted them. They collapse on the couch and chairs in the living room after Charlie's dad invites us in there. He shakes each of our hands, ending with mine. Each guy says his name, and finally Charlie's dad says, "Nice to meet you all finally. I'm Tom, but you can call me mister Taggart."
"I'm Alice, his wife. Also a big fan." She smiles. Joe grins back. Really?
"I understand you're taking my seventeen year old daughter out tonight?" he asks.
"Yeah," I reply. I don't want to state that she's actually eighteen because that might give him the wrong idea–nearly the exact idea that Joe had earlier. Mr. Taggart makes sure that we all notice the shotgun lying across the coffee table in front of the couch, and the shovel by the back door. What the fuck, I thought that was only in the movies?
"Where might you be taking her?" Mr. Taggart asks. Alice seems vaguely interested.
"Roller skating," I say quietly, not wanting Charlie to hear.
"That's all?"
"Yes, sir." Sir? Alright, I'm going insane. The whole pre-pubescent math-club member thing–it might as well be as good as true. "Is ten alright?" I ask uncertainly. Honestly, I'm shaking–mostly with fear, but also with anticipation to see Charlie.
"Ten, ten thirty..." Mr. Taggart says casually, warming up to us. It was already eight o'clock. "Just be safe and behave yourselves. She's in no way allowed to drink or smoke–though you, evidently, are. But I don't want to find out that any of you did that, am I clear?"
"Crystal," Joe, Tom, Brad, Joey and I mutter at the same time.
"Excellent. Charlie's upstairs." Nobody moves. I wait for Mr. Taggart to go get her, but he watches the five of us just as expectantly. "Right upstairs and to the right," he repeats.
I blink, confused. "Oh, I should..."
"I'm not going to," he replies smartly.
I punch Joe in the shoulder, trying to do it nonchalantly, when he snickers. "Alright..." I remove myself from the couch, 'accidentally' kicking Tom for the same reason, and go up the stairs, feeling utterly stupid.
What the fuck kind of father–who, by the way, indirectly threatened me with a shotgun–allows his daughter's boyfriend, who's five years older, might I add, to retrieve her from her room... All the way upstairs?
I went to the door where there was music. It was partially opened. Charlie was sitting with her feet tucked underneath her, slouched on her bed due to the sloped ceiling, with a guitar. I was about to knock, when I froze. This bluesy soulful mix of Led Zeppelin, Janis Joplin, Jefferson Airplane, and I don't even know what was coming out of her guitar. And the sound from her voice... Oh my God. It was like the heavens opened up and rained down everything in this world that is beautiful. The light silver dusting on her eyelids shimmered in the light from her nightstand, her hair again hanging loosely, but her eyebrow partially hidden by her bangs. If I thought she was perfect before the guitar and before the voice, then I don't know what the hell I'm thinking she is right now.
A goddess. No, better than a goddess. What's better than a goddess? Charlie. Charlie is better than a goddess. Face of a goddess, voice of an angel, body of... A teenage girl. A goddess-angel-thing in the form of a teenage girl. Straight from heaven itself. And she will be mine.
Her beautiful eyes flutter open and she stops playing abruptly. She glances at a clock on the nightstand, then she sees me. She gasps, because why the fuck would I be hanging in her doorway like an idiot? She immediately turns bright red and tosses her guitar aside. "We're here," I say. Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, Watson!
She smiles and places her guitar in her case, absolutely embarrassed. She's embarrassed?! I was just basically staring at her–which is a little creepy–without her knowing while she sang and played all her emotions out. And she thinks she can be embarrassed?
"That was amazing," I blurt as she snaps the case closed.
She shakes her head. "Hardly." Would it be totally wrong to just kiss her right now? Kiss her and hold her forever and ever and never let go? Can I do that? I mean, I like kissing her. I really, really like kissing her. If only she'd give more of a kiss.
"Are you kidding?" I demanded, incredulous. We were walking side-by-side down the stairs.
"Yeah that was nothing, really," she says. Perfectly perfect and modest! She's bursting at the seems with perfection!
"I'm serious," I say, looking her dead in the eye for only a moment so that I don't trip over my own two feet and fall down the stairs. "That was honestly amazing. You were so lost in it that you made me get lost in it." It being the music.
"Stop it," she says. "I'm not that good."
"Yes, you are!" Hasn't anyone ever told her she's amazingly perfect in every way? That they could just listen to her all day? I could listen to that all day. "Where'd you learn to do that?" I'm having trouble suppressing my sheer amazement.
"Nowhere," she mutters. Mister Taggart and the band was staring at us, listening to our conversation intently. "I just kind of taught myself." Does the girl ever not blush?
"You... You taught yourself?" I ask, all the air sucked out of me in shock. She nods slowly. "Holy shit," I whisper.
"What'd you teach yourself, Charlie?" Joe asks. Joey stifles a chuckle.
"Guitar," we say at the same time. We also glance at each other, then quickly look away, both of our faces flushing. God, what is this, junior-high?
Every single person in that room raises their eyebrows at the two of us, without a doubt assuming things because at least four of them have horrible minds on typically one of three things: drugs, rock 'n roll, and sex. And currently, I think it was the last one in that list.
Judging by how I've used the adjective amazing, asked her where she learned things, and how I'm breathless and blushing... Well.
We leave quickly after Joey recovers from his bout of giggling. I was intent on getting out of there.
--
Charlie rode shotgun in between Joe and me. Immediately she was offered–and refused–a joint from Tom, and we were on our way.
Her whole face lit up when we pulled into the parking lot of the rolling-skating rink. I had steeled myself for a night of teenage girls, shitty music, and falling on my face, on the ride over here.
Once we were all laced up, the four guys split off to do... Whatever they do. Probably hook up with some chicks. They left me all alone leaning up against the wall, terrified. Though of course I wouldn't let Charlie know I was terrified.
"C'mon!" she said, leading me with ease out to the rink. I clung to the outer edge, trying not to let her know I couldn't do this. I have no idea what I'm doing. That, and in order to get the guys to come with me, we had to 'party' before we left–and that hasn't quite worn off yet.
I had hardly made it three feet when Joe sauntered past, with normal shoes outside the rink, I might add. He noticed me, and coughed a very obvious, "Loser," into his hand.
"Fuck you," I said. Charlie stifled a giggle.
"You don't know what you're doing, do you?" she asked, trying not to laugh at me. Well, at least she was trying. And that made me smile and shake my head. I wanted her to laugh, though. I like her laugh. No, I love her laugh. "Here," she said, taking my hand.
And then I wasn't hanging on the wall anymore. Don't fall, don't fall, don't fall... I kept saying to myself. We made it all the way across the track, and then I was hanging on the inside wall.
"Fun, right?" she asked, still trying not to laugh at me. I nod like, oh, hell yeah this is the time of my life! But actually, it is the time of my life. Because I've got Charlie and she's smiling and I'm smiling and our fingers are laced together and, aside from me probably falling flat on my face at some point, life couldn't be more perfect.
But then, because I made it all the way across the ring without falling or running into anyone, I become confident. "This way," I say, gripping her hand tighter and rolling out into the crowd. Hey, this isn't so bad. Charlie's giggling with joy, and that's making me kind of happy because I love her laugh. Love it.
However, because all good things must come at a cost, I loose my footing and fall down right in the middle of the whole fuckin' thing. At least I was kind of close to the wall, so I didn't get run over by anybody. Charlie couldn't help it: she laughed at me. I, however, was beet-red. My ears, my nose, my cheeks: Glowing. So Charlie offers me a hand to help me up. Though, since she's laughing and is also standing on wheels, she has a hard time. Then I start laughing and, well, it's a big mess you had to see to believe.
Charlie ends up falling down, too. I was almost standing when she slipped. After she hit the floor, sitting right next to me (I was now sprawled on my stomach because yes, I am that bad at this), she immediately covered her mouth with her hand. I think saying "Shit" is the least of her concerns right now.
Charlie gets up with ease, after, of course, apologizing to me for saying "shit." I merely laughed and shook my head because I think it's funny how she's so good. She helps me up with success, and we go back to what we were doing before the incident. Except now we've got our arms around each other and it's a whole lot better because I get to have her closer to me.
Because he's in love... Brad's words echoed through my head, followed by Joe's, You've done the unspeakable: you've fallen in love.
Ha! No way! As if!
Stop denying it, idiot. You know you've gone and done it, so live with it, says a voice in the back of my head. I shoo it away though.
I'm not in love. There's a difference between loving someone and being in love with them. The care-o-meter goes something like this, from least to greatest: like, like (as Charlie'd put it), love, have undeniable and unspeakable passion for, be in love.
I like her. I don't love her and I'm certainly not in love with her. Am I?