BLACKHOUSE [H.S.]

Thirty-Five

Chapter song:

Inertia by Boston Manor

-

"Do you have the tickets?" Katie asks me excitedly as we both step out of the car, closing the doors behind us.

I turn to look at her as she walks over to my side before taking my hand in hers. She has a wide smile on her pink lips, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. Her denim mini skirt hugs her curves beautifully, and I can't help but let my eyes wander hungrily to the low-cut, dark blue, satin spaghetti strap she's wearing.

She's fucking perfection.

"Mhm," I nod as we begin walking towards the main doors of the small, run-down venue.

I pull out my phone to find the email with our tickets, the name BOSTON MANOR in bold letters popping up on the screen.

"Still can't believe you talked me into this," I huff, showing the employee at the door our tickets before we step inside.

I look around the small room that's tightly packed with people. There's graffiti all over the cracked, white walls, and stickers covering the few doors that are embedded into the concrete. The stage is small, just a foot-tall platform against the back wall, and it's covered with various instruments, mic stands, and audio gear. A black-and-white banner with the band's name hangs up on the wall above the stage.

When Katie found out that Boston Manor was playing in LA, she begged me to come with her. I told her to ask Cass, but when she looked up at me with those big doe eyes, and said she wanted to go with me, I couldn't say no. I'd do anything for her, even if it means sitting through a band I don't particularly like.

"It'll be fun," she insists, nudging me playfully with her elbow. "Let's get a drink so you can loosen up, and stop acting like such a grump."

I furrow my brows, looking down at her with pursed lips. "I'm not acting like a grump," I argue, leading us towards the concessions booth. "You're lucky I'm even here."

She giggles beside me, giving my hand a gentle squeeze that sends a burst of electricity up my arm, and into my chest, causing my heart to quicken.

I don't think I'll ever get used to the way this girl makes me feel.

"What can I get you guys?" The young man behind the table asks us.

He can't be older than twenty-one, and looks just as annoyed to be here as I do. His dark, shaggy hair falls over his forehead, nearly in his eyes, and his black t-shirt looks faded and worn. His shirt is clearly for a heavy metal band, the letters too scraggly and bunched together to tell what it says.

I look up to meet his very unimpressed eyes. "Two Bud Lights, please," I clear my throat.

"Ten bucks," he murmurs before turning to grab two cans from the cooler behind him. He sets them on the table in front of us, and holds out his hand for the money.