This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used factiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business companies, events or locals is entirely coincidental.

No part of the publication and its associated content may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without written permission of the author. Copyright infringement is punishable by law.

All rights reserved.  © Copyright 2012

*This story contains explict language which may offend some readers. Please read at your own discretion*

 Does he tell you that you're beautiful?

Does he say the things he should?

Does he hold you close and not let go?

Does he treat you like I would?”

- Bach's Revenge debut album, track 6

 One hour, thirty seven minutes and fourteen seconds. It took precisely that long for an armchair to mold to one's ass. Sebastian knew. He’d been sitting in the same one for precisely that long and the thing was getting far too personal with his backside. His wristwatch lit up like mini lightning strikes as he checked the time with the frequency of a regular OCD patient.

She was about to provide him with some much needed entertainment for the evening because she’d try to sneak in. No doubt about it. Considering she was about as graceful as an elephant, it’d be good for a laugh. Funnier still, it would all be for naught. He was the only one here, alone in the dark, like a hunter stalking its prey.

His leg was as impatient as his brain, shaking up and down like it was connected to a damned battery charger. His keychain wound through each finger and back again while the second hand on his watch ticked and ticked, as if it were trying to taunt him. Keep. Waiting. Keep. Waiting.

Where the hell was she? He needed her. To see her face, hear her voice, to hold her. His nerves were imploding and Charlie was the only one who could make him feel right. She was number one on his mind, followed by tomorrow when his future would hang precariously in the balance. His entire life would be defined in one moment and even so, all he could think about was her.

The foam underneath him needed a time out but before he could move to stand, he heard the front door open. He wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans before seeking the switch on the lamp. He pictured her stealthy efforts to sneak in, like a criminal about to earn prime air time on the next episode of America’s Most Wanted.

As the bedroom door nudged open, his breathing evened out and when her lean silhouette entered, he twitched, quashing the urge to turn the light on. Timing was everything. Her frame continued forward, arms stretching over her head to take off her shirt.

Yup, tonight was definitely looking up.

When she was close enough to hear every single inhalation and exhalation of her breath, he flicked the switch and illuminated the room. She squinted at the sudden invasion to her eyes and opened her mouth to scream. He sprang to his feet and cupped his hand over her mouth. “Shhh,” he said, “it’s me.”

Her hand shot up above her heart to keep it from ripping from her chest. Her words were jumbled, imprisoned by the palm of his hand. “For Christ sakes, Sebastian! You scared the crap out of me!”

He sighed and removed his grip from her mouth, running his hand through his hair. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you but I couldn’t sleep so I came over.”

Her eyes darted to the clock beside the bed and she whispered. “I was worried about you so came home early.”

The fact that she was worried about him sent and exhilarating thrill through him and a smile tugged the corners of his mouth. “Yeah?”

She brought her pointer finger to her lips and nodded.

“S’okay, no one is home.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Where were you?”

“What are you my mother now?”

“If I was your mother I’d be three sheets to the wind. Last Friday of the month, ladies night, remember?”

“Tell me why you can’t sleep even though I’m sure you haven’t tried anyway and I’ll tell you where I was.”

He shrugged. “Fair trade. I’m nervous, obviously.”

Sticking to her end of the bargain, Charlie replied, “I was fighting for your honor at the pool hall

Sebastian arched his eyebrow. “Wow. That sounds a lot more scandalous than it probably is.”

“Not at all. Just Mitch, being…Mitch.”

He laughed. “What were you doing at Suzie Cue?”

“It's not important.” Her face softened as she touched his shoulder. His skin beneath her fingers tingled. “I don’t blame you for being nervous.”

“Lotta good you are.”

“Well, what do you want me to say, Sebastian?”

“I don't know. Maybe something along the lines of ‘Don’t worry Seb, you are the real deal, not just a rock star wannabe.’ That could be your opener.” He gestured to her, “Go on,” he said. “Give it a go.”

She let out a soft laugh. “Sebastian you are the real deal and not just a rock star wannabe.”

He lowered his eyes and allowed them to hover at Charlie’s chest. Her skin was flawless, mezmerizing. Probably felt as soft as it looked too, maybe like the petals of a rose. If only he could bring himself to touch her, just to find out. “Nice pajamas.”

Her gaze trailed his own and her cheeks flared crimson in the moments that followed once she discovered she was modeling a very pink, very cherry print bra and jeans for him. He didn’t mind, not in the slightest.

“Omigod! Turn around!”

He hoisted his arms into the air and spun a whole three hundred and sixty degrees. He couldn’t help it as his eyes shot back to her chest because it was like gravity pulled them there. No one could defy gravity. Not even him. “Sebastian! I’m serious, you can’t look, turn around!”

He smiled. “Relax. I’m just enjoying something that God has created for man to enjoy. It’s very scenic and I’m a good boy. Too good not to appreciate God’s fine work.”

She hit him on the shoulder. Her punch was meant to be strong, but her fist was tiny and did no damage. He winced, partly for effect but mostly for her. “Sebastian Russo! If your mother heard you speaking like that, what would she say?”

The flare in her cheeks made her even cuter. He ran his tongue across his lips before answering. “She’d probably say, ‘Atta boy, Sebastian,’ in case you’re forgetting my mom thinks we should be betrothed.” His mother was a smart woman. There was no one else out there for him. The only girl he wanted stood shirtless in front of him, her skin just begging him to touch it. His fingers twitched.

She retreated to the dresser to grab a tank top. A total crying shame. She fumbled as she put it on and Sebastian smirked, wishing she was nervous because of him instead of just clumsy. He enjoyed the thought immensely, because best friends or not, Charlie was the unmistakable, undeniable kind of smoking hot.

To his dismay, she kept her jeans on and flopped on the bed. He sighed in remembrance of days gone by when she used to sleep only in her t-shirt. The fact that she didn’t anymore was about as disappointing as it got. Mitch, her boyfriend, probably wouldn’t appreciate it too much anyway. Not that Sebastian cared at all about what Mitch thought.

He took his usual place next to her and leaned against the headboard. The damn thing was so icy cold, the chill went through his t-shirt. No doubt Charlie could warm him up. He pulled her into his arms and wound a lock of her hair through his fingers. It reminded him of spun silk. She’d used strawberry shampoo recently, he could smell it. “I’m so nervous.”

“Don’t be. You’re going to do fine, more than fine even. You guys are incredible.”

Sebastian gave her shoulder a small squeeze. “My lifelong fan, huh?”

“Forever and always.” She stretched her arms over her head, giving him a peek at the skin of her torso. “Besides people have ears in their heads. Surely you’ve heard yourself. If I could sing like you do, I wouldn’t do anything else.”

His stomach churned.“Maybe,” he said, “we practiced and practiced and practiced, but every time I close my eyes, I have a horrible thought about forgetting the words or one of the guys screwing up a riff, or me screwing up a riff.”

“Trust me when I tell you you’re awesome. Music is like second nature to you. You’ve performed hundreds of times, why should this be any different?”

He traced a line up and down her arm, sending goose-bumps to its surface. Were those for him? “Ah, because. I’ve never been on TV before, more importantly I’ve never had to sing for a record deal before. The pressure is insane.”

He didn’t want her to move, enjoying the heat of her body next to him, but she adjusted herself so she sat cross-legged in front of him, giving him a perfect view of her liquid blue eyes and the freckles that sprinkled her nose. “You are going to win.” She spoke with unwavering confidence. “I know you will and then you’ll be some huge famous rock star and forget about little old me.”

His chest tightened like she'd gripped it in a vice. “That’s not funny.”

“Not trying to be funny. It’s the truth. Bach’s Revenge is the coolest music ever. Everyone at school thinks so, everyone we know thinks so, that many people can’t be wrong.”

Maybe she had a point but his future as a musician was uncertain. He decided a long time ago, a future with her was a sure as the sun rising. Problem was; she didn’t know it yet.

He moved his hand to her knee, wondering what she’d do if he moved it an inch or four higher. He spoke in a hushed tone, already a hundred times more relaxed than he had been five minutes ago. “I’d never forget about you, you know. How can you even think that?”

“We’ll see. What song are you going to sing tomorrow?”

He perked up like he’d just downed a red-bull or two. “It’s a new one. I wrote it just for the show.”

Her eyes widened with good reason. Up until now, every time he thought of a tune or even just a few lyrics, Charlie was the first one to hear them. But it was getting too weird. This whole, messed up thing was. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Cause, I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Oh,” Her fingers grabbed a loose thread on the duvet and began to twirl it in attempt to mask her shock. To hide the disappointment she felt but he could see it like she’d advertised it with a stamp on her forehead. The fact that he was the cause tore him up inside. Abandoning the thread, she shifted again and lay against him. “Will you sing a little of it for me?”

“No. I’m superstitious that it will be bad luck for tomorrow. I’ll sing you something else though,” he offered.

“Okay.”

He pulled her back into him and slouched low on the bed. She rested the back of her head in the crook of his arm as he drew a breath. He’d sing for her forever if he knew it would replace her frown with a smile.

“I'll say hello just to hear, your voice on the end of the line, I'll close my eyes and fantasize, One day that you'll be mine.”

“I love this one.”

“Does he tell you that you're beautiful? Does he say the things he should? Does he hold you close and not let go? Does he treat you like I would?”

Once he was finished, she rolled over and threw her arm across him, slipping her fingers into the palm of his hand. “Sebastian?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re the best singer in the world,” she said. “And when you are all rich and famous, I’ll get to say I knew it first.”

“Thanks. You’ll be the last one to know it too.”

“Hope so.”

“Know so. You want to tell me about Mitch?”

“Not really. He was just being difficult.”

Sebastian wanted to point out that was nothing new, but chose something safer. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

“Sebastian?”

“Charlie?”

“I’m tired a you’re like fireside warm. It’s making me even sleepier.”

“Want me to leave?” He whispered. It was polite to ask, even if he had no intentions of following through.

“You can stay,” she said, then yawned. “If you want.”

“Well, watching you sleep is a lot nicer view than looking at the ceiling in my room.

“You should sleep too,” she advised.

“Naw.” He shook his head. “Don’t think that’ll happen. Too nervous, too excited, just too everything. I’ll just stay here if that’s okay.”

“It’s okay. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Sweet dreams.”