When Miles showed up at my door I was still dressed in my zebra patterned fleece pajama pants and held a carton of moose tracks ice cream in my hand. It was Friday, AKA my last day of freedom before Maverick expected me to fulfill my duties of a loyal drug dealer, and I fully intended to spend it watching Netflix and pitying my poor life decisions.

Miles had other plans for me.

"Get dressed you lard. I'm taking you to a concert." He forced his way inside and I groaned, drifting back into the kitchen.

"I'm busy trying to force myself into a vegetable state. Can't you get your sort-of boyfriend to go with you instead?" I dropped the carton of ice cream onto the counter and started digging around in the silverware drawer for a spoon.

"Who did you think we were going to see play?" he asked, as if it were obvious. He tried to keep the smile out of his voice, but I heard it loud and clear. I spun around, forgetting all about my ice cream.

"So it's serious then? You guys are really dating? I can meet him?" The questions all rushed out at once. His growing grin was answer enough and I crossed the kitchen to throw my arms around his neck.

He might be the broad shouldered giant of the family, but I was the one who gave the best bear hugs. Pulling away, I rubbed my knuckles through his messy brown hair.

"Kids, they grow up so fast," I sighed in mock reminiscence. He rolled his eyes at me, but the smile never disappeared.

It didn't take me long to change into something halfway decent looking and to throw my hair into a ponytail. Within five minutes we were barreling down the road in Miles's beat up Chevy, listening to only the most iconic '90's rap hits as he went well over the speed limit.

In all honesty, I still would much rather stay in and binge-watch Friends rather than go to some battle of the bands concert, but it wasn't often Miles told me the names of his boyfriends, let alone let me meet them.

Despite his new inclination to open up, it took me a while to weasel out that the boy's name was Grant. And of course, as soon as he shared the details of his love life, he wanted to know the name of the guy who left the giant hickey on my neck. He gave up after I stuttered out weak excuse after weak excuse, thinly masked with lies. I couldn't tell him it was Maverick. He'd go nuts, and this was supposed to be a fun night for the both of us.

The place was a little run down, home to the same town as Leo's diner, but didn't look all too dangerous. Besides, I wasn't too worried anyone would bother me with Miles right beside me. The kid was built like a brick wall. Albeit, a very clumsy brick wall, but you get the idea.

"So how's your mom like her new job?" Miles asked, filling our silence with small talk as we the music hall. The place was already swarming with people, most of them dressed in black graphic tees and covered in ink. I didn't exactly fit in, but I tried not to worry about that too much.

I shrugged. "She says it was a lot easier being a waitress when she was a busty twenty-something."

In actuality, it was a lot worse than that. Mom hated the job, but it's not like she had many other options. All those years at medical school and she was back to serving greasy burgers. As much as she insisted otherwise, I could tell it was a hit to her self esteem. Not to mention a hit to our income. Nursing paid a hell of a lot better.

I let the topic fizzle out after that.

The dark, smoke-filled auditorium was already teeming with people by the time we entered. Colored beams swept across the ceiling and crowd. Sweet, warped guitar riffs sparked through the air along with the scent of singed hair and electricity.

I would have rather stayed near the back where groups only dotted the space rather than swarmed, but Miles wouldn't have been able to hear me over the music even if I had voiced my preference, so I like him lead us to the pit in the very front.

The buzz of the amps was so thick I could feel it vibrating in my skull and rattling through my chest. It made my lungs feel heavy and tight, but I tried to ignore it as we maneuvered through the bodies. Almost everyone here seemed to tower over me, but I was able to get through by walking in Miles's wake.

The music wasn't particularly great. The guitar player was sloppy on the fretboard, the singer was average at best and their lyrics felt like a recycled version of every other pop-punk song I've already heard, but I tried to enjoy it all the same.

Someone stepped on my foot as the song came to a close and I retreated into Miles's side who hardly noticed with all the jostling around us. The crowd met the band with mild cheers, and the frontman rushed through a sloppy speech and list of thank you's while the announcer tried to usher them off stage.

Finally, the middle-aged bald man wrestled back the microphone and gave one last "Let's hear it for Meet Me At The Sunrise!" before the band left the stage. I lost focus on his voice after that. Someone sent an accidental elbow into my side and a tipsy boy from behind stumbled into me. By the time Miles pushed him off, the voice had built to its climax, yelling out the next band, "Chemical Thursday."

A wave of cheers rolled towards the stage, but no one was louder than Miles. If the speakers hadn't already blown out my eardrums, his hollering certainly did. This must be Grant's band.

Four boys crossed the stage, accompanied by the team of black-clad stage crew that hurriedly helped them switch out equipment. I sidestepped, trying to see around the skyscraper of a boy that stood in front of me.

The singer stepped forward. He was a blonde with spiked hair, heavy stage makeup, and sweat already glistening on his forehead from baking under the heat of the stage lights. I pushed forward to get a better view, inching towards the layer of bodies closest to the stage.

The clatter of the drums knocked through the air and sent a wave of energy through the crowd. Clearly this band was a crowd favorite. Sliding my shoulders sideways through two screaming girls, I finally got a look at the whole stage and the rest of the band.

It was the first time I had seen Solomon beat his drum sticks on an actual drum set rather than his desk. Of course I'd heard Ducky singing and muttering lyrics to himself during class, but the words shot right through me as he belted them into the microphone. On stage or off, Maverick's smirk sent the same uneasy feeling creeping under my skin, and it only intensified as his eyesight drifted dangerously close to where I was standing.

I stumbled back with nothing but heat rushing to my cheeks and panic swarming my mind. I forgot all about the crowd until I felt the bodies shoving me into the railing that separated the crowd from the stage. I twisted, trying to squeeze my narrow frame through the mass of people, but as I glanced back at the stage, I could have sworn I connected eyes with Maverick, if only for a second. A grin crossed his face and something sparked in his dark eyes.

I kept pushing, ignoring the assault of music that poured through the amps, and scanned for any signs of Miles. He was a giant; it shouldn't be all that hard to find him, but all I saw was colored lights flashing across a faceless crowd.

The song ended with one last ear shattering note and a swell of cheers sounded from all around me. The voice of the blonde front man — Grant, I guess — crackled through the amps, but it drowned into white noise as I continued searching. Miles was still nowhere to be seen.

A familiar smooth voice, sweetened with amusement, snapped my attention back to the stage.

"This next song goes out to my angel. You know who you are," Maverick said, before passing the mic back. Nearly every girl in the crowd shrieked at his declaration, as if my nerves weren't already frayed to the ends, but I knew better than to think it was anything remotely romantic.

He was taunting me, I was sure.

I suffered through the rest of their set closer to the back of the crowd, still trying to find my cousin. I pulled out my phone, but we were practically standing in a dead zone. Even when I did manage to get the message to go through, telling him where I was, the service dropped again and I was sure I wouldn't get his response.

Here, surrounded by all these people, was the last place I wanted to be, but the venue was a little shady. I was sure I was fine when I had Miles beside me, but it seemed safer masked in a crowd of faceless bodies rather than looking lost and vulnerable in the lobby.

So I waited through Maverick's band, and then the one after, and the one after that.

My nerves were ground down to the very end by the time "Growing Daisies" left the stage and my anxiety was shooting through the roof. My breath came short and my skin was kicking off heat like a furnace. Why did I let Miles talk me into this in the first place?

My phone vibrated in my back pocket and I whipped it out with shaking hands.

Miles: I'm backstage w Grant. Enjoy the show. We'll meet up with you after.

The little service I had completely vanished before I was able to send my reply through. Screw this. Screw all of this. One more second in this crowd and I was going to combust right on the spot. I headed to the glowing exit sign and rounded into the lobby.

I kept my chin high and took long, sure strides. The worst thing I could do was look as lost and anxious as I felt. 

I followed the orange paper signs that directed the bands backstage and tried to slip down the hallway, but a meaty hand darted in front of my chest before I could get far.

"You gotta pass?" the man asked me, eyebrows raised. He looked tired and had that no patience, no nonsense attitude. So much for this plan.

I stammered out an incoherent answer, but the man quickly snapped his eyes from mine to somewhere behind me.

"She's with me," a smooth voice cut in. Maverick held up the backstage pass that hung off his lanyard. The man glanced over the both of us briefly. His thoughts read plainly on his face: What was a girl like me doing with a guy like him?

I asked myself the same exact thing.

He must have decided he didn't get paid enough to care because he waved us through and Maverick placed a hand on the small of my back, pushing me past before the security guard had the chance to change his mind. Electricity shot through me at his touch.

"What did you think of the performance?" Maverick asked once we were out of earshot. The attempt at small talk sent me reeling. His tone was easy going, almost pleasant. I was expecting some sort of joke at my expense or a threat at the very least.

"It was good. You guys are really good," I said. My voice was breathless, distracted.

"You're an awful liar," he laughed. As much as I hated to admit it, I really did think they were talented, but I was much too unfocused to give a convincing answer. My anxiety certainly wasn't helping either.

"Let me guess," Maverick said, "You're a Top 40 kind of girl?"

"Something like that," I muttered. Any other day I might have defended my music taste a little more, but I was more concerned with tracking down Miles than proving myself to an egotistical jerk like Maverick.

His fingers sent a jolt right through me as he pulled us to a stop and tugged me to the side of the hallway, letting a few people in the stage crew pass us by. Once they were gone, I tried to keep going, but he held me there, forcing my back to the wall.

This position was becoming all too familiar to us.

"What are you doing here, Angel?" he asked. My eyes scanned over his face briefly. His tone had lost its pleasant quality from before, but he didn't seem angry either. Maybe it was curiosity that was carved into his features. I couldn't tell.

"My cousin brought me," I explained. His hand was still wrapped around my arm, so I offered a little more. "He's a friend of Grant's. I'm just trying to find them so I can go home."

Distrust flickered across his face. His eyes narrowed as if trying to decide if I was lying or not. His hold on me dropped and he ran a hand through his dark hair. It was even more disheveled than usual after having giving his energetic performance on stage.

Even with perspiration glistening on his forehead and wrinkled clothes that reeked of backstage booze, he still looked good. My heartbeat ticked in my ears while I waited for a response.

"I haven't seen him since we got off stage but he probably hasn't gone far. Just keep going down this hallway and you should run into them eventually. See you around."

I nodded, unsure if I should thank him or ask him where he was going. Before I could decide, he was already halfway down the hallway.

As uneasy as Maverick managed to make me feel, it was almost nice having him walk beside me backstage. It made me feel less out of place than I actually was. But now I was alone again, with few options other than to keep wandering around. I checked my cell phone service one last time, but was met with no bars.

I ignored the anxious feeling in my gut and kept going, dodging the stage crew and performers as they passed. A girl with emerald green hair and bubble gum snapping between her teeth burned her eyes into me as I passed. Everything about me screamed that I didn't belong here. I figured I didn't have a lot of time left before someone called me out and told me to get the hell out of here.

When we were kids, Miles's voice was a curse. He couldn't help it. The sound just naturally carried as soon as it left his vocal cords, landing him in all kinds of trouble whether it be from his teachers or our parents. At Sunday dinners, I was guilty by association.

But now, as I heard his booming laughter echoed through the walls, I considered it a blessing. With a heavy sigh of relief, I twisted the knob to the closest door and pushed my way into the dimly lit room. The walls were stacked with various equipment, but there was just enough room for Miles and his boyfriend to steal kisses in privacy.

They leaped apart, wide eyes staring at me. I gaped right back, passing over Miles's flushed cheeks and sheepish smile to the boy beside him. He was all broad shoulders, curly brown hair and sideburns.

Grant wasn't the lanky, blonde front man I had seen on stage earlier. Grant was Ducky.

"What are you doing back here, Angelica?" My cousin's voice came out in an uneasy laugh. He was counting on us meeting tonight, but I was sure this wasn't the introduction he had in mind.

"Uh, I've been feeling a little sick," I said. It was hardly a lie. "Could I take the keys so I can lay down in the car for a little while?"

He tossed them to me and my eyes flicked back to Ducky before I could stop myself. He was red in the face. From embarrassment or anger, I couldn't tell.

"Uh, this is Grant. Grant, this is Angelica," Miles slipped in awkwardly. I read Ducky's face, waiting for him to explain that we already knew each other, but no words came. I kept up his act, raising my hand in a weak wave, then ducked out of the room and pressed the door shut.

I headed for the exit, this time honestly feeling like I was going to be sick.