Chapter Five

I had one week. I no longer had a summer to give. The restaurant would be open soon, and my commitments would reclaim their place. This was already out of character for me. I would never do something just because a boy asked. Giving up the busiest time of the year so a boy could make my dreams come true. It sounded like a plot from one of my animation stories. A Nora who made rash decisions based on how she felt. I wasn't that girl. I won't be that girl.

It was so late, the buses weren't even running. I had no choice but to dip into my emergencies-only stash (and this was not one!) and take a taxi to a venue I'd never seen.

It wasn't long before I waited outside, so tired, I could barely keep my eyes open. A song's bass line rippled through the street puddles, and I woke up. I took in the building's height. An array of colors flickered through the opened door, but for a show that was moments from starting, the line wrapped around the building.

This wasn't a one-off. I thought Wren was a struggling musician at best. One that posted terrible covers on YouTube, riding on his good looks. Judging by the crowd, he must be good. Being attractive could only get you so far.

The show's lineup was two local performers. A "best-kept secret" alternative band called The Rest Left and their opening act, Wren Wade.

After he texted to skip the line, I stood before a bulky bouncer compressed in a black t-shirt. He wanted to accentuate his muscles, but I knew he was suffocating. Beauty is pain.

As he glowered at me, I smiled at the greeter in front. With no ticket, I slid him my I.D.

"Nora Campbell..." He scanned the list with little effort. "You're not on here."

Clearly. He waved his pasty hand into the air and dismissed me. Looks like someone wants to get cussed out. But when two desperate girls tried to hurl me out of the way, I stood my ground. Twisting my lips, I could feel the words retreat as I spoke. Why is this so embarrassing? "He put me under Songbird."

The greeter's head snapped up, and finally, all his attention was mine. I bit my tongue, crossing my arms. Now, I'm important. He didn't look at the list again. A trace of a smile played on his lips as he called over a redheaded staff member. "Lex! Take her to the front. She's Wren's guest."

The overzealous girls drew in a breath. They trampled one another to get a glimpse of me. Damn. I wish I put more effort into my outfit. This tie-dye shirt and lime green shorts combo was giving struggle's finest.

As one caught my sleeve, the redhead took my hand. "Right this way."

We emerged from the confined, dark city into the embodiment of Wren's wildest dreams. A kaleidoscope of colors spiraled across the walls and danced against the cheeks of the crowd. It was packed. We waded through the sea of spectators as anticipation rattled their fidgeting hands and feet. I wasn't sure how many of them were for Wren or the band, but he had a lot of support. He really had made his dreams come true.

After an eternity, we made it to the front and the throng of fans tightened. Wringing my hands around the rails, I watched helplessly as the ravenous crowd devoured the redhead. "Enjoy the show, Songbird!"

The blood in the veins bumped to the song stuck on repeat. I whirled my scrunchie around my finger. Nipping at the skin of my lip, I threw my braids into a high pony when the lights dimmed. A man sauntered on stage, and the crowd's screams felt electric.

"Alright! How you guys feeling?" His voice ricocheted through the building, igniting the venue's energy. "Our first performer, a lot of you already know, but some of you don't and let me tell you, you're in for a treat! It's my honor to say, please welcome to the stage," he paused for dramatic effect, and the crowd ate it up. "Wren Wade!"

Cheers filled the room, and the stage went black. As we waited for the first sign of life, I felt anticipation gather at the bottom of my feet. The drummer drifted on stage and the cheers ballooned. I wasn't sure if I felt the excitement of others or my very own.

Then two guitarists sauntered on stage, and by the first opening riff, the audience erupted into madness. When the drums established the cadence, Wren walked on stage. The spotlight popped into place, highlighting every part of him. He dazzled. There was no better way to describe it. Before he even hummed a syllable, I knew. This was his home.

He came armed with a charming smile and guitar in hand. He let out a throaty yell and thrashed his guitar as the band went nuts. The music built and built until it was an ear-splitting, chaotic mess. Then they stopped, and everyone went silent. I held my breath as he looked over the room and smiled. "Hi."

The venue swooned, and the music began again. The groove was juicy and enchanting, and within seconds, a venue filled with people from all walks of life became one. I couldn't help but sway my hips to the nostalgic beat.

Wren's voice was softer than I thought it would be, but I could see how easily he captured the crowd's attention. And held it. To have that much power, I couldn't even imagine. As the song prolonged, he seemed absorbed by it. Closing his eyes, he sang with care and followed the beat with ease. Then, suddenly, he scanned the room until he found me. A smile greeted his features, and for the rest of his set, he stole glances every chance he got. I couldn't lie. He made me feel special.

When he got to his last song, he snatched the mic off the stand and settled at the edge of the stage. "Thank you for all the love." He waited until the venue stilled, then continued. "To be honest, I was really nervous about this performance—"

"Awww!" a group of fans shouted in my ear.

They captured his attention, and when they realized they had it, they killed me with their screams. I gaped at their display as he bellowed in laughter. When his attention seemed to linger on me longer than it should, a few heads turned in my way.

Stop looking at me, I tried to say with my eyes. I didn't want anyone sending me death threats in the morning.

"There's someone really special in the audience, and I wanted to impress them. Watchu guys think?" He pointed the mic to the crowd, and they gave him the response he was looking for. Great, he's only making it worse. Someone really special? Pfft—okay, I'm kinda into it. It's cute.

Hopping back to his feet, he placed the mic onto the stand. "This next song is dedicated to that person. And it's a love song."

Yeah, this was definitely not my life. I must be under a simulation or hardcore drugs. Maybe this was one of those Black Mirror episodes and technology gave me some weird wish-fulfillment scenario I couldn't get out of. There was no way he'd actually dedicate a song to me.

As if he heard the thoughts running in my head, he asked for the venue's house lights. The crowd's faces, once fresh and aglow, turned back into a mass of strangers.

Everyone's attention was on him as he stretched out his hand and pointed straight at me. Shit. This is getting too real. Where's the off button!?

"This girl right here is the love of my life, and tonight, I'm dedicating the only love song I've ever written, to her. Here's to many more written in your honor, Songbird."

I'm going to murder him.

With one strum, the lights dimmed, and an atmospheric melody bounced against the walls. He sang with passion, but it felt like the crowd's energy would swallow me whole. I could barely breathe. Anger stifled me. If I could, I'd run out. He didn't tell me he was going to do this. He didn't even ask if I was okay with it. I didn't want people to think we were together or that he was in love with me because we weren't and he wasn't. This made things difficult.

He wasn't some random guy who wanted to be a singer. He was someone who captured the attention and hearts of the entire town. They adored him. And by telling them I was the love of his life, I had to measure up. I needed to dazzle in the same way.

If I didn't, they would think I was undeserving of his affection when I wasn't even sure he deserved mine. Especially after this.

When he finished the song, he gave me one more look and left the stage. With the headlining band up next, his surprise confession found a home in the back of my mind. The atmosphere renewed, but only for a while.

After the show, was a bonfire. Another thing, I've never done. Behind the venue was a park. If I didn't want to yell at Wren, I probably would've gone home. Bugs, wildlife, and the perfect place to hide a dead body. Wren better be lucky, I couldn't find him.

As I pushed myself through the trees, the maze of bodies parted at my advances. They stared. They whispered. And they admired.

"Hey, Songbird," people waved as they passed by. Thankfully, he didn't say my real name. I still had some privacy. So, I guess I could give him a point for that.

People complimented me on my outfit (it was horrible), my hair (it was sweaty), and invited me to events I didn't even know existed. Suddenly, I was cool. Just from one boy's attention, I garnered more. Is this what power felt like? Was Wren really chasing this? The addiction of widespread admiration.

"She's so pretty!" a girl shouted from across the fire. The compliment seemed to weed through my mind like a match, setting fire to every doubt. But my moment of bliss was short-lived when I tripped over someone's foot and fell flat on my face.

"Damn, Nora, you okay?" Da-Bin was here. Flying in like an everyday hero, he pulled me to my feet.

Valentina was at his side, finding the source of my fall. Fiona Carmichael. I hadn't seen her since the last day of high school. Her hazel eyes, locks, and crimson flared dress put me to shame. Damn it. She's still prettier than me.

"Oops. Sorry, I didn't see you," she gasped.

Valentina snapped. "Like hell, you didn't."

"It's okay. Let's just ignore her." It was a battle I didn't want to start. Pressing my hand into Valentina's shoulder, I guided us three to a log. But Fiona and her gang of bats followed behind.

"Nora Campbell? You're dating Wren Wade?" Fiona feigned. Now, why she had to say my name?

"You know her?" Valentina asked. Bystanders dropped their conversations at the first sign of an altercation.

Fiona sat beside me, tilting her head my way. "Yeah, we go way back."

She twirled my braid between her fingers as a guy handed out drinks. I took it without a second thought. Pulling my braid from Fiona's grasp, I scanned the crowd for Wren. If he was here, it would take some attention off me. I felt like people were waiting for me to bust a freestyle or do a dance number. Or maybe they were waiting for someone to throw the first punch.

"So, you ignoring me now?" Fiona taunted.

She would talk to herself. I wouldn't let her get under my skin. She wouldn't get any more power from me. I could see her annoyance from a mile away. Now, with the attention of half the crowd, she wanted to prove I was still under her thumb. "Figures you'd date a white boy. What? Black men don't mess with you? I knew you hated yourself, but I didn't think you needed validation that bad."

Maybe I would throw the first punch. She clearly wanted attention.

Valentina swiveled around. Da-Bin pushed me back and got between us. "Listen, she clearly doesn't want to talk to you," he reasoned. "We're just trying to have a good night."

Fiona chuckled. "Still need people to fight for you. I remember when your mom—"

I flung from the log, but when I tried to get to her, Da-Bin stood his ground. "Don't talk about my mother."

"Oop." She patronized. "She's in a relationship for aesthetics, but loses her mind if someone talks about her mommy."

She knew about my mother's health. She knew how much I loved her, and how well we got along, and she still said it. I wanted to throw her into the fire. Snatching my drink, I flung it over her, ruining her beautiful dress and drenching Da-Bin's back. She and her army of leeches propelled out of the way. She convulsed at the neck, clawing through Da-Bin to get to me. Valentina pushed against the enraged posse as another drink was thrown.

From the corner of my eye, a white girl with a pixie cut and piercings filmed the altercation on her phone. "Whew chile, the ghetto."

Just as anger seized the last part of me, two athletic amazons pummeled in. They grabbed onto Fiona's arm. "You gotta go."

"Why? She's the one who threw the drink first!" she foamed at the mouth.

"You provoked her," one said as they carried her out to the street.

The attention fell back on me, and their stares felt too familiar. I was being judged when they didn't even know me. This was too much. After the night I had, it was trivial. It didn't matter if I was acting out of character. They would accept what they believed. And who was I to say it wasn't true when I barely knew who I was.

I turned my back to the bonfire and searched for him. I hadn't seen him since the show, and a part of me thought he set me up. Ditching me, now that he'd gotten the public's attention. Sure, they were judging me, but they'd praise him as if he'd done the unthinkable. Date a black girl.

My adrenaline ran rampant as I made up my mind. I was going to leave.

And then he clawed his way through the crowd. He was a mind-reader. I was sure of it.

A cluster of fans flocked to his side, but he paid them little attention. Our eyes met. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he pulled me closer. "Been looking for you everywhere. What did you think of the show?"

I wanted to rave. Tell him how good he was, and how I wished his set was longer. Ask him what it felt like to be on stage, and how long it took to master an audience. I wanted to know everything, and he wanted me to. He wanted to be adored by me. In fact, I think he expected it.

But he didn't need that much power either. All of this was his fault. So, I kept what little power I had left and stormed out.

As I fumbled my way back to the street, I heard his rushed footsteps plop in the puddles. "Nora, wait! Come on. Wait a minute."

Too upset to stop, I passed the venue and turned a corner. Just as I reached the next block, he caught up to me, and I finally faced him. "I can't believe you! You didn't even ask me if it was okay. You embarrassed me in front—"

"Embarrassed you?! How?"

"You saw the way they were looking at me. Like you were insane to date me. If you told me what you were going to do, I could have talked you out of it. Save myself from unwanted judgment." My voice echoed in the empty streets. I could hear how insecure I sounded. I hated that I was.

He raked his hands in his air, falling back on his heels. "Maybe we should just stop."

"What?" I wasn't sure what I wanted from him, but that was the last thing I wanted him to say.

"I can tell this isn't what you want."

It wasn't. At the beginning of the night, I had every intention of ending things as soon as the magic wore off and he got tired of me. But it was a lot easier to let go when one of us wanted to keep going. "You just seem to live without thinking," I said.

He didn't deny it. He's probably been told that once or twice. "Okay, well, I'm thinking now. And people are going to stare at us. They're going to judge us, and our relationship. I know how it feels to be judged. It's not fun. So, if you want out, I understand."

But why did it need to be me? I know I was difficult at times, and I clearly wasn't prepared for all of this. He could have anyone he wanted. "Why me? If you picked someone who looked like you, you wouldn't have to go through this. Are you trying to prove something or—"

"No, no," he urged. "I can see how it looks that way, but you just remind me of who I was before all of this. I want you to see there's more to life than what you allow yourself to have."

If Wren was me four years ago, I wondered who I could be in four years. And though every fiber in my being told me to run away, I didn't want to.

"You still could've told me about your declaration of love."

"Yeah. It was supposed to be more romantic than that. Should've saved it for later." He laughed then went quiet. "So, where does this leave us?"

"I'll do it. I-I want—"

"Nora!" A familiar baritone voice shot through the silent street.

A dark moving blob came up from behind Wren. I needed new contacts. I couldn't see anything. As the blob waved like a madman, it morphed into a person. I couldn't miss his huge smile and gangly stature. "Uncle Ronnie?!"

What the hell? He forced himself right in the middle of our conversation, giving me a hug. I hadn't seen him in years. I never knew two families could hate each other so much. When my mother married my father, the families damn near abandoned us. He was my father's brother and they never got along. Partly because their parents raised them to compete with each other. Uncle Ronnie won, as far as he was concerned. He was the music manager.

Ah! That's what this is. I looked over at a sheepish Wren as Uncle Ronnie bumped my shoulder. "Uh, Uncle Ronnie, this is Wren. Wren, this is my Uncle." I did air quotes on the last word.

Wren smirked at my enthusiasm, but given my persistent Uncle, he hadn't noticed.

Uncle Ronnie threw a light punch to Wren's arm. "Great show."

"Yeah, thanks." Wren pushed his hands in his pocket and dropped his gaze.

Uncle Ronnie sighed and looked at me. I hope he didn't think I was going to help him. I took a step back. You're on your own.

He dug into his pocket and handed us his business card. "I'm still interested in managing you. Now that you're a part of the family, it's only natural for us to work together. Ain't that right, my little niece."

Part of the family? He not even part of the family. When he wrapped his arm around me, I poked fun. "What's my middle name?"

His face dropped, but tried to play it off. "You always cracking jokes."

I loved messing with him. Looking at Wren, I asked, "Did that sound like an answer to you?"

Wren laughed, and I felt victorious. Not only did Uncle Ronnie not get his way, but I put a smile on Wren's face.

Uncle Ronnie parted from my shoulder, raising his hands. "Okay, I won't push. You two have a good night."

I had to admit, Uncle Ronnie was great at his job. His artists always had something good to say about him. He would take great care of Wren, but it didn't seem like Wren wanted to work with him.

"I wanna take you somewhere," he said, breaking my train of thought.

"Where? It's after midnight. What's open?"

He interlaced our fingers. "I know a place."

🌻 Full Playlist?

Just type in "Smelling Roses" in Spotify.

Author Note:

This was THE chapter for me. This song randomly came on when I was listening to Spotify. As soon as it started, I saw Nora being pulled into the venue. I could hear the crowd's voices as they talked over one another and see the led lights flickering across their faces. It was like she was entering a new world. The excitement of being somewhere new and the fear of the unknown. From that moment, I knew what story I wanted to tell.