Remix (17 page)

“Totally falls in the ‘would’ category, right?” I say.

“The very definition of said category. In fact, I think he’s the king of it.” She’s warming up even further and the grin stays for longer this time.

“What’s this category?” Lauren asks.

I explain. “People you’d have sex with at the drop of a hat.”

“Or their pants,” says Ruby and this time it’s Lauren who smiles.

I doubt Lauren would be smiling if she knew that the only person who really makes my “would” category is her boyfriend. And that I have. I try and bundle this unwelcome thought back into the locked compartment inside my head where I’ve been keeping it for most of the afternoon. Then I force myself to listen to what the other two are talking about.

“… how many people do you reckon Wexler’s already dropped his pants for though?” Lauren is saying.

“Don’t care so long as he drops them for me,” Ruby replies.

“I couldn’t.” Lauren pulls a face. “If I’m having sex with someone, I’d like to feel it was because it means something.”

This time my thoughts don’t so much cast a shadow as suck the sun right out of the sky.

If I’m having sex with someone…

Having
. Present tense.

If there was one thing that made last night ever so slightly less awful it was that Tom and I should always have been each other’s first. This is the first time it’s occurred to me that I might not have been his.

Kaz has gone very quiet, but Lauren’s still talking and I switch stations from concentrating on Kaz’s radio silence to Lauren’s blithering. “… suppose you’d know practice makes perfect, right?”

The look Lauren gives me is annoyingly smug. She is either thinking about a) me, which is both rude and unlikely – she couldn’t care less about anything I’ve done unless it’s connected to … b) Stu.

It’s not the first time she’s fished for a soundbite on the subject of Stu, but I refuse to give one. Lauren can think what she likes. I don’t know whether she’s heard the rumours of his studliness that reigned before I got together with him, or the gossip that swept in afterwards. The only people who know the truth of what happened in between are me and Stu.

Even Kaz only knows the edited highlights. She doesn’t know that the first time I slept with him was so crap that I went to the bathroom afterwards and cried. Stu found me in there.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, sliding onto the floor next to me, our backs against the bathtub. “Tell me.”

“That wasn’t great. For me.” It’d been uncomfortable and tense and I felt like I’d been raked with sandpaper. I wasn’t even sure if he’d actually finished, or just given up because I’d said “Ow” one too many times. It’s not that it was my first: I’d done it a couple of times with my last boyfriend and it had been fine. Something I’d thought would get better when I found the right person. That person was supposed to be Stu, who sent my stomach into spasms when he kissed me. Who reduced my thoughts to gibberish when he ran his fingers across my skin. The thought of whom was enough for me to…

Reality hadn’t measured up to expectation.

“It wasn’t great for me either.” My mouth twisted with misery at his words. “Look at me.” His eyes were wide and serious, but his lips tugged into a small smile. “But it’s just bad sex. That’s all. Nothing to worry about.”

“I don’t want it to be bad.” And I couldn’t stop myself from crying. I felt like such a child. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be like on the Internet or in films.

“Listen. I’ve had some great sex. And some rubbish sex. And some so-so sex.”

“All right, you tart,” I muttered, not sure how I felt about him saying this.

“I am a tart.” He smiled at my expression. “So I know what I’m talking about. Great sex isn’t something magical. It’s a skill you learn, not a talent you’re born with. Why d’you think I needed so much practice?”

It was a joke, but it crushed me. “So it’s me?”

Stu frowned. “Don’t be an idiot. It takes two to tango.”

“Why is our tango so shit, then?” My turn for a rubbish joke.

He shrugged, looking thoughtful before he leaned closer. “So I’ve slept with a ton of people – you know my number – and I’ve just told you I’ve had great sex with some of them …”

Honestly, it felt like the worst pep talk ever.

“… but there has been no one who does this to me.”

And he kissed me, softly, just lip-to-lip, a little kiss. And then another. And another. I reached out and ran my hand down his arm, shoulder to wrist, only lightly, but the result was electric and I felt Stu’s breath rush out before he kissed me again. Once. Twice.

“Sex just needs a bit of practice.
That?
” And I knew what he meant. “That shit you can’t learn. You’ve either got it or you haven’t.”

I kissed him on the cheek and felt him sigh – a happy sigh.

“And we have that?” I said.

Stu’s eyes searched mine. “Our first tango was a flop, but everything else is off-the-scoreboard-awesome.”

And he kissed me again, harder, sending my nerves into overdrive as I kissed him back. By the time we stopped, it was turning dark outside and his dad and stepmum would be home soon. We were still clothed. Still sitting propped against the bath.

And we got better with practice. A lot of it.

That was the truth of what I had with Stu – the sting in the tail when he cheated. Everyone else might think they know what we had, but they don’t.

Not that we have it any more.

What I have now is a photo of him kissing another girl, reminding me that my ex only knows how to be the kind of boyfriend that’s for sharesies.

I’m not someone who likes to share the people I most want to be with.

The timer on my phone is two minutes from going off and a live show of Sebastian’s smile is preferable to the horrific symphony of thoughts surrounding Tom. I decide to risk it.

“Why don’t we check out the Unsigned Stage?” Ruby and Lauren look equally nonplussed. “The band I saw earlier were surprisingly good,” I lie.

I know that all I’d need to do to convince the pair of them would be to tell them I said I’d meet a cute new boy, but I couldn’t cope with how they’d respond to each other’s reactions. This relative harmony post-Gold’ntone wouldn’t survive an aggressive compliment-off.

Besides, I just think Sebastian seemed nice. It’s not a declaration of marriage.

In the end, it’s the size of the crowd gathered outside that does the convincing. Neither Ruby nor Lauren object as I plough forwards, spreading apologies in my wake until I stop exactly where the X was and Ruby walks into me, her nose mashing into my back.

“Ow,” she snaps.

I ignore her. Ruby does not feel pain like a normal human. Instead I look down at my feet. Although the X has long since been scuffed over, I know I’m in precisely the right spot.

“Looks like the band’s coming on soon.” Lauren reaches for the timetable and reads out the name. “SkyFires.”

Where is he?

The stage goes as dark as possible at five-thirty in the height of summer and I turn to look out over the hushed crowd. Still no sign of him. A note is struck on the keyboard, a gently building tremble of sound that reaches out across the air, gathering strength when it’s joined by an electric guitar.

Ruby nudges me just as a man’s voice lifts up to join the rest of the sounds flowing from the speakers.

“Turn around.”

I do as she says and my eyes go straight to the mic as the singer steps into the spotlight.

This guy’s presence is phenomenal. His
voice
… I let it sink into me and it’s like the sound is speaking to my soul.

Beside me I feel Kaz blossom in the light from the stage. Like me, she’s lost in the sensation of sound. Even Lauren, who never seems to shut up, has been stunned into the same silence as the rest of the crowd, held captive by a boy who can’t be any older than Lee, who is not handsome, is not cool, but who is undeniably talented. We watch, listen,
feel
right to the last note of the first song before erupting into applause. I’m clapping so hard my skin stings and I’m screaming my support as if I’m the only person he can hear.

The person onstage, the one whose voice has stolen every heart in here, is Sebastian. The boy I thought I was meeting is not one who stands in crowds, but one who stands on a stage. And it’s a stage he
owns
.

“Hi. So we’re SkyFires” – there’s a swell of cheers and screams – “and this is our first festival.”

Ruby wolf-whistles and Sebastian glances this way. He’s wearing different clothes from before, but his glasses are the same – and his tousled hair. I wonder whether it feels as soft as it looks.

“This next one is about knowing what it means to escape.”

Sebastian is a mesmerizing front man. Everything from the expressions he wears to the way he touches the mic with the tips of his fingers before throwing his arms wide and powering out the chorus draws the audience in. The rush of emotion has me smiling, eyes bright as I listen to him, my body tensed up on tiptoes, tilting towards him, straining to see him. His vocals give way to the guitar and he steps back from the mic before glancing this way.

Is he looking at me?

Don’t be stupid, Kaz
.

But he drew a cross on the ground…

And then he smiles and I
know
he’s looking at me. Ruby’s so immersed in the music that she’s closed her eyes, whereas mine can barely keep away from the singer for more than a second.

“He’s cute,” Lauren whispers and I assume she must mean Sebastian, until she adds, “I never usually like the drummers.”

Unlike Ruby, who
loves
a drummer.

I like a singer.

Or rather, I like
this
singer. When I look back, Sebastian’s still looking at me and I can’t help but smile. He ducks his head and rubs the back of his neck as the song draws to a close.

“So, how are we doing, guys? God, I’m shit at this frontman business,” he says and everyone laughs. “I wrote a script and everything.”

“He did,” says the tall boy at the keyboard, surprising me because it seems as if Sebastian is the only person who should be onstage. “It was awful.”

Everyone laughs again.

Sebastian takes control once more. “Maybe we should play another song?”

From next to me emerges a piercingly loud shout. “Yeah, you should!”

Sebastian glances this way, but this time it’s not at me, but Ruby, who’s smiling up at him, with her flirty, cheeky smile that has hooked every boy she’s ever tried it on.

“Small person, big voice.” He grins. “I guess I can identify with that.”

And the band erupts into sound. Ruby turns to me, eyes sparkling with excitement.

“I can’t believe he actually
spoke
to me!”

I want to tell her that I’ve spoken to him too, that the reason we came here was … what? So I could fail to flirt with him? Or successfully flirt then fail to follow through?

Because I tried. I really did
try
to think about kissing Sebastian and all I ended up with was Tom. As if thinking about Sebastian is cheating on Tom, even though
he’s
the one with the new girlfriend and
I’m
the free agent.

When the set draws to a close, Kaz suggests we stay right where we are. Since I’m already prepped to try and sneak backstage to tell the band how amazing they are, staying put seems like a massive anti-climax. Although Lauren points out my chances of successfully clambering over the barrier aren’t all that great and for once I can’t disagree with her. The crowd shifts and thins as we look for signs of activity beyond the front of the stage. Most of it’s panelled off, but you can see a few people moving around, setting up and sorting things out.

“So they were—” I start to say, but Lauren finishes for me: “Special.”

Again, I find it hard to disagree. I don’t like it.

“Yes,” Kaz says, quietly. “That last track was…”

But there are no words to describe the enormity and the intimacy of their closing song. After today, I can’t imagine how SkyFires won’t become mega-huge famous rock stars. I’m so in love with their sound that I’m ready to tattoo their name across my heart.

“Hey.” We turn to see the singer leaning on the barrier, looking in our direction. I glance over my shoulder, but it seems he really is talking to us. “So, what did you make of the show?”

“Amazing.” The word leaps out of my mouth before I can stop it, but he’s looking at Kaz, who’s just nodding, slowly.

“Out of ten?” he asks, which seems very bold.

“Nine,” Kaz says, smiling at a point somewhere below his left nipple. “I’m marking it down a point for being too short.”

Which is an excellent line. I’m proud of her. Although I wish she’d look up. She’ll give the boy a complex.

“Sebastian,” he says and reaches out a hand only for Lauren to be the first to snatch it.

“Lauren,” she says. “And this is Kaz.” There is a delightfully rude pause before she adds, “And Ruby.”

At least she got my name right.

Sebastian isn’t at all what I expected him to be. He’s sweaty, for a start, which is hardly surprising, and he’s changed out of the tight trousers and checked shirt he wore so well onstage, replacing them with tracksuit bottoms and a threadbare long-sleeved top that makes him look more like a prospector than a singer in a band. Those ugly-but-cool glasses he’s wearing are performing a function, not a vanity, and close-to his face is lively, full of character, but it hasn’t got the beauty it had from a distance. Until he smiles at something Kaz says, and it transforms him once more.

For the last year, Tom’s beefy outdoorsy-ness cast a shadow over Kaz’s thing for boys who look like they prefer reading to rugby, but there was a time when she admitted to crushing on Callum – gross. This beautiful-on-the-inside boy has more than a whiff of the sensitive intellectual about him and I wonder if he’s exactly what the Gods of Wounded Egos have ordered for my best friend…

“What are you three doing now?” he asks.