How We Deal With Gravity (7 page)

It was so easy when he was this memory from my past—a
story I pulled out of the air when I was out with the girls, reminiscing about
the douchebags from our past. He’s always been part of my pity party—the
girl who was rejected publicly by her high school crush, and then knocked up
and abandoned by her husband. My sad story always won the bet, especially when
I got into the details. Imagine how sad it would be if I let myself fall for
Mason again.

Funny how I can’t stop
imagining.

I shut my eyes and lie back on the bench for a few minutes,
taking deep breaths to ease the anxiety I can feel gripping at my lungs. Once
my head feels clear, I sit up and adjust the knot of hair atop my head. I can’t
hide in here all night, and at least I’ve broken the seal of silence between
Mason and me—and I feel like I won the first round. He’s weak. And I’m
stronger.

Yes. I’m stronger.

Mason

I hear words. That’s all I hear—words, words, words.
My mother has been talking for a good fifteen minutes, but I haven’t heard a
single thing she’s said other than, “…how could my own son come home, and not even
call to let me know!”

She caught me by surprise. I was all mixed up, sitting next
to Max, having him want to talk to me—like I was his
friend.
And then Avery came over, and for some reason my throat
closed up, and I couldn’t think of a single thing to say to her. Hell, I
couldn’t even look at her! And she seemed perfectly content with me not looking
her direction.

And the second Avery left, my mother was standing in the
spot she’d just abandoned. Max didn’t even flinch when my mother started
berating me with a string of choice words. In fact, Max just kept right on
teaching—sliding his fingers around and building a song on the digital
timeline. I envy that kid and his ability to focus—or maybe it’s his
ability to tune out.

That’s exactly what I’m doing to my mom right now, only
instead of an iPad, I’m obsessed with figuring out Avery. She didn’t seem angry
when she saw me tonight, and she even left me alone with Max—something
that two days ago she would have died before she let happen.

Talking to Claire earlier dug up a lot of old memories, and
a lot of shit that I’m not proud of. Looking back, yeah…I knew Avery liked me.
I never thought it was anything serious, but that’s only because it wasn’t
serious to me. It was this funny joke that I had, and I’d roll my eyes to my
friends about how I liked going over to Ray’s, but that his daughter always
followed me around like a puppy. I didn’t think I was ever mean about it.
Honestly, I was always actually kind of jealous how easy school and shit was
for her. But I also never wanted anyone to get the wrong idea about the amount
of time I spent at Ray’s house, never wanted anyone thinking Avery was my
girlfriend.

Then one day, out of nowhere, she stopped hanging around,
and I always wondered what I did wrong. It didn’t keep me up at night or
anything like that, but sometimes, when I’d see her with her friends at school,
I’d think about it—she’d always look away, completely uninterested in me.
Guess that great mystery is solved now.

“Honey, are you listening to me?” my mom’s teary words snap
me back to the present. She’s crying, but it’s that fake cry she does when she
wants to get attention. I hate it. It used to work on me when I was a kid, but
by the time I was in junior high, I could see right through it.

“Yeah, ma. I’m listening,” I say, leaning forward and
rubbing my face. “Look, I didn’t know how long I would be here. It happened
suddenly, and you were talking about letting go of the lease, remember? I
didn’t want it to be a big deal.”

“But you’re my baby, Mason. You’re always a big deal.” If I
had a dime for every time my mom said that to me. I know she loves me, and I
know that if I
really
needed
something from her, she’d do her damnedest to come through. But I also know
she’s not the first, or even the second, person I’d turn to.

“I know, Ma. I know. And I love you. But I just wanted to
figure things out. Besides, it’s a music business thing, and you know I’ve
always gone to Ray for help with that,” I say, hoping that’ll be enough to let
my mom off the hook.

“He’s so good to you. I owe that man, Mason. I know I do,”
she’s switching to guilt mode, and I’ve got to steer her back before she starts
with the tears again.

“No, you don’t, Mom. He’s a family friend. He’s
my
friend. That’s why I came to him, and
that’s all,” I say, and she seems to be willing to let this one go…for now.

“Okay, but I’ll get the sofa bed ready for you—you can
come stay with me when you’re done with Ray,” she’s insistent on this, and I
let it be, just standing and giving her a hug, like a good son.

I’m not leaving Ray’s. I’m not leaving Ray’s because staying
with my mother would only make me resent her, this town, and my failure even
more. Barb Street is lonely—she’s always lonely when she leaves a
relationship. But she’ll find a new one; she always does. I’ll visit and call
now that she knows I’m in town. But I’m not moving my crap into her apartment
and sleeping on the sofa bed. And I’m not leaving Ray’s house.

And damn. I’m thinking about Avery again.

I’m actually nervous. I haven’t been nervous since the first
time Ray threw me up on his stage. But I’m nervous now. I keep telling myself
it’s because I’m doing something different, going up on that stage without a
band—just my guitar. And I’m playing some cool covers—the kind of
shit I always wanted to try. I’m just nervous because I haven’t practiced them
much, because I’m going in a little cold.

The place is packed. Word got out fast. I know Claire’s
responsible for about half of the people in here. She overheard me talking to
Ray about performing. I didn’t know she was such a fan of my
music—shocked the hell out of me, actually, considering just a few hours
earlier she was busy trying to suffocate me with guilt. Her mood toward me
turned around really fast when she found out I was playing tonight.

“You ready, kid?” Ray says, patting my back once and
squeezing my shoulder. I let out a big breath and smile. “All right then, I’ll
go let everybody know.”

Nothing was ever very formal at Dusty’s. That’s what people
loved about it. Even the stage was nothing to look at—a two-foot platform
with a black curtain behind it. Once, a while back, Ray talked about fancying
it up, but all of the bands begged him not to—it wouldn’t be the same.
Playing at Dusty’s was like playing in your best friend’s garage. It’s where
you try things out and see how they sit—without all the pressure.
Tampering with the environment would just ruin it all.

“Hey there everyone. I’m sure you all heard, but our boy’s
in town. He’s trying out some new stuff, and of course, he came home to do it,”
Ray says, and I thank him internally for finding a way to spin everything for
me. I make a mental note to tell him later. “I’m not gonna make y’all wait for
him. I told him he could play as long as he wants tonight, so let’s make him
feel real welcomed, all right? Mason…come on up.”

The whistles still get to me, and I can’t help the
embarrassed smile on my face. I climb up and take the stool at the front of the
stage while tonight’s crowd screams for me. It’s just the stool and a
mic—that’s how I wanted it tonight. And even though it’s a crowd for
Dusty’s—probably 150 people—it’s small compared to some of the
places I’ve been playing.

“Hey there,” I say, my voice echoing a little, and more
whistles coming back up in response. I laugh lightly, my cheeks hurting from
the embarrassed smile filling my face. The people here have always been so good
to me. It used to be the adoration that got me off—the girls thought I
was sexy, the guys thought I was man enough to not want to kick my ass in the
parking lot after the show. But coming back—playing here
tonight—has my eyes wide open. These people don’t love me because I’m
some hotshot musician. They don’t care that I have some stupid ounce of talent
that sets me apart from them. They love me because I’m theirs—because
this is home, and I’m family. The feeling that sinks into my chest is strange,
but it’s good.

“First off. Thanks, Ray, for letting me hang out up here
tonight,” I say, nodding my head to the edge of the stage where Ray’s still
standing. Once Ray gets a few whistles, though, he stands up and heads back
behind the bar where he feels more at home.

“So, I’ve got a few favorites I’d like to play for you guys
tonight. Nothing new, just some songs that have always been kind of a big deal
to me, if that’s okay?” I ask, hearing a few more squeals from some of the
girls in the audience.

Normally, I’d scan the crowd, zeroing in on exactly where
those screams are coming from to decide which girl—or two—I’d be
talking into coming back to the hotel room with me. But my gaze doesn’t stray
an inch tonight. I saw Avery the second I took the stage, and I can’t seem to
look away. She’s floating from table to table, her hair piled on top of her
head with a few lone strands kissing her neck. She’s keeping her back to me.
And something tells me it’s on purpose. I was planning on starting out simple,
to get my chops warm. But I’m man enough to admit that Avery’s part of the
reason I’m doing this in the first place, and if she’s not willing to look at
me, I’m willing to work for it.

“This first one is a song I never thought I got
quite right.
But a good friend…well…she
told me otherwise. She’s pretty stubborn,” I laugh lightly as I set the song
up, my insides just begging Avery to turn around. I can see her back at the
bar, and she’s alone. I know she’s just listening, waiting to see if I’m going
to do what she thinks I’m going to do. “This one’s ‘Wild Horses’
.”

When her tray falls, my heart speeds up. I know I’m in
trouble. But I’ve been in trouble before. I
love
trouble. So I start to play, and when I sing, I keep my eyes on her the
entire time, just waiting for the moment she turns around. She never does. But
she doesn’t move from her spot, either, and I think maybe she’s in trouble,
too.

Avery

I don’t know what I was expecting. I’m not surprised Mason
is playing this song. I practically challenged him. But I didn’t think it would
make my entire body feel numb hearing it. I haven’t looked at him all night,
not since I saw him talking to Max. I didn’t see his face when he took the
stage, and I can’t say for sure that he was looking at me when he introduced
his first song. But he was definitely
talking
to me. I can feel it deep down, and it hurts a little.

Mason Street is going to crush me—he’s going to rip
open my heart…again. He’s going to completely destroy me, unless I can stand
here and convince myself that my heart isn’t pounding out of my goddamned chest
just listening to his perfect voice.

Every flick of his fingers on that stupid guitar sends a new
wave down my body. Every crack in his voice—his voice that is suddenly so
much older, so much…sexier—gives me shivers. I’m so thankful that no one
has come near me, because if they did they’d see the flipping goosebumps all
over my arms. But no one has ventured anywhere near my spot at the bar. They
haven’t moved because they’re frozen stiff. Mason has everyone captivated; he’s
just that amazingly good.

I wonder if he’s looking at me. I want to turn around to
check so badly, but I’m terrified I’ll meet his eyes. That would be it—I
don’t have many cards left to play, and my defense is weakening. If I look at
Mason now, I’ll be lost. And I don’t have time to be lost—I have too many
things on the other side of this fantasy that depend on me.
  

When the crowd stands and starts to whistle and yell at the
end, I take my opportunity and race to the kitchen, heading right for the
safety of my locker. By the time I get there, I have my shirt untucked, and I’m
pulling it in and out from my body just to get the air flowing around me. I’m
so hot I think I might pass out, and I lay back on the bench with my knees
pulled in.

“So, that was kind of intense,” I hear Claire say over me. I
could lie, tell her I’m not feeling well, but Claire’s always seen though my
bullshit. I can’t pull any punches with her. Besides—who else would I
talk to?

“Yeah…that was,” I say, flopping my head to the side and
meeting her eyes. She’s already smirking, and I just keep my stare on her,
hoping she gets that I’m not ready to be teased. I’m overwhelmed right now.

“I’m not going to brag that I was right…
but I was right, huh?”
she starts.

“Right about what? That Mason Street is hotter than ever?
Uh…yeah, check. That he’s gotten sexier? Uh, yes…he has. That my stupid
girl-crush is going to come raging back like a case of the shingles?” I fold my
arms over my head while my ears pick up hints of Mason’s next song. He’s
singing “In Your Eyes” now—
fucking
Peter Gabriel!

“Well, yes. I was right about all of that,” Claire says,
lifting my feet and putting them on her lap so she can sit down. “But that’s
not what I meant.”

I squint at her, and my chest feels heavy; I’m having a hard
time filling my lungs with air.

“I meant about him having a little thing for you,” she says,
and I roll my eyes immediately in response, and cover my face again.

“Claire, Mason does not have a
thing
for me. He likes to get to me, he likes the
attention—that’s it!” I say, swallowing hard, probably with a bit of
disappointment.

“
Right.
So that’s
why his eyes were glued to you the entire time he sang that song, huh?” she
says, and I sit up quickly in response to this. “Yeah, I thought that might get
you to see my side. Aves, he stared at the back of your head, and the only time
he wasn’t looking at you was when his eyes were closed, probably imagining your
face. Dude is a little smitten, that’s all I’m saying.”