"Try it again, this time from the top!" Jason ordered. He promptly counted down, and the band restarted the song. Our feet tapped in sync as the New Orleans style jazz echoed throughout the mostly empty restaurant. For now, we only were only warming up for our show that we performed every weekend at Fork's most famous bar. Getting past the trumpet solo, the leader of our group, our trumpet player Jason, stopped the music.
"Lydia, I know you're the youngest and least experienced, but I know you can do better than that. Don't forget about the crescendo in the 8th measure," he ordered as I nodded. It sounded harsh, but Jason was just keen on having our music perfect before the show. I was eager to make Jason proud, as I was lucky to be accepted with such open arms in the jazz band. Everyone else was well in their 20's, and I was only 18. On top of that, I personally wouldn't consider my instrument as being that valuable to the band. Jazz music could get along just fine without my clarinet. We began to play again, this time without a hitch. Deciding we were warmed up, we went to take a short break before people started to trickle in to eat and drink for the evening. Going to the restroom, I fixed my black collared shirt. Black button-up, black pants, and black shoes… it didn't make the fashion statement I desired, but I certainly did look like a musician. Or a waitress. A uniform was a uniform, I suppose. Then, I tucked one side of my straight dark brown hair behind my ear. My a-line haircut was just long enough to do so.
The night slowly crept onto the tiny town of Forks, and us band members mingled amongst ourselves until we got a small crowd going.
"We're starting at 8:30 guys- wrap up the conversations and get your instruments ready," Jason ordered. Our trombone player, Mike, rolled his eyes at Jason's authority and gave me a knowing smile. At the table I was at, I opened my clarinet case and started sucking on my reed and putting together my clarinet. As I did so, I scanned the crowd curiously. For being a shy person, the crowd strangely didn't bother me. If anything, it was a smaller group of people than usual. There were a few of Fork's elders and regulars at jazz night, such as old people that were strangely skillful in their dance moves to our upbeat rhythms; then there were college kids too, particularly the hipster kinds that the state of Washington seemed to offer; then there were a few American Indian groups, probably from La Push if I had to guess. There were maybe 25 people total, which was still a decent turn out for as small as Forks was.
"One… two... One, two, three, four!" Jason counted off, and our New Orlean's jazz music filled the room. From then on, all i was focused on was the music.
"Yes, you're going with me. Get out of the goddamn house for once, Leah!" Seth grunted and groaned as he tried tugging on my arm. I quickly ripped it away and gave him an annoyed glare.
"Even if I do go, that doesn't mean we have to leave right now, dumbass. The show starts at 8:30, doesn't it?" I grunted, as I repositioned myself on the couch with my legs propped up and I scrolled through Reddit on my phone. Seth sighed, and I watched the large man-child walk off in a huff. Probably to get more people together to go to some restaurant-bar in Forks. I had heard of it before, but as werewolves we generally preferred staying away from Forks. The Cullens resided there, and they just stunk up the whole place.
Still, I was partial to Seth and how he felt. Maybe drinking myself silly with people would be a refreshing change from the depressing fact that I normally got wasted alone. With that thought, I sent a group text to the other pack members.
"Party at Paul's place after the show. I'll bring some vodka. Invite everybody." It was brief and to the point. I was sure Paul would love the idea of having company and maybe hooking some ladies at the bar to join us. Without even a full minute passing, my phone blew up from those that weren't on patrol.
"Great idea, sis!" Seth texted back.
"I'll bring some of my girlfriends," Emily responded.
"I'm going to pick up as many girls at the bar as possible. It's going down tonight," Paul added, just as I predicted.
"I'll bring Fireball!" Collin responded.
"Go back on duty, Collin. Stop fucking texting when you're on patrol," Sam had the last word before my phone stopped vibrating from notifications.
Suddenly I felt legitimately excited about something. Lately I'd been pissy, moody, depressed… It had been a while since Sam left me for Emily, and I was for the most part over it. But it was still really hard seeing how some of the gang behaved around their imprints. Those without… it was, well, disheartening. It felt pointless to be in a relationship, because the second you imprint is the second you ruin the relationship you're in. Hell, I even got so desperate that I tried Tinder. I swiped left with every pair of eyes I didn't feel a connection towards. AKA every guy possible. On top of that, life felt dull and repetitive. As if I had nothing to work towards. Patrol, eat, sleep… there was no joy in it. It was merely a duty I felt I had owed to my tribe.
Sighing, I slowly lugged myself to my room to change. Since I was going out, I figured I'd put a little effort into my appearance. I brushed my chin-length hair, put on a little mascara, then changed into jeans and a black band t-shirt. The effort wasn't much, in fact, the fact that I had changed clothes at all was a miracle in of itself. Then, I put on my black fake leather jacket as a final touch. It made me look bad ass, and maybe even a little bitchy and unapproachable. I liked it, I couldn't let anyone think I've gone soft on them, after all. Belly-flopping onto my bed, I continued browsing various apps and websites until Seth called for me from the living room.
"I'm driving," I stated as I exited my room to find Seth, Jake, Embry, Quil, and Paul waiting on me. It was decided that Seth, Embry, Quil, Paul, and I were driving the truck there; Jake would be taking his motorcycle; and Emily and anyone else that wanted to join would be meeting us at Paul's house afterwards at around 11.
The drive was uneventful, other than Seth trying to play old school R&B and Paul arguing that he wanted to listen to Metallica. With enough impatience, I put it on a local radio station, which got everyone to shut up. Upon arriving, we slowly filled a corner of the bar. I took note that we were for the most part the only people of color. Where the hell were the minorities of Forks? Then, I noticed we were also right on time. People were starting to get their instruments together, and I took that as my cue to begin my drinking.
"A bottle of Tecate, please," I ordered at the bartender as I scanned over the crowd. It was small, but they all seemed really excited for jazz music. Maybe this band was pretty good, after all. The band members looked pretty cool too. The trumpet player was a burly bearded man that looked like he had once been in the military, then the trombone played was a lanky black man that looked like he was in his early twenties and sort of goofy. Before I had the chance to people watch some more, the bartender set my beer in front of me. I offered a half-ass smile and a nod as a thank you, and began drinking. Time to run up my tab and try and pawn it off on Seth or Paul later.
Hearing the calling off of numbers, jazz music filled the small room with a loud and happy tune. It was bouncy and impossible to not tap my foot to. It was even neater watching the older locals twirl and dance as if they didn't have a single old bone in their body. Seth had a grin from ear-to-ear, and bounced from old lady to old lady as he danced with them and quite possibly made their nights. Even as bitter as I struck others, I enjoyed watching elderly woman fawn over Seth and argue over who got to two-step with him next. Then, I looked over at Paul, who scouted out girls and tried inviting them to our party afterwards. Paul was smooth when he wasn't making an ass out of himself with his temper, I was sure we'd have quite the turnout. Song after song, the bar started to fill out a little more. I continued my drinking as I watched my pack at work, my eyes starting to glaze over from my warm and pleasant buzz.
"I wanna see if the band wants to come to our party!" Seth cheered to our little corner of Quileutes. I rolled my eyes and shook my head.
"Fat chance, Seth! Most of them are older and too cool for a La Push house party, dude," I shut him down. This didn't stop Seth, however. He seemed insistent in giving it a shot. Seth was fairly personable, so I guess I couldn't totally count out the chance of one of them coming.
"Get the trombone player for me, dude," I added, "He's pretty cute." Seth laughed and nodded firmly.
"Get me the clarinet player! She's pretty bangin' too," Embry said crudely, as he was also a bit drunk. These boys would fuck anything that would let them, but it wasn't too often a girl caught Embry's interest. He was pretty picky about who he thought was cute.
Embry and I then headed to the bar for another shot of courage, then I noticed that intermission had begun as the band took a break. I saw Seth's huge head bobbing over to the band, and Paul and Quil followed suit. Embry and I giggled mischievously together at the bar as we took two shots together instead.
"One for courage and the other… the other to grow on!" Embry spewed drunkenly.
"Pfffffffft!" I snorted, "We don't need anymore growth, you need some more growth in the bedroom," I teased, to which our tanked little Embry snickered.
Then, I heard Seth call our names from across the bar. Grabbing Embry's elbow, I pulled him to Seth. Our pack surrounded the jazz band, they seemed to be excitedly talking about how cute Seth was on the dancefloor. Peeking over the boys' shoulders, I glazed over the band. The trombone player, trumpet player, then there were the two band members I had yet to pay much attention to: the pianist and the clarinet player.
"Leah, come meet my new buds!" Seth said cheerfully. He pulled me forward, and my cheeks- already being red from my buzz- blushed even harder at the attention. I looked between Seth and my feet in embarrassment as their conversation turned towards our house party that we were having. The trumpet player, who made it apparent that he was the leader of the group, was quick the decline. The pianist, looked exhausted, so he too declined. Then, the cute trombone player pulled the small clarinet girl forward.
"We're gonna go, Lydia!" he said excitedly, "I wanna see you get drunk for once!"
My eyes falling on the short girl, curious as to what her response would be, I felt my heart freeze in my chest. Oh dear god have mercy, she was a gorgeous creature. She was small in height, probably not even 5 feet tall, but still had the perfect amount of meat on her bones...
She was- ahem- "thicc," as the cool kids called it. Her a-line haircut framed her heart-shaped face well, the dark brown hair matching her chesnut colored eyes.
Blinking, I had to remind myself to breathe when she made eye contact with me. Her small hands fiddled with her bracelet now as a small blush crept onto her cheeks. Her blush was more notable than my own with her skin being so pale.
I bet it was soft and flawless too, my mind wandered.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I struggled not to encase the girl in my warm arms right then and there.
"Yeah, I suppose one night couldn't hurt…" her voice was so gentle and soft, it was hard to hear in the crowded bar. Upon hearing the answer, I slowly backed away from the group.
"I'm going to step outside," I said lowly to the pack as I rushed outside. Everything was spinning, why was the world spinning? Weaving through the crowd, the chilly Washington air was like a slap to the face. I felt like I could breathe a little easier now without being surrounded by so many people.
At the same time, I felt rather strangled. Like it was impossible to breathe without being near that girl. What was her name…?
Lydia. The name would never be able to escape my mind.
Sitting on a bench, I tried to calm myself by breathing in through my nose and out from my mouth. Then, I let my face fall into my hands. I… I think I imprinted. The thought felt chaining. I hadn't decided if I liked it or not. This is what I was waiting for, wasn't it?
Surely it couldn't be bad. That girl looked like perfection wrapped up in a cute and curvy 4'11" package.
I flinched at that very thought. My feelings were so conflicted. Sure, I had mild attracted to women before, but I'd never really bothered pursuing it. Especially in such a small town like La Push, gay girls or bi girls were a novelty. My head swarmed with these thoughts, but anytime I imagined that soft gentle voice or the chestnut eyes or how prominent her collarbone was, my heart fluttered within my chest as it begged to be released from its cavity.
Collecting myself and attempting to sober up a little, I headed back inside, where I found the group putting on their jackets and getting ready to head out. I looked at my watch and saw it was 10:00. The boys wanted to run to the store to get some snacks and stop by Embry's house to grab the harder liquor. I said nothing to any of the guys, trying to play it cool as I sorted out my feelings and thoughts. Maybe I was just too drunk? Looking back to the stage, somehow the clarinet stood out to me as I noticed how skillfully the notes were played. How did I not notice how enchanting they were before? My eyes fell on Lydia once more, and I felt my body grow warm. I felt so odd when I looked at her, I couldn't help but bite my bottom lip.
Ripping my eyes from her perfect form and how her delicate fingers so swiftly played the clarinet, I followed the boys. I sat in the backseat with my head leaned on Embry's shoulder as our wonderful designated driver, Seth, drove us to our various destinations to prepare for the party.