A/N: Whoa-thank you so much to everyone who read chapter one! Not a lot of you reviewed, but the traffic on the chapter was crazy! That's awesome! You're all awesome.

I want to apologize in advance, and let you know that this chapter is reaaaaaally long. Like, about 20 pages in Word. There was no good place to break it up, so... enjoy?

P.S. The chapter titles are song names from punk rock bands! I thought it would make a cute little soundtrack for Shea and Rodrick's budding relationship :)

Chapter Two: Make A Move

Although Shea had planned on going to sleep as soon as she and Priya settled into her bed, she couldn't help checking her phone for more messages from Rodrick. By 4, it was clear that he had fallen asleep, but Shea's heart kept her awake. Who knew that a lame suburban party would lead to such a strong connection? She knew that going to sleep would mean that, when she woke, she could text him again, but she couldn't stop thinking about his stupid smile, or the way he smelled, or how close their lips were in his bedroom…

Shea blinked, and suddenly it was one in the afternoon, and her bed was empty. She hastily reached for her phone, unplugged it, and checked her messages. She had one from Priya ("You sleep like a rock lol. Love you see you later."), one from Sam ("holy shit i'm aliveee"), and, to her heart's delight, one from Rodrick, which read, "mornin beautiful".

And even though it was so not punk rock, she clutched her blankets with her other hand and squealed.

After spending Sunday recovering from her minor hangover, Shea had to spend one last week at work at the country club. She made good money during the summer, which she typically blew on concerts, clothes, alcohol, and pizza, and she figured it looked good on her college applications. If she decided to go to college—she still wasn't sure. The last week of work, though, was always the hardest. And now it was two million times harder because she had a cute boy texting her during the day.

Their conversations weren't ever much. "What are you doing? How's TV? How was your nap? I'm listening to that band you told me about…" but it made Shea's chest tighten with excitement when she saw his name flash across her screen. She consumed their conversations with such fervor that her coworker joked about getting her phone surgically attached to her hand. Shea intellectually knew that she should probably back off and play hard to get, but she wasn't into playing games. She knew what she wanted and she wouldn't settle for anything less, especially if it meant Heather Hills only had to breathe in Rodrick's vicinity to get him interested.

On Thursday, Rodrick texted, "this band for hire is playing in the city on friday… wanna go?"

This Band For Hire was Shea's favorite local band; she was surprised Rodrick remembered such a minor detail about her life. She had heard they were playing shows soon, but knew that they almost always played venues with big bars.

"would love to. isn't it a 21 and over show tho?"

Rodrick didn't miss a beat, "u have a fake dont u?"

Shea smiled. Even though she was supposed to be replying to questions on the country club's social media sites, she searched the Friday night show and confirmed the location: Scotch Valley Club.

She replied, "lol trueee. doors open at 7 and it starts at 730."

"i can pick u up at 7? i hate waiting for doors to open. where do u live?"

She knew it was logical for him to need an address to pick her up, but him asking made her heart feel like it was going to explode, she got so excited.

Luckily, she knew how to sound nonchalant through text, "7368 eider drive in north plainview. i live in an apt complex with locked doors so u'll have to call me after u park."

It took him a few minutes to reply, so Shea imagined he was mapping the directions. She drummed her fingers against the desk, trying to calm her anxious breath. She pulled up the country club Facebook page, but her eyes kept flicking back to her phone.

Finally, he replied, "damn avril u live on the other side of the universe."

She smirked. "town, universe, what's the diff?"

"its too far from me."

She stared at his words for a solid three minutes before joking, "brb, moving."

"good :)"

Shea didn't know what to reply, so she didn't. But the conversation was enough to sustain her through the rest of her Thursday, and enough to make Friday feel like forever.

Shea lived in a two-bedroom apartment in North Plainview with her dad. After parents divorced when she was 9, her and her brother moved out of the house her dad could no longer afford on his construction wages, and into their new, smaller home. Shea got a room, her dad got a room, and her brother Bryan got the couch. After her brother left for the military, her dad filled the absence by dating. Even though the space in their apartment was so cramped, Shea felt like she and her dad hardly crossed paths. He was always working or out with his girlfriend; she was at school, work, or out with friends. She didn't mind the loneliness, but sometimes she wished he would offer more communication than misspelled texts and money for groceries.

As usual, her dad had already left for his girlfriend's house for the weekend by time she got home. Shea turned up her favorite This Band for Hire songs and took her time getting ready.

Shea was a minimal make-up girl. Since Shea's mom had left when she was still in elementary school, Priya taught her how to wear make-up. But without Priya's constant encouragement, she sometimes thought applying everything was too much of a hassle. Tonight, however, was a different story. She put on her best skinny jeans, combat boots, tank top, and leather jacket. She painstakingly applied concealer, eyeliner, and eyeshadow. When she stepped back at looked at herself in the mirror, she thought she didn't look like Shea Baker anymore. If Rodrick liked girls like Heather Hills, maybe he wouldn't mind the make-up? But Shea couldn't stand feeling fake, so she washed her face, and started again.

Shea had just finished her new minimal look when Rodrick called. Priya always advised waiting three rings not to seem eager, but Shea couldn't help herself.

"Hey, are you lost?"

"No, I'm here," he said, sounding unusually nervous. "But we have a problem."

Shea panicked. He had a flat. He had no money. He lost his fake. He decided he was still too in love with Heather or some mysterious ex she didn't know about to even consider dating someone as pathetic as Shea.

"What? Is it bad?"

He made a noise that Shea couldn't distinguish as yes or no. She decided to be optimistic, and said before she hung up, "I'll be down in a sec."

After one last glance in the bathroom mirror, Shea ran into her room. She grabbed her wallet and her keys, shut off all of the lights and the stereo, and ran down two flights of stairs.

The Plainview air was cool, which was a nice contrast to how hot it had been earlier in the day. Shea saw Rodrick leaning against the passenger side of a huge, white van with his band name inscribed on the side. Even though he had sounded anxious on the phone, he broke out in a smile when he saw her. Shea relaxed, and hoped she was wrong about him prematurely dumping her.

"Hey," she said, raising her hand to wave. "So what's the problem?"

Rodrick grimaced, and jammed his thumb behind him. Shea followed his finger, and noticed Greg and Rowley sitting in the second row of seats in the van, both smiling dumbly at her.

"Oh!" she breathed, slightly relieved. Her brain began wracking for ways to get rid of the boys. "Why are they here?"

"I told my mom I was going to a show in the city with a friend, and she thought it would be great for them to come along to see some local music," Rodrick said acidly. "Support the community, some shit like that."

"Okay," Shea nodded, digesting the information. "This isn't a big deal."

Rodrick looked surprised. "It's not?"

"No," she explained, "We'll drop them off at another show and pick them up when we're done. Come on; start driving, and I'll look for other shows on my phone."

But Rodrick didn't move. Shea persisted, "What? Do you not wanna go? We can reschedule if you need to babysit."

"N-no! I just," he stammered, "you're not mad?"

"It's a minor setback. But I've got a plan and it'll work." She smiled confidently. "Let's go, or we're gonna miss the show."

Rodrick grinned, and yanked open the passenger side door before running over to the driver side. Shea was surprised by how clean his van was: the floor was littered with old receipts and stunk of French fries, and the back looked like it had seen better days, but it seemed he had made an effort to clean up. Rodrick drove quickly but skillfully, which left Shea to scour nearby shows on her phone.

"What kind of music do you like?" Shea turned and asked the boys.

Rowley looked like he was thrilled at being addressed. "My favorite is Joshie!"

Shea faltered. "The… pop singer?" Rodrick sniggered at her confused tone; she elected to ignore him. "Didn't he just get arrested for doing cocaine?"

Rowley's face fell; Rodrick and Greg both laughed out loud.

"But Joshie says…" Rowley began, his lip quivering.

"Sell out to the man and spend all your money on hard drugs?" Shea finished. "Not happening. What else do you like?"

Greg was excited to have his turn to speak, "Rock music!"

It was clear to Shea that neither Greg nor Rowely listened to much music. She clarified, "Punk, alt, indie…?"

"Uhhh…" Greg trailed off.

Searching for shows in the city was not as easy as Shea had imagined it would be, but she did manage to find a few all-ages rock shows. Shea assumed that the boys were more excited about going to see a concert, rather than going to see a specific band, so she elected to pick something for them.

"Oh, here's something." Shea read aloud, "Pop punk cover band called Windy City Devils. I saw them a few years ago. They weren't bad. How does that sound?"

"Sure!" Greg shrugged. Rowley forced a smile, but it was clear he was still hurt by Shea's comments about Joshie.

"Where is it?" Rodrick asked.

"Starland," Shea replied. "About five blocks down from us. The garage is another three north of our show. So we can park, walk them down—"

"They don't need us to walk them," Rodrick said, annoyed.

"Dude, they don't know where they're going. Plus in the city, better safe than sorry," she argued, and Rodrick relented. "It won't take much time."

"Okay," he said, sighing.

The drive from Plainview into Chicago about thirty minutes, so it was pushing 7:30 by the time they got into the city. Greg and Rowley stared out their windows in awe of the lights and skyscrapers. Rodrick took an exit early into the city, leading onto the row of bars and concert venues called U-Street.

Shea had fond memories of U-Street. Even before she had a fake ID, she, Priya, and Sam would roam up and down the street, and wander into random all-ages shows to check out the music scene. Shea discovered This Band For Hire in the basement of The Black Squirrel, the same venue where she saw Loded Diper play. The band, led by a pink-haired singer named Ariel, blended the perfect amount of electronic, rock, and metal together. They had since been signed to a record label, but still loved playing local shows.

"Walk fast," Rodrick urged the boys once they had parked. Shea watched Rodrick push his hand between Rowley's shoulder blades, causing the round boy to stumble.

"Hey," Shea snapped, and the boys stopped. Rodrick didn't even flinch. "Be nice."

"Yeah, Rodrick!" Greg teased.

"Don't push it," Shea warned, and Greg frowned.

The group stepped quickly out of the garage and into the loud and bustling city streets. They turned south, Greg and Rowley in front, Shea and Rodrick behind. Shea was feeling a little bitter about how much of a jerk Rodrick could be to the kids—sure, they were annoying, but they didn't really know any better. She had an awkward thirteen-year-old phase, and she was sure Rodrick did too. Maybe he was just being a big brother. Maybe he was a big bully. Of course, she knew that he wouldn't change for her just because he liked her, so she resigned to keeping an eye on how he acted around other people, especially her.

The walk was made faster by the fact that no one spoke. It was like an obstacle course dodging lines and puddles of people on the sidewalks, but even the little ones knew to move around and keep going. When they passed the line for the This Band For Hire show, Rodrick squeezed her shoulder and smiled. Shea tried to relax and enjoy the rest of the evening—this was, after all, a date.

When they got to Starland Ballroom, the line had already disappeared inside. Rodrick reached into his back pocket, unearthed $20, and shoved it into Greg's palm. Greg flattened out the money, and shot a perplexed look at his brother.

"That should be enough to get you in and get you a soda or something, if you want it," Rodrick explained.

"But where do we go?" he asked, dumbfounded.

"Inside," Rodrick said sarcastically.

Shea explained, "You'll see a box office. Tell them you want two tickets and they'll stamp your hands. It will be crowded so stay towards the back and go with the flow of the crowd. Don't push and don't fight. Okay?"

"Okay," Greg and Rowley said in unison.

Shea smiled kindly. She could almost hear Rodrick rolling his eyes. "Go ahead in. The show's probably starting soon. We'll come back for you when we're done. Call us if there's trouble."

"Will there be trouble?" Rowley squeaked.

"Not unless you see Joshie inside," she joked, and he pouted.

"We should go," Rodrick urged.

"Alright," Shea agreed. To Greg and Rowley, she said, "Have fun!"

Rodrick and Shea walked quickly back towards their show. Now that his brother and Rowley were gone, Rodrick kept shooting Shea small smiles when he thought she wasn't looking. Shea thought he was cute, but she couldn't get one thing off of her mind.

Even though she should have been flirting, Shea commented, "You should be nicer to your brother and his awkward friend."

Rodrick smirked. "I'm just messing with them. If I'm not a total dick they'd think something was up. Plus they kinda wormed their way into coming tonight, so I'm a little pissed."

Shea conceded, "Yeah, I'd probably be annoyed too."

"But they're gone!" Rodrick exclaimed. He wrapped his arm around Shea's shoulder. "And we're almost there."

"I'm gonna have a rum and coke," Shea said dreamily. It was her favorite drink.

"Make it a Captain, and I'm in," he agreed.

Even though they were officially 20 minutes behind schedule, a small line was still out the door of the venue. Rodrick and Shea marked the end of the line, which seemed to be moving fairly quickly. Rodrick pulled out his fake, and held his hand out for Shea's. Even though she had done this sort of thing dozens of times in the past with Priya and Sam, she found that she was nervous about the night. She chalked it up to first date jitters and handed Rodrick her ID.

He looked at the picture, and said, "You're the only person I know who doesn't look like total shit in their license."

Shea laughed, taken aback by the comment. "Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

Rodrick grinned, but didn't reply. She felt her cheeks grow hot.

After another minute of waiting, it was their turn to greet the bouncer.

Shea knew from experience to play it cool. Rodrick handed over their fakes, while Shea said, "Hey."

The bouncer didn't say anything. He turned over the IDs and scanned them with his handheld device, and then stared at the result. The bouncer looked at both IDs again as if he was scrutinizing them. He read the names, double checked the photos, and flipped them over. Shea and Rodrick exchanged nervous looks; Rodrick grabbed her hand and squeezed it.

Meanwhile, inside the venue, Shea could hear the opener's bass thumping through the entrance. She was so excited to get inside, get a drink, and settle into a spot with Rodrick. Her mind was wandering onto his lips when she heard the bouncer say, "These are fake."

Shea's heart stopped. Her fake had always worked, so she wasn't prepared for this sort of situation.

Rodrick, though, narrowed his eyes in faux surprise. He argued, "I just had that done at the DMV."

"Who's DMV? Your buddy with a shitty printer?" the bouncer snorted, and pocketed the IDs.

"The state of Illinois. If you don't give that back, I'll call the cops," Rodrick threatened. His face was twisted with anger, and even Shea had to admit his act was very convincing.

But the bouncer wasn't buying it. "Go ahead and call. Y'all can have a nice chat at their station."

Shea knew unless she wanted the cops to come, they needed to try this from a different angle. She placed her hand on Rodrick's arm, giving him a gentle squeeze.

She said calmly and sweetly, "Okay, you're right. They're not real."

The bouncer gave them both a face that said, "I told you so."

Shea pulled her wallet from her back pocket, and slid out her real license and a twenty dollar bill. She pressed the money behind her license, and handed it to the bouncer.

"Desperate times call for desperate measures," she said coyly, leaning forward. She could feel the cool night's air brush against her exposed chest, and hoped her cleavage was making an appearance for once. "We're just big fans of the band. I'm sure you, of all people, understand."

Shea thought she was cute enough to at least garner some sympathy. But the bouncer widened his eyes and looked like he was going to explode with anger.

"Get outta here!" he threw her license, and her money, towards her. Both fell to the ground. Shea scrambled to quickly pick both up, and before she could stand, Rodrick grabbed her arm and pulled her away from the venue. They ended up at the end of the building by an alley.

Shea could clearly feel how hot her face was. In an effort to distract herself, she replaced her money and her license in her wallet. After a moment, she muttered, "Sorry."

Rodrick shrugged, but his frown showed that he was disappointed. "S'okay. It was worth a shot."

"Yeah?"

"I would have let you in," he joked, and Shea let a small smile slide onto her lips.

"So now what?" she asked. She had only planned on coming to the show and going home, so an unplanned evening with a boy she barely knew made her feel like she didn't have control, which she hated. More than that, she was bitter that the bouncer had captured their fakes, and their potentially perfect evening was essentially vanquished. It seemed like the universe was conspiring to make sure she and Rodrick didn't get along.

While they brainstormed ideas of what to do next, Shea pulled out her phone and scrolled through nearby shows again. Just as she was about to suggest a basement metal show at a bar a block south, Rodrick said, excited, "Can you hear that?"

Shea could only hear the sounds of the city and her crushing disappointment. She asked, dumbfounded, "Hear what?"

Rodrick said urgently, "Come on!"

He darted down the alley, and Shea followed cautiously. She wasn't sure what could possibly be of interest in a dark alley; her mind was brewing up images from horror movies and crime shows when, all of a sudden, she heard it: This Band For Hire's opener.

Rodrick stopped next to a dumpster, which was right out of a back door into the venue. The lyrics were a little hard to hear, but the music shook through the brick building without interruption. Rodrick and Shea sat down, their backs against the wall. So the alley stunk of days old trash, and was dark, save for one flickering streetlight—it was almost like they were inside. Almost.

The opener's set ended soon after they got comfortable; Shea and Rodrick could hear the crowd inside buzzing with excitement. This Band For Hire had two openers, both with half hour sets. If she closed her eyes, she could picture the dark venue, squished with hundreds of leather-jacket wearing people, clutching clear cups of liquor. She could have been one of them.

"So tonight didn't turn out as planned," Shea gestured to the dumpster next to her date. "It could be worse."

"Don't say that!" Rodrick tutted. "You're tempting fate."

Shea rolled her eyes. "I don't have much use for fate."

Rodrick smirked. "This band had better be worth it."

"Oh, they are!" she said surely. "Didn't you listen to them before now?"

"I downloaded a few songs… it was alright."

"Just alright?!" Shea gasped, feigning horror. "I don't know, man. This might not work."

"That's a shame. I really like you."

Shea faltered. She couldn't help but smile. She tried to speak coolly, but her voice shook with excitement, "I take Ariel's music very seriously."

Just then, the crowd inside began to roar again. The crash of drums symbolized the start of the second opener. Shea and Rodrick shared a smile; Shea closed her eyes to try to focus on the music, and not on the way Rodrick watched her, or how kind he was, or how badly the dumpster smelled.

The second band was only alright, but to be fair, Shea was anxious for This Band For Hire to come on stage. When the music played, Shea and Rodrick didn't speak. The silence was both welcome and uncomfortable; Shea felt like she should be making conversation with her date, but as music addicts, she knew they both wanted to listen to the music. About twenty minutes into the set, she noticed Rodrick drumming his fingers on the ground to the drumbeat, keeping time, even though he'd never heard the songs before.

He caught her watching, and laughed, "What are you looking at?"

"I didn't know you knew how to mark time," she admitted. She realized that once she said it aloud, it sounded sort of condescending.

Rodrick picked up on that. He snapped, "How do you think I play drums?"

"In… the key of rock and roll?" she grinned.

He rolled his eyes. "Come on, Shea."

Hearing him say her name made her shiver. She needed to get a grip. She scooted closer to Rodrick and reached for his hand, curling their fingers. He squeezed her hand, and she rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes.

The set ended soon after, and the buzz of the crowd replaced the shrieking guitars. Rodrick sighed, "My butt hurts."

Shea barked a laugh. "Yeah, concrete isn't very forgiving. I wish we could get inside somehow. I never thought I'd say this, but I bet Greg and Rowley are having more fun than we are."

"I wouldn't say that," Rodrick sniffed.

"No?"

"Nah. They're probably in the back of the room, dancing like this." Rodrick swayed back and forth like grass in the wind. "They've never been to a show. They won't know better."

"They would never fight to the front," Shea agreed. "They'll learn, though. I started going to shows about that age."

"What was your first concert?"

Shea thought about it. "Some stupid band called Mangofix. I think? They came to my middle school and put on a free show."

Rodrick snorted. "That doesn't count."

"It so counts! It was live music. I pushed my way to the front and got to dance on stage."

He faked being impressed. "Wow, really?"

Shea punched his arm. "It was really rad for a 12-year-old. Not that you have any sense what cool is."

"I am the king of cool," Rodrick said smoothly. "Drummer of my own band, ladies lining up around the corner…"

"Yeah, right," Shea laughed. "Priya told me all about what a big dork you are."

"I think she meant badass."

Shea rolled her eyes. "Hey there, ego, what's up?"

Rodrick smiled. "I'm just tellin' it like it is."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Rodrick leaned closer to her. It was happening again—Shea couldn't breathe. She closed her eyes, and felt Rodrick's face coming closer to hers. His lips hovered on top of hers. She could feel his breath on her mouth; she couldn't move, she couldn't think.

They say when you fall in love, it feels like fireworks. Shea knew better than to think that she was in love with Rodrick Heffley, but when he pressed his lips against hers, she felt her toes tingle. She touched his cheek, and then buried her hand in his hair. He tightened his grip on her knee.

Then, they heard a crash, followed by shouting. Shea and Rodrick parted, and then froze.

"I'm taking my ten!" the male voice screamed. The sounds of the venue were louder, accompanied by clanging pots and pans.

"Hurry up!" a voice called back. "The break's almost over!"

Shea shrunk against the wall, her heart beating so fast it felt like it wasn't beating at all. She heard the sound of footsteps pound against the concrete, but she couldn't tell if they were coming or going. Rodrick crawled on his hands and knees to the end of the dumpster, and peeked around the corner. Like lightning struck him, he jumped onto his feet and motioned for Shea to come over.

"Quick!" he whispered.

Obediently, Shea stood and ran behind him. Her mind was still buzzing with nothingness, so listening to him was a simple enough task.

"Look!" he urged.

Shea poked her head around the side of the dumpster, and saw no sign of the cook. She did, however, see the back door left wide open.

"What!" she shrieked in a whisper.

Rodrick grinned devilishly. "Let's go," he said, and ran over to the door.

Shea followed close behind. Luckily, no one was monitoring the door, so she and Rodrick slipped inside the venue's kitchen. Wait and prep staff were too preoccupied cooking and picking up food to notice two strangers wandering through the kitchen. Shea held onto Rodrick's hand so tightly she thought he might lose circulation, but he never once complained about it. Just as they were about to reach the door into the venue, a waiter stopped them.

"What the hell are you doing back here?" he demanded, his eyes narrowed.

Shea's eyes widened. She was bad at thinking up excuses on the spot. Rodrick, however, was not.

"I am so sorry," he gushed, and wrapped his arm around Shea's shoulder. "She's had too much to drink—thought this was the bathroom. I was just leading her back out."

The waiter raised his eyebrow, and looked to Shea for confirmation. On cue, she loosened her body, and slurred, "I-I'm sooo sorry. I just really need to go and I thought that—"

The waiter sighed, cutting her off, "Alright, fine, hurry up."

"Thank you," Rodrick said gratefully. He grabbed Shea's shoulders and pushed her through the doors and just like that, they were in the Scotch Valley Ballroom.

Just as Shea expected, the venue was packed full of people. Since the second opener had finished, the crowd squished forward into a giant mass, all hoping for the coveted spots at the stage. Shea knew that there was no way they would get to the front; they would be lucky to fit into the middle. But at least they were inside!

"Looks like our luck turned around," Shea beamed at her date.

Rodrick kissed the top of Shea's head; she felt like she was floating. He led them towards the back of the crowd, where people had spread out a little better. The back of the crowd in concerts was always a solid place to be: you had a decent view of the band without feeling strangers' hands all over your body. They slowly edged closer, but eventually stopped at a pocket of people who weren't moving forward.

"So," Rodrick said.

"So," Shea echoed. She paused to see if the stage was darkening, signaling the start of the new set, but there was nothing. "Is Greg your only brother?"

"What?" he reacted, surprised.

"Aren't these the kinds of things you're supposed to ask on first dates?" she countered. "Get-to-know-you type questions?"

Rodrick smirked. "No."

"No?"

"I have two brothers," he clarified. "Greg's 13 and Manny's 4."

"That's a huge age difference."

"My parents had me right after college and wanted to wait for the next. Manny was a surprise."

"So was I," Shea said, "Actually, I was a last-ditch attempt to save my parent's marriage."

"How'd that go?"

"Divorced when I was 9," she explained. "My mom lives in Maryland with her new husband and two kids."

Rodrick's face softened. "That sucks. Do you ever get to see her?"

Shea shrugged. "Once a year. Maybe twice depending on what my dad's doing for holidays."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm over it," Shea said, even though sometimes she didn't feel like she was. "I'm closest to my brother. He's way older—24. He's been in the military for a few years now."

"My dad thinks I should join the military."

"You in a uniform? Yeah, right."

"He doesn't think rock star is a realistic life goal."

She shrugged. "Keep working at it and you can do anything."

Rodrick smiled. Shea wasn't sure if him becoming a rock star was realistic, but the time was dream dashing was not now. Around them, the crowd's volume seemed to rise and fall like a wave, and there was no sign of This Band For Hire on stage.

"Are they late?" Shea wondered aloud.

"They should make an announcement," Rodrick muttered. He swiveled his head around, looking for someone from the venue. "This is the longest damn set up I've seen."

"How long's it been?" Shea pulled out her phone to check the time: almost 9. She noticed a text from Priya in the background ("I'm dying over here how's it going?") but elected to respond at the end of the night.

"Almost a half hour," a tall, tattooed girl next to them responded bitterly. "Twitter says they're here, sooo…"

The hum of the crowd was suddenly replaced by a roar, and then silence. Shea couldn't hear what was happening, but the volume of the yellers increased, and then was joined by other voices.

It happened so quickly, it was hard to say exactly what was going on. The crowd surged backwards, nearly knocking Shea onto her feet. She stumbled into a group of boys next to her, who kindly caught her. When Shea turned to apologize, they were already heading towards the exit.

She and Rodrick took big steps backwards as the crowd continued to scatter. It was hard to see who and how many people were fighting, but Shea watched as fists rose and fell like stars. Less than a minute later, the bouncer from the door and two other security guards came rushing towards the group, yelling in deep, booming voices.

"Holy shit," Rodrick said in a low whistle.

"What, you've never been in a street fight?" Shea joked.

He narrowed his eyes. "Hell no. My face is too pretty to get punched."

The security guards quickly got the group of drunk men under control. A third guard was joined by a Chicago city policeman; Shea swore she heard the guard speak into his walkie, "No, no, the crowd's too rowdy… Tell them to go…"

Shea pretended not to hear this, and waited patiently for security to remove the offending men. But it was like bad clockwork: as soon as the men were removed, another fight broke out. The guards came back, and more fists were flying.

It was nearly 9:30 by the time the venue had the crowd settled. A man in a suit took the stage and held his hands up, signaling for the crowd to quiet down. Shea could feel a worm wriggle in her stomach; she could feel the bad news before he spoke it.

"The show tonight is canceled!" he boomed. The crowd roared in protest, but he persisted, "The bar will remain open for the rest of the night, but This Band For Hire has left the building."

Disappointment settled in Shea's chest. She sighed, trying to shake the bitterness and bad feelings, but she was about ready to call it: the date was over. As much as Shea liked Rodrick, and spending time with him, she couldn't help but feel burned by how the night had turned out: she had her fake ID stolen, shared a kiss in a dark, smelly alley, and was no longer in the same building as her favorite band. She tried to ignore how bummed she felt, but once they left the club, she wanted nothing more than to go home and call Priya.

"Windy City Devils should be done soon; we can just head down there and hang out," Shea suggested.

"We've still got time," he disagreed. "I bet we could get into a show along the way. Wanna go?"

"Sure," she tried to sound enthusiastic, but Rodrick heard the sadness in her voice.

"You okay?" he asked, concerned.

Shea knew it was stupid to lie. In fact, that's one of the things she hated the most about romantic movies: why didn't women just tell the truth about how they were feeling? But she didn't want to disappoint Rodrick, or make him think he wasn't into her.

She lied, "Yeah, alright."

A block south was a metal show for a band called Peeped. The bar was dark and stunk of beer, but the cover was free. Comparatively, it was the best luck they had had all night. Shea chalked it up to a minor victory and resigned to ignore the large, drunken men who were crowding the dance floor.

The band was noisy—they played angrily and emphatically in a way that made Shea think they didn't actually know how to play their instruments. The frown on Rodrick's face confirmed her suspicions. Just as she was about to suggest they leave, one of the burlier drunk men wheeled around and puked all over Shea's shoes.

Rodrick reacted quickly. He pushed the man and shouted, "Hey!"

The man fell into a group of his friends, who thought the fact that their pal probably ruined Shea's favorite pair of boots was absolutely hysterical. Tears burned her eyes. She stormed towards the bar and asked, her voice shaking, "Where's your bathroom?"

The bartender took pity on her, and said kindly, "By the front."

Shea didn't wait for Rodrick. She stomped her way into the women's room. The bathroom was small and stunk of pee and cleaning product. Shea awkwardly lifted her leg and stuck her shoe in the sink. The smell of vomit made her gag, so she turned on the water, grabbed paper towels, and tried very hard not to think about what she was doing.

In another small bit of luck, her shoes weren't destroyed and everything washed off fairly quickly. Shea washed her hands about six times after cleaning her shoes, and then emerged from the bathroom. Rodrick was waiting for her outside of the bar. Her bitterness had evolved into anger and frustration; she was over this night.

Rodrick smiled sympathetically. He said, "If it makes you feel any better, they threw that guy out."

She rolled her eyes. "Loads."

His smile faded. She felt a little bad for snapping at him, but not bad enough to apologize.

"Third time's the charm," he said hopefully.

She shrugged, and pulled out her phone for the nearest show. Without telling him, Shea turned and began walking south.

Their last hope was in a bar two doors away from Starland. Her phone said all ages, so she was surprised to see a bouncer in thick, black sunglasses sitting out front.

"IDs," he demanded, holding out his hand.

Shea groaned. She was so not in the mood for lying or playing games anymore. She admitted, her voice crass, "Listen man, I'm not gonna bullshit you. We're not 21."

The bouncer tightened his lips, and then laughed. Shea exchanged a perplexed look with Rodrick.

"I know, Shea," the bouncer said, and removed his sunglasses. "How you been?"

It figured, Shea thought. The bouncer was a guy named John—her ex-boyfriend's older brother. She and Timmy had only dated for six months at the beginning of the year, but she had periodically stayed in touch with John for this purpose: he got her into shows.

"Oh!" she said, surprised. She felt her mood lighten a little, and she managed a smile. "I had no idea you worked here."

"I work up and down this street, wherever they need me," John explained, waving his hand back and forth.

"Wow, a working man," Shea joked.

John laughed. "You know me. So what are you two up to tonight?"

"We wanted go see This Band For Hire, but…"

John cut her off. "Yeah, I heard something like thirty people were arrested. That's crazy. And a shame. They're awesome live."

"Don't rub it in," Rodrick joked. Shea glanced at him and he cautiously turned his lips upward in a smile.

"Well hey, these guys aren't bad," John gestured to the bar entrance. "Been playing here for a few weeks on and off. Timmy didn't like them though. He's next door."

Shea was glad to hear her ex was not inside—another minor victory. "Are you gonna let us in?" she asked hopefully.

John opened his mouth to say what Shea could only assume was yes, when a lanky man wearing a clip-on name badge that said Seth approached John.

"You all good?" Seth asked John.

Nervous, John stuttered, "Uh, yeah, alright."

"Did you check them?" Seth asked. "You know kids have been breaking into shows all night. Don't wanna get in trouble with the cops."

"If they ever get out of Scotch Valley," Rodrick said, but the joke fell on deaf ears.

Shea felt all of the hope and happiness built inside her chest suddenly crumble. She pulled out her phone, and saw it was almost 10, which meant Greg and Rowley's show would be over shortly.

"You know what, it's fine," Shea said. Seth eyed her suspiciously, and John smiled sadly. "We've gotta get next door anyway. It was good seeing you John."

"Take care of yourself, kid," John called after her.

The Starland Ballroom was just as Shea remembered it: bright lights on stage, dark in the crowd, and a huge floor plan. Rodrick and Shea paid the $7 cover (which Rodrick unsuccessfully tried to haggle down, since the show had to be ending soon) and secured a spot in the back of the room, away from the edge of the crowd. Shea tried to pick out Greg or Rowley, but it was hard to spot them from the sea of dark t-shirts in front of her.

Rodrick squeezed Shea's shoulder, and told her, "I'll be right back."

Shea nodded to show she understood despite the noise, and he disappeared around the corner, into the restroom. She exhaled deeply, trying to push the sadness from inside her, but the bitter feeling lingered. This had undoubtedly been one of the worst nights of her life. Shea tried to focus on the positives—Rodrick was cute and he kissed her; he was funny and knew how to cheer her up; he was stubborn and unwilling to accept defeat—but somehow they seemed like molehills compared to the awful night she had just endured. All she wanted was a fun date with the boy she liked, but instead she got kicked out of a club, puked on, and ignored. She wanted to leave. Now.

Unfortunately, fate was not done playing with her. Even though John had warned her about him, Shea was still surprised to see her ex, Timmy, approaching her in his familiar black, patched jacket. Timmy had long chestnut hair and a lip ring; he also had a fierce temper and an insatiable need to act like a pompous douche. Shea hoped he would overlook her, but he didn't.

"Hey, you!" he said a little too cheerfully, practically shouting over the music. "You're all alone? Where's Priya?"

"Home," Shea said bluntly. "I'm here with someone."

Timmy pressed, "Sam?"

She wasn't sure why she hesitated in telling the truth. She wanted him to go away and leave her alone. But he wasn't moving, so she divulged, "A date."

Her ex laughed like he was surprised she could ever move on. "Yeah? How's that going?"

Shea tried to hold her tongue, but it came up like word vomit. "Awful. It's been one of the worst nights of my life."

Timmy was surprised to hear her reaction, and softened, "Sounds like a loser."

She felt better for having said it aloud, but the confession made her stomach hurt. She could feel tears begin to sting her eyes, so she turned her head to wipe them away. She turned her head to her right and saw Rodrick, looking like a hurt puppy dog. Timmy took his cue to leave and disappeared into the crowd.

"Rodrick, I didn't—" she began, sputtering words. Her face was hot with nerves and her stomach lurched with anxiety.

"No, I get it," he said sadly. He leaned against the wall and, as if Shea hadn't totally broken his heart, checked his phone for the time. "They've got one more song at most. I'll take you home after that."

"Rodrick," she repeated, her voice firmer. "I just—"

"It's okay," he insisted, "I'm over it."

Shea could almost physically feel her heart snapping in two. She felt awful, depressed, low… like the worst kind of person on the planet. She didn't know how she could make this up to him. And she wanted to, because she genuinely liked this boy. She wished she wasn't so quick to open her big, dumb mouth to her ex-boyfriend. Suddenly, the kiss outside the dumpster didn't seem so bad.

Shea excused herself and ran to the women's bathroom. Priya. Priya would know what to do. She locked herself in a stall and pulled out her phone, quickly punching in the number she knew by heart.

"You're home early!" Priya said gleefully. "How'd it go?"

Just like that, the dams burst. Shea sobbed, "It's going so badly."

"Oh, no." Priya asked, "What happened?"

Shea told her everything: from Greg and Rowley, to the dumpster kiss, to the vomit all over her boots, and to her confession to Timmy. At the end of her tale, she cried, "I really like him, but he thinks I hate him, and I don't know what to do."

Priya was a great friend because she didn't scold Shea for being so stupid and careless. Instead, she focused on a solution.

She suggested, "Make him listen to you. Tell him you may have had a bad night, but you're into him."

Shea was annoyed that the solution was so obvious. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, and said pathetically, "Yeah?"

"Yeah," her friend's voice was soothing. "It'll be alright. It was just a miscommunication. If he likes you, he'll understand."

"I feel like an idiot," Shea sighed.

"Shit happens. Let me know how it goes, okay?"

"Okay." Shea took a deep breath, and felt some of the misery vanish. "I love you."

"Love you too. Talk later."

After she hung up, Shea took a few minutes to fix the make-up that had run while she was crying. She wiped most of it off, and was bummed by how plain her face looked. But she was less concerned with wowing Rodrick, and more concerned with being honest.

She found him right where she left him. Windy City Devils was playing their encore, and Rodrick was watching the stage mindlessly.

Even though she felt like running and hiding, Shea grabbed his hand. His fingers were warm to the touch, and he seemed surprised by her gesture. She said above the noise, "I really like you."

Rodrick forced a smile, and said, "Shea, you don't have to—"

It was her turn to cut him off. "Shut up, Gerard. This night might have sucked, but you didn't."

Rodrick's fake smile slowly turned real. He hesitated, unsure of the next move. Not thinking about the fact that she was in a room full of people who could turn around at any second, Shea cupped his face and kissed him hard. Windy City Devils played their final notes and the crowd began to roar in celebration; Rodrick wrapped his arms around her back and kissed back, just as passionately.

The crowd was still cheering when they parted. Rodrick pressed his forehead against Shea's, and she closed her eyes. For the first time all night, she felt at peace.

When the crowd quieted down, Shea and Rodrick escaped outside. They held hands and leaned against the brick wall of the Ballroom, passing the time by making jokes about how mediocre the few minutes of Windy City Devils had been. When Greg and Rowley emerged from the crowd, they were wide-eyed and giddy.

"How was it?" Shea asked.

"It was so cool!" Rowley shrieked.

Greg agreed, "Best night ever!"

"We'd better get going, then," Rodrick said, holding up his phone. "We've got an eleven o'clock curfew, and you know Mom will freak if we're late."

Greg and Rowley nodded obediently, and the foursome made the long trek back up towards the parking garage. Thankfully, the streets were less crowded so the walk was faster. Shea could hear the boys chattering about the best parts of the night—which songs they liked best, all of the cool people they met; it relaxed her a little to think that at least someone had a good time on their date, even if it wasn't her.

When they were in the car and on the way to Shea's, she couldn't help but ask, "Did you meet any girls?"

"Rowley got a phone number," Greg said bitterly, but his friend beamed with pride.

Rodrick laughed like it was the funniest thing he'd ever heard. "You're kidding me."

"She said I was cute!" Rowley exclaimed, and Rodrick kept laughing.

"Aw Greg, you'll meet a nice girl too," Shea said reassuringly.

Rodrick interjected, "Not until he gets over Holly Hills."

Greg's face reddened. "Hey, shut up!"

"The Hills sisters have something going for them, huh?" Shea teased. "Heather and Holly? What would you four have done on dates?"

This time, Rowley laughed, and the Heffley boys pouted. "You're funny, Shea," the redhead said.

With the car talking and laughing, the drive to Shea's took no time at all. Rodrick idled in front of her main door, procrastinating saying good night.

Shea saw the time, though, and said, "You've got ten minutes to get home. You guys are busted."

"Worth it," he said, and the backseat choired in agreement.

Shea and Rodrick exchanged smiles, saying nothing. The sound of the engine rumbling and Taking Back Sunday on the radio were the only noise. She felt her heart hurt a little at the thought of going inside, but she knew she had to.

"Okay," she said with finality, "I'm leaving now."

"Okay," Rodrick echoed. He leaned across the center console and kissed her. It was quick, but enough to make Shea's heart drop into her stomach. "Good night."

"Good night," she said quietly, and then stepped out of the car.

Rodrick watched her as she approached the main door and pulled out her keys. When he saw she had opened the door, he pulled away. As he was leaving, Shea swore she heard Rowley ask, "Is Shea your girlfriend?"

Girlfriend. Her stomach felt full of butterflies. The night hadn't ended so badly after all.

A/N: Congrats for making it all the way through! :) I know that Jeff Kinney's said that Plainview is supposed to an "everywhere and nowhere" type of town, but I figured it wasn't big enough to have a local music scene, so I randomly picked Chicago. Based on a few of the books I'm about 90% sure Kinney imagined them outside of Baltimore, but I had already picked Chicago by the time I deduced that, so the Windy City it is! Of course, I don't live near Chicago, so when I wrote about U-Street I was actually imagining Washington D.C. Fun facts?