Normal is Boring

II.

I was so surprised that my only reaction was to push myself away from him. He had his eyes closed and I wondered if it was because he didn't want to look at me. I felt too unstable and nervous and dumbfounded to look at him either, so I got myself off his bed in a hurry.

"Sorry, it's…been awhile…" He says this, and the words seem so awkward and out of place for what just happened that I force an ironic smile.

I wasn't sure if I was supposed to respond to this so instead I ask him if he wants a glass of wine. He answers by asking if we could just drink from the bottle.

Taking swigs straight from the bottle sounded good to me, so after uncorking it, I tilted the opening up to my lips and drank a large amount of the bittersweet liquid. I then climbed over him as I passed him the bottle. Sitting next to him against his headboard, it felt weird that there was nothing either one of us wanted to say.

"Cheap," he stated after taking an equally long swill. He passed it back to me. I glanced at the name of the wine. Cabernet Sauvignon. Fancy. I made my voice nasally as I tried to put on some over the top French accent (though I doubted the wine was French). I took another drink as he snorted at my pronunciation attempt.

He took the bottle from my grasp and drank then asked: "What are we doing?"

"Underage drinking some cheap ass wine because we're badass musicians now."

He told me he liked my double usage of the word ass and I politely thanked him.

Within a few minutes, we had drunken the whole bottle of wine. How did that happen? He dropped the bottle onto the floor and the thud that echoed in and out of my mind made me close my eyes and crack my head against the board behind me.

"You dropped the bottle," I told him, "You're so drunk."

And it wasn't like I didn't continuously think about that night for the next few weeks. Our first tour together would be coming to an end shortly, but we maintained what we had before because it was the easiest thing to do.

One morning when I was on my way to get some coffee, I came across a newsstand and I know usually the news is such a bore, but the headline caught my attention because it featured Liquid Courage.

I was able to skim the article enough to know that the tabloids were calling him and I The New Sonny and Cher.

I Got You Babe briefly went through my head but it stopped when I was threatened with either buying the paper or leaving. I dropped it back onto the pile.

I regret not keeping that paper to this day but it doesn't even really matter because I remember it. I never told him about it, but I think he knew about it because that was just how he was.

A few nights after I saw the paper, however, I asked him if he had heard anything. Without even asking what this anything could possibly entail, he answered with: "LC's manager said he would like to present us with a contract."

I stared at him for a long moment, wondering if he was joking with me, but I should have known better because he doesn't joke about stuff like this, "Why would he just tell you?"

"He said he didn't want to hear you scream in his face."

"Fair enough," I accept quickly as I then proceed to scream with an excitement I didn't know I had in me. I felt his strong shoulders under my grip as I bounced flamboyantly, glad that I had a moment in my life that seemed acceptable to use the word flamboyant.

Grabbing my hands in his, he dropped our hands in between us, "So I guess you're in?"

I could have punched him for even asking, but I let it slip as I agree with vigor.

"This calls for…a celebration!" I raise my arms above my head and wiggle my fingers. I shimmy around our room because my mind is way ahead of the situation and I can't even think about what club we could possibly go to.

So he turned on the radio and cranked it up to a level that would no doubt be disturbing to the other guests. But until we got told to turn it down, we kept it as it was and didn't even care. And when old school *N sync came on, we only had to give each other one look before we performed the whole choreographed dance to Bye Bye Bye. And who cares if it was lame, because he had a much better voice than those other five guys and I loved hearing his version.

His voice was so smooth and perfect, and that was why I had no choice but to shut him up by kissing him. As soon as I did, I knew I had to grab the wine again, but he knows me too well and kept our lips locked before I could escape.

My world went from vertical to horizontal in a matter of seconds, but I found that life was much more enjoyable the latter way. His weight was on top of me, but it was surprisingly comfortable and I didn't want to think about how that was possible.

As soon as his lips left mine to trail down my neck, I opened my mouth to speak but he promptly bit my skin which only allowed me to gasp.

"Don't speak," he ordered, his lips still on me, "just go with it."

I wasn't sure how I could argue with that logic, so I did as he commanded. I wasn't sure if the blood pounding in my head was louder than the music, or if there was a different pounding that was trying to stop what was happening.

I'm assuming he must have been in the same state of mind as myself, because it took both of us some time to realize that a manager was beating on our door and demanding that we turn the music down and asking if we were aware that it was after midnight.

He left me because he had to, turning down the radio as he yelled sorry! through the door. The manager grumbled something about damn kids but then left, which I was ultimately grateful for, because he very well could have kicked us out or told our new manager to rip up any preexisting contract.

But as he stood against the small end table that held the radio, and as I stood by the side of my bed…no wait, it was his bed…it became very clear to both of us that this was not the right time, nor place, to do this.

"Should I try to start the mood again?" He asks, and I assume he's joking, so I force out a laugh and announce that I need a shower. He doesn't move from his spot as I gather my clothes and supplies and enter the bathroom.

What's nice about having a best friend is that they never bring up moments they know you don't wish to discuss. The two of us carried on as though the two kisses never happened and my own sanity questioned if they actually did. Surely something should have changed between us if they did.

Dreams are funny things.

Before I knew it, we were on our last tour night. We made our opening act a bit more bittersweet than was necessary…or maybe it was necessary. After all, when would we ever be performing before Liquid Courage again? We would one day have our own opening act, but that would be a whole other chapter in our life that was different than this one.

We could never go back. Only forward. And he seemed to understand this better than anyone I've ever known. Even myself. Which was good, because I needed him to understand this for me.

It was that night that I guess he needed to help me understand so he wouldn't be so alone.

I was taking a bubble bath because the hotel we were staying in had a huge tub that I couldn't pass up. I filled the tub up with Lavender & Chamomile because I wanted that to be the smell I always associated with this night.

My hair was pinned back so I could rest my head against the edge of the tub, and I'm pretty sure I was dozing off when I heard a knock at the bathroom door.

He called my name, "Can we talk?"

Snapping my eyes open, I look down at myself and see that my body is hidden by bubbles. I would normally have told him to give me twenty minutes, but he also normally doesn't ask to talk while I'm in the bathroom.

My voice sounds small to me as I tell him the door's open.

He opens the door but closes it quickly behind him so that the warmth doesn't escape. He takes a seat on the closed toilet lid and props a foot up on the edge of the tub. He doesn't look at me, which I think I am grateful for, and I wonder if he has a problem with me staring at him right now.

"You ready for it to end?" He asked. I can't remember if this was the first thing he asked me or if this occurred somewhere in the middle. Maybe the first half of our conversation didn't even matter, so I blacked it out.

"Every end is a new beginning," I quote, lifting my hand up that held a small tower of bubbles before I blew most of them back into the water.

"Are we continuing or beginning?" he asks, and I'm just overjoyed that he doesn't add ending as an option.

"Either one seems fine," I answer, because I'm too chicken to ask exactly what he means. I don't need to be guessing and I don't want him explaining this to me while I'm covered in Lavender & Chamomile bubbles.

He sighs then and finally lowers his head to look at me, "How I wish you'd give me a straight answer for once."

I splashed some water at him, "Don't be getting all snappy at me."

He placed his foot on the tiled floor and leaned forward, "Maybe I should make you give me a straight answer."

I giggle because I can't help but hear the seriousness in his voice and it makes me slightly nervous, though I think I'm more intrigued. I duck myself further beneath the bubbles when I become self-conscious.

"Maybe you should," I finally answer, thinking that just maybe I can get away with that being my straight answer.

But I saw the interest pass through his eyes and realized that he only took that as a challenge. And because I knew about him and challenges, I quickly tried to think of an escape route, but there was only so much I could do while being naked in a bathtub full of bubbles.

"Do you want to tour with me forever?" And his random question that I wasn't expecting at all throws me so far off that I sit up slightly and I know he can see the top of my breasts.

"You know the answer to that," I respond, but quickly realize that he was looking for a straight answer from me, and that just seemed wordy. So I swiftly redeemed myself by adding, "Yes."

"Forever's a long time," he points out, leaning back against the commode and propping his feet up on the side of the tub again.

I close my eyes and sink lower into the water again, tiling my neck to get as much of it as I could under water, "Not long enough."

And then we just sat like that for a long time. Until I announced that I was beginning to prune and needed to get out. He left the room without saying a single word, but that was okay because everything that needed to be said between us that night was already said.