August 19th, 1988

Before the show started, Rayna felt so excited and elated she was near tears. She was out in back behind the small café, just taking it all in. She'd learned nearly five years ago the importance of standing in a moment and really appreciating it, so she was trying to do that now. She didn't know where this road was going to lead her, or what her future was going to hold, but she knew tonight she was taking one step closer to every dream she'd ever had. It was exhilarating and terrifying all at once, and she had so much emotion running through her, her mind working overtime thinking about everything that could happen, and about all the things that might not happen, too.

The back door of the café swung open, and she turned to see Deacon emerging into the twilight that was currently casting shadows over the alley.

"Hey," He nodded when he saw her, "There you are." She was leaning up against the wall and he came to stand next to her.

"Hey," She said, smiling at him.

He grinned back at her, "You nervous?"

"No," She shook her head, "Yes." She nodded.

Deacon laughed, "Well, you're about to get paid to play music, so I reckon you're feeling a lot of different things right about now."

"We're getting paid to play music," She corrected him.

Deacon nodded, "We are, that's right."

Rayna pushed herself up from the wall and stared at him, "I just…" She wrapped her arms around herself, "What if it all goes wrong?" She asked, her brow furrowed.

He smiled at her, "Could happen." He nodded, "But, what if it doesn't?" He reached out and grasped her hand, "You could get your dream."

She smiled softly at him, taking in the features of his face; the way his eyes looked in the sunset light seemed like something out of a movie. "I could." She whispered, not sure when she spoke if she was talking about her lifelong dream, or the newer one she was just discovering—the one that seemed to revolve around him. Either way, she suddenly knew he was essential—to her dreams, to her. The thought overwhelmed her.

He tugged on her hand, "Come on," He opened the door for her, "It's show time."

She grinned, and he let go of her hand as she walked through the door, pausing to look at him as she did. "Thanks, Deacon," She said, staring up at him.

"Anytime," He returned, giving her a wink. Then, he leaned down and placed a soft kiss on her cheek.

When he pulled away, she stared at him for a moment; she opened her mouth to say something, though she hadn't determined quite what, but Watty came walking down the back hall.

"Ready, Rayna?" He asked.

She tore her gaze away from Deacon, though she could still feel his eyes on her. She nodded at Watty, "Yep." She said, walking through the door, Deacon following behind her.

The performance went well; people were eating and drinking while they were playing—it was a café after all—but Rayna didn't care. She was being paid to sing, and that felt like the only thing in the world that mattered to her in that moment. Until she looked at the man strumming his guitar next to her, that is.

When their set was over, and the applause died down, Rayna and Deacon made their way off stage. As they walked through the back hall, they happened upon the tail end of a conversation Watty was having with a man dressed in a suit and tie, "I've really never seen anything quite like it before," Watty said, shaking his head at the well-dressed man.

"Anything like what, Watty?" She asked, coming up behind him and putting her arm around his shoulder.

Watty smiled, and raised his index finger, pointing between Rayna and Deacon, "You two."

Rayna felt herself blush as she dropped her arm from around Watty and turned to face Deacon. He smiled at her, and gave her a little nod.

The man in the suit and tie reached out his hand, "Excellent show, Ms. Jaymes," She shook it. "Mr. Claybourne," He extended his hand to Deacon, shaking it vigorously. The man turned to Watty, "Mr. White," He smiled, "I'll be in touch." With a final nod to Rayna and Deacon, he headed back into the audience for the next act.

When he was gone, Rayna turned to face Watty, "Who was that?" She asked, her eyebrows raised.

"That was someone I may just be telling you about later," Watty winked at her. "Great show, you two." He said, squeezing Rayna on the arm, and clapping Deacon on the shoulder before heading back into the audience.

Deacon turned to face her, "You sounded really great tonight, Ray."

She smiled, "So did you."

He grinned at her, "Do you want to—"

She knew exactly what he was going to ask, so she didn't even wait for him to finish. She just smiled and nodded her head. He led her out of the café, his guitar case in his hand as they walked into the thick summer night.

It was becoming something of a post-show ritual with them to go out together—sometimes to a quick dinner, always to a bar. Deacon never invited the other two guys who played with them to come, and she certainly didn't either. She wasn't sure if it was a date, or exactly what it was, but she enjoyed it, so she didn't ask many questions.

When they got to the bar, she took a seat on the stool, and Deacon moved around to the other side of the bar so he could get the bartender's attention. It was crowded in the bar, but not too crowded just yet. As Deacon ordered two beers from the bartender, Rayna watched him, and felt her nerves go on edge—what was this? She asked herself, not for the first time that day. Every time she saw him, every time she thought of him, she felt nervous, like her stomach was turning in on itself over and over again.

She was watching Deacon so intently, trying to sort through her own emotions, that she didn't notice the man staring at her until he was already directly next to her.

A thin guy with sandy blond hair and a cowboy hat leaned up against the bar, staring at her. He looked her up and down, his eyes traveling over her body, and she shifted in her seat, uncomfortable with his gaze. She felt Deacon's eyes on her, and she glanced up at him, giving a small roll of her eyes to indicate her displeasure.

The blond guy didn't notice, or else didn't care. Smirking, he leaned his head close to hers, "I have a thing for redheads."

Rayna turned her head to him, but pulled it back slightly. She smiled a mock sweet smile, "Oh, do you? That's real interesting, because I have a thing for guys who aren't assholes." She stared at him "Unfortunately for you."

Ignoring her barb, the guy stepped closer and put his hand on her arm, his fingers moving up and down her forearm, "Come on, baby, I'm real nice."

Rayna pulled her arm away just as Deacon came back holding two beers. He stared at the guy, who was still staring at Rayna.

"The lady said she's not interested." Deacon said, his voice serious.

The guy turned to look at Deacon, looking him up and down, assessing him, "And who the hell are you?"

Deacon, still holding the beers, shrugged, "Don't really matter who the hell I am. The lady said she ain't interested."

The guy looked between Deacon and Rayna; when he saw Rayna smiling at Deacon, the guy rolled his eyes and pushed himself up from the bar, stepping away from it. Deacon slid into his place and set the beers down on the bar.

The guy sneered at Deacon, "Whatever, man." He said, "She's probably a lousy lay, anyway." He laughed, and moved to turn around to head back to his friends.

Before he could manage it though, Deacon pushed himself up from the bar, and grabbed the guy by the shirtfront—he gripped the collar of the guy's button-down shirt between a tight fist and leaned his face in to the guy's. Deacon spoke through gritted teeth, "What the hell did you just say?" His eyes were wild, and rage seethed out of his body.

The guy sputtered a bit, taken by surprise, "Nothing, man. I didn't say anything."

Deacon smirked at him, "That's right, you didn't. Now," He tightened his grip on the shirt, "I suggest you apologize to the lady for saying nothing."

The guy looked behind Deacon's head at Rayna, who was watching the scene wide-eyed.

"I'm sorry, Miss." He said, his voice trembling slightly.

Deacon roughly released the guy's shirt, sending him stumbling back so quickly he nearly fell. "That's better." Deacon said, turning away from the guy, "Now get the hell out of here." He tossed the command over his shoulder, and took a seat next to Rayna.

She was staring at him, the look on her face a mixture of fear and something he couldn't quite name.

He pushed a bottle of beer towards her, and glanced down at the bar, suddenly a little embarrassed. She hadn't seen his temper yet, and while the display he just gave was only a little preview—just the tip of the iceberg, really—he felt nervous about it.

She grabbed the bottle of beer and brought it to her lips, "You didn't have to do that." She said, and then she took a drink. She made a face as it went down—she was discovering that, actually, she didn't much care for beer.

Deacon took a swig from his beer, and then set it back down on the bar. He was staring at the bottle when he spoke, "I know, I just…" He shrugged, "Couldn't help it." He finished, looking at her. "Seeing that creep with you, and hearing what he said, I just…"

Rayna reached out and placed her hand on his arm, smoothing her palm over his skin before she took her hand away, "Well, thank you."

Deacon smiled, "That was a great line you had back there, though. About having a thing for guys who aren't assholes."

Rayna laughed, "Well, I do." She said, smiling around the mouth of her beer bottle. Though, these days, it seemed she really only had a thing for one very particular guy. She wasn't going to say that, though. She chuckled, "You may have guessed that this wasn't my first time on this side of a 'I have a thing for redheads' line."

Deacon chuckled, "I got that, yeah."

Rayna set her bottle down, and pushed it between her hands on the bar, fidgeting. "It seemed… pretty protective, what you did." She leaned her head slightly forward, fishing without having to actually ask the question.

She wanted to ask him about the kiss on the cheek before the show tonight, she wanted to ask him why he was defending her honor like he was her boyfriend, but instead she danced around it—it was safer that way, probably.

Deacon shrugged, "I guess I am protective of you, yeah." He said, drawing a circle on the bar with his finger.

Rayna waited, sure there had to be more on the other side of that confession.

He looked up at her, and she swore something was on the tip of his tongue as they locked gazes, but then he looked away, "So, how's it feel to be a paid artist?" Deacon asked her, playing with the label on his bottle.

"It feels good." She said, beaming, "And weird. And I know it's not really even that much money, but just the idea that someone wants to pay to hear us sing is just… I don't even know how to describe it."

Deacon peeled the label back on his bottle, and then smoothed it back down again. "They ain't paying to hear us Rayna, they're paying to hear you."

Rayna took a small sip of her beer, and shook her head, "You heard Watty back there. They're paying to hear us." She considered him for a moment, "Why are you protective of me, Deacon?" She asked, surprised at herself for having the courage to ask the question at all. The incident a few minutes ago had been the most obvious, but she'd noticed it in little ways, too. She saw it in the way he guided her through doors, little comments he made, even the way he stood next to her on stage screamed that he was protecting her.

"I…" Deacon trailed off, still the more fascinated with his label, "You're my friend, Ray." He said.

She loved the way the nickname sounded coming out of his mouth; no one had ever really had a nickname for her—she was always Rayna, and she'd liked it that way. Until now.

She turned her head to the side, staring at him, her gaze soft, "Am I?"

Deacon looked at her then, and his fingers stilled on the label, "Yeah—aren't you?" He asked, his lips quirking up.

Rayna laughed, "I am, yeah."

They lapsed into silence, the din of the bar rising around them, each lost in their own thoughts about the other.

When they were finished with their beers, they walked into the night, grateful that it was a relatively cool one, all things considered. They were within walking distance of Deacon's place, but Rayna needed a ride back to Watty's, so Deacon opened the door of a cab that was waiting outside the bar.

She stepped off the curb, and turned to look at him, holding the door of the cab.

"Thanks, Deacon." She said, staring at him. Her eyes searched his for a moment, and then she leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to his lips. It was brief, but Rayna felt her heart jump into her throat at the contact. It felt electric.

When she pulled back and opened her eyes, Deacon was staring at her, his eyes wide—"I—I don't… No, Rayna, we can't…" He trailed off.

Rayna felt her face grow hot, and she raised a hand to her mouth, pressing it over her lips. "I'm sorry," she mumbled, and slid into the cab, closing the door. She gave the driver Watty's address, and as the cab driver pulled away, she forced herself to not look back at Deacon standing on the curb. Sighing, she wished she could sink down into the backseat of the cab and disappear entirely.

She felt the white-hot tears burning behind her eyelids as she shut her eyes in the back of the cab. She felt like an idiot; this whole time she'd been imagining there was something between him, and it turned out that he just saw her as a friend. That reality was bad enough, but then she had actually gone and kissed him.

And worst of all, probably, was how much she'd liked it. The brief contact was enough to make her want to kiss him all the more. She'd done a little kissing before, made out with a guy at a party Tandy invited her to—she'd even gone a little further once—but she'd never felt anything quite like what she'd just felt kissing Deacon, even for a moment. Something tightened in her stomach when she felt his lips against hers, and a heat spread through her body unlike anything she'd ever felt before. And now she'd thoroughly embarrassed herself, and the thought troubled her. But it didn't trouble her nearly as much as the thought that she might never follow the feeling that only Deacon awakened within her—whatever it was—to the other side.