What's Left Unsaid {Original}

It was the best way to spend one of the last few remaining days of summer – driving two and a half hours to watch Chad and his bandmates play a twenty minute set in some crappy bar. For me, it was really more about the road trip. Me and him, singing cheesy love songs at the top of our lungs, him using my water bottle as a microphone, declaring his out dated feelings to the orthopedic pillow that I kept in the backseat. It was horrible, ear shattering and absolutely perfect.

The call came in this morning as I lay in bed, contemplating the attributes of just staying there all day. The guys had finally gotten a gig and Chad begged me to come along to cheer for them like some two-bit groupie. Turns out, I was mostly needed for my means of transportation.

"You know that’s not true," Chad declared adamantly. "We couldn’t possibly have a show without our only fan."

So, that’s how I ended up spending my Saturday afternoon in my car, hurtling down the highway at breakneck speeds. I may gripe and complain (And I did. Emphatically.), but there’s no other place I’d rather be. Nothing’s wrong with being confined in a small place with the person you’re head-over-heels crazy for. I’ve felt this way for almost all of the three years I’ve known him and have kept it hidden for just as long. It didn’t help matters much that we had a little secret.

"Hey, are you trying to kill me here?" Chad asked, noticing my increasing speed. "Traffic laws are there to keep my sexy ass alive."

"Typical guy, only thinking about yourself," I said with a ladylike snort.

"Well, I’m also not too crazy about the thought of your pretty face smeared across the pavement, so slow down."

I fought to keep a straight face, not wanting him to know how much his simple words affected me. The little girly part of me wanted to squeal over the fact that he just called me pretty, but the years of hanging out with guys helped me keep my calm. To be difficult, I pressed the gas pedal harder, pushing the car to its limit, hoping no police were around. From the corner of my eye I saw Chad give me a knowing smile, but he didn’t say a word.

I guess you could say that for the past couple of months, Chad and I have been kind of fooling around. If you wanted to be politically correct about it, then you might say we’re friends with (sorta) benefits. That just seems so formal to me because nobody knows about us. All we have are the occasional stolen moments – like that time during Back to the Future when we made out while his roommate went to the restroom; he kissed me in my room at my parents’ house to stop our argument over who was a better guitarist, Stevie Ray Vaughan or Eric Clapton; the daring chance he took in his basement when the guys had turned to put their instruments away – all situations that popped up at random. Moments that were so clandestine, we didn’t even talk about them. The time between trysts was spent like always, goofing off and having fun, almost like those make-out sessions never happened.

I didn’t get it and my gut reaction was to ask him about it. But I didn’t want to become one of those ‘What does this mean/Where is this going’ kind of girls we always make fun of. Pride, and the fear it would end, kept my mouth shut. I ignored my instincts and was rewarded with Chad not being able to keep his hands off of me when we were alone. Really, it’s a win/win if you ask me.

--x--

The bar was exactly like I had pictured: tiny, dark, dingy and filled with smoke. People wandered around, waiting for the band to go on, some talking to the guys as they set up.

I’m not going to lie and say that they are this amazing band that gets absolutely no credit and if the record industry would just open their minds a little, they’d have the Second Coming of rock. But they are decent, and have gotten much more so since they’ve become more serious about it. I truly believe they’d have a following if they didn’t keep changing their name every other month. Right now, I think it’s ‘Fuschia’s Edge’, but they’ve been arguing again, so there’s no telling how much longer that will last.

The house lights dimmed and Randy, the lead singer, stepped out to some sizable cheers. "Hey everyone, we’re ‘Becoming Reason’. Thanks for coming out." They started their first song and I thought it was pretty lucky they were too lazy to have merch – it would be obsolete before the next show.

I must admit, they were at their best. I was singing along to their almost finished set when I finally let myself meet Chad’s eyes. He was amazing, his arms blurring over the drums, head bouncing along to the beat, his eyes telling me what to expect later. Suddenly, I was very aware of all the dark corners in the place; very thankful someone found it necessary to add on useless nooks and crannies. All those scary back rooms my dad always warned me about had become opportunities for alone time.

--x--

Chad made a beeline for me after the last song, pulling me to the hallway behind the main floor. There, in the dark recesses by the men’s room, he wrapped his arms around me and pushed me against the wall. All fear and guilt and doubt left my head as his lips touched mine. How could they stay when his kisses set my skin on fire? Why would the snickers of people leaving the restroom bother me when my soft moan could make his breath hitch and pulse race? Did the sordidness of this really matter when all I could think of was how I love the way his fingers subconsciously beat out a staccato rhythm on the small of my back?

Too soon, he pulled away. "We should get back before they send out a search party," he whispered into my hair.

"Just five more minutes," I mumbled, placing kisses along his jaw.

"Sorry hun," Chad said, holding me out at arms length, "you have to go tell everyone how amazing they were so their egos don’t shrink."

I’m sure he was expecting a sarcastic comment, but instead, I boldly said, "I think you’re amazing."

He looked down at me with a calm and even expression, not once blinking. Bending, he kissed me hard once… twice… three times. Without a word, he took my hand and led me to the table that had been reserved for the band.

--x--

Dark shapes raced past my window, the shadows bleeding together in indeterminate forms. Bright moonlight fell over the dashboard, illuminating the notebook Chad had been steadily writing in for the past hour. I was left with my own troubled thoughts and a radio whose volume was so low I could only make out every few notes. The sound of pen on paper reverberated around the small space – I found myself wondering if it was possible to tell by ear what words were being written. Could you train yourself? Does an ‘A’ sound different then an ‘E’?

"Chad, why did you ride with me?" I blurted our quickly to save myself from my mindless thoughts.

I could feel him look over at me as his pen paused mid-sentence. "You said you had a family thing tomorrow and I wasn’t going to let you drive home by yourself in the middle of the night."

"No, I meant the ride there. Why didn’t you ride down with the guys like you usually do?" This was another thing that had been eating at me.

I chanced a quick glance at him and saw him shrug. "Oh, that. I just wanted to spend some quality time with you before you left." His pen resumed its scratching. Several minutes passed before he asked casually, "So, when are you leaving?"

"On Wednesday," I answered quietly. Until then, I would be packing up what I was taking with me on the two-state-away trip back to college where I will be starting the third year of a pre-med degree I’m not so sure I really wanted anymore.

"Are you going to have the same roommate?" he asked, his writing never faltering.

"Nope."

"Too bad – she was hot."

I rolled my eyes and let out a soft grunt. "Will you visit me anyway? Even without the hot roomie?"

"Probably," he muttered noncommittally, his voice fading away as he focused on his notebook.

Taking this as a cue, I let the conversation end. I was dying to ask what he was writing, especially since he seemed so determined to finish. The thing is, Chad wouldn’t share it, at least not until he was ready. So we sat in silence and I let my brain start the mental list of things I needed to pack.

"Are you doing something Tuesday night?" he asked, interrupting my thoughts somewhere between socks and Doritos.

"Just the obligatory farewell dinner with the family." When I looked over at him, he was still staring intently at his notebook, but he had stopped writing. "Do you want to come?" My mom would love that – she was crazy about Chad. I’m sure it had something to do with the fact that he went on and on about her cooking. I even once heard him tell her that if he had to choose between heaven and her pot roast, he’d take the pot roast.

"Sure, but we should do something after, just you and me."

"Um, alright," I replied somewhat hesitantly.

Whatever was on his paper must’ve been fascinating because his eyes never wavered when he said, "So… are you coming home for Fall Break?"

"I wasn’t planning on it," I answered with a questioning tone in my voice. "It’s not really worth it – by the time I get home, I practically have to turn back around."

This conversation was starting to get weird. He keeps asking all these un-Chad like questions and won’t look at me. Fall Break wasn’t for months – since when did he think ahead?

"It will be totally worth it, I’ll make sure of that." His voice was low and a little scratchy, but there was a note of sincerity in it that I’ve never heard from him before.

My sleepy mind froze for a few seconds while it processed this. "Well, if it means that much to you, I probably will."

"Good," he said, closing his notebook and watching as the scenery flew by. "Because I miss you when you’re not around."