I’m still gaping when Adam blows a string of smoke downwind from Rowan and says, “They’ll all be at the bonfire tonight.”
Our bus is parked in the designated campsite for the headlining bands since the guys were given special permission to park there. The organizers of the festival did the guys the favor since they want them to perform next year, and I was reminded once again that no matter how well I get to know Joel, Adam, Shawn, and Mike, they’re are all freaking rock stars. One day, they might even be as big as Van Erickson.
After lunch, we all part ways—Ro and Adam go back to the bus to, I assume, screw each other’s brains out; Shawn and Mike head to the main offices to thank the organizers for the parking spot; and Joel volunteers to take me wherever I want to go.
With the sun casting pink ribbons all around us, I point to a random stage area. “That one’s huge. I bet a big band is playing there.”
Joel follows my finger and smiles. His shades are hanging from the loose neck of his tank, his skin absorbing a golden tan despite the sunscreen we’ve kept applying. “Sometimes they put small bands on big stages to throw people off.”
“Only one way to find out!” I tug him deep into the crowd, weaving through the growing crush of bodies until we’re snug in the middle of it. Between the all-nighters I’ve spent trying to pull my grades up and the nightmares I’ve had almost every night about Cody, this week has been a haze of sleep deprivation. My body is running on caffeine and manic excitement, and I plan to ride the wave until it crashes.
“Have you ever been right in the pit before?” Joel asks, gazing around us like we’re swimming in a fishbowl of piranhas. “I could see who’s playing and see if we could go in the cage . . .”
Each stage is surrounded by a chainlink fence, and while it would be awesome to be that close, I’m excited about getting the full experience. A beach ball floats down from the sky, and my hands reach up with dozens of others to bat it back into the air. “No way. This is going to be awesome.”
“If anyone tries to pick you up in the air,” Joel warns, “kick them in the nuts, okay?”
I laugh. “But crowd surfing looks so fun!”
He shakes his head and shifts me in front of him, locking his arms around my shoulders. “The guys in this crowd would eat you alive . . .” His arms hug me tighter. “And I really don’t want to have to go to jail tonight.”
My giggle is drowned out by the collective scream of the crowd when the banner at the back of the stage unrolls to reveal the name of a huge, hardcore rock band. Joel’s arms unwrap from around me so we can both throw our hands into the air and cheer along with everyone else, and a second later, the band comes out and people lose their damn minds. The pushing begins even before the music does, and Joel and I surge toward the stage along with hundreds of other people. The music starts, blaring from stacks of speakers bigger than I am, and I’m laughing but can’t even hear the sound. I jump in time with everyone around me, singing familiar lyrics at the top of my lungs but hearing only the collective voice of the crowd and the roar of the lead singer onstage.
Crashing waves of people knock me from side to side and forward and back with each and every jump I take, but Joel manages to stay fixed at my back. His strong hands periodically wrap around my waist to steady me or tug me this way or that while I lose myself in the music, the jumping, the crush of everyone around me. I’m part of a living, breathing ocean, surfing waves that flood my body with chemicals that make me feel like I could sing at the top of my lungs every second of every day for the rest of my entire life.
By the time the band finishes its set, my throat is raw and my muscles are spent. Joel takes my hand and leads me out of the dispersing crowd, and once I have the room, I launch myself onto his back. With my arms wrapped tightly around his neck, I press my face against his shoulder and smile against his fire-hot skin.
“Joel?” I say as he hoists me up and carries me through the shallow pools of people that the performance left in its wake.
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.” I squeeze him tighter, earning envious stares from every girl who had her eyes on him.
“For what?” he asks.
For everything. For the tickets, for the fun, for making me forget real life for a few hours. For catching me when I need to be caught and carrying me when I need to be carried. “For today.”
He glances over his shoulder at me, and I resist the urge to kiss him.
Smiling, he says, “I think the sun is getting to you.”
He walks me to the outskirts of the festival and drops me in the shade of a big oak tree, and we sprawl out next to each other on the dry grass, listening to the distant sounds of music being carried on the wind.
“What’s it like?” I ask, focusing on the leaves rustling in the branches above us. A kaleidoscope of green and yellow shifts in the canopy, dropping patterns of light and shadow all over our skin.