The Next Song You Write About Me

"Let's get the bags, dude," Jamie said, breaking the hug. "You take your ax." Between the two of them, they were able to carry everything. Before they set out for Steve's dorm, Jamie nodded slightly in the other direction, where a girl was sitting alone, draped luxuriously over a bench, reading a play from behind big dark glasses. "Do you know her? She was looking over here a minute ago."

It was the girl from the wall. The second glance was as intense as the first, and Steve had to fight every instinct to keep from going to her.

"No," he said quickly. "I saw her earlier. I think she's here for Governor's School too."

"Got it. I thought she looked familiar like she was from the neighborhood or something, but I guess not. Let's saddle up."

They lifted all the bags. Jamie had to shift awkwardly to close the back hatch of his Jeep. As they began to walk away, Steve took a last look. The girl's glasses were pushed up now holding her hair back from her face. She was staring right at him. He smiled. She smiled back.

Steve turned in terror and began walking quickly towards his dorm.

"You know, she's cute," Jamie said a few minutes later, as they unpacked Steve's dorm room. "You should ask her out."

"Just asking girls out is not my thing."

"Scared?"

"Of course, I'm scared, old man. I don't know if you've forgotten but teenage girls are the scariest thing in the world."

"You like talking to Amy, right?"

"Yeah, of course. She's great."

"She was the girl in high school all the boys were pants-shittingly-terrified to talk to. She seems to think you're funny and nice, so take that for whatever it's worth."

"So you're saying that if I can talk to Amy, then I can talk to Bench Girl."

"Exactly."

"Still scary."

"Yeah." Jamie sighed. His shoulders slumped. "I wish I could say it gets better but to be honest talking to Amy still scares the hell out of me and she's been one of my closest friends since we were five. Pretty girls, man."

Steve laughed and put out his fist. Jamie returned it with a pound.

"Have fun this month, dude."

"Thanks, bro. I'll do my best."

June 2022

Life being what it was, and biology remaining a mystery to him, Steve's hangover was gone as if it had never hit him in the first place. Of course, the trade-off was that the three hours he spent at Roxie's turned his arms and legs into jelly.

Steve tried to hold it together and make it all the way home to Richmond, but exhaustion won out. He pulled at a rest stop about halfway home, right off 95. There was a little stand of trees with some grass that looked good. He took an old blanket from his trunk, spread it out, and laid down, with the sound of the Interstate and the cars and trucks coming and going buzzing around him. He drifted off.

The short walk back to her place was soaked with anticipation. They both knew what was about to happen, and they marched toward it like they had so many times before.

Once inside, she led him to the sofa and pushed him down. He shifted, getting comfortable. Her move was to climb on top. She shook a finger at him and walked to her console table. He told her they didn't need music for this, but she shushed him and pressed play on her turntable.

Roxie put her arms above her head as her song started to play. She twirled her hands above her head and rotated her. Her skirt swayed suggestively as she spun around. She danced closer, with the same grace she'd always had, the same command of every little pitch and roll her body could make.

"Is this the 7" single," he asked. "We only pressed 250 of them. I'm shocked you have it."

She bent down in front of him, close enough for a kiss. He stared into her hazel eyes, mesmerized, and didn't see her hand move to his jeans.

"Please tell me you intentionally set me up for a joke about releasing the 7" exclusive," she said, popping the button open and drawing down the zipper.

"I wish I was that clever."

He moved to kiss her, but she pulled away, dropped lightly to her knees, and swallowed his cock to the hilt.

Steve woke up in the rest area confused, but once he put his brain in order he replayed the reunion with Roxie. It was a success by their standards. Fun, hot, and free of major blowouts. That meant the next one was forecasted to be an emotional hurricane that would leave him in ruins for months or years.

He managed to get back to the city without incident and back to his little two-bedroom apartment. After texting Sperry that he'd made it home safely, he got in the shower. His shower. The one with the good goddamn water pressure.

Steve's summer break had some wild twists and turns so far. He genuinely enjoyed his new day job as a teacher. Music has saved him as a kid, given him a star to navigate by, and he was seeing how vital that could be for students still. If someone had told him that was it, and that his dreams of being a singer-songwriter troubadour were done, he'd happily ride into the sunset.

But then that girl posted the TikTok. He recognized her, of course. She was one of the fun-obsessed music nerd fans, an early adopter of Strawberry Street. He didn't know her well, and never well enough to think he'd ever see her in lingerie, but life took funny turns. The silly little video she made reignited everything for the band.

It was Annie who told him about it first. She called him in a frenzied state of excitement, her Tennessee twang ringing in his ears.

"Stevie baby, we're back," she yelled over the phone. "We're going viral for something, honest-to-goodness, titillating."

"That doesn't mean we're back. Do we make money off it?"

"Oh hell yeah, like one trillionth of a cent per play. But ya can't buy this kind of heat outside a Nashville chicken joint."

She was right. The band had received more interview requests in a week than they had in their entire prior existence. A couple of years ago the record company would've handled all of it. Now they were on their own.

"I'll handle media stuff," Annie had told him. "I'm sorry it's for this song. I know ya hate it."

"I don't hate it. It's complicated. It's hard to sing live."

"Don't ya just imagine something sexy and let it rip?"

Steve pushed her to the wall. His hand dove down the front of her skirt and found the snaps of her bodysuit. He ripped them open, and then pulled the garment up past her stomach, over her lace bra, and off her body completely. He pushed his hand back down and massaged her pussy, making narrowing circles around her clit.

He leaned in to kiss her. She pulled away and bent her mouth to his neck where she--

"Ah! Fuck!" Steve's skin stung where she bit him. He took his left hand and grabbed her chin, holding her head back, firmly against the wall. He leaned in and took his kiss, pushing her lips open with his. At the same time, he pressed two fingers inside her pussy and curled them around, brushing down her g-spot. Roxie moaned wantonly straight into his mouth. "Why am I here?"

"To fuck me."

"Are you going to be good?"

"No!"

He pulled his face away from hers. He drew his fingers from her and lifted his hand away and out of her skirt.

"No games today, Roxanne."

She grabbed him by the waist and pushed him back to her bed. His belt was unbuckled, his button undone, so a quick push and his jeans fell to the floor. She pushed again and he sat down on the edge. Roxie crawled on top. She bent her legs back so her shins were on his thighs, her own ass back on her heels.

"I'll be good, Steven." She leaned down and took his bottom lip between hers as she rolled her hips towards him. He felt the wetness and warmth of her pussy sliding against his tip. Roxie's microscopic hip movements just lightly brushed him along her, teasing them both.

"I'm glad," he whispered. "You should be rewarded." He pushed his tongue into her mouth and massaged hers. He waited to feel their bodies align and then pressed, sinking his cock deep in her. "I'm hard for you, Roxie. A good girl would get to work on her orgasm."

They both moaned long and slow as she started to grind.

Any time Steve visited DC he braced for misadventure. It's not that he had bad times there. He just never got a chance to relax. If he was in the 'burbs visiting Mom it was to help around the house. If he was visiting Sperry it was 50-50 on whether he was chaperoning her at a protest or playing some new, incredibly complex board game from Europe. He didn't know what visiting Jamie was like anymore since he was always traveling.

When he got the email from Zach at U Street Beats he was intrigued simply because it was a reason to visit that had nothing to do with the family.

The music promoter sent the message to Annie and Slip as well, inviting them to come in and talk about getting the band back on its feet for a few shows. Slip lived there already, so he was up for it. Annie agreed to fly in from Memphis because she liked, in her own words, "adventures and attention."

It was a no-brainer to at least take the meeting.

They met at the U Street Beats office at noon. Steve found it funny that the place was technically on Florida Avenue, about 50 feet from where it turned into U, he didn't mention that to anyone. He figured they knew.

The office wasn't big, but it was new and chic, with frosted glass everywhere instead of walls. There were concert posters all over of shows the company had assembled.

Steve arrived first and found himself having a lunch beer with Zach, who explained that he and a few fellow Howard graduates had started the business while still in school. They thrived during the pandemic because they were a tech-savvy bunch and quickly pivoted to producing online concerts.

Slip arrived next, and offered everyone a stick of gum before he sat down. He mentioned that he had been to a few USB shows around town and liked what they did. Zach thanked him, but Steve knew it wasn't flattery. The drummer was not one to bullshit and seldom spoke unless it was to say something of value.

Annie was late and insisted on long hugs from Steve and Slip before anyone spoke to her. She sat in a chair at the head of the conference table Zach had put them around. She leaned back in her chair and stretched out her legs, crossing them at her cowboy-booted ankles.

"All right, let's make some rock and roll music, gentlemen. What are we thinking? Capital One Arena? Nationals Park for the anthem?"

Zach laughed at her. When she raised her eyebrows, he lost his grin.

"Are you...is she being..."

"I'm pulling your leg, man. I know we ain't that big."

He laughed again, nervously this time, like he was afraid she'd change her mind about if she was kidding or not.

"It's a no to professional sports venues," he said, "but I've got a contract for three shows if you want them." Zach was gearing up for an amazing sales pitch, but he didn't need to work too hard to interest the band. Steve appreciated his effort nonetheless.

The first show was a three-band bill at Black Cat. Strawberry Street would headline. They'd played there four or five times before, lower on the bill, so it made sense to jump at the chance to be on top. Plus, it always felt like home to Steve since he'd grown up going to shows there.

The second show was a late afternoon festival slot during "Rock the Docs."

"It's a free summer concert series," Zach said. "We shut down Pennsylvania Avenue near the National Archives and put the stage up so you can see the Capitol behind it."

"That's an evocative and controversial backdrop given the events of the past several years," Slip said. He slowly took out a stick of gum from his pocket and popped it in his mouth.

"You're not wrong," Zach said. "But we expect to max out our capacity every day."

"Who is playing on our day?" Annie said. He shuffled through some papers until he found a calendar with the festival line-ups.

"Okay, run of show would be KennyHoopla, Meet Me at the Altar, Chloe Moriondo, Strawberry Street, and Good Charlotte."

"Get the fuck out of town," Annie screamed with manic glee. "Good Charlotte is still playing shows? All right, that's pretty solid. I mean, I hate their music, but I appreciate the legacy."

"You get that exact feeling a lot in my job," Zach said. "How are we feeling so far?"

Slip nodded sagely. Annie gave him a big thumbs up.

"You'd only ask if the third show is really good or really bad," Steve said.

"What would be good? Is there anywhere you want to play in DC that you never have?"

To all the three of them, it was an obvious answer. After all, DC only has one world-famous rock temple.

"9:30 Club," all three band members said in unison.

"It's not the headline spot," he said, "but it's the 9:30 Club."

"Opening for whom?" Slip asked.

"The Rotors."

Annie's jaw dropped. Slip choked on his gum.

"Yeah, we're in," Steve said. "You had us at 'I have a contract,' but the goddamn Rotors? That crowd is going to be a blast."

"Don't they have a guitarist named Steve too?" Slip said.

"Aw, our baby is going to have to settle for second best," Annie said, reaching out to tussle Steve's curly hair.

A signed contract later, the band was in a cab to New Big Wong, Slip's favorite DC restaurant. He insisted they eat and drink and celebrate. One beer turned into two. Two turned into four. Before long Steve knew he'd never make it home that evening. He texted Sperry to see if he could stay at her place.

At some point, the trio drunkenly stumbled down towards the Archives to see the spot they'd be performing in. They didn't make it, however, because Annie insisted on throwing her leg around the Lone Sailor statue at the Navy Memorial for a selfie.

"She's always lived like a rock star," Slip said. "Do you think it's exhausting being her?"

"No, I don't think so," Steve said. "I think she offloads the exhaustion onto the people who love her. I've seen other people do the same thing."

He rose and fell with her again and again. He was shocked he was lasting under her. She'd pushed him back up the bed, working her hand furiously over his cock, now wet with her. His breath left him when she mounted him again, letting herself slide down his cock without ceremony or hesitation.

She put her hands on his chest and started pushing off, lifting her hips and then dropping them wildly back down. Steve's cock was alive with the hot, dark sensations of being used. The rest of him felt close to breaking. Whether it was the ribs or the pelvis first remained to be seen.

She rode him that way, screaming from between clenched teeth, for five minutes that felt to Steve like fifty. Finally, her torso shook and her thighs squeezed his sides so tight he felt like he missed a breath.

"I'm cumming," she yelled. "Cum in me."

"Roxie, I'm not weari--"

"Fucking do it!" She hit him on the chest, pounding him up near the shoulders. "Cum in me!"

She started to seize up and fell forward as her orgasm took her. The rocking motion that rolled up his cock was the thing he needed and flooded her.

He wrapped his arms around her to try and keep her close, but she twisted and wriggled away. She pulled herself off and stood up, reaching for her nightstand. She pulled a vibe from the drawer and backed into the wall. She was already running it around her clit by the time she slid down, ass on the floor, skirt lewdly pulled up.

"Help me," she said. It wasn't a command, but a plaintive cry. A desperate, honest call.

He leaped off the end to go to her. He put his arm around her and used two of the fingers on his free hand to reach in and stroke her g-spot again. He was gentle but insistent, and he kissed her deeply as she whimpered and whined in his arms.

She bucked into his hand hard when she came, and then fell back, her body spent. He sat down next to her, feeling the same exhaustion. It occurred to him he might wash his hand, seeing how it was now covered in both their cum. Instead, they just sat.

After a while, Roxie got up and stretched. She looked down at Steve with a bright smile.

"Thanks, I needed that." He looked back up in a daze, feeling entirely hollowed out. "You want water or something? Orange slices?"

July 2011

Steve was frantic. His heart was swimming laps in his stomach. It was 8:37 p.m. and Sperry wasn't answering.

That's why he was sitting in the low branches of one of the trees outside the student center, instead of hanging out inside with everyone else. He didn't want to cause a scene.

Not that anyone would notice. Despite Amy and Lucy's best efforts, Steve had managed to go the entire first week without making a friend. People were pleasant enough, but most days he found himself eating alone and wandering around campus. It was lonely. And now the only person he could ever count on for consistency in his life wasn't picking up.

She is never late, he said. Something is wrong.

He dialed her number again. When it went to voicemail he hung up. He'd already left three messages and sent twelve texts. He pulled up his favorite contacts and his thumb hovered between mom and Jamie.

"Hey Beanpole!"

The shout came from only a few feet below, but he hadn't heard her walk up. The surprise clawed his heart. He flailed his long arms and the windmill momentum carried him out of the tree. Steve crumpled in a heap five feet below.

"Unnhhhhhh," he groaned. "Fuck."

The owner of the voice rushed to him and knelt in the dirt beside the pile of boy. The summer sun was only just setting. In the very last light of day, he could see it was Bench Girl. She had concern in her eyes, but her red lips twitched.

"It's not funny."

"It's funny," she said, "if you're not actually hurt."

He tested his arms and legs. Everything seemed intact. Steve sat up and dusted himself off. He reached for his phone, but couldn't find it.

No, shit, where is it, he thought as he scrambled around the base of the tree. His breathing became shallow as panic set in.

"Hey!" She yelled at him. He went still. She was holding his phone out to him and had been the whole time. "Go ahead, take it."

Steve reached out and grabbed it. When he looked at the screen he exhaled in relief. In the minute since he'd fallen, Sperry had finally texted back. His shoulders slumped, tension flowing out.

703-339-xxxx: I am sorry I missed our scheduled call. I am having fun with people I met at Governor's School. We are playing a game called Truth or Dare that is making people act very funny. Do you know it?

703-902-xxxx: You scared me, Sperr-bear. Yeah, I know it. Please don't let anybody make you feel uncomfortable or do anything you don't want.

703-339-xxxx: I will not. I just keep saying "Truth" and they ask me questions about gross things I have not done. It's very easy. I just say "no" and somehow I am winning.

703-902-xxxx: Keep it up!

"Hey!" She didn't shout this time. She just touched his shoulder. "Is that your girlfriend back home or something? I need to talk to you."

Steve looked up from his phone, feeling present in the moment at last. When he looked at Bench Girl, he was filled with the familiar desire from earlier, the one that said he needed to be near her, as close as possible, always.

"My sister," he said. His tongue felt heavy, like he was relearning how to speak. "She was supposed to call me and didn't. I was worried."

"That's sweet," the girl said. "Is she little and cute and missing big bro?"

"She's my twin, and she's 14 minutes older. She has Asperger's. Makes it difficult for her to understand new or unfamiliar social situations. She's at another Governor's School so we've been talking every night to check-in."