The Next Song You Write About Me

"Aww, that is cute." She stood up and reached out a hand to help pull him out of the dirt. He took it. "I'm Roxanne Cortland. Call me Roxie."

"Steve Byrd."

They started to walk. Neither of them initiated it, or perhaps they both did. Their feet just started moving in the same direction, down one of the long paths that led across the quad, away from the dorms.

"You know, I told everyone you weren't scary, but they didn't believe me," she said.

Steve missed a step and stumbled slightly. He looked back over his shoulder at the bright lights of the student center.

"How am I scary?"

"I don't know, it's just the whole vibe. You've got a reputation as this, like, brooding musician. You're like a head taller than everyone else. You walk around acting all cool. The girls think you're hot and the boys are saying that you have a juvie record or something."

"You think I'm hot?" Steve said. He wasn't flirting. He was confused. He had no idea about any of this, but it sure explained why nobody had gotten close to him.

"I said the girls think you're hot."

"You're a girl."

"No fucking shit, Sherlock." She wasn't mad. She bumped into his arm playfully. "But I don't just go around spilling my guts to people."

They walked and talked for another fifteen minutes, exploring campus aimlessly. Steve's confusion never fully dissipated. He found it so incredibly easy to talk to Roxie, but he couldn't pinpoint why. They shared a similar sense of humor. They thought about the world, and their peers, in similar ways. They were familiar with all of the same hang-out spots and teenage diversions at home.

"This is wild," Steve said. "We live maybe five miles apart and we had to come here to meet."

"Funny how what high school you go to determines these things," Roxie said. "But I saw you on the first day and you seemed so familiar. I wonder if we've seen each other at a football game or something."

Eventually, the pair crossed under an arch between two wings of an old Georgian building and found themselves in a secluded courtyard. It was dark by then, but their eyes had adjusted. A safety light from the main path diffused through the archway, leading to a mood.

"What did you want to talk to me about?"

"Hm?"

"You told me you needed to talk to me when you pushed me out of the tree."

"Okay, I did not push you out. Keep playing and I'll push you out of the next one though. I came looking for you because I need an accompanist to play for my musical theater recital at the end of the month."

"You want me to audition or anything? You just want me to do it straight up?"

"I need a rocker and you're the only person here who has the look. I'm pretty sure you can play the song."

"What song?"

"'Out Tonight' from Rent."

"I don't know it."

Roxie sighed and pulled out her phone and a pair of headphones. She plugged them in and handed him an earbud. He put it in and leaned in close as she pressed play.

***

Steve always arrived early in the rehearsal room. Since agreeing to Roxie's request a few days before, he'd been in a much better mood. It was nice to have a friend, and even better to be making music together.

The soundproofing in the room thrilled him. It wasn't often he got the chance to plug in and just go wild. Roxie's song was great for that. He wasn't familiar with a lot of show tunes, but this one had a guitar part that was a blast to learn. It also wasn't overly complex so he quickly felt confident.

It helped that he was a better instrumentalist than Roxie was a singer. He watched her move through the world with total ease and control, and it seemed like she knew everyone. It was nice to find out that she wasn't entirely perfect; her voice was good, but far from full-on diva great.

The rehearsal room was big enough to move around. He found out pretty quickly why. Roxie moved when she sang. She put on a show. When he saw her dance for the first time, he understood how she earned a spot at nerd college. She could be precise or she could be wild, but she never stepped out of rhythm, never skipped a beat

After their first rehearsal together, Steve knew that watching Roxie dance was his favorite thing. It would be forever. He felt sure something was hardwired into his nervous system that uniquely responded to this girl.

Roxie would invariably float in, ready to go right away. They would practice for however long they had until their next class or big group activity, and be right back at it the next chance they got.

The thing happened one day late in their second week together. Steve was tuning his guitar when Roxie burst into the room. Her chest heaved as she slammed the door. She stomped over to the music stand where Steve had set the lyrics sheets.

"Are you okay?"

Roxie didn't respond. She looked at him then down at the lyrics. Then she screamed. She screamed long and loud, sliding from a growl to a high-pitched whine and back down again. Roxie grabbed the lyrics and ripped them in two.

"Jesus, fuck, Rox--"

She wasn't done. She picked up the music stand and threw it across the room. She stood still, finally, but shaking with rage.

"Roxie, what happened?"

She didn't respond. Tears started rolling down her face. She looked down at her feet, and her shoulders rolled inward, minimizing her presence for the first time since Steve met her.

He was familiar with meltdowns. Sperry had similar emotional outbursts when the fighting at home was bad, although hers were much less violent. Steve only knew one way to help.

He unslung his guitar and walked to Roxie. She sniffled and whined, but otherwise made no reaction to his movement. It occurred to him that he was about to get his wish to be near her, but he never imagined it would be like this.

Steve encircled Roxie with his long arms and pulled her tight, trying to apply firm, even pressure to the whole embrace. Her whole body stiffened, but she didn't struggle away. He kept up the solid, still hug until he felt her shoulders relax. Steve began running a hand through Roxie's hair, lightly petting her with what, to his sister at least, had always been a comforting motion.

"Roxie, tell me what's wrong."

She spoke, finally, through big, wet sobs.

"I met with my adviser...I...they...I'm not allowed to do our song at the recital. It's too R-rated."

Steve wasn't surprised. The song was about a junkie stripper. He had assumed she'd gotten clearance already.

"Hey now, that's no reason to destroy a room, right?"

"But I wasted your time!"

She lost it at that point and crumpled to the floor. He held her there on the floor until she stopped crying. Just held her. That's all.

***

"I hate this song, Beanpole," she said, tossing the sheet music back his way.

They were in the rehearsal room again. They still spent most of their time there, even though they weren't practicing. Plenty of rumors were circulating about how inseparable the pair had become.

Steve was tired of hearing secondhand about all of the debauched things they were getting up to since they didn't do anything much but talk.

He was scared to kiss her. He didn't want to trigger a meltdown somehow.

"Roxie, we're out of time and options," he said, slinging one of the school's acoustic guitars over his shoulder. "You didn't bring any other sheet music. This is what they have for us. Nobody else is doing it and it's arranged for a guy, a girl, and guitar."

"It's visceral loathing, Beanpole. My mom is obsessed with Andrew Lloyd Webber and I just physically can't stomach it."

"You need to try, because we've got 36 hours until the recital. I'm going to know my part. You can come with me or not."

September 2013

"Ya know, with the cost of gas to get here from Richmond, this trip is going to cost us more than we made," Annie said. They had just come off stage from their first out-of-town show. A few people had spread the word about their local performances and this was one of a few bars that called asking if they traveled. "At least we get free beer if they ever serve us."

She started drumming on the bar, as if that would get attention over the thrum of fifty college students clamoring for three-dollar fatties of Miller Lite.

"Annie, stand on the foot rest under the bar and lean forward on your forearms," Slip said.

"Why," she asked, as she started doing it anyway.

"Can I help you, miss?" asked the bartender who materialized out of nowhere.

Annie looked down and saw that the position was pushing her tits up, making her vest look more like a corset top. She shook her head with a weary grimace.

"Three of the big beers please!" The bartender got to work. "Slip, how did you know that would work?"

"You're objectively attractive and the bar industry revolves around what attractive women want. That's why we have a girl in the band."

Steve laughed at Annie's mock offense. She was the one who started the band, taking a chance by introducing him and Slip. Most of the songs they played were hers, even if she was gracious about the ideas Steve brought to rehearsals, which weren't many. The point was that Annie knew she wasn't just the girl in the band, and Steve and Slip knew better than to treat her that way.

The beers arrived and she passed them around.

"Cheers to playing in a traveling band!" Annie said. They thrust their glasses together and drank.

"Oh, hey, also big cheers to them for not checking my ID!" Steve replied.

"I think it's because you're so tall, Beanpole," said a familiar voice from behind him. The hair on his neck stood up. It had been years since he heard it. "I didn't get so lucky."

He spun around to see Roxie standing there, holding out the backs of her hands to show him two big Xs. His heart fell through the floor, the soil, the center of the earth, the other side of the world, and the atmosphere, where it orbited a few times before rocketing back to his chest.

She looked gorgeous. She'd straightened her hair and dialed back some of the dark charcoal eyeshadow she used to wear. Her red-with-white polka-dot minidress hugged her curves on top and flared into a skirt. It was cute, but something about how she wore it, or how she stood, made every swish of the skirt seem nakedly suggestive.

"Roxie, what are you doing here?"

"I go to school here in town," she said. "I saw your silly face on a poster advertising the concert. You guys sounded great up there."

Steve introduced her to the band. Annie asked if she wanted a beer despite the Xs, but Roxie turned her down. She got close to Steve and asked if he wanted to talk somewhere. Annie and Slip smiled and turned to their drinks. They indicated they'd be at the bar for the foreseeable future.

Roxie grabbed Steve's hand and led him out of the crowded bar. They made their way past a line of people waiting to get in.

"I can't believe you're here," he said. "I've thought about you--" He realized he was about to give away the keys to the store when she smiled and raised her eyebrows suggestively. "--you know, like, from time to time."

"I've thought about you too," she said, pushing his arms to wrap a hug around his waist. "Let's take a walk."

It was their first night all over again. They relieved their memories of their short time together. They lamented that they lost touch and didn't see one another after those few weeks.

They ended up on campus. Steve was impressed by the sprawl of the state university. It was so big and open and alien to his little city campus. They could see the stars as they walked.

"Is there anywhere we can lay out," he asked.

"Like stargaze? Yes, the drillfield."

She guided him down past the library out to the central portion of campus, where a massive green space dominated the grounds. It was mostly empty in the dark, save for the occasional group crossing it to cut down on travel time from going the long way around.

They found a spot near the edge, close to some pretty oaks. Steve lay down and Roxie followed, not hesitating to settle into his arms.

"Okay, let's play Questions," she said.

"How do you play?"

"We take turns asking each other one question at a time and the other person has to answer honestly."

"Roxie, that's just a conversation." She made a little hmph. "Fine, let's play. I'll start. What's your major?"

"Double major. Theater and Spanish."

"Very cool. Very you. So it's your turn?"

"Why didn't you want to be with me?"

"What?"

"Back then, I mean, the thing on stage happened, but you never made another move."

"Damn, you just dive right in," he said. "Truth is, I wanted you more than anything, but I was sixteen and scared and I didn't know how to speak up."

"And you're nineteen now and in a band and super cool."

"I don't know about super cool, but the other stuff is true." Steve bent his head down to hers and caught her scent. So familiar, even after all this time. He kissed her head. "I never stopped thinking about you. I thought I'd lost you forever. Sounds so dramatic."

Without warning, Roxie threw her leg across him and rolled on top of Steve. He felt the weight of her body settle in him. His instinct was to push her off, but she grabbed his hands and pinned them.

"Roxie, what are you--"

"Shh."

Roxie kissed Steve. Their lips met, softly at first. He opened his to deepen the kiss, but she pulled away. He felt frustrated by the denial until he noticed her right hand was moving from his arm down under her dress to his jeans.

There wasn't time to feel self-conscious. He'd been hard since she made her move, and Roxie didn't want to waste time. She unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans and pulled his cock out. He could feel the cool air on it and he remembered where they were.

He tried to push her off as she began stroking him.

"Roxie, we gotta...get up...we're just out in the open..."

She leaned in close for a kiss, or so he thought. She turned past his face and whispered in his ear.

"I don't care." She slid her pussy along the length of him. "I didn't wear panties tonight."

"Jesus, Roxie, what the fuck...ahhh."

She leaned down into him and caught his cock in the motion. It slipped into her. She moaned, loud, indifferent to anyone who might be around.

"Oh my god this was worth the wait," she said. She looked directly into his eyes. "Steve, you're inside me. You're supposed to be here. I know you feel it." She rocked back and forth, using his cock to rub her g-spot. "Tell me you know what I mean."

"I do," he said, panting. He put his hand up to her face and pulled her on for a kiss. She obliged this time, and let him slowly use his tongue to get to know hers. She broke away and took a deep breath. "We fit together."

"Uhhh...huh...tell me when you're gonna cum."

Steve closed his eyes in ecstasy as Roxie picked up the speed. Her pussy felt like satin, smooth and silky as it coaxed ever more desire from his cock. It wasn't going to be long at all.

"Roxie, you feel so fucking good."

"I know," she said on a deep exhalation. "You're making me shake. You're making me...ahhhhh!"

A shudder racked through her body and her top half went limp. It felt like she moved against him down below on instinct alone. Her shaking reached into Steve and made the final pull.

"I'm gonna cum. I can't hold on."

She lifted and slid backward down his body. Roxie lowered her lips and captured the quivering tip of his cock. She swallowed, letting it slide as far into her mouth as possible, keeping her tongue swirling as it went. She sealed her lips around him and repeated the motion.

"Fuck, it's time, I'm coming!"

Steve's cock spasmed and shot into Roxie's waiting mouth. She kept her tight seal around him and swallowed as much as she could.

Roxie fell backward and coughed. She wiped a drop of cum from her lips on the ground.

"I think," she said, panting, "my dress is stained from the ground."

"That...is...damn, I'm out of shape...that's the coolest thing I've ever heard."

July 2022

Black Cat was a sauna. The swampy heat of a DC summer was amplified by body heat from 700 singing, dancing, and moshing indie rock fans.

Steve drank it all in from the back as he watched the opening acts. His VCU cap was pulled low over his eyes, which was usually enough for people's gaze to sweep over him and fail to recognize him.

This wide, low room with the black and white checkerboard floor was one of his favorite places in the world. Jamie brought him here for the first time when Steve was fourteen, to an all-ages show. Steve honestly couldn't remember who the band was, but he remembered wanting to be on that stage more than anything else.

Now he was part of the headlining act. He desperately hoped the crowd would get what they wanted from Strawberry Street. It was the same thing he hoped for every show.

You are here to dance something off. I want to help you do that. He frowned at that thought. Something tickled in his brain about that. Something about self-sacrifice. Reciprocity.

He shook it off and sipped his beer. So far the night was perfect. Both openers sounded great. The crowd was hyped. A lot of long-time fans made it out and he was thrilled to see these people who weren't his friends or family but meant just as much, if not more.

The TikTok girl was there as well. Steve recognized her purple hair. She was wearing a band tee from their first tour. He'd wanted to speak to her, but he wasn't sure what to say. He decided it was best to just let her come to him at the merch table after the set.

Steve met Annie and Slip backstage as the second opener finished up.

Slip was lying on a couch playing Mario Kart on his Switch. Steve knew he'd turn it off two minutes before showtime and go out and play perfectly. Slip could compartmentalize like no one else Steve had ever met.

Annie was writing out the setlist on white paper with a fat Sharpie. No new stuff tonight. They hadn't had time to write. The fans were getting just the hits. He looked over her shoulder and saw she'd made some changes to the order.

"We never play 'Sometimes Girl' last," he said.

"Yeah, well, it was never this big before," she replied, with no pretension or jealousy. "If the girls out there are gonna riot, probably best to do it at the end." She finished all three set lists and handed them to a crew member to go tape to the stage in each of their spots. "You've got anyone coming tonight?"

"Maybe," he said. "Jamie is out of town and Sperry doesn't come to the Black Cat. The floor stresses her out. But I put tickets on will call for Lucy and..."

"Her?"

"Yeah."

"Riot," said Annie, stretching out the "i" in her southern accent, long and slow.

Before long, it was time. The house lights cut out and the band took the stage in the dark. They always started this way, with what Annie called the "let there be light" moment.

Steve kicked it off. He played three chords, heavy with reverb, and swelled the volume on each. After the last swell, Slip's kick drum blasted through the club as the lights came up and they launched into the opener.

Steve was glad he'd warmed up his voice. He and Annie traded vocals, but she always made him start. Any nerves about a mindless croak coming out dissipated when it turned out he remembered the words.

For all his gangly lack of coordination, Steve always felt loose on stage. It was because of his bandmates. Something about the three of them together was infectious. Strawberry Street danced on stage. They looked ridiculous and took knock after knock in online comment sections for their spastic moments. He didn't care. When they played together, it was what joy looked like.

And it was infectious. The audience joined in and began pressing forward to the stage, getting right up on the band while they played.