Love Bites (So Do I)

Author's Note: This story has been bouncing around in my head for a while. It started off with a dream I had back in 2013 that I thankfully took the time to write down and began to take on a life of its own sometime last year when I was sifting through my documents looking for story ideas. It gets into some themes that are a bit more serious than much of my other work and draws from some experiences I had in high school (I'll explain more about that in a note at the end of the story to avoid spoilers here).

Before you ask, yes, I am working on the next part of Quite Contrary. I just took a short break from it because I was sad about some of the trades the real life Bruins made, so writing about a fictional version of the Bruins kind of stung. I'm largely over that now and will have an update out for you soon. In the meantime, I hope you all enjoy this story as much as I do. The title comes from my favorite Halestorm song, which I'd definitely recommend if you want to give it a listen. As always, the characters in this story are all completely fictional and over the age of eighteen.

Love Bites (So Do I)

The heat of the stage lights warmed my skin. The cheers of the crowd coursed through my veins like a drug. My fingertips bore the tell-tale indents of guitar strings from my Fender Strat. I was sweaty, achy, and exhausted, but I loved every single second of it.

"You have been a fantastic audience!" I called out to the sea of people packed into the bar, my voice betraying hints of raspiness after two hours of singing, screaming, and death growls. "We'd stay here with you all night if we could, but I think Pete might actually kill us if we tried."

The man in question, who owned the venue, chuckled appreciatively as he leaned against the bar.

"Thanks for coming out tonight, and get home safe," I continued before ending with our band's signature sign off: "We are Murphy's Lawyers, and this court is fuckin' adjourned!"

As the crowd gave a final roar of approval, my three bandmates and I waved goodbye and headed backstage. I lunged for the bottle of water I'd left on the folding table by the stage door, gulping it all down in less than ten seconds.

"Pace yourself, Em," Miles Murphy, our bassist, chuckled. "You don't wanna drink so fast that you hurl again."

I scowled at him. "That was one time, dipshit."

He laughed harder at that, ignoring my slight as he always did. Swearing and insincere insults were one of my love languages, and he damn well knew it after more than two years of friendship.

Our band had formed almost by accident during our first semester of college. Angry that his RA had confiscated his beer, Miles had placed his amplifier against their shared wall, cranked it up as high as it would go, and played the most deafening version of the bass line from Slipknot's "Psychosocial" that I'd ever heard in my life. I'd been in my room one floor up but immediately came down to investigate and scream-sing the lyrics. I'd never said more than three words to Miles before, but he'd accepted my sudden presence in his room without question.

By the end of the song, two more headbanging spectators had arrived. By the end of the evening, the four of us had set up a jam session for the following Saturday. By the end of the week, Murphy's Lawyers had emerged from the primordial soup of our imaginations into a tangible entity.

"Great crowd tonight," observed Kane Harrison, our lead guitarist. A lanky ginger, he spoke in a deep drawl reflective of his New Orleans roots. He placed his Gibson Flying V gently in its case before carefully closing and latching it. That guitar was his baby, and heaven forbid anyone else should so much as breathe on it wrong.

Miles grinned. "Em had them eating out of the palm of her hand."

"She always does."

My heart beat just a little bit faster at the compliment from the fourth and final member of the band: Jesse McAllister, our drummer.

What could I say about Jesse? He was soft-spoken and shy, almost painfully so at times, but his blue eyes lit up with a childlike excitement when he talked about things that mattered to him. His sandy hair fell in untamed waves past his shoulders and flew around him like a tornado when he played. I was fairly certain he hadn't so much as trimmed it the entire time I'd known him, unlike his beard, which he kept short and neatly groomed. He looked like a Viking about to raid an English village, a bit like a young James Hetfield, but the only thing he'd ever raided was the fridge at three AM. He was the sort of person who ran the constant risk of forgetting to put on pants before leaving the house while somehow maintaining an almost encyclopedic knowledge of random eighties metal trivia. He'd sat through getting at least three tattoos (that I knew of) without flinching but wept through every single sad animal movie we'd ever watched.

He was perfect.

I'd been in love with Jesse almost the entire time I'd known him. I could remember the exact moment it happened, too: the band had been together for about a month, and we'd just played our first ever public performance at the annual freshman talent show. He'd absolutely nailed the drum part for our finale, Judas Priest's "Painkiller," and I'd praised him effusively the moment we'd left the stage.

Blushing, he'd brushed off my compliments before digging around in his bag and handing me a bottle. "Here, I brought you some water. I figured you'd need it after those killer vocals."

Noticing there was only one bottle, I'd raised an eyebrow. "Don't you need some as well?"

He'd cocked his head as though the thought of self-preservation hadn't even occurred to him before that exact moment. "Huh. I guess I didn't think of that," he'd replied with a bashful smile. "I just wanted to make sure you had some."

That moment, that look in his eyes, had been imprinted on my memory ever since. I'd already developed a crush on Jesse before that night, but his almost jarringly wholesome concern for my wellbeing had pushed me over the edge into something far deeper.

That of course raised the obvious question of why I'd never acted on my feelings. Why had I never taken those few steps down the hallway to Jesse's room in our band's off-campus house and kissed him senseless?

At first, it was just plain old fear: fear of rejection, fear of destroying our friendship, fear of breaking up the band, and so on.

More recently, though, a second reason had emerged, and like a demon summoned by merely thinking its name, she appeared backstage.

"Babe, you almost done? We're already late for the mixer with the Delta Gammas."

Amanda King. The bitch.

God, I hated that stuck-up cunt. It wasn't just that she'd been dating the man I loved for several months. She treated him like absolute garbage, dismissing his feelings, demanding complete fealty to her whims, subtly putting him down at every turn. And he just took it. I couldn't for the life of me figure out how or why, but she'd turned him into a complete doormat and it was killing me.

"Um, yeah," he meekly answered her. "I just need to help—"

"They don't need your help," she brusquely interrupted. "You guys can handle putting your doo-dads away yourselves, right?"

"Well..." Miles started to respond.

She didn't let him finish. "Great. See, babe? It's fine. Now let's go."

"Alright," Jesse sighed. "I guess I'll see you guys back home later..."

"We're staying at my place tonight."

"... or tomorrow, I guess."

With that, he shuffled out after her into the night.

The moment the door closed behind them, the vitriol I'd been barely holding back spewed forth.

"God, I hate that fucking bitch. Every time she opens her mouth, I want to smash her face into a brick wall."

Kane chuckled, knowing full well how I felt about our bandmate's girlfriend. "Tell us how you really feel, Em."

I ignored him. "You know she's tried to get him to skip at least three different gigs since they started dating? She always gives him these backhanded compliments, like 'oh, it's so brave of you to want to be a music teacher instead of getting a real job' and shit like that. And every single fucking time I'm in the same room with both of them, she finds a way to insult my voice or my looks just subtly enough that he won't call her out on it. God, she's turning him into such a pushover and I fucking hate it!"

"Em," Miles cut into my rant, gently placing his hands on my shoulders to calm me down. "Chill. Yes, Amanda sucks. But Jesse needs to figure that out for himself. You know how defensive he gets whenever we question their relationship."

I took a deep breath and tried to center myself. "Yeah, I know. She's just... ugh."

Kane shook his head in amusement. "It's amazing, really. If you'd told me two years ago that Emeline Dempsey would ever hate another human being this much, I'd have said you were full of shit. You're like that dog from Up: you like everyone the second you meet them."

"I'm allergic to passive-aggressive cunty sorostitutes who hate metal," I countered.

He shrugged. "No arguments here. I'm not exactly in the Amanda King fan club myself."

Miles hummed his agreement before beginning the grunt work of hauling our instruments and equipment out to his van. Sighing, I went to help him, Kane following close behind.

I knew Miles was right. Whenever any of us tried to point out to Jesse how terribly Amanda treated him, he'd shut down completely. I sometimes wondered if deep down he knew we were right and just didn't want to face the reality or if he really was just that blind. Kane had once joked that the sex must've been incredible for Jesse to put up with a personality so horrible, but after witnessing me puking into a nearby trashcan at that suggestion, he'd kept further such comments to himself.

Jesse came back to the house late the next morning, letting himself in quietly and looking rather worse for wear. Knowing he'd need a chance to recharge his social batteries after a night of being paraded around like a show dog to Amanda's vapid sorority friends, I gave him some space. It was hard for me to understand how a fulfilling relationship could leave anyone so emotionally exhausted all the time, but I kept my mouth shut and chose not to dwell on it.

That evening, as I sat at my desk drafting an essay for my communications class, the muffled sound of experimental chord progressions came drifting down the hall. Curious and drawn to the plaintive tones, I wandered into Jesse's room to find him gazing pensively at his computer screen. He moved back and forth between the music notation software he had open and the keyboard he had set up next to his desk, testing out different chord structures.

While Murphy's Lawyers mostly performed covers of classic metal songs, we did produce some material of our own that we'd work into our shows. As the rhythm guitarist and vocalist, I tended to write our lyrics and guitar riffs, but I nearly always built off of the foundations of Jesse's chord progressions. Mine never seem to convey the right emotions, but his were perfect: fast and electrifying for mosh pit bangers, chaotic and dissonant for screaming expressions of angst, and movingly beautiful for emotional ballads.

"Your music has compelled me to follow you, pied piper."

A smile pulled at the corner of his lips as he turned to face me. "Good thing I'm not playing 'Symphony of Destruction,'" he quipped. "I might lead you right off a cliff."

Chuckling at the well-placed Megadeth reference, I took a seat on the edge of his bed nearest to his desk. "I really don't know how you do it."

"How I do what?" he asked, seeming genuinely confused.

"How you manage to capture exactly the right feelings when you structure songs," I explained. "I always hate the way it comes out when I try, but everything you come up with is absolute gold."

He gazed down at his lap bashfully. "Nah. I'm just dicking around and I get lucky sometimes."

"Quit being modest," I insisted. "You're extremely talented, and I don't think people tell you that often enough."

The smile that graced his lips was colored with the barest hint of a blush. He rubbed his right forearm somewhat awkwardly, drawing my attention to the whale and moon he had tattooed there in honor of his favorite band, Gojira. "Thanks, Em. That really means a lot to me."

I leaned forward to look more closely at the notes on his screen. "So what's your method?" I asked. "I'm not gonna try to replicate it or anything, I promise. I'm just curious."

He tucked a strand of his hair behind his ear as he considered my question. "I guess I just try to channel a feeling and translate it into a sound. Sometimes it just comes to me. Other times I try to tap into music theory, like what I'm working on now."

"Intriguing," I replied. "Tell me more."

His blue eyes began to show that particular excited glimmer that always appeared when he spoke about a subject he loved. "Okay, so... I'm trying to go for something dark but optimistic, so I'm writing in the Dorian mode. I start out here on the minor root..."

He played a chord on his keyboard.

"... and then I go up a major fifth to give a feeling of bittersweet longing..."

He played another chord.

"... and then back down here to add some romanticism..."

Another chord.

"... and finally up a third to the minor to bring the sadness back in."

One final chord.

"Together with the other bits I've been working on, it sounds like this." He toggled his software back to the beginning of the score and hit the playback button. As the series of chords began to play from the speakers, he watched my expression closely as though needing to verify that his work was indeed evoking the desired emotions in the listener.

What sounded forth was astoundingly beautiful - melancholy but with a distinct and sweet longing, expressive and yet restrained, calling to mind a sense of yearning for things long past or that might yet be. It resonated within my soul and nearly brought me to tears for its sheer beauty.

As the final notes faded away, Jesse kept his eyes on mine. All I could do was stare back in amazement, in awe of his talent and with my feelings for him bubbling up nearly uncontrollably. I wanted so desperately to kiss him in that moment, but I held myself back, knowing he wasn't mine to kiss.

The buzz of Jesse's phone vibrating against his desk with an incoming call disrupted the trance-like state we'd fallen into. Jerking a bit with surprise, he looked at Amanda's name flashing across the display and I could have sworn I saw him sigh.

"Hey, what's up?" he answered, holding the phone to his ear and waiting for a response. "Now?" His eyes briefly flicked over to me, standing there and awkwardly listening to half of a conversation. "Uh... yeah, sure. I'll see you soon."

I raised an eyebrow at him in question as he ended the call.

"Amanda's coming over to watch a movie," he explained almost sheepishly. "I'm gonna go make some popcorn..."

Swallowing the scoff of disdain threatening to escape my lips, I watched Jesse save his work and shut down his computer and keyboard before heading downstairs. I wandered back into my own room and tried to resume writing my essay, but I found it almost impossible to concentrate, particularly when I heard the front door open and muffled voices drifting up the stairwell. About half an hour in, I gave up and went downstairs to investigate.

Jesse and Amanda were sitting on our couch, watching some generic dumb comedy I vaguely remembered hearing about a few years prior. She would occasionally flick her eyes over to him as if to ensure he was paying sufficient attention while he pretended to be interested. I knew him well enough to recognize the faraway look in his eyes that signified he was off on journeys within his own imagination, far from our living room and his bitch of a girlfriend.

Coughing slightly to make my presence known, I grabbed a beer from the mini-fridge in the corner. Amanda shot me a distasteful look, but Jesse's expression seemed to brighten when he saw me.

"Hey, Em," he greeted me. "Pass me a beer?"

Smiling, I handed one to him. "Movie good?"

He shrugged. "Want to join us?"

"She probably wouldn't like it," Amanda immediately interjected before looking over at me with fake concern laced with more than a hint of condescension. "I don't think it's really your kind of movie. You seem more like a stabby-stabby horror movie kind of girl."

While she wasn't wrong - horror was indeed my favorite film genre, including the "stabby-stabby" variety - I wasn't about to admit that and I certainly wasn't about to stand for her making assumptions and being dismissive of me.

"I don't think we've ever talked about movies before," I pointed out, raising an eyebrow at her. "So how would you know what I like?"

Her lip curled up in a thinly-veiled sneer. "I made an educated guess based on your creepy skull shirt."

I glanced down at my black top, emblazoned with the band logo for the Misfits.

"You know," Amanda went on, her voice dripping with a cloying faux-sweetness. "You could actually be kind of pretty if you just dressed a little nicer and did something about all that frizz." She gestured to my long auburn waves. "You're more than welcome to borrow my straightener. You probably need it more than I do."

I didn't give a flying fuck what Amanda thought of my appearance. I was secure enough in myself to know that I was decently attractive, and her scornful comments were little more than background noise to me.

What hurt, though, was Jesse's reaction - or, rather, his lack thereof.

A part of me - perhaps a very naïve part - hoped that he'd stand up for me and tell Amanda off, or at least gently reproach her. But he just sat there, shifting uncomfortably and staring at his lap.

Swallowing my pain and the almost overpowering urge to tell Amanda that she could shove her straightener right up her ass, I rolled my eyes and headed back upstairs to drink my beer in peace.

I fell asleep early that night, drifting off into a dreamless slumber that came to an abrupt halt shortly before midnight when a whisper roused me.

"Em."

I grunted in response, unwilling to open my eyes.

"Em, wake up."

Sighing, I rolled over to face the intruder. He normally would have been a welcome presence in my room, but I was both tired and still annoyed with him.

"The fuck, Jesse?" I rasped.

He at least had the decency to look remorseful for waking me. "Sorry... I just... I just wanted to apologize for what Amanda said earlier."

"You know I don't give a shit what she thinks about me," I replied.

"Oh."

There was a moment of tense silence before I sighed.

"What was actually hurtful was that you just sat there and didn't say anything."

He hung his head, looking pained and ashamed. "I'm sorry, Em. I should have. It's..." he hesitated. "It's... hard to contradict her when she's... saying stuff. She gets really upset with me when I do that. Says I'm undermining her in front of other people."

That seemed weird to me, but I was too sleepy to devote much thought to it.

"For what it's worth..." Jesse began slowly. "I, um... I think your hair's great."

He reached out a hand and gently tucked a strand that had fallen into my eyes behind my ear before almost unconsciously stroking it a few times.

I allowed my eyes to flutter closed, enjoying the tender moment.

When the realization of what he was doing appeared to suddenly dawn on him, he abruptly pulled back.

"Um... goodnight, Em," he murmured softly.

"Goodnight, Jesse," I replied, watching as he beat a hasty retreat from my room.

Rolling back over, I sighed and closed my eyes again, imagining a future in which he might stay instead.

***

"Oh, you little bitch!"

Kane cackled maliciously as his little stunt - sucking my Bayonetta into his mouth as Kirby and promptly diving off of the platform - paid dividends. He had a full life left in our Super Smash Brothers duel while I was on my last, meaning his character regenerated while mine bit the dust. It was a clever move, but that didn't mean I liked it.

Miles held out his hand for the controller, having called playing the victor before the match. "My turn. Prepare to die, Kane."

Sighing, I handed it over and leaned back into the couch cushions to watch the battle before the sound of the front door swinging open distracted me.

Jesse didn't say anything to the three of us as he kicked off his shoes and headed upstairs, but the brooding scowl marring his features told me without a doubt that something was wrong. Far more concerned with his wellbeing than whether Miles would avenge my death at Kane's hands, I followed, finding him staring at himself in the upstairs bathroom mirror with his brow furrowed.

"Hey," I ventured cautiously. "You okay?"

He didn't respond at first. Knowing he was the sort of person who sometimes needed a few moments to gather his thoughts when something was bothering him, I waited patiently.

Finally, he sighed and turned to face me. "Not really."

"You want to talk about it?"

He seemed hesitant. "I don't want to bother you with it..."

A pang of sadness filled my heart at that. "You're never a bother to me, Jesse," I assured him. "I hope you know that."

A small smile graced his lips. "Thanks, Em. Yeah, okay." He gestured for me to follow him as he headed down the hall to his room. I took a seat on the edge of his bed while he settled into his computer chair.

"I had a fight with Amanda," he told me, staring down at his hands, which sat folded in his lap. "It got kind of hurtful."

While I was in no way surprised at the notion of Amanda being a bitch, I chose to keep that thought to myself. It wasn't the right moment to unload my rather plentiful thoughts about her toxicity.

"I was over at her sorority house," Jesse continued. "And I brought up what she said to you about your hair and clothes last Sunday. I told her it was uncalled for and that she should apologize to you."

My heart warmed at his advocacy for me. "You didn't have to do that."

He shrugged. "I know. But I wanted to. It didn't feel right to just let it go. Anyway, she..." He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Well, she definitely didn't like that. Accused me of being mean to her when she was 'just trying to help' - her words, not mine."

I raised an eyebrow. Jesse didn't have a mean bone in his entire body. He was genuinely the sweetest man I'd ever met, one of the many reasons I loved him. If Amanda accused him of being "mean" to her, I was positive she had an ulterior motive.

Jesse sighed, closing his eyes for a moment before continuing and confirming my suspicions. "Then she said I was 'lucky' she hadn't said anything about my hair or my tats or my clothes. I asked her what that was supposed to mean, and she started going on about how she wishes I would cut my hair short and 'start dressing like an adult' because apparently I embarrass her in front of her friends. I got pretty upset and I was worried I'd say something I'd regret, so I just left and told her I'd call her later."

My jaw dropped. I could barely contain the fury rising within me.

"That fucking bitch."

"Please don't call her that," he murmured halfheartedly.

"Sorry," I apologized, not actually remotely sorry. "She has no right to treat you that way, though. Like that's some middle school mean-girl shit. You deserve so much better."

He shrugged but didn't reply. It honestly baffled me that he hadn't left her already, but I knew he'd get defensive about it if I pressed him on the matter.

A thought crossed my mind that had me worried. "You're not actually going to change yourself for her, are you?"

I breathed a silent sigh of relief when he shook his head. "No. This is how I'm comfortable. It's part of my identity." A small smile crept across his lips. "Plus, I need my hair for headbanging when we perform."

"Very true," I agreed, a slight chuckle escaping me. Wanting to reassure him, I reached out and covered his hand with mine. "Hey. Look at me."

He did so.

"You're perfect exactly the way you are, okay? Don't you ever let that..." I wanted to say "bitch" but stopped myself. "... person tell you otherwise."

Silently, he searched my expression, his blue eyes swimming with all kinds of complex emotions I couldn't decipher. I could only hope one of them was restored confidence.

As the silence stretched on, it began to get awkward for me. "Are you, um..." I began uneasily. "Are you going to talk to her?"

"I will tomorrow," he replied. "I want to give her some time to cool off."

"Makes sense. Let me know how it goes, okay?"

He nodded. "I will, I promise. Thanks, Em."

"For what?" I asked, not thinking I'd done anything all that out of the ordinary.

He bit his lower lip. "You, uh... You helped me... A lot. More than you know."

I couldn't help but smile, my insides filling with warm flutters from knowing I'd brightened the day of the man I loved. Not knowing what to say in response, I did what felt most natural to me: I stood up and hugged him.

Jesse seemed surprised at first by the contact but quickly relaxed into it and wrapped his arms around me. Being in his embrace felt right to me, and I silently breathed in the faint woodsy scent that was uniquely him.

What I wouldn't have given to have remained in that moment for the rest of eternity. Like all such experiences, however, it was fleeting, and we soon found ourselves back in our respective rooms for the evening. The sun set and rose again the next morning, as it was wont to do, and I attended my classes and went about my day as usual.

Around three in the afternoon, I felt my phone buzz in my pocket and opened it up to a message from Jesse.

JM: I talked to her.

I replied immediately, curiosity gnawing at me:

ED: How did it go?

The dots indicating he was typing a response appeared on my screen and flickered for a long while. Finally, a response came through:

JM: I told her that my appearance is a red line. She's definitely not happy about it and pouted a lot, but she accepted it. She said I'll make it up to her in other ways but didn't elaborate.

ED: That's kind of... ominous?

He sent me a shrug emoji in response.

JM: I'm just gonna take the win.

ED: Fair enough.

Perhaps it was my overactive imagination, but I couldn't help but wonder just how exactly Amanda was going to force Jesse to atone for the egregious affront of defying her. Whatever it was, I knew it wouldn't be good.

***

A full week passed with no hint of retaliatory action from Amanda. The longer the period of calm stretched on, the more suspicious and uneasy I became.

It was a Thursday afternoon when the other shoe finally dropped. I was in the library conducing research for a history project when my phone rang with a call from Miles. Confused - Miles nearly always texted - I answered.

"Hey, what's up?" I whispered, not wanting to disturb those around me.

His voice held a distinct note of panic. "Em, you need to get home right away."

I furrowed my brow but kept my voice down. "What's going on?"

"Amanda's trying to get Jesse to move in with her."

"WHAT?!?" I screeched, abandoning my previous efforts to remain quiet. Several of the library's other patrons glared at me, and I swiftly gathered my belongings and ran out the door.

Once I was outside, I began to pepper Miles with questions. "What do you mean move in with her? He's not going to, is he?"

"I'm genuinely worried he might," he answered. "You know he's terrible at standing up to her."

A sinking feeling arose in my gut as I realized Miles was right about that.

"Get home now if you can," he urged me. "Jesse gets back from his last lecture in half an hour and we're going to have an intervention. We need to nip this in the bud before he signs onto something that'll make him miserable for the rest of college."

He didn't need to ask me twice; I was already speed-walking back toward our house. "Whatever happened to letting Jesse figure this out on his own?" I teased Miles.

"Fuck that," he replied. "This is a five-alarm fire."

I couldn't have agreed more.

When I arrived home, Miles, Kane, and I huddled in our living room, discussing what we planned to say in hushed tones. We decided the best course of action was to remain as calm as possible, emphasize to Jesse how much we cared about him and his wellbeing, and try to lay out a logical case for why moving in with Amanda would be a terrible idea. As the time of Jesse's return approached, we sat on the couch and waited anxiously.

Jesse noticed something was off the moment he came through the front door. He gazed apprehensively at the three of us, brow furrowed in confusion.

"Um... hey guys..." he greeted us cautiously, slowly venturing into the room and sitting in the armchair across from us.

I decided there was no point in beating around the bush. "You're not actually thinking of moving in with her, are you?" I asked him.

His blue eyes shifted warily between each of our faces in turn. "I'm considering it..."

All of our previous discussion about remaining calm and logical went out the window as Miles finally lost whatever remaining bits of his composure he'd been hanging onto and erupted.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!? We've been watching this girl treat you like shit for four months now, and I've kept my mouth shut, but now you want to move in with her?"

Kane's tone was calmer but no less disapproving. "Dude, she's like every bitchy trust fund debutante I ever met back home, and that's not a good thing. It's also pretty fucking clear that she stresses you out."

"Have you lost your fucking mind?" Miles added for good measure.

Jesse's entire body tensed up. It was obvious he didn't much appreciate our line of questioning and cared even less for our tone.

"She said this would happen..." he grumbled, his eyes narrowing before his voice picked up uncharacteristic volume. "I told her she was wrong and defended you, but she was fucking right. You're so fucking selfish. All you guys care about is the fucking band and never about how I feel!"

That was like a gut punch to me, and I was unable to stop the emotions from spilling into my response. "How you feel is literally the only thing we care about right now! The band isn't even a factor."

Scoffing, he crossed his arms over his chest, his tattoos seeming almost to glare at us defiantly. "You coulda fooled me, Em. Why can't you guys just be happy for me?"

"Because it's fucking obvious that you're not happy!" Miles snapped. "I don't know what you think you're holding onto, but that fucking succubus cunt is draining the life out of you like a fucking dementor!"

Jesse's cheeks colored with anger as he stood. "Hey! Don't talk about my girlfriend like that!"

"If the shoe fits..." Kane murmured.

"Why are you guys so mean to her?" Jesse demanded. "God, she was right... she really is the only one who cares about me..."

He might as well have stabbed me in the heart. My voice was small and quiet when I spoke again.

"Don't you know that we do?"

A stony expression came over his face, as if he were trying to shut out emotions that otherwise threatened to overwhelm him.

"Whatever," he grunted. "I'm going to the health center to pick up Amanda's allergy meds."

For some reason, watching him running errands for his cunt of a girlfriend while she twisted him against his friends pushed me over the edge.

"I can't take it anymore!" I screamed, standing up and balling my hands into fists at my sides. "Are you fucking blind, Jesse? Amanda is a toxic bitch and it's killing me that you can't see it!"

He stared at me, his eyes betraying his anger along with a sadness I hadn't expected. "Why do you care, Em?"

The words flew out of my mouth before I could corral them, the venom in my tone belying their meaning:

"Because I love you and I can't keep watching you make yourself miserable!"

Nearly shaking with rage and the surge of adrenaline from finally acknowledging my true feelings aloud, I stormed out of the room and stomped up the stairs, slamming the door to my bedroom shut behind me.

I spent the next two hours alternating between screaming into my pillow and staring at my ceiling while contemplating how badly I may have just fucked up. Too much had been said for things to just go back to how they had been. Would I have to move out? Would this be the end of Murphy's Lawyers? Would Jesse ever even speak to me again?

Trying to silence the cacophony of anxious thoughts swirling in my mind, I put on a playlist of the angriest, shoutiest metal in my collection and cranked it up to a level that nearly made my ears bleed. Listening to Corey Taylor scream "fuck, fuck, fuck me up" at the top of his lungs while the rest of Slipknot wailed on their instruments like they owed them money was strangely soothing.

I didn't hear the first knock at my door. The second was louder.

"FUCK OFF!" I shouted.

Ignoring my very clear instructions, the knocker opened my door. My insides squirmed uncomfortably when I heard Jesse's voice.

"Can I come in?"

"I really don't wanna talk to you right now."

He came into my room anyway, walking over to my laptop and shutting off the blaring music. "Well, too fucking bad. I've got some stuff to say and I need you to hear it."

I couldn't bring myself to look at him. Instead, I folded my arms stubbornly and continued glaring up at the ceiling.

"I broke up with Amanda."

I snorted. "'Bout fuckin' time."

I felt my bed shift as he sat down on the edge. "I need you to listen to me, Em. I'm still working through this all, so bear with me."

Sighing, I turned my head toward him. The expression on his face was serious and almost pained, and I felt the churning emotions inside me subside ever so slightly.

"I went up to the health center to get Amanda's allergy meds," he began. "And I got bored while I was waiting, so I grabbed one of those little psych pamphlets they have near the pharmacy."

I nodded, knowing the ones he meant that discussed topics like depression and anxiety.

"I didn't even really look at the title," he continued. "And I... I read through it... And every single fucking word seemed like it was written about my relationship with Amanda..."

His voice suddenly got very quiet.

"Em... it was a pamphlet about emotional abuse."

Shocked, I sat up slowly. I'd known Amanda was a horrendous bitch, but abusive? In that moment, I realized there was a lot Jesse hadn't been telling me and that I'd only seen the tip of the iceberg insofar as his ex-girlfriend was concerned.

"Jesse..." I ventured gently. "What happened? What's she been doing to you?"

He got a faraway look in his eyes as he began to recount the painful tale. "She started off so sweet. Really attentive, friendly, made me feel appreciated... When I think about it now, it was like she was trying to suck me in by being what I needed. Then she, uh... She started changing. Little things, like calling something I said 'dumb' or making fun of my major. If I complained about it, she'd brush it off and tell me I was being too sensitive. And I know I'm a sensitive person, so I believed her."

His frown deepened, and I gently touched his arm. He covered my hand with his and sighed as he continued. "About two months ago, it started getting a lot worse. I'm not gonna go into all the details right now... I don't think I'm ready to yet. But she... she had me convinced that she was the only one who'd ever put up with all my, uh... quirks. Every time I tried to stand up for myself and we'd fight, she'd threaten to abandon me. She'd gaslight me and say you'd all been complaining about me to her and saying I was stupid and annoying."

My jaw dropped. "Jesse..."

He shook his head. "I know it sounds crazy, but it was effective. That's why..." He paused, seeming to formulate his thoughts. "That's why it helped so much when you talked to me and had my back after my fight with her the other week. It made me start questioning what she'd been telling me. Made it harder for her to manipulate me."

I gave him a small smile and squeezed his arm supportively.

He met my eyes then, the intensity in his gaze taking me by surprise.

"She always had an ace up her sleeve, though."

I raised an eyebrow in question. "What?"

"You."

"Me?" I gasped, horrified that I had somehow unknowingly played a role in his misery.

He nodded, looking down at my bedspread bashfully before seemingly mustering his courage and meeting my eyes again. "Yeah... because she knew. She, um..." he shifted nervously before sighing. "She knew that I was - am - in love with you, and she had me convinced that you'd never feel the same way."

I felt as though all the air had been sucked out of my lungs. Too stupefied to say anything, I let Jesse continue spilling the secrets and feelings he'd kept bottled up for so long.

"When I first got with Amanda, it was after one of our shows," he told me. "I'd had a couple of drinks, she flirted with me, and we hooked up. I told her it was a mistake almost immediately afterwards. She asked why, and I told her I was in love with someone else. She got this look on her face, like she pitied me, and said something like 'oh, your singer? I saw her making out with some guy after your show and getting into his car.'"

"I definitely never did that," I assured him.

He chuckled mirthlessly. "Yeah, I know that now. But I was hurting and I believed her. Didn't know back then how manipulative she was. She found my biggest insecurity and exploited the shit out of it. She'd gaslight me about you a lot, saying you'd make fun of me behind my back and complain to her about me."

He gazed at me in earnest then, his eyes almost pleading with me to understand what he'd been through. "I know I never should've believed her, Em. I know you'd never do anything like that, and I knew it deep down then, too. She just had me so fucking insecure and unstable that I kept doubting everything about myself and my own worth as a person. Hell, she even had me convinced that my own mother was asking her for advice on how to 'deal with' me. She... she really made me believe that I had nobody else... that I was alone."

Tears were silently rolling down my cheeks by that point as the amount of pain he'd experienced truly dawned on me. I couldn't help but blame myself for it, too, since if I'd been less of a coward and told him how I felt much earlier, he wouldn't have suffered as he had.

"God, this is all my fault..." I managed to choke out.

His eyes widened at that and he pulled me into his arms. "Hey, no! None of it's your fault, Em, I promise."

We sat like that for a few moments, Jesse slowly rubbing my back and not seeming to mind in the slightest as my tears soaked into his long hair.

Once I'd regained control of my emotions, I sat back just enough to gaze into his eyes. "I meant what I said earlier," I admitted. "I know I screamed it at you in anger, but it's true: I'm in love with you, have been since we were freshmen. And if I'd just grown a pair and told you, none of this would have happened."

Smiling softly, he rested his forehead against mine. "It's okay, Em. We're here now, together. That's all that matters."

Almost hesitantly, I reached up to cup his cheek, reveling in his warmth and the soft bristles of his beard. When our lips met for the first time, my entire body ignited with a fire so divine that I nearly wept for joy. He tightened his hold around me, pulling me as close to him as he could as though concerned I might fly away like a frightened bird.

"I love you so much, Jesse," I whispered against his lips, wanting to show him that I wasn't about to go anywhere.

I could feel his smile as he replied. "I love you too, Em."

He kissed me thoroughly, moving his lips tenderly against mine and threading his fingers through my hair. When he began to probe the seam of my mouth, I happily opened for him, allowing our tongues to twine and explore together in perfect harmony. I could feel myself climbing higher and higher with every touch; never before had I gotten so worked up solely from kissing. My desire for him in that moment was like an almost physical ache.

"Please, Jesse..." I murmured against him when we took a moment to breathe. "Please... I need you..."

The love that shone in his gorgeous blue eyes as he silently nodded nearly left me breathless.

Before I could say anything, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and opened up his music. He gazed at me questioningly as his thumb hovered over a playlist.

"Can I...?"

I couldn't help the silly grin that crept over my face. "You have a sex playlist?"

He scowled playfully at me. "No, I don't have a 'sex playlist.' I have a you playlist."

"And what, pray tell, is a me playlist?" I inquired, raising an eyebrow in what I hoped was an alluring manner.

A bashful smile took over his features. "It's all the songs that make me think of you. I'd listen to it sometimes, thinking about... us... together..."

Fuck, he was the most adorable thing in the universe. I wanted to smother him with kisses until neither of us could think straight, but I couldn't resist teasing him a little first.

I gave him a knowing grin. "Just thinking about us?"

He chuckled sheepishly. "I may have been... doing other stuff, too..."

My grin widened and I kissed him lightly. "I promise you weren't the only one 'doing other stuff' while thinking about us together."

"Fuck, Em, that's sexy..." he breathed.

"You're sexy," I replied. "Now hit play."

He did so, and the opening guitar riff of the Foo Fighters' "Everlong" sounded from the speakers.

"Perfect," I murmured, pulling him to my lips once again.

Jesse set his phone on my nightstand and dove headlong into the kiss with a passion I'd only ever seen from him while he was playing the drums. It was as though he wanted to consume me, to meld with me into one unified being, to send the emotions coursing through his veins into me as well. It was breathtaking, soul-igniting, life changing.

"Hello..." Dave Grohl's breathy vocals greeted us. "I've waited here for you... everlong..."

I had indeed waited a long time for Jesse and I wanted to savor every moment. I wanted to shower him with love and heal him until every single emotional wound his bitch of an ex had inflicted was nothing more than a distant memory for him.

Pulling away from his lips, I gazed lovingly into his eyes and brushed my fingers along his jaw.

"Please... Let me show you how perfect you are to me."

He leaned into my touch, never breaking eye contact. "You can do anything you want, Em. I'm yours."

I smiled at that, tugging at the hem of his shirt. "I want this off."

Smirking, he pulled it over his head, shaking his hair free of it and tossing it aside. "You're cute when you're bossy."

Guiding him back to lie against my pillows, I nuzzled against his cheek. "You're cute when you do anything."

Before he could respond, I began to press tender kisses along his jaw, enjoying the tickle of his beard against my lips. I continued down to his neck, gently nibbling the warm skin, and onto the tattoo on his left shoulder. It was a heartbeat line that turned into the outline of a drum kit in the middle, and I traced it with my tongue, enjoying the light saltiness of his skin.

"Em..." he softly moaned as I kissed my way across his chest and swirled my tongue around each of his nipples in turn. I could feel his heart beating faster with every move I made and I smiled against him.

Following the faint trail of light hair down his abdomen to where it disappeared into the waistband of his jeans, I gazed up at him imploringly.

"I wanna see all of you, Jesse."

He grinned at that. "I'm definitely not gonna stop you, Em."

Chuckling, I unzipped him and tugged his pants and boxers down his legs, tossing them haphazardly onto my floor. His gorgeous cock sprang free, already rock hard, and I couldn't help but gaze at it hungrily.

"Fuck, Jesse..." I breathed.

His voice was soft and yet strained with anticipation. "You see what you do to me, Em?"

In lieu of a spoken response, I wrapped my hand around his shaft, grinning to myself at the hiss of pleasure he let out. He was like iron wrapped in the softest silk, and I began to slowly stroke him, allowing my thumb to brush across his tip with every upward movement.

His eyes fluttered closed as he groaned, and I took the opportunity to surprise him by pressing an open-mouthed kiss to his manhood.

"Oh, fuck..." he gasped, his eyes snapping back open.

Smirking, I held his gaze and slowly ran my tongue up the underside of his shaft, reveling in the little shiver he was unable to suppress.

"I'm gonna take your perfect cock in my mouth," I whispered, rubbing my cheek against his tip as I did so. "I'm gonna lick and suck and tease you until you lose control and fuck my face until you come."

His cock twitched against me.

I smirked. "Seems like you like that idea."

"Oh fuck yes, I do..." he groaned.

Without further ado, I closed my lips around him, working my tongue around his sensitive ridge.

"Fuck," he moaned. "Oh God, Em, that feels so good..."

I hummed against him, pleased with his reaction, before slowly sliding further down his shaft. I bobbed up and down, getting a tiny bit closer to his base each time. His breath hitched with every downward movement I made, and the sound urged me on. Knowing I was giving him pleasure was its own kind of aphrodisiac for me.

When I finally swallowed him completely, I held him there for a moment and flicked my tongue against him. Hissing with pleasure, he tangled his hands in my hair, not holding me down but simply being present with me in the moment.

The final chorus of "Everlong" sounded as I resumed my movements, the lyrics a perfect encapsulation of the experience we were sharing:

"And I wonder... If everything could ever feel this real forever... If anything could ever be this good again... The only thing I'll ever ask of you... You've got to promise not to stop when I say when."

I had no intention whatsoever of stopping, and as the playlist shifted to The Cure's "Lovesong," I began to increase my pace. I wanted to make Jesse lose all control, to bring him to the height of ecstasy until he came so hard he saw stars.

My efforts appeared to be bearing fruit as he let out a loud groan and began to gently pump into my mouth. I squeezed his thighs before taking one hand and cupping his sack.

"FUCK!" he cried out as I caressed him while taking his cock all the way into the back of my throat. Seemingly no longer able to hold back, he tightened his grip on my hair and increased the intensity of his thrusts. I'd have encouraged him to thrust even harder, but my mouth was otherwise occupied.

"Em..." he panted. "I'm gonna come..."

I hummed my approval, hoping the vibrations would help push him over the edge.

With two more thrusts and a primal grunt, Jesse sent his load down my throat. Once he had stopped pulsing and caught his breath, he hauled me up to his face and into an almost bruising kiss. He didn't seem to care in the slightest where my mouth had just been, which I found unexpectedly sweet.

"Fuck, Em... that was incredible..." he murmured against me.

Gazing into his eyes, I smoothed down a few stray strands of his hair. "I enjoyed it almost as much as you did. Making you happy makes me happy."

He almost looked like he wanted to weep with joy, as though the notion of a partner who actually cared about his happiness were a novel and miraculous concept to him. He kissed me tenderly, cupping my face in his hands and stroking my cheeks with his thumbs.

"God, I love you so much..." he breathed.

My planned response turned into a squeak of surprise when he suddenly rolled us both over, pinning me beneath him.

"You're overdressed, Em," he pointed out.

"Why don't you rectify that, then?" I suggested, giving him a cheeky grin.

A mischievous gleam appeared in his blue eyes. "Oh, I plan to. And then I plan to kiss every single inch of your body."

I spread my arms wide, signaling my enthusiasm for this line of effort. Chuckling, he pulled my shirt off and reached beneath my arched back to unfasten my bra. His gaze took on a certain hunger when he peeled the garment from my breasts, but he kept focused on the task at hand until he had divested me of my pants and underwear as well.

When he had me completely naked beneath him, he took a few moments to simply stare. I smiled up at him, allowing him to look his fill and reveling in the adoration in his eyes.

"You're the most beautiful, perfect thing I've ever seen, Em," he whispered.

"I'm yours, Jesse," I affirmed, reaching out for him.

He took my hand in his and held it to his chest, letting me feel his heart beating steadily beneath his warm skin. "I'm yours too, Em. Always have been and always will be."

I could've sworn I fell in love with him all over again in that moment.

Leaning down, Jesse pressed a loving kiss to my lips before trailing down along my jaw. He all but buried his face in the crook of my neck, kissing and licking the sensitive flesh.

Letting out a contented sigh, I wrapped my arms around the lean body he'd gained from hours upon hours of wild drumming. I whimpered as he became more insistent, sucking my skin into his mouth and nibbling.

"Oh fuck yes..." I moaned. "Mark me... Show everyone I'm yours..."

As the piano opening of Avenged Sevenfold's "Warmness on the Soul" sounded from his phone, he gave my neck a final nip before kissing his way up to my ear.

"Your hazel-green tint eyes watching every move I make..." he softly sang. "And that feeling of doubt it's erased... I'll never feel alone again with you by my side... You're the one, and in you I confide..."

My heart filled with warmth as he punctuated his vocals with a gentle nibble to my earlobe. Jesse never wanted to sing in front of others, always claiming he was too self-conscious about his voice. Hearing his tender crooning in such an intimate moment was more meaningful to me than I had the words to express. It was like he was baring his soul to me, sharing a secret part of himself that no one else was allowed to witness, and it was beautiful.

My train of thought was abruptly halted and sent careening off in an entirely new direction when Jesse's lips closed around my nipple.

"Jesse..." I whimpered, shivering as his tongue circled the sensitive peak.

He gently cupped my other breast in his hand, his thumb lightly brushing and teasing me as his mouth kept working its magic. With a skill as impressive as it was physically delightful, he rolled my nipple between his tongue and the roof of his mouth, creating just the right amount of pressure and suction to drive me absolutely wild.

Letting out a strangled moan, I threaded my fingers through his hair, holding him to me and silently begging for more. I could feel him smile against me as he kissed his way across my sternum to give my right nipple the same treatment as its twin. His hand trailed down my body, tenderly caressing as it went, and I gasped when I felt his fingers glide through my heat.

"Fuck, Em..." he groaned, my nipple falling from his lips. "You're so wet for me..."

Almost reverently, he moved down between my legs. I could feel my anticipation and excitement escalating as I felt his breath against my sensitive flesh. Ever so lightly, he began to lick me, tracing his tongue along my folds, ghosting across my entrance, and circling my clit without actually touching it. His teasing was driving me almost mad with need, and I began to squirm beneath him.

"Jesse..." I whimpered. "Please..."

He was unable to hide his cheeky grin. "Please what, Em?"

I wanted to scream in frustration.

Apparently too nice to make me beg (or simply unable to hold himself back any longer), he finally captured my clit between his lips.

"JESSE!" I cried out in ecstasy as he began suckling in earnest, his beard adding a delicious textural sensation to the experience. "Oh fuck that feels so good..."

Seeming to enjoy my reaction, he hoisted my legs over his shoulders, opening me up even more to his ministrations. He'd vary the motions of his tongue, sometimes circling, sometimes making vertical or horizontal passes, constantly surprising me with new sensations.

When he added a finger to the mix, curling it against my inner walls, I nearly hit the ceiling.

"Oh fuck yes..." I panted, my back arching off of the bed with pleasure. "More... more... harder..."

He added a second finger, stretching me so deliciously, and I buried my hands in his hair. I could feel the tension growing within me, bringing me closer and closer to the edge of bliss, and I began to unconsciously move my hips.

"Oh God yes, Em..." he groaned, his voice muffled against me. "Grind on my face... Grab my hair..."

My grip tightened at his urging, and he rewarded me by ramping up the pressure of his lips and tongue. I teetered on the edge of climax, suspended in a moment of tension that was simultaneously nearly unbearable and absolutely delicious.

Jesse looked up at me then, his gorgeous blue eyes hazy with desire and deep adoration. The eye contact pushed me over the edge and I screamed my release.

No sooner had I come down from my high than Jesse captured my lips in a kiss that smoldered with passion and desire. He pressed his entire body as close to mine as possible, and I could feel that he was once again at full mast. The idea that he'd gotten hard solely from giving me pleasure nearly melted me.

As the minor guitar arpeggios signifying the start of Metallica's "Nothing Else Matters" emanated from his phone, Jesse pulled back to gaze into my eyes once more.

"I love you so much, Em. You're everything to me."

I reached up to stroke his face tenderly. "I love you too, Jesse. Please... I need you inside me..."

His cock twitched against my thigh.

"Condom?" he managed to croak.

"Bottom drawer of the nightstand."

He fished one out and quickly sheathed himself before pressing a soft, loving kiss to my lips as he positioned himself at my entrance.

"I've wanted this for so long..." he whispered. "And, um... I've always kinda wanted to make love to you to this song..."

I couldn't help but smile, wrapping my legs around his waist. "Do it. Take me."

Lacing his fingers through mine and staring deeply into my eyes, he began to press into me. The ecstasy of his cock stretching me and claiming me was beyond anything I'd ever dared to imagine. I felt fulfilled and perfected, like a missing piece of me had finally been returned to its rightful place.

When he reached his hilt, we both groaned.

"Fuck, Jesse..." I breathed. "You feel incredible... perfect inside me..."

He ground his hips against me, drawing a gasp from my lips.

"So good, Em..." he managed to grunt. "Like you're made for me..."

With that, he began to move. The sensation was exquisite, every single inch of him sliding through me and setting my nerve endings afire. He'd draw back slowly before swiftly thrusting back in, hitting my most sensitive spots with each pass. I looped my arms around his shoulders as the pleasure coursed through me.

"Jesse..." I moaned, my grip tightening. "Fuck, you're amazing..."

My praise seemed to spur him on. He increased the pace and pressure of his thrusts, never breaking eye contact with me. It was more than just a physical connection for us, and we both knew it. Our souls were communing in that moment, entwining and joining as one. The profound beauty of the experience nearly moved me to tears even as my carnal desire heightened with every passing second.

I needed more.

"Harder..." I panted.

He pulled my legs over his shoulders, driving him deeper into me and nearly making me see stars each time he bottomed out.

"JESSE!" I cried out, unable to contain myself.

"Oh God yes, Em..." he groaned, thrusting even harder. "Scream my name... Show me I'm making you feel good..."

I let out a series of unintelligible noises before finally managing to form three words: "Fuck me hard."

"Fuck..." he grunted before complying and all but railing me.

I could feel my climax swiftly approaching, each thrust driving me higher and higher. My nails began digging into his shoulders, but he didn't seem to mind in the slightest. Perhaps he was so caught up in the moment that he didn't even notice. It was possible I was screaming, but I was so lost in the physical sensations of the experience that everything else became secondary.

"Getting close..." he panted. "Come with me... Come on my cock..."

"Jesse..." I whimpered, teetering on the edge of oblivion.

With two more thrusts, I shattered.

My orgasm was almost like an out-of-body experience, with Jesse's touch the only thing grounding me in reality. I screamed his name along with a string of profanities that were quickly joined by a sonorous groan as he pulsed inside of me.

Absolute bliss. There were no other words to describe it.

Nearly gasping for air, I pulled Jesse down to me, wanting nothing more than to hold him close. Burying his face in the crook of my neck, he panted into my hair as his breathing slowly returned to a normal pace. I could feel his heart thudding wildly where his chest was pressed to mine, and I was sure that my own heartbeat matched its ferocity.

He pulled away for the briefest of moments to dispose of the condom before pulling me tight against his chest, his fingers slowly stroking through my hair.

For a long time, no words were spoken. We didn't need them. We were content to simply be present together in the sweet aftermath of our lovemaking, the remaining songs on Jesse's mix playing softly in the background.

"I'm so happy, Em," he finally murmured.

I sighed contently. "Me too."

Shifting slightly, he pressed a tender kiss to my forehead. "Just so you know, I don't plan on letting you go. Like... ever."

Smiling, I squeezed him tight. "Good. I don't plan on letting you let me go, either."

Chuckling softly, he rolled us both over until he was spooning me. I'd never felt safer or more loved than I did right there in his arms. Before long, I heard his breathing become slow and even, and I knew he'd fallen asleep. I soon joined him, and my last conscious thought before drifting off was a consideration of just how lucky I was.

***

If Miles and Kane were surprised the next morning to see Jesse and I walk out of my room together, hand in hand, they hid it well. The walls in our house weren't all that thick, so I'd been marginally concerned that we'd be subjected to some off-color commentary, but the two of them thankfully kept any such thoughts to themselves. I did see them high-five each other when they thought we weren't looking, though.

Getting through my Friday classes was challenging when all I wanted to do was spend every waking moment in all manner of compromising positions with my new boyfriend. He pounced on me the moment I got home in the afternoon and probably would have taken me up against the wall right there in our living room if Kane hadn't been sitting on the couch trying his best to ignore us.

We had a gig that evening at Pete's bar. I was almost euphoric, basking in the glow of new romance, and could only hope the joy translated into a powerhouse performance. By the time we were halfway through our set, the crowd was pumping with that certain electricity unique to live metal performances, feeding off of the band's energy and giving it right back to us in shouts of encouragement and the swirl of the mosh pit.

And then she walked in.

I had no idea why Amanda King - along with a pack of her airheaded friends - had come to our show. It certainly wasn't because she liked our music; she'd made her preference for generic autotune-drenched pop abundantly clear. Perhaps she thought she could conjure up some innocent doe eyes and get Jesse back under her thumb.

Over my dead body.

I smirked as I watched her and her little group stake out a spot near the bar, hoping she noticed the hickey Jesse had left on my neck. Deciding a last-minute change to the set list was in order, I turned to my bandmates.

"Time for a little Halestorm, guys," I told them, jerking my head in Amanda's direction. "You know the song."

All three of them grinned widely.

Grabbing my mic, I addressed the crowd. "This next song is one of my personal favorites, by the band Halestorm. We'd like to dedicate it to a very special person in the audience tonight, who knows exactly who she is. This is 'Love Bites (So Do I)'."

Clicking his sticks together, Jesse counted us off.

"One... Two... One, two, one, two, three, four!"

Kane and I jumped in on the opening guitar riff, Miles and Jesse joining us partway through. We built and built until almost everything cut out as the first verse began.

"Don't listen what your girlfriend says,

She reads those magazines,

That say you failed the test,

You don't have what she needs.

I slither like a viper,

And get you by the neck,

I know a thousand ways

To help you forget about her.

That bitch can eat her heart out."

I stared right at Amanda for that last line and even sent her a cheeky wink as we plunged into the chorus:

"Love bites

But so do I,

So do I.

Love bites

But so do I,

So do I.

LOVE BITES!"

I snuck a peek back at Jesse, pleased to see the grin on his face as he nailed the drum fill leading into the second verse:

"My lips are pale and vicious,

You're foaming at the mouth.

You've suffered in the darkness?

I'll suck the pain right out!

So come and taste the reason

I'm nothing like the rest.

I'll kiss you in a way

You'll never forget about me.

That chick can eat her heart out."

By that point, it was abundantly clear to Amanda that we'd aimed the song at her. A scowl appeared on her face and deepened all throughout the second chorus. Once the bridge kicked off, her friends seemed to pick up on what was going on as well. As I screamed the lyrics into my microphone, I noticed them starting to nudge her and giggle.

Immensely satisfied with that turn of events, I headbanged my heart out as Kane wailed away on the guitar solo. The final repeated chorus was icing on the cake, and I made sure to show off the full extent of my vocal chops.

The moment we hit the last note, the crowd erupted in cheers. Feeling nearly invincible and riding the high of a killer performance, I put down my guitar, walked right over behind Jesse's drum kit, and threw my arms around him. He was hot and sweaty from the exertion of the show, but I didn't give a flying fuck. I planted one hell of a kiss right on his lips, reveling in the wolf-whistles from our fans and what I was sure was the mother of all death glares from Amanda.

While Jesse normally would have been too shy for that level of PDA, I was fairly certain he was too happy to care how many people were watching us. He smiled against my lips as he squeezed me tight.

"You two mind if we continue with our show?" Miles teasingly inquired, drawing chuckles from the crowd.

Pressing a final kiss to Jesse's lips and giving him a wink, I walked back over to my mic stand and picked up my guitar. "Pardon the interruption, folks. Now back to your regularly scheduled fucking awesome metal programming."

The crowd roared its approval.

***

Five Years Later

"You seem nervous."

Jesse chuckled. "Who, me? Nervous about dancing in front of all our friends and family? Nah..."

I smoothed the lapels of his suit. "Just keep looking at me and pretend they're not there. You've got this."

His loving smile was the only response I needed.

Linking our arms together, we pushed through the double doors and strolled into the reception hall as our wedding guests cheered for us.

Expecting that we'd start right in on our first dance, I was surprised when Jesse steered me to our table instead.

"I have a surprise for you," he whispered. Making eye contact with Kane and Miles among the rest of the wedding party, he tilted his head toward where the band we'd hired was set up to play. The three of them walked over and, to my surprise, climbed up on the stage. The band members handed Kane a guitar, Miles a bass, and let Jesse take his place behind the drum kit.

Jesse switched on the microphone set up as part of the drum kit, an addition we'd never had when we were playing gigs back in college. He allowed our guests to settle before speaking.

"Hey, everyone. I get pretty freaked out by public speaking, even to a friendly audience like this one, so bear with me if I fumble my words. As most of you probably know, Em and I were in a metal band called Murphy's Lawyers back in college with our friends Kane and Miles. We still jam together sometimes just for fun, and we've been planning a bit of a surprise for today."

He addressed me directly then, the love shining in his eyes breathtaking in its depth and purity. "Em, I know you get FOMO when we jam without you, but I hope you'll forgive me since I really wanted to surprise you today. I know I never wanted to do vocals back in college since I was pretty self-conscious about how I sounded, though in my defense, anything I could have sung would have paled in comparison to your voice. But I'm gonna sing for you now. You're everything to me, Em, and as long as I have you, nothing else matters."

My breath hitched as the familiar minor arpeggios sounded from Kane's guitar. I'd know that song anywhere, and I felt my heart beat faster as I thought back to the night Jesse and I had first made love while it played softly in the background. As the lyrics began, Jesse sang sweetly into his microphone as he kept a steady beat on the drums:

"So close, no matter how far,

Couldn't be much more from the heart,

Forever trusting who we are,

And nothing else matters.

Never opened myself this way,

Life is ours, we live it our way,

All these words, I don't just say,

And nothing else matters."

A lone tear made its way down my cheek at the beauty and profoundness of the moment. Every time I thought I couldn't possibly fall any more in love with my new husband than I already was, he found a way to prove me wrong. I couldn't suppress the smile lighting up my face as he continued to sing:

"Trust I seek and I find in you,

Every day for us something new,

Open mind for a different view,

And nothing else matters.

Never cared for what they do,

Never cared for what they know,

But I know."

I treasured every single note, every single measure of that song. When it ended, I hitched up my dress and ran to the stage, kissing Jesse so fiercely that he needed to procure a wet wipe to clean off the lipstick I'd smeared on him. Neither of us cared; we laughed and smiled and danced the night away as we celebrated our marriage surrounded by those we loved.

We had each other for the rest of our lives, and nothing else mattered.

***

Author's Note Part II: I just wanted to take a minute to address the issue of emotional abuse. You may ask yourself how anyone could be so easily manipulated and remain with a person treating them that way. I'm here to tell you that it's easier than you'd think. Even someone with a strong personality and sense of self can fall into this trap. I know, because I did. Anyone who knows me will tell you that I'm a strong, confident, gregarious person, but a so-called "friend" of mine in high school was able to find my deepest insecurity, exploit it, gaslight me, and control me for two years. I tried to capture this experience as best as I could with Jesse's explanation to Em. His experience of having someone who was supposed to care for him convincing him that everyone else in his life secretly hated him is exactly what happened to me. The line about him even believing that his own mother didn't know how to handle him is taken directly from my own experience.

My point is this: I'm a strong and intelligent person, and if I could be manipulated like this, anyone can be. If Jesse's relationship with Amanda sounds like someone you know, take a minute to think about it and ask yourself the tough questions. Above all, know that you are worthy of love, romantic or platonic, that is unconditional and free of toxicity.