August 1969

Chapter 14

Out of every act this weekend, the next one has me pacing back and forth with occasional glances at the stage.

It's almost five in the morning, and I'm about to witness my favorite band play—The Who. I'm going to see The Who play live.

I take a hit of the joint I have pinched between my fingers, letting the light burn fill my lungs. When I exhale, I begin to hum the tune of Pinball Wizard. My hands raise above my head and sway my hips to the lyrics playing in my head.

Someone comes behind me, pressing their chest against my back. The familiar musky, outdoor scent fills my senses with pure bliss. Bobby fans his fingers across my stomach before bringing his lips by my ear. "You look so sexy right now."

I turn around and place my hands around his neck, guiding him down for a kiss. When his soft lips meet mine, I can't help but moan.

Bobby's hands begin to explore my body with gentle strokes, sending pleasurable waves across my skin.

When I pull away, happiness wraps around me like a warm blanket. "I really like kissing you." I rise to my toes, and in his ear, I whisper, "Did you know you were the first boy I ever liked?"

Bobby's body turns to stone, staring at me as if he is trying to process what I just said. It takes him a few seconds, but he finally says, "No. No, I didn't."

I place my hands on Bobby's shirt, and his heart is hammering against his chest. "Yeah, I was in sixth grade, and Elaine made fun of me for a week because she caught me writing Bobby Walker surrounded by a heart."

Bobby chuckles, and it is the most beautiful sound. "I'm surprised Elaine didn't scream that information to the world."

I was absolutely mortified when Elaine found the notebook with my doodles. Yes, she made fun of me, but I knew she would never tell a soul. "You're not the only one with a sister who can keep secrets, Bobby."

"Maybe one day I will get to know all your secrets."

"We shall see," I say before our lips meet again.

The thump of the microphone has me push Bobby away. I jump up and down. Pumping my arms in the air. "I'm so fucking excited right now."

I sit in Bobby's lap and shift my body to find a comfortable position. Bobby leans in close, his lips grazing the outer shell of my ear. "If you don't stop moving like that, we're going to have a problem."

The side of my mouth turns into a smirk, and I give Bobby a wink. "A problem I'd love to have."

With a groan, Bobby tilts his head back. "You're going to be the death of me, aren't you?"

"Maybe," I say with a shrug.

Bobby goes to say something, but the loud cheers that fill the field silences him.

Oh my god, it's happening.

The four-man British Band takes the stage, and I belt out a scream that leaves a burn in my throat.

"Please warmly welcome, The Who."

As soon as the first note is played, my heart stops, and I'm transported to Heaven.

Roger Daltrey's leather fringe jacket sways behind him as he moves with every word he sings. It could be the exquisite piece of clothing that catches my attention or possibly his exposed chest, but I can't take my eyes off him as he belts his heart out.

That all comes to an end when Pete Townshend plays his first solo. I've said it before, and I will say it until the day I die. He's a genius and pours everything he has into his fierce riffage. It's as if he and his guitar are one.

The crowd roars as The Who's first song comes to an end, and within seconds they move on to the next. They play with such intensity that their powerful energy radiates through the crowd.

I look up at the inky sky, gazing at the beautiful, bright stars, and let the music take me away. Each note vibrates through my body, leaving a trail of hums behind.

Mike scoots next to me and Bobby, and when he leans in, he says, "They are amazing."

"I know!" I squeal as I turn my attention to him. "Are you a big fan?"

An award-winning smile takes over Mike's face, showing off his charming dimples. "Huge. I really enjoy a lot of British rock bands."

I shift away from Bobby and inch closer to Mike with wide eyes. "Who's your favorite?"

"Honestly," He starts while staring off into the distance, "I like anything that makes me feel something."

We all experience music differently. Some might like the catchy tune, while others enjoy the deep emotions each song brings.

"Yes!" My heart swells, and I playfully push his shoulder. "Finally, someone who gets it."

I remember when I got my first record player. No one around me understood how I could stay in my room for hours and lay on my bed, just listening to music. My parents thought they were gifting me with what they thought every teenager wanted, but they had no idea how impactful it really was.

Mike pulls me from my memory when he clears his throat. He looks down at me with his deep chocolate eyes, and their warmth has me hanging on to each of his words. "Sometimes when I listen to music, it's like I can just close my eyes and go to a different astral—"

"Plane." We say in unison.

Our friendship has set roots in my heart, and I know it will blossom into something beautiful. "I've never met someone else who feels like that."

Mike chuckles and nudges my shoulder. "You're not alone anymore, Little One."

Mike and I watch with our jaws on the ground as The Who plays through the album Tommy, which is a story about a traumatized boy who becomes dissociated. Each song adds to the tale like a chapter to a book. 

Pete Townshend plays the opening chords to Pinball Wizard, and Mike and I look at one another. If my lips pulled up anymore, I'm sure they would crack. Mike shares my enthusiasm with a huge smile, nodding his head to match the tempo of Townshend's aggressive strumming.

Mike stands up and holds his hand out. Without hesitation, I grab it, and we begin to jump up and down, letting the music take control. Feeding off Roger Daltrey's energy, we join in with our own vocal rendition of the song.

I close my eyes and breathe deeply to take in the surreal moment. My heart is so full it could burst.

The Who finishes their set as the sun begins to rise, and I can't think of a better way to start a new day.