Aurelia Rowl - Popping The Cherry

‘You could have just asked her to move her legs, bro,’ Hayden said, finally coming to me defence. I wish I could say I was relieved to see him. He hopped up and came to sit right beside me, grabbing hold of my hand. Pete stayed at the far end, the bass guitarist stepped over me to join him, closely followed by Chris on keyboards, then Max climbed in and closed the doors behind him so we were all crammed in the back of the Transit. Just when I didn’t think things could get any more surreal, Max held the van keys out to me.

‘I don’t suppose you drive?’ he said.

‘N-no,’ I stammered. ‘Not yet.’

Max cursed and shook his head. ‘Here you go, then, Pete, it looks like it’s up to you to get us home tonight.’ Max tossed the keys over to Pete, who missed them completely and they crashed to the van floor.

‘Pete?’ I blurted, my voice raised enough to bounce back of the walls. ‘But he’s—’

‘Hayden, why don’t you and your lady come up front with me?’ Pete asked, cutting me off. ‘Give the boys some room to spread out?’

‘Lady’ was a darn sight better than ‘piece of arse’ at least.

‘No, it’s OK.’ Hayden put his arm possessively around me. ‘Lena’s cool.’

I am?

Max shrugged. ‘If you say so, bro.’

By way of assurance, Hayden shoved his hand into his trouser pocket and pulled out a couple of bank notes, one folded into a small square, the other folded in half and slightly rumpled from being wedged up tight against his arse. If it was possible to feel sympathy for a piece of paper, then I did. He reached into his other pocket and pulled out a bank card, the same bank as mine as it happened, not that I was desperate to find anything in common with him or anything.

Mesmerised, I watched him turn the card over so that the magnetic strip faced up and prop it on his bent knees. Hayden pressed the crisper banknote against his thigh to straighten it, then nimbly rolled into a tight cylinder.

What the …?

Oh, Valentina Bell, you are so naïve .

It wasn’t just Pete on the happy dust: they were all at it. The puzzle pieces that had been bugging me all evening suddenly slotted together to form a complete picture in high definition: the pre-gig pep talk that I wasn’t invited to, the high-energy performance, the sweating, the copious amounts of water they’d all been drinking, Hayden’s wild eyes, his personality transplant … And there was I thinking Hayden had been on a natural high when he’d come off stage. No wonder he’d always come across as mysterious on the bus: he was more than likely either stoned or coming down.

With his straw constructed to his satisfaction, Hayden unfolded the second banknote carefully, then bent it in half horizontally. Keeping his knees perfectly still, he tipped a line of white powder onto the back of the bank card. As if he could feel my boggle-eyed gaze boring into him, Hayden turned to look at me.

‘Do you want to go first?’ he asked, offering me the rolled-up twenty.

‘No, you’re OK,’ I said, ‘Thanks, though,’ I added, trying not to sound like a total dork.

‘Seriously, I don’t mind sharing,’ he said. ‘Besides, I can pick up more at the party.’

‘It’s just that … well … I don’t really do drugs.’

Hayden’s eyebrows arched. ‘What? Not any?’

‘Does caffeine count?’ I forced a smile onto my face.

‘No way?’ He eyed me with total disbelief. Even the other band members stopped mid inhale to stare at me. Prize freak time again. ‘You’re missing out,’ he said finally, accompanying it with a shrug.

Thinking back to the look of rapture on Pete’s face, I realised that Hayden probably had a point.

‘You go right ahead, though, before you twitch, or sneeze or something.’

Hayden nodded, then inserted the makeshift straw partway up his nose and, whoosh, half of the dust was gone. He made it look so easy.

‘I feel like a right shit leaving you out, Lena. Here—’ he tried handing me the straw again ‘—you have the rest.’

If I’d said I wasn’t even slightly tempted, it would be an outright lie. What if I liked it, though—really liked it? I’d be on a very slippery slope indeed.

‘No, you’re all right, Hayden,’ I said. ‘I think I will join Pete up front, after all.’

‘Why?’

‘Just to give you more space like Pete said. And, you know, to not put you off.’

‘Fuck. You’re freaking out, aren’t you?’ Hayden said. ‘Look at you, gnawing on your lip.’

Bugger, I hadn’t even noticed I was doing it. ‘Of course I’m not freaking out.’

‘Bullshit. I honestly thought it might just be an act for college but you really are Miss Goody Two Shoes, aren’t you?’

Gee, thanks, Hayden .

‘So what if I am?’

‘It’s just so … boring. Don’t you think?’

I couldn’t even bring myself to reply. Instead, I sighed and mentally scribbled over his name from the shortlist in thick, black, permanent marker pen as he snorted up the last of the line. Impossible as it seemed after his earlier sleaze-factor, he’d sunk even lower in my estimation. Saved from having to come up with a polite decline, I got to my feet and clambered over his and Max’s legs, thankful I’d worn trousers—not that anybody was paying attention to me, anyway—and I reached the doors easily enough, but they wouldn’t budge.

‘Mind yourself.’ Pete’s voice in my ear made me jump to the side, narrowly missing Max’s fingers.

Pete turned side on, his back to me, then bumped his hip against the door at the same time as he pushed. On the second go, the door swung open and let in a surge of deliciously fresh air. Inhaling sharply, I filled my lungs, then stepped out onto the concrete to make my way to the front door. I flopped into the passenger seat, or rather my end of the bench, and tugged sharply on the wide ribbon to make sure the locking mechanism worked before I clipped myself in.

Funnily enough, it didn’t make me feel any better.

The sounds of tapping and then snorting from the back didn’t help, either.

Pete took his seat behind the wheel and fired up the engine. He slammed his foot down on the accelerator and bumped up and over the kerb to the protests from the back. I clung onto the door handle with both hands as he then pulled out onto the road without even looking, driving way too fast. Never in my life had I wanted to break the law so badly. Why hadn’t I lied and got us the hell out of there? I stood just as good a chance as Pete of getting us all home safely, probably better, even without a licence.

‘Um … you might want to put the headlights on, Pete.’

‘Oh, yeah. Cheers.’

We lurched so fast around one bend, the snare drum landed with a crash. Instead of slowing down, as any sane guy would, Pete seemed to accept it as a challenge and took the next bend even faster. I jammed my eyes closed but that only seemed to make my other senses stronger, so I knew the exact moment two of the wheels left the road.

I’m going to die .

My eyelids flew open on instinct and the world was on a peculiar, terrifying angle. I didn’t dare breathe out, my lips clamped shut, just in case it made all the difference between rolling the van onto its side and down the bank, and getting all four wheels back on the ground. Finally, we tipped the right way, landing with a thump. I yelped, winded by the force of the impact, but Pete just laughed, and gunned the accelerator even harder.

Enough .

‘Stop!’

‘Huh?’ Pete took his eyes off the road and looked at me. Talk about wired, it was a wonder he hadn’t killed the lot of us already.

‘Stop the van, I want to get out.’ My voice caught in my throat and my eyes implored him to slow down. ‘Please …’