I pause before I reply, because she’s sort of repeating herself with the hairbrush joke. But I don’t want to call her out or make her feel weird, so I just laugh again. “Probably not.”

She grunts. “Yeah.”

Silence falls over us. I’m racking my brain trying to think of witty, cool things to say, when I realize that her eyes are fluttering and she’s leaning against the wall like it’s a life raft.

“Hey, do you want some water?” I bend down and reach under the couch and rustle around until I find my backpack. “I brought a couple bottles….I know it can get super claustrophobic in here sometimes.”

Her eyes open wide, like she’s surprised that I noticed. “Yeah. Thanks.” She takes the bottle from my outstretched hand and gulps down half of it in one breath. She sits down on the couch and I take a seat on the other end.

“Impressive drinking skills.” I groan to myself, because, like—worst dad joke ever?—but her face relaxes and she smiles at me. A real smile this time—one that touches her eyes.

I want to see her smile again. And again. We settle in on the couch to watch Lucy.

—

May was right; Lucy is a badass drummer, like beyond Lockett or anyone else who’s ever played with the band. All of them—especially Conor—are blown away.

However, good as she is, I can barely concentrate on the music, because it’s like all of my molecules are being pulled toward May. I swear I’ve never been so aware of another person in my life. The couch is small, and her arm presses against me every time she moves, making the hairs on my arm stand on end. When the band breaks between songs, we start talking. Sometimes at the same time, about the same thing. The first time it happens, May pulls her head back, surprise passing across her face like she’s reminded of something she’d rather forget.

Lucy’s audition ends a short while later, and she starts gathering her things. Conor circles her like a hawk. May is stirring next to me, and I panic, trying to figure out a way to make this last longer. Moments when I feel comfortable with another person are so rare these days.

“Are you guys taking off?” I struggle to keep my voice casual, to keep the desperation out, and only sort of succeed.

May looks up at Lucy, who’s standing next to the band’s drum set, holding her sticks, head thrown back, laughing at something Conor said. May turns to me and rolls her eyes.

“Yeah. Whenever she’s ready, I guess.”

I swallow, trying to think of something that might make the moment last longer, but before I can, Lucy’s walking toward us.

“May, you ready to head out?”