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laughs again.
    When the last song is over Mason jumps off the stage and disappears into the back with the other guys. Henry comes out first, and he and Skye make out for a while right in front of me. Gross. Why do I suddenly wish I had someone to make out with? I’m good at being alone. I’ve pretty much mastered it. So what’s changed? Xander’s lip-biting smile flashes through my mind. No. I shake the image away.
    Just when I’m sure that if I take a saliva sample from Skye’s mouth it will come back with Henry’s DNA, I say, “Okay, enough.”
    Skye pulls away laughing and Henry pretends like he just realized I was standing there. Right.
    “S’up?” he says, then leans over to the bar and asks for some ice water. He takes it and we search for a table. There are no open ones so we just stand in the corner talking.
    Eventually Mason comes out and throws one arm around my neck. His T-shirt is sticky with sweat and almost reverses the effect his singing had on me. “Hey, Caymen, you came.”
    “Here I am.”
    “How’d we do tonight?”
    “Really good.”
    “Did you bring any old ladies with you?” He looks around like this is a valid possibility.
    “Almost, but she canceled on me last-minute. I guess some metal-head band was playing downtown tonight.”
    “Which band?” Henry asks, and Mason starts laughing.
    “It was a joke, idiot,” he says.
    “Don’t call me an idiot.”
    “Then don’t act like one.”
    Henry pouts, and Skye says, “You’re not an idiot, babe.” Then they start making out again. Ugh. Seriously.
    “Do you want something to drink?” Mason asks, leading me toward an abandoned table.
    “Yes, please.”
    I sit down and he comes back with two bottles of beer. He holds one out for me.
    I put up my hands. “Oh, I don’t drink. I’m seventeen.”
    “So? I’m nineteen.”
    “My mom says before I turn eighteen she still has the right to murder me.” My mom always tells me to blame it on her if I am ever in an uncomfortable situation. It seems to work well.
    He laughs. “Okay, that’s cool.” He sits down next to me.
    I watch him drink for a minute then say, “I’m going to get some water.”
    “Oh.” He jumps back up. “Sit. I’ll get it.”
    I watch him walk away and can’t decide if I’m feeling fluttery because I’m talking to the lead singer of a band or if it’s Mason. When two other girls approach him at the bar and he turns to talk to them, I realize it’s the first option. After all, I hardly know him. This makes me feel really shallow.
    The bartender hands him my glass of ice water but Mason continues talking.
    I stand, suddenly. I need to go. I have an early morning.
    I walk to where we had left Skye and Henry and tap her on the shoulder. “Hey, I’m leaving.”
    She pulls away from Henry. “Wait.” She looks around and spots Mason. “No, don’t leave. He always gets bombarded by girls. It’s not his fault.”
    “I’m not worried about him. That’s not why I’m leaving.” At least that’s what I’m trying to convince myself. “I just have to work in the morning. I’ll see you soon.”
    I walk away to say good-bye to Mason and hear her say, “Wait, we’re walking you.”
    As we pass Mason I wave and mouth bye. But Skye says out loud, “We’re walking Caymen home.”
    He gives me the wait motion with his hand and nods politely to the girl in front of him, finishing up whatever conversation they were having. He sets the ice water he’d ordered on the bar, then he’s by my side. “I’m coming, too.”
    Henry and Skye walk in front of us, talking quietly. Mason drapes his arm around my shoulder. I’m learning quickly that he’s a touchy kind of guy. We’re silent for a block.
    “I didn’t realize you had to leave so early,” he finally says.
    “Yeah. I have work in the morning.”
    “We play again next week.”
    I’m not sure if he is inviting me or making small talk so I just nod.
    “Thanks,” I say when we get to the shop