Riley pushed me toward my bedroom. “Since we are both sick and tired of your depressed moping. Now, do I need to dress you myself? Because, so help me God, if I have to, I will put you in my black cargo pants and combat boots,” she threatened.

I shuddered. Those cargo pants should have been burned a long time ago. But I knew Riley meant business. So I put my hands up in defeat. “I'm going, I'm going. Back off killer.” I went into my room and halfheartedly unearthed something semi decent. I emerged from my room five minutes later, wearing a pair of skinny jeans and a short sleeved dark green knit top.

“Do something with that mop on top of your head. Have you even brushed your hair today?” Riley asked.

“Ugh! Alright, already!” I complained, going into the bathroom. Three critiques later, and I was deemed ready to mingle with normal society.

Gracie showed up a short time later, looking cute and perky as always. With Gracie on one side and Riley on the other, they shepherded me out to Gracie's Jeep. We made a motley crew. Gracie in her conservative prettiness, Riley looking like a Goth diva in her short black skirt, black top and knee high laced black boots. Then there was me. Well, the less said about that, the better.

“Where are we going?” I asked as Gracie pulled out of the apartment car lot.

“We're heading downtown. You need to do some dancing. And some drinking. Time to get your happy on, my friend,” Gracie chirped. I crossed my arms over my chest. I did not feel like dancing. And don't even get me started about putting my happy on (were we in the fourth grade here?). And drinking would just make me more depressed and miserable. I didn't like this plan at all.

But I didn't say anything. I knew it would be pointless. My two friends were determined and they were a wall of solidarity against me. Bitches.

We pulled into a downtown dance club called The Boogie Lounge (lame name, I know). It was pretty crowded for a Thursday night.

“Wow, what's with all the people?” I asked, getting out of the car. Riley shrugged. Her face lit up suddenly and she started waving frantically. Looking over my shoulder I saw Damien and a few of his friends in line to get in the club. I tried to suppress my groan. But I wasn't very successful. Riley gave me a dark look.

“Just suck it up and have fun, Mays. It won't kill you,” she told me firmly.

I gave her a sardonic salute. “Aye, aye, Captain,” I bit out sarcastically. Gracie looped her arm through mine and pulled me toward the entrance of the club. We paid our cover and went inside. The place was teaming with people. We had to do some serious shoving to get to the bar.

“Go find a table if you can. I'll get the drinks.” Riley whipped out a fake ID and flashed us a smile.

“Awesome! Get me a cranberry and vodka,” Gracie yelled to her. Riley knew my usual, so she headed off to the bar. Gracie and I were able to find a small table toward the back. Gracie found a napkin and wiped spilled beer off the surface before sitting down. The stage was set up, so that must be the reason for the crowd.

“I wonder who's playing?” I mused, watching the people start to push toward the front of the room. Riley had just gotten to our table with our drinks when a familiar voice cut through the noise. “Thanks for coming out to see us tonight! We're Generation Rejects!” NO, NO, NO! I could not be here!

I gripped Gracie's hand tightly. “We have to leave, NOW!” I said desperately. Gracie winced and then pried her hand away from my tight grasp.

“Now, you can't avoid him forever. We'll just stay here in the back. Jordan will never know we're here,” Gracie reasoned.

I whipped my head around to look at Riley suspiciously. “Did you know Jordan would be playing here tonight?” Riley looked at me with irritation.

“Would I do something like that, Mays. Get real.” She sounded miffed that I had even suggested it. I started to say something else when the music began. And just like the first time I saw them play, I couldn't help but watch. They were intense and raw. And Jordan was a demon on the drums.

I hadn't seen him in weeks and my eyes thirsted for the sight of him. Even after everything, I couldn't stop the crazy pitter patter of my heart as I watched him. His forehead was furrowed as he beat the skins frantically. The tight material of his t-shirt strained over the muscles of his arms and I couldn't help but remember the way they had felt holding me.

I had tried so hard not to remember any of that night. Particularly the part he played in what went down. The hurt, anger and embarrassment washed over me again and all I wanted to do was leave. But the place was packed and getting out the door would be difficult. Plus Gracie and Riley were boxing me into the corner.

So I sat there and tried to control the physical response I had to the music reverberating around me. I tried not to look at Jordan and how insanely sexy he was up there. But I loved the music and I loved the sensual beat he added to the mix. He was an amazing musician. Despite everything, I could still admit that.

They played almost the exact same set as they had that night at Barton's. I braced myself for Jordan's solo. When the song began I looked anywhere but at the stage. If I wouldn't have looked like an immature idiot, I would have put my fingers in my ears to stop the sound of his gravelly voice.

So, instead I watched the crowd undulate to the band's music. They ate up whatever the band threw at them. It was like watching a religious experience. And on some small level, I gave into it. And it was liberating. To be able to let go of all the negative shit I was feeling and for a moment, just enjoy myself.