Caytlin Rosē

  It’s summer again, the season everyone else uses as an excuse to do absolutely nothing. But that’s not me. I’m not like the other girls. I never felt the need to fit in, to layer on makeup and chase boys for a fleeting thrill. That’s not my scene. Well, it wasn’t. I had my “girl next door” phase once , i did the whole makeup, flirting, heartbreak routine. But that’s over. That Caytlin is long gone.

  Now? I’m focused on the one thing that actually makes me happy, my band. We’re not writing our own songs yet, but we’re working on it. For now, we cover emo staples: My Chemical Romance, Evenesence, all the classics. We’ve made a name for ourselves locally, and our MySpace page even gets a decent amount of attention. It’s not fame, but it’s something.

  Mike, our bass player, mentioned a new member joining today ,a “rocker chick” who he insists I already know. The only person who comes to mind is Nikki Mortemore. And if it is her...well, I’m not sure how to feel. Nikki was this untouchable force back when I was a freshman. Her long black hair, shaved short on the right, her unapologetic punk style ,she wore her rebellion like armor. White tank tops under leather jackets, ripped jeans, and heavy boots. She was untouchable, perfect.

  Mike had better not be screwing with me.

  The venue smelled like old beer and electricity a small, grungy space where everything felt a little too alive. Lloyd and Skye were already tuning up when I walked in. The guys barely looked up as Mike waved at me from across the room.

  “Don’t freak out when you see her,” he said, smirking. “Bathroom’s to the left if you need to hyperventilate.”

  I rolled my eyes, ignoring him as I headed backstage. My guitar equipment was waiting in its usual corner, but something or someone caught my attention before I reached it.

  I turned the corner, lost in thought, and bumped straight into her.

  “Watch it,” a familiar voice said, sharp but not unkind. I looked up and froze.

  Nikki Mortemore. Mike im gonna put drumsticks in your arse for this .

  She stood there, tall and intimidating, with her leather jacket slung over one shoulder. Her long black hair shimmered in the dim light, the shaved side of her head showing off a row of tiny, silver piercings. She wore a smirk like it was her secret weapon, and her eyes lined heavily in black seemed to see right through me.

  “Uh, hi,” I managed to choke out, feeling every ounce of confidence drain from my body.

  She raised an eyebrow. “Caytlin Rosē, right?”

  My cheeks burned. “Yeah...that’s me.”

  Nikki crossed her arms, studying me like she was trying to figure out if I was worth her time. Her smirk deepened. “Nice wig.”

  “Thanks,” I muttered, adjusting the black-and-red scene wig I’d thrown on this morning. It wasn’t my usual look, but I wanted something different something louder, grittier. My black tank top with the heart and skull design, plaid skirt, and fishnets didn’t exactly scream “subtle” either.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Before I could embarrass myself further, Mike’s voice cut through the tension. “WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU TWO? GET ON STAGE !”

  The stage was chaos. The crowd was packed tighter than I’d expected, with faces I didn’t recognize and some I wished I didn’t. My ex, Maxine, stood near the back, surrounded by mutual friends who’d dropped me when she decided I wasn’t cool enough anymore.

  Yeah the type of friends that rather will trust someone who they know not even fuckin one year, over someone they know they're whole childhood.

  Whatever. Tonight wasn’t about her or them .

  We kicked off with My Chemical Romance’s Thank You for the Venom . My heart was pounding as my fingers flew across the strings, the music drowning out everything else. Nikki’s voice joined mine in perfect harmony, her rough edge adding something raw to the sound.

  By the time we hit Helena , the energy was electric. The crowd was shouting along, and I couldn’t help but steal glances at Nikki. She owned the stage like she was born for it, her movements deliberate and powerful.

  Then came I’m Not Okay (I Promise). I let the adrenaline take over, locking eyes with Maxine as I flipped her off midverse. The crowd roared with approval, and Nikki shot me an amused glance, her smirk widening.

  When the song ended, Nikki leaned into her mic. “Caytlin Rosē, everyone. Looks like someone’s got unfinished business.”

  The crowd erupted, and I felt my face flush. Nikki didn’t let up, throwing a playful arm around my shoulder as we launched into the final song.

  As she walked away, I felt my heart hammering in my chest.

  After the set, the chaos of packing up began. I was coiling wires and checking my gear when Nikki appeared beside me, leaning casually against the amp.

  “Not bad, Rosē,” she said, her smirk softening into something almost...approving.

  I shrugged, trying to play it cool. “You weren’t so bad yourself.”

  She laughed a short, sharp sound that felt like it was aimed directly at me. “You always this awkward, or is it just me?”

  I froze, unsure how to respond, but she didn’t wait for an answer. “Relax. I’m messing with you. Nice moves out there, by the way. That middle finger? Iconic.”

  I laughed nervously, rubbing the back of my neck. “Yeah, well...it felt right in the moment.”

  “Bet it did,” she said, her tone laced with sarcasm. Her eyes flicked over my outfit, lingering for just a second too long. “You’ve changed since high school. The scene look suits you.”

  “Thanks,” I said, unsure whether to feel flattered or mocked.

  Nikki pushed off the amp, slinging her jacket over her shoulder. “See you at the next concert, Rosē.”

  As she walked away, I felt my heart hammering in my chest. Nikki Mortemore was back in my life, and she was everything I remembered and more.

  By the time we hit Helena , the energy was electric. The crowd was shouting along, and I couldn’t help but steal glances at Nikki. She owned the stage like she was born for it, her movements deliberate and powerful.

  Then came I’m Not Okay (I Promise). I let the adrenaline take over, locking eyes with Maxine as I flipped her off midverse. The crowd roared with approval, and Nikki shot me an amused glance, her smirk widening.

  When the song ended, Nikki leaned into her mic. “Caytlin Rosē, everyone. Looks like someone’s got unfinished business.”

  The crowd erupted, and I felt my face flush. Nikki didn’t let up, throwing a playful arm around my shoulder as we launched into the final song.

  As she walked away, I felt my heart hammering in my chest.

  After the set, the chaos of packing up began. I was coiling wires and checking my gear when Nikki appeared beside me, leaning casually against the amp.

  “Not bad, Rosē,” she said, her smirk softening into something almost...approving.

  I shrugged, trying to play it cool. “You weren’t so bad yourself.”

  She laughed a short, sharp sound that felt like it was aimed directly at me. “You always this awkward, or is it just me?”

  I froze, unsure how to respond, but she didn’t wait for an answer. “Relax. I’m messing with you. Nice moves out there, by the way. That middle finger? Iconic.”

  I laughed nervously, rubbing the back of my neck. “Yeah, well...it felt right in the moment.”

  “Bet it did,” she said, her tone laced with sarcasm. Her eyes flicked over my outfit, lingering for just a second too long. “You’ve changed since high school. The scene look suits you.”

  “Thanks,” I said, unsure whether to feel flattered or mocked.

  Nikki pushed off the amp, slinging her jacket over her shoulder. “See you at the next concert, Rosē.”

  As she walked away, I felt my heart hammering in my chest. Nikki Mortemore was back in my life, and she was everything I remembered and more.

  And I had no idea what I was getting myself into.