August…
The weeks after my altercation with Chuck passed slowly. I glimpsed him in passing around town, or when I helped Dorian in the store. He and I didn’t speak to each other, unless it had to do with one of his bands or preparation for Caesar’s Flame’s upcoming album release party. I dealt with Laramie more often than not, though he was still pissed at me for “assaulting” his best friend.
Chuck’s nose was mostly healed, but now there was a little bump on the bridge, courtesy of my fist. Instead of detracting from his looks, however, it made him even more handsome, which I despised myself for noticing.
The Friday night of the show, I cut my hair ruthlessly short and dressed in a plain white T-shirt and baggy jeans—no makeup. I even wore my glasses, though I usually preferred contacts
