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Lucky Son of a Bitch

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The crowd was near suffocating. Avery was pressed against the barriers at the foot of the stage, using what little room she had to move with the beat of the music.

"Are you glad we came or what?" Shaundi shouted over the music. Avery's eyes flicked to her friend beside her.

"Extremely fuckin' glad," she grinned. Turning her head back to the stage, she watched as the singer belted out the last few words of the song and raised his hands in the air.

"Stilwater!" he bellowed into the mic. "You're fucking amazing!"

Avery barely heard what he said next as her attention snapped to the drummer, who had gotten up from his set and walked to the edge of the stage. A drumstick in each hand, he launched one into the crowd, the screaming of the crowd rising, then did the same with the other one, right in Avery's direction.

The crowd surged up against Avery, banging her hips against the hard metal barrier. But she hardly registered her now aching hips, entirely focused on the drumstick clutched in her hand. Shaundi screeched beside her.

"Oh my fucking god, you got it!"

Avery looked up to the stage again, watching the band exit the stage, much to the dismay of the wild crowd. She felt Shaundi start to pull her back through the crowd, their spots quickly filling up with a pair of rabid Feed Dogs fans. They weaved their way through the thick crowd, back in the direction of the bar.




"Hey, I wanna find the other one."

Pushing their way through to the fringes of the crowd, the two brown haired males looked at each other.

"I don't think they're gonna give it up that easily, man," the shorter one replied.

"Not like that, dumbass," the taller snorted. "I just want to know who got it."

"Shit, Daniel," he said. "Let me grab a drink first."

"Sure thing, Pierce," Daniel replied, following his friend to the bar.




"Wonder who got the other one," Avery mused, fiddling with the small pink umbrella lolling over the side of her glass.

"A lucky son of a bitch," Shaundi replied, downing the rest of her shot.

"And I want to find that lucky son of a bitch." Avery pushed away from the bar, Shaundi close behind.

"Where the hell do we start?" Shaundi questioned, staring at the seemingly endless crowd that still milled around the foot of the stage.

"Not a fucking clue."

The words had barely left her lips when Avery found herself smacking face first into a hard chest.

"Shit, sorry."

Her eyes skirted over the icy blue eyes, the brown hair, and the grubby shirt, finally coming to rest on the drumstick in his hand. He must have done the same thing, because their eyes locked, their mouths opening in perfect sync.

"I've been looking for you."

"That shit's creepy, man," a guy beside him said.

"You're telling me," Shaundi grinned, slipping her hand around his and pulling him in the direction of the bar. "Let's get a drink."

She smiled over her shoulder at Avery, a glint in her eye, strongly reminding Avery of the Cheshire Cat as she turned back to the man in front of her.

"Uh, so," he said awkwardly. "Guess we don't have to comb the whole crowd for each other now."

"Guess so," Avery replied, a smile beginning to surface. "I'm Avery."


"Well, Daniel," she said, testing how the name felt on her tongue. "Guess I should buy you a drink for nearly knocking you on your ass."

He grinned. "Guess you should."