Saying Goodbye (What the World Doesn't Know) by Mahima Martel

before her very own eyes, and she hated it. Thankfully Gillian was there as a guest of Peter’s and helped to absorb some of the attention.
                “Don’t you feel the least bit weird?” she whispered to Gillian.
                “No, I feel lucky,” Gillian responded. “Can you imagine all those girls who are dying to be in our place?”
                Frankie gazed around. “But people are staring at us. They’re all imagining us having sex with the band.”
                “That’s only because you’re acting like an uptight freak! You have ‘I got laid by a Dark Knight’ written all over your forehead.” Gillian looked at her sternly. “Wipe it off!”
                Frankie sighed. “You’re right. Are you coming to the concert in New York?”
                “Nah, I gotta be on set; besides, it’s not like I was invited to tour with the band,” she said with a disappointed chuckle.
                Frankie bit her bottom lip, looked off toward the stage, and stared at Alex as he played. She didn’t dare say anything to Gillian about her conversation with him. While watching Alex play guitar, she wondered if they really had a chance together—if he really was “the one.”
Will a Dark Knight be my own knight in shining armor?
she thought with a wide smile.
                After the concert there was no time for formal good-byes. The band was whisked off before the fans had a chance to break through any barriers and get backstage. All Frankie and Gillian received was a fleeting wave from both Alex and Peter as security rushed them through the backstage crews. It felt extremely anticlimactic after the days they had spent together.
                “I need a drink.” said Gillian. “Do you want to go get a drink?”
                “Maybe we can head to the Brown Derby and check out the boys,” suggested Frankie.
                “I don’t really want to check out other boys,” replied Gillian. “I want just one boy.”
                “I know; me too.” Frankie took Gillian’s arm and they began making their way through the crowds toward Gillian’s red mustang convertible. Out of the corner of her eye, Frankie could tell Gillian was crying. “It’s better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all,” she said, trying to make Gillian feel better.
                Gillian wiped away her tears and then broke out with a dull laugh. “Oh, be quiet.”
                “Sorry,” said Frankie, although she couldn’t help smiling.
                It was a short ride from the Hollywood Bowl amphitheater to the Brown Derby, but their silence seemed to greatly extend the duration of the trip. As Gillian grasped the steering wheel, she tried unsuccessfully to suppress further tears of disappointment. “I know I talked a big game this morning, but, damn it, this is hard,” she said and then glanced at Frankie. “Don’t you feel bad?”
                “Honestly . . .” Frankie started carefully. “I’m going home to New York tomorrow. I’m going to see Alex Friday night.”
                Gillian gripped the steering wheel. “Well, I’m glad it worked out for you.”
                “Nothing
worked out
for me. I live ten minutes from the amphitheater where they will be playing. It’s just convenient,” Frankie said, trying to ease the tension. “If you didn’t have to work, I’d surely invite you to come home with me.”
                Gillian forced a tearful smile and rubbed Frankie’s hand. “Thanks. Alex does like you an awful lot.”
                “Really? How can you tell?”
                “He hasn’t taken his eyes off you since you two met.” Gillian laughed. “And you know what? I didn’t know Alex Rowley could smile until he saw