Thoughtful (Thoughtless, #1.5)(10)
Both girls feverishly flirted with me until it was time to go onstage. I was certain I could go on a date with either one of them, if I wanted. Maybe both, if they were up for it. I didn’t ask though; my mind was other places. Denny would be here soon.
When it was time for us to go play, a familiar feeling washed over me—anxiousness mixed with peace. As I walked up the steps to the stage worn with use, I felt the remnants of who I was melting off me. Onstage, none of my worries touched me. It was like I was a different person. Like I was acting, and yet I was being more truthful than I ever was off the stage. I bled my heart out while I was performing, not that many people truly noticed; they were too busy enjoying the showmanship to dig beneath the surface of the words. There was safety in the scrutiny, anonymity in the spotlight. I felt invincible up there. Just me and my guitar.
Behind me was the coolest backdrop of any stage I’d been on to date. The wall was pitch-black, and covered with old guitars in every shape, size, and model you could think of. None of them held a candle to my simple acoustic instrument though. Sometimes the most beautiful things in the world were overlooked because of their flashier counterparts. I preferred quiet beauty.
As I gripped the microphone stand, I shifted my gaze out in front of me. Ear-splitting screams blended into one giant wall of sound. Girls of every race, age, and size were jockeying for position in front of my feet. I smiled down at them with an expression that was as much encouragement as it was a come-on. They ate it up, jumping and waving their hands so I’d notice them. I lifted my eyes to take in the crowd farther back from the stage. Clumps of people surrounded the various tables. The bar was packed. Good. I liked playing to a full house.
“Evenin’, Seattle,” I murmured into the microphone.
The girls right in front of the stage started shrieking again. One of them to the left of me slumped like she was fainting. Luckily one of her friends caught her and helped her to her feet; I’d hate to be the cause of someone getting seriously injured.
“Everybody doing okay tonight?” I asked while Matt, Griffin, and Evan got situated. There was a flurry of answers from the bar, most of them of a positive nature. I glanced at my bandmates, saw that they were settled and ready, and turned my attention back to the crowd. “Let’s get this party started then!”
I pointed behind me to Evan. He took my cue and began the first song on our set list. A hard, driving beat filled the bar, and I lost myself to the rhythm. Matt and Griffin joined in for their parts, and then I joined in for mine. The girls near me went crazy. I played with them, flirted a little, made each and every one of them feel like I was anxious to meet up with her later tonight. I wasn’t going to, not tonight anyway, but what harm did it do to make them believe that? Everyone wanted a little fantasy in their life.
Throughout our set, I kept one eye on the doors for Denny. He should be showing up any time. I wondered if he’d look the same—unruly dark hair that stuck up everywhere; short, skinny frame. I wondered what his girlfriend looked like. I kept picturing her as a petite blond thing for some reason.
The song we were singing was a fan favorite, and everywhere I looked people were singing along. I focused in on the group in front of me. Propping a foot up on a speaker, I leaned out into the crowd, letting them touch me. It was complete mayhem, but the way they grinned made me smile. It was nice to be able to make people happy, even if it was for a really strange reason.
I was suggestively running my hand down my body when I felt something. It was the oddest sensation I’d ever felt, like lightning was about to strike and the air was charged with static electricity; even though it was warm in the bar, my skin was pebbled with goose bumps. I kept the majority of my attention on the girls clamoring for me to notice them, but I lifted my eyes to the doors.
There was a girl being led into the bar. Whoever was with her was weaving her through the packed crowd. I couldn’t see the person in the lead at all, and was only catching glimpses of the mystery woman, but it was enough. I saw hundreds of girls every night, some plain, some beautiful enough to be highly sought-after cover models, but this girl…even seeing her through a crowd, there was something about her that sang to me. It nearly stopped me in my tracks. Mentally, at least. I was having difficulty getting the right words to come out of my mouth. I was sure I’d said those last two lines completely wrong.
It was almost like I’d been punched in the gut. My breath felt strained, and I was getting sort of light-headed. What was it about her that affected me so much? I didn’t entirely know, and it freaked me out. She was studying the band as I discreetly studied her, and from what I could see of her expression, she didn’t seem overly thrilled with us. I wondered why.
Wavy brown hair bounced along her shoulder blades as she walked through my field of vision. It was hard to clearly make her out with the space and bodies between us, but I saw long legs under her jean shorts; they seemed to go on forever. And she was wearing a tight shirt that highlighted her small, perky breasts. The light yellow fabric almost reached her waistline, and the thin band of skin around her middle showcased her trim stomach in a classy but tantalizing way. She was long and lean like she was a runner, like me. I wondered if we had that in common. Then I wondered what else we had in common. Blue eyes? A love of music? An almost debilitating need to never be alone?
I wanted to keep covertly staring at her all night long, but I couldn’t let this odd, overwhelming sensation of attraction distract me from the fans. I had a job to do, after all. I dropped my eyes to my girls and gave them all of my gyrating, teasing attention as I tempted them with my voice and my body. Whoever this random woman was, I’d probably never see her after tonight. And if I was going to meet her at all, it would have to be after our gig. There was no need to fixate on her now.