“Very cool. So, you’re a musician?” he asked as we inched closer to the bar. It was still ten feet away.
“Yeah, a pianist.” I turned my head away and fought a private grin.
“What’s so funny?” he asked, confused.
“Oh, nothing. I-well,” I said, facing him, “it’s just, I threw away a full scholarship to Berkeley for music to stay in town and help other musicians become successful. It just dawned on me how ironic that was. I find that hilarious.”
“That is...funny,” he said, not finding it funny in the least.
“I know it’s not funny, ha-ha, it’s funny, ridiculous.”
“Ah, I see.” He looked around a bit, decided he was bored enough to continue the conversation and asked, “So do you like Circumvent?”
“Yeah, I mean, I wouldn’t dare step on an Austin staple like Circumvent’s toes but, yeah, they’re okay.”
“No, really, tell me. I don’t know about them. First time seeing them, actually. Enlighten me.”
I bit my bottom lip, contemplating ragging on this band that was merely okay. “You tell anyone I thought this, I’d have to kill you, capiche?”
“Lips are sealed,” he said, leaning closer.
“Circumvent,” I began, “have an incredible base which is fairly impressive, but I believe that’s because of longevity mostly. Their talent is mediocre, their songs catchy but a bit too commercial, and their stage presence lacks. They’re just, ‘meh.’ They lack the talent to really push themselves over the edge, to put them in a position to gain a national following.” As I spoke, the guy was leaning closer and closer to me. He looked at me like he’d just noticed me. “What?” I asked.
“What are you doing for a living right now....?”
“Oh, sorry,” I said. “I’m January.”
“I’m Jason,” the guy said, holding out his hand.
“Nice to meet you, Jason,” I said, taking his hand before dropping it. “I’m, uh, currently unemployed,” I said, laughing.
“Cool, cool. Don’t go anywhere after the show, okay?”
“Uh, okay,” I said, eyeing him strangely.
“I’m not a freak. I promise,” he said. “Just hang around in the crowd after the show. I’ll find you.”
“Why?” I asked him as he stalked off outside, forgetting why he was standing in line.
“Trust me. It’ll be worth sticking around for.”
This equally intrigued me as well as frightened me but not enough that I wouldn’t find out what it was all about.
After I got my water, I headed back up front and squeezed my way through the crowd back to Sunny’s side, but she was nowhere to be seen so I stood lamely by myself. I didn’t care that much actually because I wanted a good “seat” for The Belle Jar. I wanted to be near the stage because there was a chance I needed to help cue Will on bass as he kept missing his new entrance on their third song.
Pampered Life shot out like a rocket from the beginning and blanketed the crowd around me, making everyone stunned by the power of it. It wasn’t long before everyone realized that The Belle Jar was a force to be reckoned with. I was so proud of them, riding high on their talent right along with them.
Seemingly out of nowhere, my breath was wrestled out of my chest when I saw him inch closer to the stage, a quiet towering figure, eyes intent on the stage. Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God. Breathe, January. Breathe. He watched The Belle Jar with rapt attention. As I looked on him, my feet pushed themselves closer on their own accord. I was being pulled toward him by an unseen force. I found my feet planted right next to him but couldn’t bring myself to look up at him. He was too magnificent to behold, really. He smelled so delicious I could have eaten him with a spoon. He was all man, no boy in him at all. I peeked briefly at his hands and guessed he probably played the bass judging by the size and location of the calluses.
I wanted to take his hands in mine and study them for hours, rub my thumbs over the worn bits of skin and warm them with my touch. The attraction I felt for him was heady and nothing like I’d ever felt for anyone before. My eyes followed his heavily clad feet, up his worn jeans, and around his wallet chain. I froze, not wanting to take it further, not wanting to know what I’d do if I went any higher.
A minute passed before my gaze traveled over the little bit of wide leather belt exposed under his dark, weighty hoodie and jacket. My eyes stopped at his goatee and I felt his considerable stare on my own face. He’d discovered me, but I was too enthralled to be embarrassed then. I reached up and met my eyes with his. They pierced me like an arrow, those ice blue eyes.
I don’t know what came over me. I couldn’t help myself it seems, and I watched my right hand travel up his arm slowly, glide over his shoulder, hesitate at his neck, but push further past the boundaries of sane as the back of my fingers trailed over the line of his jaw. I was pulled into the incredible magic this guy possessed over me. His skin was warm and surprisingly soft. His eyes closed at the feel of my hand, his jaw clenched slightly. I was distracted as his chest pumped with each deep intake of breath.
He surprised me when he turned more fully toward me and reached down, deliberately threading both his hands through my hair and bringing his face closely to mine. He narrowed his eyes, his brows furrowed slightly, conflict written in droves in the lines of his face. He took a deep breath in through his nose, languidly closed his eyes and exhaled slowly.