Sequel: For One Beat More ›
Smiling Politely
It's All Brand New
She allowed herself a small smile at the chatter of two of her friends, all about that boy in that band. The band and the boy changed on a near weekly basis but not for her.
There was only one boy, who just so happened to be in that band a little over sixteen weeks and four days ago.
That was when his band had played the small local venue where she worked as a cloakroom attendant on gig nights and as a glass collector on Fridays and Saturdays. Usually she ignored the tattooed, pierced, "he looks a little familiar" musicians who swaggered around the club. The type of boys her friends loved to throw themselves at, regardless of who they played for, what they looked like and how much their attitude stank.
But he was different.
He hadn't chatted her up. Hadn't looked down her tank top within the first five minutes of meeting her. Hadn't blanked her in the hallway. He had apologised for the bandmate who left a flight case at the bottom of the stairs when she bashed her shin on it. He had brought her a luke-warm bottle of water from the dressing room when the air conditioning unit in the tiny, sweltering room she was forced to work in all night had broken. He had kissed her on the cheek after walking her home, along the unfamiliar streets of the city she grew up in and the one he barely knew.
The city he would be back in in just over two hours. Her friends didn't know about him, didn't know who his band were (well, no one really knew that yet), didn't know that she was the happiest she had been in a while.
Their class was over twenty minutes later and the group of students and friends noisily made their way out of the studios and to the elevators. As they all squashed into the temperamental metal box and hoped they'd make it down the ten floors in one piece she couldn't help her smile. Her closest friend noticed the grin from across the small space and looked at her questioningly only to receive a shake of the head and a "I'll tell you soon" glint in her eye.
They reached the ground floor safely and spilled out through the foyer and the sliding glass doors into the roasting hot sun. As the group made their way down the wide paved path to the gates she noticed the white van parked directly in front of them with the side door open and five men hanging about beside it. One man in particular looked very familiar.
Ignoring her friend's loud whispers about who they were and what they were doing here she walked ahead, trying her best to remain composed. Three of the young men were sitting in the van, their gangly limps spilling out onto the hot tarmac of the road, one was leaning into the front seat, his boxers hanging out of his tight jeans while the last man pushed himself away from where he had been leaning against the door.
He was here.
There was only one boy, who just so happened to be in that band a little over sixteen weeks and four days ago.
That was when his band had played the small local venue where she worked as a cloakroom attendant on gig nights and as a glass collector on Fridays and Saturdays. Usually she ignored the tattooed, pierced, "he looks a little familiar" musicians who swaggered around the club. The type of boys her friends loved to throw themselves at, regardless of who they played for, what they looked like and how much their attitude stank.
But he was different.
He hadn't chatted her up. Hadn't looked down her tank top within the first five minutes of meeting her. Hadn't blanked her in the hallway. He had apologised for the bandmate who left a flight case at the bottom of the stairs when she bashed her shin on it. He had brought her a luke-warm bottle of water from the dressing room when the air conditioning unit in the tiny, sweltering room she was forced to work in all night had broken. He had kissed her on the cheek after walking her home, along the unfamiliar streets of the city she grew up in and the one he barely knew.
The city he would be back in in just over two hours. Her friends didn't know about him, didn't know who his band were (well, no one really knew that yet), didn't know that she was the happiest she had been in a while.
Their class was over twenty minutes later and the group of students and friends noisily made their way out of the studios and to the elevators. As they all squashed into the temperamental metal box and hoped they'd make it down the ten floors in one piece she couldn't help her smile. Her closest friend noticed the grin from across the small space and looked at her questioningly only to receive a shake of the head and a "I'll tell you soon" glint in her eye.
They reached the ground floor safely and spilled out through the foyer and the sliding glass doors into the roasting hot sun. As the group made their way down the wide paved path to the gates she noticed the white van parked directly in front of them with the side door open and five men hanging about beside it. One man in particular looked very familiar.
Ignoring her friend's loud whispers about who they were and what they were doing here she walked ahead, trying her best to remain composed. Three of the young men were sitting in the van, their gangly limps spilling out onto the hot tarmac of the road, one was leaning into the front seat, his boxers hanging out of his tight jeans while the last man pushed himself away from where he had been leaning against the door.
He was here.