As the song began I crept through the crowd until I was in the second row from the front; close enough to see him yet hidden just enough to not be seen in return. The music was slow and intense with a distinctive beat. It was obviously a personal one, close to his heart and with every second my breaths became louder in my throat and my face heated up in affect. I ducked my head to hide my eyes, in turn discarding of the rest of the people in the room in my imagination; as if it was just me listening to his private thoughts and feelings. He began singing and with every urge and encouragement that he could muster, he pronounced the first demand in tune: “Leave that boy”. I raised my head, failing my resistance to look at him. He was compelling and enigmatic; his cheekbones cut through the shadows and his eyes pointed downwards as he shared his vulnerability with the room. His long brown hair fell around his cheeks softly, only doing justice to his perfect, agonized face.
He was entering into the chorus now and his backup dancers had surrounded him on the floor, taking their time to imitate a hurt man in love. Each of the male dancers picked a girl from the front row to dance with and smolder, and flatter her while the space between me and Lucas was so open and obvious that it was like I’d been caught sleepwalking naked in public. His eyes lifted just then as if he sensed my presence and he stood up from his chair, apparently surprised and changed his focus away from me. His words were falling even more passionately from him now. Slowly and curiously he began walking in my direction with his face down and I was terrified of what might happen next. I glanced around me for some assurance of escape or at least in hope of seeing the unsuspecting look on people’s faces around me, but the girls in my row and behind were all screaming loudly and inching their bodies further and further forward in order to win proximity with him. He stopped in my immediate space and lifted his head to face me. His eyes were completely giving everything away; the blue in them faded where he was scared and aggravated, the twinkle in them glistened where he was excited and promising me something divine and his face was hardened, yet with the extension of his wide hand it made his reluctant presence welcoming. He was asking me to dance. I looked around me, gasping, finding myself in an impossible position. This was the most vulnerable I had ever been in all of my life and little did everybody else in the room know, but this little gesture was a meaningful and consequential display of secret affection that me and Lucas shared for one another.
I took his hand for lack of options and allowed him to pull me onto the dance floor and as he sung the verse about the girl who was causing him frustration for being with a boy who would only hurt her, he pulled me in. And without saying the words, he implied with his tone that he only cared so much because the boy was not him, he twirled me so enamoured-like that I could not move through will, but as if I was looking down at us from above, completely lost in the moment. The song ended and he kept his eye contact with mine and I knew then that I loved him to the point of devastation, for if he ever left my life, I would forever look back into the past and feel an emptiness inside that would never be healed again. He shared a look with me that expressed how much he cared and it felt like all of my body was tingling. He then let go of my hand and it was as if a treasure had been snatched from me. He walked back towards the center of the stage and I followed suit as the rest of the girls were lead back into the audience by the security guards.
I had to leave immediately. Nothing could make me stay and I’d come for what I’d hoped to see; an insight into Lucas’s soul and truth about his feelings for me. For with surety and not a smidgen of doubt, I knew that the girl in the song was me and that Lucas hated my boyfriend. I knew that no matter how hard I tried I could not stop thinking about him too but never did he make it known that he had feelings as well, only that he had strong feelings that I should be with someone else, someone other than Rodger. Rodger was there for me, but he had never captivated me like this and nor did he really understand me. But how was I to know if Lucas wanted me? It was torment to make me feel so strongly and look twice at my relationship without explaining to me why; without telling me what made his opinion so golden.
I was far away from the gig but I still felt as close to Lucas as I had done twenty minutes before. The guilt was now creeping in and it didn’t take long until it was drowning me. I started biting my nails as I worried about what I was feeling. Was I wrong to feel like this? Was I bad for loving someone else? How was I going to tell Rodger? I finally thought, landing on the inevitable truth.
I carried on walking, only now it was with less haste and energy and with more hesitation and delay. I deliberately walked the wrong way around town so that I would have to pass by Rodger’s street. Should I call on him now?
I pulled out my phone underneath a street light and hunched my clothes tighter towards me; it wasn’t a cold night but it was unsettling alone. I lifted my phone to my ear and heard the first ring.
“Hello?” Rodger answered on the fifth and sounded tired.
“Hey Rodge.” I said guiltily.
“Silvia, what’s wrong?” he asked curiously.
“Am I ok to call on you? I’m in the area.” I asked hopefully and he dawdled a little, obviously not fond of the idea but eventually agreed.
“Just text me when you’re here so my parents don’t answer the door.” He instructed and I agreed. He valued his privacy immensely, even to the point that after six months I still wasn’t allowed to meet any of his family or hang out with him and his friends.
I arrived two minutes later after speed walking panicky down the ever darkening roads until I got to the private street. I texted him immediately and shifted behind the gate, facing away from the modern house to stay aware of my surroundings.
I heard a door open quietly behind me and watched as Rodger came bumbling down the path in a dark blue hoody and looked at me expectantly. How was I going to say this?
“What’s up?” he asked casually as if I was just another kid from school dropping by.
“Rodger, I’ve got something I want to tell you.” I began seriously and I saw his shoulders drop as he clocked on. He waited still for me to say it.
“I’m not sure I feel the same about us as I did six months ago.” I said delicately, hoping to not have to explain it further. Rodger let out a short breath and then cleared his throat.
“What… ahem, has anything made you have second thoughts?” he fumbled. My face went red at fear of his suspect, and afraid of causing drama, and unnecessary pain I shook my head fiercely.
“I don’t feel as connected to you as I once did and I’m ready to let it go.” I said slowly, pausing and continuing to make sure that I chose my words carefully.
“Yeah, I understand.” He said calmly and then he rose his head again with a stern expression. “This has nothing to do with Lucas does it?” he asked angrily.
“Lucas?” I asked, hedging.
“Yeah Lucas. He’s always staring at you and talking to you privately. What’s his deal?” he interrogated and I was at a loss for words.
“I don’t know, I think he just thinks that he knows me maybe. Tries to give me advice.” I said vaguely.
“Well I don’t like him. Has he given you any advice about me?” he demanded and I didn’t say anything.
“He has hasn’t he?” he said huffing.
“No, he’s just trying to get under my skin. This has nothing to do with him anyway. The point is, is that I just don’t have strong feelings anymore.” I reminded him and he nodded solemnly.
“Alright, well, thanks for stopping by.” He said coolly and I nodded awkwardly. He made his way back into his house and I stopped myself from saying anything further; best to let time do its thing now. As soon as he entered back into the house and shut the door it was as if the air became cold again, and that little feeling of safety that comforted me when he was here evacuated. I ran as fast as I could towards a bus stop and waited eagerly and with high anticipation for its arrival, feeling nervous in my desertion.
Aside from my anxiety, I was also feeling a new lightness to me that had maybe been compressed before; I felt free; I felt like I’d done the right thing.
The bus’s headlights came into view first, to my huge relief and I allowed myself to relax. When it stopped and opened its doors I was only too happy to rush into this obscure and unusual sanctuary.
I headed straight up the stairs and briefly glimpsed over the faces of the two other passengers before I chose a spot a good distance away. I felt uncomfortable being alone again for the two other people had rough appearances and hard expressions and although they were both sitting alone, their lack of distraction only made me feel more self-conscious and vulnerable. As I looked out the window I realized that I’d gotten on the wrong bus; it was the right bus in the sense that eventually it would stop near my home but wrong in the sense that it would go all the way around town again before it got there and that added forty more minutes to my journey. I leaned back into my seat and sighed, bracing myself for the uncomfortable ride ahead.
The first ten minutes were dull and quiet and it was only until I became aware of the surroundings outside that my energy found a new lift. We were passing the venue where Lucas had played his gig. I couldn’t help myself; I pressed my hand against the window and watched with acute vision and waited- for what could have been in vain- for Lucas to come into sight. The bus eventually pulled away and I sank back into my seat again, dejected for the second time during the journey. A familiar flop of hair rising up the stairs caught me by surprise and I widened my eyes in panic at the sight of Lucas stepping onto the top floor. I quickly looked out the window to not draw attention to myself, while secretly hoping that he’d sit near me. And just as easy as that, Lucas slid himself onto the seat in front of me. I held my breath, afraid to make a sound and stared at my hands nervously. Lucas placed his bag on the seat next to him and snuck a quick glance behind him to check out whoever was behind. When he saw my bowed head, he paused and turned to face me fully.
“Silvia.” He said softly and it was like my body jolted with happiness. I lifted my gaze afraid of how visible my embarrassment was on my cheeks.
“Hey, how are you?” I asked nervously, feeling my face go redder.
“I’m good. I was surprised to see you at the gig.” He said directly and watching me intensely. I felt like every move I’d make, and everything I’d feel would be acknowledged certainly.
“I was surprised when you asked me to dance.” I squared up to him, approaching our familiar stubborn battle of trying to converse without giving any hint of our feelings for each other away.
“Passion of the moment.” He said and my face blazed at this obvious confession, yet it was so subtle and vague that it could have been all wishful thinking on my part. Confronting him on it could easily make me seem like a fool, and yet still, acting coy about it may also make me seem slow.
“Why did you ask me to dance?” I asked finally. There, that was a reasonable open ended question; it gave nothing away about what I assumed or hoped and still did no damage to my intelligence or credibility. He just stared at me, telling me everything again but in such an easily deniable way.
“I broke up with Rodger tonight.” I changed the subject hoping to lure him into speaking that way.
“You did?” he asked with a hint of hopefulness.
“I realized that I didn’t have feelings for him anymore.” I lowered my gaze again hoping that he would tell me what I wanted to hear- that he wanted me, that he loved me too.
“That was a good decision.” He said simply, so condescending again. As if he knew everything that was better for me and I was slow on the uptake.
“It was not influenced by your suggestions.” I said sternly, angry at this.
“I’m just glad that you did it, and now you can find a boy that’s worth your time.” He said casually, which annoyed me further. We both knew that he had feelings for me so why was he so aloof? He had turned back around to face the front of the bus so that his back was to me now.
“Do you know any examples?” I asked pushily and obviously not for the sake of conversation. He remained silent.
“I guess I shouldn’t hold my breath.” I muttered and he turned around suddenly, having had a nerve stricken.
I kept my gaze away from him angrily and out of the window as I waited for him to rise up to the opportunity.
“Maybe there aren’t any that you deserve at the moment.” He said quietly.
“And who’s to say that?” I snapped.
“I’m just saying, you deserve the best.” He stated and then turned around.
“Well I’m intrigued then to know your opinions on the guy that I’m currently interested in.” I was squeezing my eyes shut as I said this and every moment prickled and held stony still in mid-air: never passing without ease; never without strong erratic emotion.
He quickly turned and scrutinised me and I forced myself to meet his gaze. The moment was so intimate that it felt wrong to be doing it in public.
“I’m listening.” He peaked and waited.
“I’ve no doubt that he will mess me about like any other boy because he’s been playing on my feelings for weeks; showing me his interest while shooting me down all the while. However I find myself attracted to him to the point that I fear I can’t stop being.” I said aloud, voice shaking near the end.
“I’m sorry.” He said as he breathed and I found myself surprised by this affirmation. Was he finally admitting it all?
“You want my advice on what to do?” he asked softly and I nodded without looking at him.
“He sounds like he’ll make you crazy but that’s probably because he’s crazy about you.” He confessed and I felt my heart pinch, and it was like the pleasure of an ache being massaged delicately. “Kiss him.” He advised me assuredly and I found myself all revved up. I glanced at him, terrified and took in his vulnerable face and his pale welcoming lips. I leaned forward slowly and he inched towards me, and I courageously pressed my mouth against his. At first touch I became hungry and wanted more. I leaned into him forcefully, eager to taste every centimeter. It was succumbing, it was electric and it was right; I was addicted and couldn’t stop. When we finally pulled away, his hand was on my face and my hair was on his lips, and our closeness was as vibrant as fireworks. My love for him had been contracted there and then.
“Finally.” I exhaled.
“Finally.” He growled.
Grace King 