Golden

47

Harry's POV

I kept my head down low as I sipped my extra strong drink, mindful not to draw too much attention to myself as I slinked in the back corner of the overcrowded bar in one of the very last available seats. I readjusted the dark hat on my head to hide my face more from anyone passing by me that may glance in my direction and entirely blow my cover and cause a scene. I placed my hand on the side of my temple when suddenly, I felt a gentle squeeze on the top of my arm beside me.
"Ah, my chéri!"
I turned glanced down at the perfectly manicured fingernails that were wrapped around my bicep tightly, immediately recognizing the accent and the voice whispering my pet name.
"I almost didn't find you in this absolute mad house. It's crazy here! And that god awful cap really does nothing for the fashion statement you're trying to make with your outfit."
I smirked, lifting my head just a touch to meet her glimmering eyes. "That's the plan," I assured her slyly as I pulled the seat out next to me for her to sit down. "Glad it's working."
Camille lowered herself next to me, wasting no time at all before gingerly reaching across the bar top and picking up my drink with her outstretched fingers. She pressed the straw to her ruby lips and took a hefty sip, but instantly made a disgusted face as she placed the glass back down disappointedly upon tasting the liquor. "Ugh." She choked, covering her mouth and coughing. "Tequila. Gross."
I laughed lowly, watching her stick her tongue out, trying to get the taste of the alcohol out of her mouth as she grimaced. "That's the risk you take whenever you steal my drinks," I reminded her lightly. "And you should know by now that tequila is my favorite."
"It's a risk I'm willing to take when it comes to stealing anything from you." She playfully winked at me, motioning down towards the blouse she was wearing. She wriggled her eyebrows as she stuck her chest out, proudly showing it off. "Look familiar?"
I scoffed as my gaze scanned her outfit slowly, at once recognizing it. "Hey, I have been looking for that..."
She straightened up in a green and white stripped top, both of us knowing that the shirt had come directly from my closet. She peered back at me with a self-satisfied grin and noted, "If I'm not mistaken, I think it was me who suggested you buy this top in the first place." She snickered and puckered her lips at me. "And it looks much better on me anyway."
"Debatable," I teased back softly just as she pulled out her phone from her designer purse and nodded towards the stage at the front of the bar.
"So this is the band you've been telling me about nonstop for months?" She asked curiously, multitasking and scrolling through her endless text messages.
I nodded excitedly, pulling my glass back towards me as I glanced at the empty stage with a deep longing for time to hurry up, eagerly counting down the seconds until she walked onto it and the night could really begin.
"You'll love them," I assured Camille with growing anticipation as the buzz from the audience was also building. "They're great. Their sound, the lyrics, their production, the storytelling...all of it...it's some of the best stuff I've ever heard. Ever. The entire band is so talented, but the lead singer, my God...she's...she's..."
My voice trailed off uncertainly, suddenly realizing exactly who I was talking to. I swallowed harshly, holding back the flood of words that I wanted to say and the feelings that erupted inside of me whenever I thought of her. I shoved them all back down to the pit of my stomach, suppressing the smile that had been tugging at my lips since I had first arrived here.
"They're great," I repeated squarely instead, my cheeks blushing furiously at my uncontrollable tangent.
Camille didn't notice. She had her phone pressed up to her face and was focused entirely on replying to a lengthy email, which I was actually grateful for.
I knew I lost control whenever I thought about her. But I couldn't help it. She consumed most of my waking thoughts lately and was even starting to spill over into my most recent dreams. I had been coming to all of her shows for months, hoping for a chance to just talk to her or at the very least have her somehow notice me. I was starting to feel pathetic at just how much and how badly I wanted her to know of my mere existence.
What if she does see me? I thought grimly to myself, suddenly frozen as my mind began racing at that possibility. What then? What would I do? Would she recognize me? Would she care? What would happen then?
The lights in the bar abruptly dimmed without warning and an explosion of excited, ear-piercing screams resounded around us the moment everything went black. Camille jumped next to me at the eruption of overpowering noise, not expecting that wild reaction from the crowd.
But I did. I felt it too.
I was on the edge of my seat as I cranked my neck to get a better view, nearly bursting out of my skin as my eyes followed the outlines of the figures on the side of the stage. One by one, the band ascended from the floor and took their places underneath the bright lights; the applause building as each member's shadow emerged from the darkness.
I noticed that they saved the very best for last.
She slowly walked into the spotlight in her usual attire of faded black jeans, a vintage band t-shirt and dirty Vans sneakers, and made her way to her designated spot at the front of the stage. She sat down on her small piano bench, running her fingers through her curls as she gazed out onto the crowd with a brilliant smile that could bring me to my knees. I was grateful it was dark so that no one could see me breathlessly gawking at her, trying to engrave every inch of her into my memory for safekeeping. She crinkled her nose as she inhaled to steady herself, a nervous habit I picked up on from seeing her perform so many times before. She was a mixture of excited nervousness and unyielding confidence – a balance she effortlessly perfected and embodied whenever she sang.
She's so beautiful, I thought helplessly to myself, almost in awe. So, so beautiful.
Her hands started delicately dancing across the keys as my ears perked up, recognizing this song from the last time they had performed just a week ago. It had been new then. No one had known the words yet.
"Oh, loving him was red..."
Her angelic voice echoed throughout the packed bar, a sound I heard even in my dreams. A thunderous roar of applause tore through the audience and I even stood up and whistled in adamant approval, throwing my hands over my head and clapping loudly at the song choice.
I had forgotten I wanted to remain hidden and unseen. She had a way of completely undoing me even if she didn't know it.
Camille shot me a curious glance from her seat as I instantly sat back down on the bar stool. She leaned in to ask me a question, but I held up my hand to silence her, quietly requesting that she wait until the song was over to speak.
All of my attention was on her.
With bated breath, I watched her from the back of the room, as far away from her as I could be, and wanting to be so much closer. Her voice was like a bullet straight to my chest – she made me feel things I didn't know were even possible. She painted an overwhelming and all-consuming picture with her words; she created her own little world with just her heartbreaking lyrics and vivid and visceral storytelling. She graciously allowed me – and all of us who listened to her – a small glimpse into her private and sacred safe heaven.
I knew I wanted to live in her space forever.
I wanted to stay. I wanted to stay with her.
"Remembering him comes in flashbacks and echoes
Tell myself it's time now, gotta let go
But moving on from him is impossible
When I still see it all in my head
In burning red..."
Suddenly it was just us in the room.
Everyone else around me completely disappeared as I watched her sing, feeling her words in the deepest parts of my soul. I felt her pain, her anguish, her loss, her love in every inch of myself. She had rooted herself into my own flesh; embedded herself into my skin; ripped through my blood stream like a tsunami tide. She felt like she was a part of me.
And I didn't mind in the slightest.
I wanted to know her more than I had ever wanted to know anyone before. I wanted to explore every single part of her until I knew her like the back of my own hand. I wanted to know everything about her – her darkest secrets, what kept her up at night, what got her up in the morning, what she promised herself she would never tell anyone because they wouldn't understand – I would. I would understand. I could be that person for her. I wanted to be that person for her. I needed to be that person for her.
But she didn't even know I existed.
Well, not really anyway...
The music faded out and was instantly replaced by deafening cheers from everyone in the entire bar. I whistled loudly again, making sure to remain sitting this time as Camille clapped politely next to me, keeping her eyes locked on me and my overzealous reaction. I knew she was staring at me, wondering what I was thinking, but nothing could take my gaze away from the stage.
"Thank you," she said into the microphone, almost in a surprised tone. She was always taken aback by how enthusiastic the crowd was.
She didn't know how amazing she was.
"I'm Lucy and welcome to the show."
My eyes lit up as the band began to play again.
Lucy Evans might be the girl of my dreams whether she knew it or not.