The bass of you

Chapter 11

We're an hour into the concert and I've started loosening up - thanks to Layla. She's managed, somehow, to get me to clap my hands and jerk my head forward in beat with the music - not as much as everyone else, but I'm doing it. I'm having a great time and considering it's my first concert, I couldn't have agreed to see a better band for my first time. The only thing is : I'm sure this is probably the best band I'm ever going to see live. Their music is great, Jackson's voice is great, the way they are onstage and their energy and the vibe is just great. Layla is singing her heart out and dancing like there's no tomorrow, she's sweating like hell and I've never seen her so full of energy. The music of the band really does something to her, and I can definitely feel what that something is. Black Dagger is a modern rock band, but they're doing hell of a good job with their music - there's no faulting it in any way. I've been paying particular attention to the drummer though. Watching him, I'm getting the all-too-familiar itch to get behind my own drum set and just get down to business. The loud music is booming all around the stadium and it's just a crazy yet therapeutic scene. There's people behind me holding up banners, throwing bras and other things on stage. A couple behind me are just snogging each other's face off. It's wild how crazy the audience is for Black Dagger and I'm not used to being in such a chaotic scene, but it's funny as hell.

As Jackson walks away from the mic stand in the middle of a song but is holding the mic in his hand as he's singing, the guitarist with the cowboy hat comes over to our side of the stage as he's playing his guitar and is now standing right in front of me and Layla. People to the sides of us and behind us have their arms reaching up, as if they crave to touch him as it seems he plays his guitar directly to us and teases the audience. He has one leg in front of him, his guitar resting on his thigh as he plays it and jerks his head forward in rhythm of the song. The first thing I notice about him is his overly sweaty body, drenched so much it looks like he's smothered in oil. He has a great body though, toned muscles on his stomach and chest, protruding muscles in his arms, despite his slim build. There's lots of tattoos on his forearms and upper arms, on one arm there's almost enough to make it a full-sleeve tattoo. On his wrists, he's got stacks of leather bracelets and ropey ones. Around his neck he's got a rope necklace with a large cross on it, smacking against his chest as he moves his body rapidly to the music. I can see an earring dangling from his ear and I'm sure that that that's a cross too.

But it's when I look to his face that my heart does numerous backflips and the butterflies in my stomach start turning all directions as they flutter dramatically. The light-brown - almost blonde, messy, wavy, medium-length hair. Smoky, dark-blue, hooded eyes. Crimson, full, pouty lips. Perfectly chiselled jaw and cheekbones.

Chase.

I swear I almost feel fainting when I realise it's Chase : the drunk boy I had been speaking to last night in the back-alley when he gave me a lighter to use. I had been speaking to the guitarist of Black Dagger, one of the biggest rockstars and celebrities in the world right now, and I had no idea at all who the hell he was. There's no mistake, it's definitely him. The booming music-filled surroundings with Jackson's voice slowly fade into a distant background noise as I stare at Chase in complete and utter disbelief at what I'm seeing. I'm trying my hardest to see the real face of the guitarist, to stop seeing the face of the boy I met last night and hoping that I'm only seeing his face because I want to or something, but the handsome face of Chase is just staying exactly where it is.

He looks at me as I stare at him. I'm still clapping my hands, but slowly and unconsciously, as I stare at him in disbelief. He locks eyes with me and smirks, nodding his head at me once, as if he acknowledges who I am. This drives Layla mental as she notices it and starts squealing so much in my ear that I'm sure my ear drum is damaged.

"Oh, my, God!" Layla shouts to me over the music as I continue to stare, motionless and expressionless, at the guitarist I believe to be Chase. She nudges my arm and I finally snap my head to look at her as she leans into my ear and shouts again. "He bloody looked and smiled at us! That was the best moment of my life!"