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(4) | .James. | Then

Everyone was here but her. 

I was looking everywhere the entire time we were on stage. There were a couple hundred people huddled around but none of them looked even remotely similar to her. 

They didn't have her dirty blonde hair or her hazelnut brown eyes or her dimpled smile with smooth and soft lips. None of the girls around here were as petite and beautiful as her. 

It must have been around midnight when the crowds started to disperse. 

We finished a maximum five minutes ago and we're packing away all our equipment into the truck Luke's Uncle had hired for us. It was a pretty sweet ride with our logo printed onto the side in a bright graffiti in red, orange, and white colors. 

The boys were beginning to pack away the instruments into the back of the truck but considering the three of them already shared enough muscular strength amongst them all, I hop off the stage and make my way around the back. 

The costume closet was around the backdrop which was ideal because I needed to get myself out of these tie-dye dungarees this instant. 

I had never been one for fashion. I much preferred lounging around in a sweatshirt and joggers than to be wearing the most expensive items. 

The blue and green on me wasn't my style. I wasn't a naturalistic person. I like dull colors. Neutral ones which keep everyone wondering. Black, white, and grey. 

I creep around the corner of the stage which led to the curtains they had installed on the grounds for tonight. 

It was dark, not a single star in the sky, but the stage lights were bright enough for me to catch a glimpse of the girl sat in the corner on one of the two benches behind the backdrop. 

It's then that I notice the light wasn't coming from the stage. It was coming from her camera, the one she held tightly in her two hands. 

Seeing her makes me lose the frown and the agitated look and I walk over to sit on the bench beside her. Our thighs brush against one another's, and although I notice, I can't be sure if she notices it, too. 

I look down at the small rectangular screen on the camera as she scrolls through a range of photos she had captured over our three hour performance. The shots were perfect. Her angles were perfect. Her editing of the photos were perfect. She got the perfect captures and I can't help but smile. 

I was the main focus of a lot of the photos but I couldn't say I blamed her. If I was any good at photography, she would be the only focus of mine. 

"Where were you?" I speak up, my lips moving so quickly that my tone comes out glittery with shock. 

Riley suppresses her giggle by biting her lip but I wish she wouldn't do that. I want to hear her giggle more than I want to hear myself talk. 

"I was by the wings. I was given permission to watch from there after telling the bodyguards I was a hired photographer." 

She continues to scroll through and it gets to the zoom-ins of the instruments. The colors of my wooden drum couldn't have made a better contrast, especially shining in this darkness. "You play really well," she compliments me. 

I smile. I was never complimented for my skills. I was the guy in the background. The drummer. I didn't sing, I didn't play guitar. I played the drums. Not many people saw that as talent. 

"Anyone could play the drums if they really wanted to," I tell her. Again, my lips move without thinking, and she chuckles in response. What a stupid thing to say. No wonder she's laughing. 

She shakes her head and rolls her eyes playfully, looking at me. "Anyone could play the guitar if they really wanted to," she says. "But it would take weeks, months and possibly even years of practising to get perfect. Singing, playing the guitar, and even drumming is a skill. You learn it to become good at it." 

I hang onto her every word like it was a piece of thread I was tying around my finger. I don't want to forget what she's telling me. I won't forget it. 

"Photography is your skill," I tell her, watching the photos as she skims through them all. There were shots of the crowd. Girls sat on their boyfriends' shoulders. The lights of phone torches swaying in the dark. It was all so beautiful. 

She reaches the end of her slideshow and turns the camera off to save the battery, all whilst looking at me. 

I look down at her and our eyes meet. Her hazelnut crystals cross my chocolate circles and I move my hand to place on her knee. 

"Let me show you how to drum," I say to her. I wasn't joking. 

Her eyes widen and she scoffs. She thinks I'm kidding. I'm not. I want to show her my skills. I want my skills to become her skills. I want her to know everything I know so I can learn everything she's learnt. 

"James," she whispers. She looks around us because she hears footsteps but I knew it was only the guys packing the instruments away into the truck. "It's late. And they're about to lock the gates in a couple minutes." 

She wasn't wrong. 

"Not here," I tell her, making her look at me curiously. "At the studios the band and I were assigned to. We won't disturb anyone then." 

She thinks about it for a moment but the answer was inevitable. She nods her head and places her hand on top of mine as it remained on her knee. I forgot that's where my hand was. 

The feeling of her palm on my knuckles feels better than the feeling of her hand being on my knee on the plane before takeoff. It feels more tangible. Palpable. Sentimental. I don't want her to let go. I won't let go. 

"The studios? Now?" she asks softly, her voice a light whisper. 

I smile and nod, keeping this moment alive because I didn't want it to end and die out. I wanted to stay sat on this bench with her under the dark sky forever. 

"Now, Riles," I whisper back. The words roll off my tongue with such ease I forget what I'm saying but out of the corner of my eye, I watch her smile grow. 

"Riles," she repeats. 

She doesn't know the meaning behind that name. She doesn't know who I was thinking of aside from her. I can't tell if she's judging or admiring the name. I hope it doesn't get on her nerves. I hope I haven't triggered her despite definitely triggering myself. 

She gives my hand a light squeeze and somehow pushes all thoughts out of my head so all I can think about is her palm on my knuckles. She locks our hands together so there's no letting go. 

"I like that name," she tells me. 

If she likes the name, I have to like it, too. No matter the meaning behind it. 

I stand up abruptly and she frowns, looking at me. She wanted us to stay in that position forever. I did, too. But in this world, nothing lasts forever. Nothing at all. 

"Come on, let's go." I put my hand out to her and she takes it, standing up as well. I didn't feel like changing anymore. There was no need. 

"You're staying in the student accommodation too, aren't you?" 

She smiles and nods. "Room 142." 

I chuckle as she links her hand together with mine. "Great, I'm room 148," I say to her.

We were on the same corridor.