Ocean Eyes

Chapter 2

"So glad I got here on the first day." I think, come tomorrow morning, the whole site will be a muddy slip'n'slide.

Strolling through the grass towards the Saloon stage, I take my time and enjoy the walk, people-watching as I go. Festivals aren't as fun on your own, but are prime locations for seeing interesting and different people.

Before long, a large blue and yellow canopy looms into view, a wooden sign perched outside reading, 'SALOON STAGE', complete with stick cartoon drawings of cowboys and whiskey bottles. Speaking of whiskey, I look around for the nearest bar. The sun is beating down and my throat's drying up. Parched, I head for the drinks tent across from the stage and buy a small fruit cider.
£4.50?! Rip off.

Entering the Saloon tent, I look at my watch: 4.59pm. Just on time! I stand midway back, to the right hand side. Two men walk on stage. The first has darting, tired eyes and wears a terrible Hawaiian-style shirt, but picks things up with dark jeans, and shades perched in his blonde hair. The second wears all black and leather, matching his dark hair, eyes, and the morning-after stubble creeping its way along his angular chin.
Both are very handsome.

The first scoops an acoustic guitar from an array of 3 or 4 different guitars at the back of the stage, the other disappears behind a large keyboard set-up. As they begin to play a mixture of slick techno beats and classical-style chords (which somehow works), the fans at the front burst into dance. There seems to be no particular style or arrangement to them, each moving their own body as they are inclined, with no inhibition or hesitation. I envy their carefree attitudes. Mr. Hawaii launches his voice into the microphone: powerful, emotive, capturing the crowd with ease.

I sip my drink and tap a foot along to the music, moving with the beat but remaining reserved, shy.
After a few songs, my mind wanders and I become nervous for my set later on. I scan the crowd, trying to imagine how they might react to my music. I struggle to think of them enjoying it, envisaging boredom and nuisance instead.
They might even be angry.
What if they hate me? What if they boo me off? Throw things? My head feels as though it about to pop and I panic, trying to read the faces around me, willing them to tell me something.

Through a tiny gap in the heaving crowd, my eyes catch another pair across the room.
I stop in my tracks.
They're calm.
Blue. Blue like the ocean.
I can see the colour even from here.
I'm lost.
Deep blue.
Like the ocean.

In a snap, they're gone. I slip through the crowd and try to find those eyes again, but to no avail. Disappointed, I turn back to the stage and try to engage with the music once more, Hawaiian shirt guy is crooning into the mic,

"Feel the loving as you twist and dance,
Make the most of this chance..."