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˚ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦ ˚ . ★⋆. ࿐࿔ . ˚ * ✦ . . ✦ ˚ ˚ .˚ ✦ . . ˚ . ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖✶ It feels like cupid's arrow has shot me straight in the heart as I stare into Damien's pearly, white, devilish smile that I can see from the back of the crowd.
Maria cups her hands over her mouth and shoots a look at me that screams 'Holy fucking shit.'
And she's right. Because holy fucking shit. How? Why? What?
From behind me, I hear a girl in Maria's group mumble amongst the others "Isn't that the janitor?"
His bandmates are similar looking to him. Two, lanky other guys. Both ghostly looking, ordained with piercings and tattoos. Though, their demeanors seem more intimidating than Damien's.
Damien stands in the middle of the stage, towering over the mic stand. He wraps his long, calloused fingers around it and adjusts it as far as it can go just to meet his height.
He sticks out his tongue to wet his lips as he pulls a guitar over his shoulder. It looks well loved, being held together by shitty stickers and tape.
"Thanks for coming out tonight." He mumbles into the mic. The crowd cheers and he flashes another love-sickening grin. He chuckles to himself before tuning the guitar carefully.
Maria slithers beside me and grabs both of my hands tightly. "We have to get you to the front."
My breath hitches and I glance over at the crowd in front of us. This place suddenly began to look like a can of sardines.
"I don't think we'll be able to." My voice trails off and my teeth sink into my bottom lip.
"Trust me. And take this off, it's covering everything." She goes behind me and rips off the large leather jacket I was wearing.
"Is that necessary?" I grumble.
"Oh, yes, very necessary."
I wrap my arms around myself, it is fucking freezing out here. I can feel my nipples harden and I pray that they aren't dead obvious through this thin, tiny dress.
The last thing I want to look is desperate. Yet, I don't know what'd you call busting a bathroom window open just to briefly see a guy you barely know. Fuck it, I guess.
