First Chance : Rock Romance #1

Chapter 9

Natalie

Overhearing Steele ask one of the roadies where I was, I cowered into the wall hoping to make myself disappear from his view. He is way too intense. Every time, our eyes, meet his emotions flow out and push onto me. Holding me captive whenever we are within vicinity of each other. It is best if I stay out of his way, this attraction that I feel only lust, nothing good can come out of.

Ryan Hurst, a mystery I want to investigate and unravel. Denying myself an interaction with the man of the hour, day, week, next two months I run off back to where I had entered only moments before. The crowd. Not a fan of strange hands groping my ass, I usually stay in the back. Yes, even when I am an obsessed fan of the performer.

I need to hide though I do not want Steele spotting me in the audience. The first place he would look is in the way back. So I hide, right in plain sight, in the pit. Promising myself, I won't linger too long. I pull my hood up on my sweatshirt to hide myself from view to blend in. I missed the opening acts. It wasn't as crowded as now. Thinking it was best for me to join when everyone was mashed into one another.

As the lights dim down, one by one the guys take place on the stage. I've spent the better part of today with them, from what I've seen Steele is the leader, and there's no question as to why or how that came to be. The man is demanding and domineering; from my experiences to date he is like that in every aspect of his life.

I see Ryan take hold of the microphone and say his intro, causing everyone in my area to start jumping up and down, some asshole spilling quite a bit of his beer on me before snapping it back upright in his hand. I can't even hear what he's saying because everyone is screaming back, mostly obscenities even including some sexual offers.

I slide out of the spot I was in, not wanting to take a chance on drenching myself in alcohol even further. While pushing through other concert goers, they start their first song, one I haven't heard before. I end up in between a woman who's jumping up and down, and pulling her arm back and forth. Her elbow coming pretty damn close to my face each time. And behind me is a guy, with the body of a defensive linebacker, let's hope he decides not to mosh, it certainly wouldn't end well.

When the woman isn't jumping around like a goddamn kangaroo on crack, I end up with a pretty decent view of the stage. Taking Layla up on her advice, to opening my mind, taking advantage of the opportunity that was forced upon me. I listen; I close my eyes and just take it all in. Allowing Steele's voice to take me to the emotions, the place that he is singing about. His song, it must be his. Singing with such strong conviction, about loneliness, desperation, hate. Such contradiction, I wonder what situation he was writing about in his life to have written this, doubtful that anyone but him wrote this. No one can sing a song with such raging passion if they didn't own it. And owning this song is exactly what he was doing on that stage when I opened my eyes.

Wrong. I was wrong about him. I do not have to be a fan of his music to appreciate his artistry. Writing lyrics is an art, an extremely hard one, you bear your soul, allowing strangers in, allowing them to understand what you have felt at some point in your life. If the song weren't yours, everyone would see past the facade. It won't sound real; a fan cannot connect to something unreal. Disconnecting myself from his words, from his soul weakening voice, I untangle myself form the crown and run back to the tour bus.

Rather than be around when they get back from the meet and greet I decide to hide in my bunk. Steele will know when he sees me that I heard. Once I was told my eyes were an open book, try as I might to lock myself into a box I am forever failing at concealing my emotions. I need time, time away from his demanding prying eyes. Lifting my pillow up, I lift my iPod out from under my pillow and unravel the earphones, hoping I won't even hear them come back before I drift off to sleep. Hitting shuffle, the most poetically beautiful voices start singing, Mumford & Sons.