Butterfly Kisses

One

The vibe in the club was electric. It bounced off the walls and seeped under my skin. I can’t believe Helen convinced me to come. I’ve never been to a club before, never been to a gig. I mean sure I’ve been to the pub with my friends, but this is something else. The place is packed, wall to wall bodies. It smells of sweat and beer, which is what I guess is covering the floor as it feels really sticky and my shoes keep getting stuck.

Helen is always going on about the ‘Dark Horse’, a club where they have really good unsigned bands, and they’re not too fussy about ID. She was right. I wore my shortest dress and high heels just in case, but the bouncer didn’t bat an eyelid. I’d felt slightly pleased that I’d fooled him, but after entering the club I could see I wasn’t the only one. Some people were obviously underage. The walls of the club are painted black and red, a bar running along one side with tattered posters pinned to the wall and band flyers littering the sticky floor. It’s quite a small room really, which probably explains why it’s so crammed.  It makes me feel like I’m part of a secret, being here, like I’m one of the in crowd. As I scan the crowd I spot Helen returning with a pint of some dark purple liquid from the bar.

“Try it, it’s nice.” She says taking a sip of hers.

I tentatively sip mine and am pleasantly surprised. It tastes like cherry coke, alcoholic cherry coke. I frown noticing my drinks in a plastic pint cup. I’m used to pint glasses and I can’t help wonder why it’s in a plastic cup. 

As the lights dim you can feel the anticipation in the air, as everyone turns towards the stage, a weird hush falls. Both me and Helen turn towards the stage, not sure what to expect. Helen had heard good things about this band and whined at me until I’d agreed to come.

 The spot light comes on and illuminates the lead singer, guitar strapped to his chest. He sweeps his loose black hair out of his face, smiles shyly at the audience, and then the music starts. It’s loud. I can’t make out the drummer at the back but there’s a bass player on the right and another guitarist on the left.

“These guys are good!” Helen says grabbing my hand and pulling me further into the crowd.

We get as near to the stage as we can and take big gulps of our drinks. The atmosphere is electric. There’s bodies dancing all around and I’m not sure if it’s the alcohol but I soon find myself swaying to the music as well. This is fun, I’ve never been anywhere like this before. I close my eyes and abandon my body to the music. The lead singer’s voice is so raw, the drum beat vibrates through my body, and I feel alive and free. Helen is dancing beside me and dropping her empty plastic pint cup she grabs my hands and we dance together, oblivious to anyone else on the floor, simply getting lost in the music. I soon understand the plastic cups as several go hurtling past our heads. I glance up at the stage as my hips sway and watch the lead singer. He’s eyes are closed and his guitar is hanging by his side as he holds the microphone with both hands. My stomach gives a little flip at the sight of him, he’s so lost in the music, passionate and stripped bare. He’s wearing a black button down shirt rolled up to the elbows and dark blue jeans, heavy thick chains glint from his pockets to his belt loop. I feel a little overdressed compared to the rest of the crowd. Most are in jeans and band T shirts, a few girls are in dresses but in dark hues. I’m wearing a bright red dress that is floaty and cut just above the knee. Helen said it would be fine, even though she’s wearing a tight fitting little black dress. Helen looks stunning, she always looks stunning. Guy’s are always falling over Helen, she’s tall and thin and bubbly in that way guys like. I on the other hand am none of those things. I’m shy, awkward, short and a little more curvy shall we say. Boys never used to give me a second look, well not until a few months ago when I stopped wearing all the baggy clothes. It was like suddenly all the boys in school saw me for the first time. Helen is only a little older than me, but if you didn’t know her you’d think she was 18, she just has that way about her.