a little collection

49

I finish my song, welcomed back with a round of applause and positive shouts. I grin, and I raise my eyebrows when I see that same guy that's been at every one of my shows, even if they were local and small, he was always there.

He stands there, a small smile on his face and a drink in his hand. He has a black quarter zip on, zipped up to his neck. It's almost the same color as his hair, and I can tell that his eyes are green, even if he's all the way towards the bar.

I step off the stage, getting pats on the back and shoulders, and I go to the bar, sitting next to the man and ordering a water. I look over at him, he has very green eyes. Almost like a pine tree.

"I see you're always at my shows." I say, taking a sip of my water. He lets out a small laugh, looking down.

"I guess you could call me your groupie." I laugh at that, and I shake my head.

"Then today must be your lucky day. You know this already because I say it every show, but I'm Stella Howard." I say, holding out my hand.

"I didn't know your last name. I'm Nathan Foley." He responds, taking my hand.

"So how do I know that you're not some creepy stalker?" I ask, placing the lemon on my glass in my water.

"I don't know where you live, I mean, for all I know you could live on Sesame Street. Also, I don't have your phone number, email address, or know what bank you go to." I crinkle my brows.

"Why would you know what bank I go to?"

"Frankly, I don't know, I figure it's something a stalker knows." I burst out laughing. This guy is great.

"Anyway, I'm not a stalker. The only thing I know about you is that you sing, you don't drink alcohol after shows, and your name." Nathan flashes me a smile, revealing slightly crooked teeth, but a nice white smile.

"Maybe it's finally time we change that. Do you wanna go to the park, where it's less crowded and not as loud?" I ask, and he nods, placing a couple bills for his drink on the bar. We walk out, squeezing past the sweaty drunk people.

"So, how long have you been singing?" He asks, stepping out into the cool night air.

"Probably since I was six. My grandmother always encouraged me to pursue something in music, to fulfill the life that she couldn't."

"Do you like to do it?"

"Yeah, I guess it's pretty fun."

"But...?" He senses that I was hesitant.

"How'd you know there's a but?" I ask.

"I'm magic like that."

"It's just not what I want to do with my life. I want to become something bigger, not to the public eye, something I would feel big for doing. I want to write, I want to be known for something I worked on, not something I just sing into a mic." I sigh, and I'm surprised. I let out my biggest secret to a total stranger.

"What do you do?" I ask, and he laughs a little.

"Oof, what a pass to me. I'm actually a chef."

"Really?" It's only at this point that I noticed that he's holding my hand.

"Yeah. Have you heard of Locanda Veneta in Los Angeles?" I widen my eyes.

"Holy crap, that's...holy...what?!" I exclaim.

"Oh come on, it's not a big deal."

"It is, it's my favorite restaurant, it's one of the biggest ones!"

"I know."

"I have a question."

"Yeah?"

"Why did you come to all my shows?" He's silent for a minute.

"I like you. You're carefree. And...frankly, I think you're absolutely beautiful." That's all I needed to hear.

I stop him, grabbing his face and pulling him towards me, kissing him. He immediately kisses me back, and I feel alien.

I never thought I would kiss someone I barely knew, under the peek of a sunrise blooming above us, the stars still twinkling as the horizon pulls a grey color.

But he felt so different. He's more than just a stranger. It was as if he knew me long before.