I left the tattoo parlor and thought about going home but I could hear the bass off in the distance and headed towards it.
I didn’t like concerts. I didn’t like crowds. And I wasn’t overly fond of music. I didn’t follow popular bands or singers. I barely ever turned on the radio. Music was wrapped up with other things in my head. Convoluted things.
But I wasn’t there for the enjoyment of the musicians on the stage.
Really I was looking for him.
I touched the bandaged area on my side again and grinned. I couldn’t help it.
Because I had no doubt that he’d be here. I had noticed the flyers for the concert in the park plastered on the walls around his studio just last night. Last night when I had gone to see him. To test the waters.
And I had seen his guitar.
And the star.
I touched my hip again. The pain sharp and fresh.
Looking around at the eccentric group of individuals that had come out for the occasion, I could easily picture Elian there.
I knew so much about him without really knowing anything at all.
I picked up a lot by watching. It was the best way to find out everything you wanted to learn.
And Elian communicated much without ever saying anything. Observation was my strong suit. It’s what had allowed me to survive.
It’s what had allowed me to live.
I looked forward to his lies spoken aloud. I wondered what brand of dishonesty he’d try to sell.
My hands almost shook in anticipation as I searched and searched for him.
My heart galloped at an alarming rate but I reveled in it.
I loved this part.
The beginning.
I unrolled a blue and green plaid blanket and sat down, crossing my legs. I had positioned myself just out of the way, beneath a large Willow tree. I kept my back straight and hands folded in my lap. I scanned the unfamiliar faces, not recognizing anyone.
“Is this spot taken?” I looked up and frowned at the guy who stood underneath the heavy limbs.
I didn’t bother to respond. I turned back to the makeshift stage ahead of me and pretended that he wasn’t there. I didn’t care that he was cute, with what most would construe as a nice smile. He wasn’t who I was there for.
Usually guys got the hint and left when I brandished my patented form of bitch. But this guy seemed to take my standoffishness as a challenge.
I felt the invasion of my personal space and recoiled.
“They’re pretty decent, right?” he asked, his warm breath on my cheek. He was entirely too close. I could smell the beer he had obviously been drinking. I clenched my hands until my knuckles were white.
Then he touched me. His hand fell on my upper thigh. “Move your hand,” I said, low but hard. Menacing.
His fingers dug into my leg and he laughed. I wanted to hurt him. I wanted to destroy him.
I would grab the back of his neck, squeezing like he squeezed my leg. I’d laugh in his face before connecting his nose with my knee. The blood spray hitting my face, rolling down my chin. Again and again. I’d dig my nails into his eyes and relish the pop as his insides bled out of him…
“Babe, you’re too tense. Why don’t you come hang out with me and my friends. Maybe have a drink. Let down that hair.” He reached up, took ahold of my ponytail, and yanked on the elastic band, pulling it. I wrenched backwards.
“I don’t remember inviting you to touch me,” I hissed dangerously.
Blood running down his cheeks, dripping onto the grass…
The guy looked befuddled. Confused. As though he couldn’t understand why I was having such a problem with his overly handsy form of flirting.
“Look, I wasn’t trying—”
“You need to leave now,” I interrupted, straightening my ponytail and turning back to the stage. My entire body was tense and taut. Suppressing dark urges he would know nothing about. I dug my fingernails into my palms, though giving no outward indication to how hard it was controlling my fury.
“Hang on a sec, I just wanted to talk to you. No need to be a bi—”
“I think she asked you to take a hike, Leo.”
It was like liquid running through my body. My muscles relaxed and I was calm. Centered.