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Sam sat with a couple friends in one of the booths and he whistled, then shouted, “Mac! Mac! Mac!” I smiled at him, and he winked at me.
It was Friday night, and I was on stage at Zero Crow. To my horror, Addie had told every single person she knew that I was singing tonight, and the bar was packed.
It had been absolutely nerve-wracking, and I’d run to the washroom and dry heaved over the toilet several times before I went onstage.
But once I had my guitar across my lap, the nerves eased. Yeah, I’d felt naked and vulnerable to judgement onstage, but as terrifying as that was, I’d also found it exhilarating.
I strummed the guitar and dipped my head, my hair curtaining my face. “One. Two. Three. Four,” I whispered into the microphone.
And then everything disappeared. The nervousness. The watching eyes. The sounds of glasses clinking and the low murmur of voices.
I closed my eyes as I sang, my throat raw as the words stripped away the walls. The emotions tearing me open for everyone to see.
In this moment, I was alone with my guitar and the feelings the song evoked in me.
Tears pooled in my eyes as I sang. Every word a memory pulled from the depths and released.
Like a ball of string unravelling.
Like a caged bird being set free.
I sang the words that had been trapped inside me for so long.
The air shifted and goose bumps bounced across my skin. My fingers briefly fumbled on the strings. Not enough for anyone else to notice. But I did.
I lifted my head and gazed out across the dimly lit bar.
My heart stopped.
Vic stood near the front door, watching me.
No. Not just watching. It was more than that.
Vic was good at eye contact. It was as if he was always assessing you. And as uncomfortable as it was being under his intense scrutiny, I got the feeling that he was listening. Really listening.
And as I sang, I knew he was taking in the words.
The crumbling walls.
The torn diary pages and bumper cars in cages.
No escape from the dream because he was in my bloodstream.
Just the hooded boy in the darkness.
So misunderstood.
So misunderstood.
Because you can’t fall standing in the rain.
You can only soar. Just soar.
Close your eyes. Just close your eyes and soar.
I broke away from his intensity and closed my eyes, the words hoarse and raspy as the emotions poured from me. I knew he was still watching. And his gaze consumed me, naked and raw. And yeah, it was erotic having his eyes on me like that.
I don’t know why, but I liked it. I liked him watching me. I liked that it felt as if his fingertips were sliding over my skin like a feather.
