Chapter 3
T wo months later, we readied our instruments on the stage inside The Underground for our third gig. Word had gotten around. Chatter inside the bar rose to a crescendo. Lilith settled herself behind her drums and glanced over at me. Excitement gleamed in her eyes, and she spun a drumstick around. I turned my focus to Mia.
“Ready when you are,” Mia said.
The entire bar went quiet, as if they knew we were ready to start, waiting. All eyes turned to us. Lilith smacked her drumsticks together and started to play, followed by Mia.
My fingers tightened around the microphone, and my heart soared. The music flowed through me with a life of its own. I imagined that everyone’s hearts beat in time to the drums, alongside my own. Empowered by the energy of the bar, I let my song surge forth, my voice rising and falling. It was a full house tonight. I was giddy from the buzz of being on stage and performing. I chased that feeling, holding on to it. This was where I belonged. This was what made the ground steady beneath my feet.
The bar had a real underground feeling, with stone walls and dim lights. Heaters warmed the entire room, and people danced in front of the stage. Under the heat of the lights, a trickle of sweat slid down my neck. A strange sensation jolted through my chest, leaving me breathless. I opened my eyes, my focus drawn towards a silhouette standing in the doorway. His face was in shadow, yet I somehow knew he was staring right at me. A gaze that pierced my soul, leaving behind sparks of desire and excitement. Warmth flooded me, as I stared back.
His presence offered peace from thorns of trauma still wrapped around my heart. The intense urge to drop my mic and run into his embrace had my chest squeezing hard. In his arms, I could find a part of myself that I had lost. Confused by the rushing feelings, I forced myself to look away from him. Instead I focused on the crowd around the bar, as entranced by the music as I was by the energy surging through me.
Removing the mic from its stand, I held it towards the room. They took that as an invitation to sing. Their voices were awful, but I didn’t care. They knew my lyrics, and it made my heart soar. As someone walked past the stage, hot chips and a pint of beer in his hands, the scents wafted around me.
I caught the dark figure still watching me, this time closer. Everything around me slowed as our eyes locked. The way he looked at me was as if I were the only one in the bar. My focus wavered. I felt like I’d seen him before, and everything about him pulled at me. The longer we stared at each other, the more it seemed as if I were reaching out to him. Calling to him. I brought the mic back towards my mouth and felt like I was singing to him.
I sang, in a dreamlike state. A drum solo was coming up, and I loved to stand beside Lilith and air drum as she did her thing. After a viral video from our last gig, I could tell the crowd was waiting for it. His eyes only left mine to move down my body. I raked mine down his body, surprised to find myself wondering what he would look like naked. I shivered, unable to look away from his wide chest, shoulders, and bulky arms. A wall of muscle that I could almost feel pressed against me. I was trapped in his gaze again. A spark of deep hunger shone through his dark eyes.
“Quinn!” Mia’s stage whisper pulled me from my trance.
I had missed the solo, much to the disappointment of our audience and my own. Lilith looked over at me with concern.
Oh, shit! I shot her an apologetic smile.
“You done drooling over Mr tall, dark and mysterious?” Mia asked.
I cast a glance back, and he was smiling as if he’d heard her words. I replaced the mic and grabbed my guitar, ready for my solo, waiting for Mia to play through hers first. Then I started, the strings alive beneath my fingers. I sought out the stranger again, and he hadn’t moved. He watched my hands, as if in a trance.
We finished the song and started another. When we finished the last one, everyone broke into applause and cheers. I grinned and sought out the stranger, only to find him gone. Relief filled me. The intensity of his stare and of my reaction to him was at a level I was not prepared for. Way too much.
“What happened?” Lilith asked above the din as we started to pack up. “You’ve never missed the solo.”
“A hottie caught her eye,” Mia said. “The way they were eyeing each other, I thought they were going to do it right there. She’s really getting her perv on, she’s practically dripping on the stage right now.” She stuck her tongue out and started panting at me.
“Mia!” My face was getting hotter by the second.
“Oh, don’t look now!” She winked.
The stranger picked that time to approach the stage. I clenched my jaw, eyeing him warily. His black hair was slightly wavy, with expensive looking sunglasses resting on top of his head. I had a sense of deja vu. It was June, and despite it being winter, he maintained colour. Perhaps Mediterranean. He wore a black tee-shirt and no jacket. Ballsy with Melbourne weather at this time of year. Just thinking about that made me cold. I suppressed a shiver.
“You have quite a hypnotic voice.” He had a heavy accent, possibly Italian. Mia nudged me. She loved to remind me of my inability to resist men with accents. Stubble lined his jaw, and a slight smile curved his lips as he met my eyes.
“Is that a compliment?” I asked, frowning at Mia. She gave me a smile and turned away, leaving me with the stranger. Thanks, Mia.
“So, where are you from?” I asked, suddenly awkward under his stare.
“Venice,” he said. “But I left a long time ago. ”
I caught a twitch of pain pass over his face. As if the subject bothered him.
“What brought you all the way to Australia?” My tone was of disbelief, and I was probably being rude.
Unsettled by the effect his presence had on me, I didn’t know how to get rid of him. I hated small talk.
He half smiled. “A change of scenery. I arrived here with family.”
His hand was cool and firm as he grasped mine, raised it to his mouth and kissed my fingers. The contact with his soft lips sent a shiver through me.
“Your fingers were just as mesmerising as your voice,” he murmured. “I heard you from outside and was drawn in. You are a beauty, mi amore .”
I didn’t speak Italian but had seen enough movies to know that phrase.
“Yeah, nah, slow down there, Casanova.” I pulled my hand back. “While I appreciate your attempts to flirt, I’m not your love.”
My rejection did nothing to affect his smile. He gazed down at me.
“What do I call you then?” he asked.
“Quinn,” I said without thinking.
“Quinn, a beautiful name, fitting for such a voice. I’m Matteo.”
I was torn between wanting those soft lips on mine, our bodies pressed together, and to turn my back on him, hoping he’d get the hint. My entire world no longer felt steady; the ground beneath me had shaken. I watched him, trying to recall where I’d seen him before.
He was still staring at me. I gave him a small smile. “Sorry, I have to pack up. Nice to meet you, Matteo. I’m glad you enjoyed our music.”
I turned to put my guitar away and glanced over my shoulder. He was gone, and I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d ever see him again. I hoped I would.