4. Chapter Four #2
I stammer, and my smile quickly matches his. “Yeah, no need to worry about that. The Ibanez is a great beginner guitar, so it’ll last you. Just be kind to her.” I pat him gently on the shoulder before continuing to move through the line.
We stop every few feet, talking with so many people that my head spins. Some just want to chat while others want a photo with us.
That’s the part that feels the most surreal. People want pictures. With us .
What started out as Gareth, James, and me needing something to do after school somehow snowballed from jamming in my garage, to adding more members into the mix, playing local pubs, and eventually taking a chance to play a festival in America.
And now? Now we’re signed and about to go on tour. As. A. Headliner .
I still wake up and have to pinch myself before I realize this is real and actually happening.
We make our way down the line, and then, out of nowhere, the smell of roses hits me full force. It crashes into me like the best fucking freight train I could ask for. There are no more nervous jitters, no more fears of failing, just pure ecstasy carrying me like I’m on a cloud.
Then, I’m finally standing in front of her. My smile widens while my brain tries to process a normal thing to say.
“Hit anyone with your trolley lately?”
My eyes widen, and my smile drops, already feeling the familiar burn creeping across my cheeks.
That’s the first thing that came to mind? Really? Not even a decent hello ?
I can feel my heart pounding in my chest while I stand there, frozen like a statue, wishing I could rewind the last five seconds.
Her blue eyes sparkle before she looks down and lets out a scoff—or maybe it was a laugh? Then her eyes meet mine, and she quickly licks her lips, biting back her growing smile.
“No, I was thinking of aiming for Gordon Ramsay next time,” she says with a shy laugh. “It seems to be a great conversation starter.”
I don’t even bother hiding it. I full-on laugh. It’s more of a relieved laugh than anything, but still. I study her face way longer than I should, but I can’t help but wonder how I’ve lived twenty-six years without meeting anyone as beautiful as her.
“Oh, I see you guys have been acquainted,” one of her friends says, throwing an arm over Allie’s shoulder.
Her face turns beet red while she moves to quietly shush her friend, but she presses on anyway.
“Allie here has been a fan for forever,” her other friend continues, patting her on the shoulder.
“We can’t even get in her car without having to listen to one of your guys’ songs.
” Her friend’s eyes gradually widen when she realizes how that sounds—like they don’t enjoy it.
She flings her hands in front of herself, shaking them.
“Not that we mind. We also like you guys, but—”
Her friend continues to try and explain herself, but my mind is too busy exploding.
Allie’s the one who actually listens to us? With how calm she was in the supermarket, I never would have guessed. But it turns out, she’s the fan.
The first friend cuts in, extending her hand. “Anyway, I’m Ana,” she says with a smile. “Don’t mind Rambly over there,” she adds, gesturing toward the other friend.
I smirk. “Nice to meet you,” I say, shaking her hand.
“That one there is Nora,” Ana adds, pointing to the shorter, dark-haired one. Then she shakes Allie’s shoulders playfully. “And this is Allie.”
Allie pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, chewing on it nervously. I give her a warm smile, hoping it might help settle her nerves in some way.
I want to mention our run-in again, seeing as how that made her smile before. But it sounds like her friends know nothing about it, and I don’t want to risk putting her more on their radar.
Casey taps me on the shoulder before leaning in close to my ear.
“Hey, they’re starting to clear out. The main doors have to open soon,” he murmurs, loud enough for me to hear over the surrounding conversations.
I nod and turn my attention back to Allie. “Well, duty calls,” I say with a shrug. “Enjoy the show, ladies.”
She bows her head, and our eyes lock one last time. “Be safe,” she says quietly.
I back away slowly, my posture straighter than before with a lot more confidence. We climb the stairs to the stage, and I head straight for my guitar. When the double doors close again, I look back and find Gareth standing at the front of the stage.
I place the guitar back on the stand gently, then walk over to him and place my elbow on his shoulder.
“You good, man?” I ask.
He nods. “Yeah. I am,” he says, his eyes not leaving the now-empty floor.
He throws his arm around my shoulder, and we stand in silence, gaping at the giant open space that will soon be packed to the brim.
It’s crazy how easy it is to let your dreams stay dreams and be too afraid to take a chance.
I find myself wondering where the hell we would be right now if we hadn’t one day said fuck it, packed our stuff, and left.
What more could we have missed out on our future if we stayed planted in Cardiff, and I had let myself become lost in my grief?
But what kind of success would it be if we had nothing to lose?
I’m not normally one to stay locked in the past, but remembering where we started so that our big wins feel like we’re on top of the world is huge.
We take one last scan of the place, and Gareth and I exchange glances before clapping each other on the back.
“You ready?” I ask him.
He smirks. “You know it.”
When I pick up my guitar and start walking toward the back of the stage, I can literally feel Gareth’s eyes burning my skin.
“What?” I ask, eyebrows pulled together.
“That short one with the brown hair was kind of cute, right?” he asks with his eyes narrowed.
I chuckle and lift my finger to point at him. “Don’t even think about it.”