Chapter 2 #2
Maybe that was my hangover talking. Or maybe that was just the cynical part of me I couldn’t shake completely.
When the waitress came back out of the kitchen with plates of food for someone else, a man a few seats down asked her to change the channel.
The TV dutifully flipped to one of the boring game shows, and I took another sip of my coffee to settle my nerves, letting the mundane hubbub of the diner wash over me once again.
I only had four hours to get my life together and finish sobering up before I had to go halfway across town to attend the concert I was supposed to see with Toby. Toby.
The memory of being left alone in the middle of the dance floor sent a pang of hurt straight to my chest, so I snarled into my mug, vowing to forget that asshole if it was the last thing I ever did.
I had spent good fucking money on tickets to some orchestral performance that Toby’s friend had told us we just had to go see.
I hadn’t thought about it until now, but Toby was the one with the fancy job.
Why had I spent my hard earned money when he could have—
Never mind. It was a useless train of thought.
If I kept ruminating on it, I’d crack a tooth from how hard I was clenching my jaw. No, I wouldn’t waste a single penny of my hard-earned cash. Even if it meant I bought those two tickets just to go alone.
My eyes fell to the phone in my lap, sheepishly remembering how I’d attempted to pull up Toby’s socials the second I opened my eyes this morning, but he had officially blocked me on everything.
Even on the damn pay share app we’d used to split dinner a couple of times.
I couldn't believe he’d stoop so low as to block me on there…
as if I’d send him a dollar just so I could include a note or something. He was being so childish.
I grimaced again at the thought of how much time and money I’d wasted on that man. And for what? A lazy fuck who never took the time to get me off, too?
Come on, Ari. I was so pathetic, it hurt.
— ?? —
A flickering orange-colored streetlight guided my ascent from the dimly-lit underground subway stop.
A pitch-black darkness loomed overhead, a heavy blanket that covered the splattering of city lights.
This area was about twenty minutes from the city center, and was a weird mix of residential apartments, first-floor businesses, and mostly-empty parking garages that had me raising my eyebrows.
They were usually hard to find, and always full.
But I wasn’t paying attention to the scenery. Not really. My only thought was the annoying lack of time, so I walked as fast as I could, glancing down at my phone whenever I felt comfortable enough to take my eyes off the street.
As much as I hated it, being alone wasn't unusual for me, but being the only person walking on the street was, so the hair on the back of my neck stood on end as my boots tapped against the pavement. This was twice now that I’d managed to put myself into danger, and my nerves skittered across my skin when I heard the unmistakable bark of a dog in the distance.
I jumped as the noise echoed against the tall residential buildings, and swallowed down a lingering sense of dread as it filled the pit of my stomach.
My eyes darted from shadow to shadow as I upped the pace, going as fast as I could until my legs burned, but I didn’t slow down.
My phone’s map took me straight to the front of the venue—The Meridian.
It was nothing more than a crumbling brick building and a worn-out sign with only a handful of the marquee lightbulbs still functioning, but I didn’t hesitate to go down the stairs that descended into the belly of a building that probably should have been condemned years ago.
It didn’t scare me, though. I’d gone into so many basement bars, I was desensitized to basically everything gross, and at this point, going inside a sketchy building with strangers was safer than lingering on the street alone.
All it took was a quick step through a door that was covered in various layers of peeling paint, then I was greeted by a small, empty foyer with dark, worn-out carpet, wood wainscoting, and a red velvet curtain in the corner that was already closed.
A small wooden ticket booth stood on the right side of the entrance, and even though everything was a little more grimy than the pictures online had made it out to be, I wasn’t too surprised.
I raised an eyebrow as I peered through the foggy plexiglass that someone had put up around the top of the ticket booth.
It reminded me of one of those dividers that run-down gas stations installed to discourage people from robbing the tills, and that thought was only reinforced when I saw a piece of paper sitting inside the ticketing booth that simply stated:
Tickets go in the slot. You’re on camera.
I let out a small breath and pulled the two tickets from my wallet.
I hesitated for a moment, tapping the edges of the thick paper against the grimy wood countertop, wondering if I should leave them both, but the lights flickered twice, signaling the start of the show, and I discarded any remaining logic.
I shoved one ticket into the slot and stuffed the other back into my purse as I hurried over to the red velvet curtain.
I only opened it wide enough to slip through, and spotted the first empty seat I could find on the back row at the exact moment the lights flickered off.
I was too embarrassed to be caught standing when they came back on, so I bee-lined it to the chair, feeling around awkwardly with my hands as I struggled to sit down.
One wooden armrest in my ass cheek later, the red stage light flicked on, and dozens of musicians dressed in black slowly made their way to their seats.
Every concert started this way, so I slid all the way into my seat as I waited for everyone to take their places.
The near-empty auditorium was small. More of a room than anything else, and despite the smell of dust and something that resembled old beer left to grow a completely undiscovered species of mold, it was cozy.
I was at least thirty rows away from the stage, and the nearest person was at least fifteen rows in front of me, so I was alone.
Just the way I liked it, I guess.
In the dim red light that shone on the performer’s heads, I could see the unmistakable faint glow of red hair.
It was shaggy and messy, about shoulder length, and I swore I recognized him when he sat down in my line of sight.
What were the odds that this was the same man who had watched me from the balcony only twenty-four hours ago?
My eyes strained against the near-darkness to confirm what my heart insisted was true, watching the way he held the bow up to his viola like he belonged on the stage.
When the bright white stage lights came on only a few seconds later, the conductor stepped out to welcome the small audience, but I wasn't looking at him.
Honestly, I hadn't even looked away to see if the conductor was a man, it just sounded like one.
I was too busy trying not to hyperventilate on the spot.
In the first violist’s chair, with a beautiful vintage instrument and the most serious face I’d ever seen, was the man from last night, and I was on the edge of my seat with delight.
Because this time, instead of watching me, I was watching him. I’d found him. And he didn’t know it.
He was wearing all-black like the rest of the orchestra, but unlike his peers, he had on combat boots, wide-legged trousers, and a purposefully oversized suit jacket that was perfectly tailored to fit his shoulders.
It almost reminded me of something out of a seventeenth century movie, and I tried to maintain my composure as I continued to devour each new thing I discovered about him.
A dainty silver watch on his left wrist.
The way he smirked at the sheet music on his stand.
The effortlessly cocky face he made as he focused completely on the task at hand.
Though he was the same man, this version of him was almost unrecognizable. Last night he had been cold and calculated, staring at me with the faintest hint of lust, but tonight he was consumed with passion, and I licked my lips, wondering what I would do if he ever looked at me that way.
Someone on stage began the first note, but I never tore my eyes away from my red-haired stranger as he tucked his viola below his chin and lifted his elbow, readying his bow.
Once the first song began, it danced across the strings as he swayed back and forth to the music, sucking all of the attention from the room, and my heart fluttered as I was transported through time and space.
If someone had told me this man had been born on that stage with a viola in his hand, I wouldn't have batted an eye at the ridiculous accusation.
I was enjoying myself until self-consciousness reminded me I was probably just rebounding from Toby, so I forced my eyes to wander across the stage, darting from person to person as they played their flutes and violins and whatever else.
They were doing a great job, but everyone was old and stuffy, so I kept finding myself looking back at my violist.
When the first song ended, he moved with ease, intently focused on his tuning pegs. I held my breath as his steady gaze devoured the instrument as if it were a lover, and something stirred deep within me.
I needed him to look at me that way.
I swallowed once as my heartbeat thundered in my ears, and whispered a single word. “Fuck.”
As if he heard me, his eyes flicked up to mine, and I nearly collapsed to the floor as we locked eyes.
It was illogical to think he was actually looking at me—there were probably stage lights in his eyes—but there was a hint of something, recognition, or intrigue perhaps.
His face echoed the hunger in my own chest, and I knew that somehow the stars had aligned.
It was the man I wasn’t sure I’d ever forget.
It had to be impossible.
But then—there. A small, coy smirk. A momentary flicker of some minuscule emotional reaction for a split second before he placed his viola back under his chin—and I was completely and utterly hooked.
Even more so than I had been a few seconds before.
I needed him to look at me again more than I needed the air I breathed.
It was irrational, but I couldn’t stop myself.
I could already picture it now.
Our perfect apartment. The happily ever after I’d been chasing for as long as I could remember.
Something deep down told me he could ruin me in a way I’d only ever dreamed of, but I wasn’t scared.
Happy endings didn’t exist. Not really. They were just things found in fairytales written by people who had never begged for their mother’s love, so I wasn’t afraid of a love that would ruin me. I wanted it.
The memory of my red-haired violist’s eyes fused with the vision of his fingers moving effortlessly over the fingerboard, and I replayed the way the lights had cast colorful shadows on his face in the club.
How was it possible for a man to be both who he was right now in this moment, and who he was whenever his eyes devoured me?
It was a mystery, a lustful conundrum, and all it did was make me want him more.
I stopped trying to look away for the rest of the show, letting myself devolve into a creature that I was embarrassed to admit I had become.
I waited for him to look up again, but he never did.
When the music stopped for good, and the lights in the auditorium turned on, I wished with every ounce of my being, that he would glance over one more time.
I lingered in my seat as long as I dared while everyone else slowly made their way out of the room, giving him as much opportunity as I could, but even still, he didn’t look up again from his sheet music.
Two girls on the far left-hand side of the auditorium stood up, catching my eye.
They giggled together as they approached the stage, right in front of where the red-haired man stood.
Were they going to talk to him? For some reason, I hated them for it.
It was illogical. All I had to do was go up there and say hello, but I didn’t move an inch.
I had to know what they were doing. I had to see if he would look at them the way he had looked at me.
It sounded crazy, but I would have bet every single penny I’d ever made that he wouldn’t.
“Hey! Can we have your autograph?” I faintly heard one of the girls say, the sound of her high-pitched voice carrying over the muffled murmurs of people walking up the aisles.
The man’s attention shifted from his viola to them, and my mouth went completely dry as I watched, waiting for something. Anything.
His attitude was indifferent as he tucked the viola under his arm, walking silently towards the edge of the stage as he pulled a pen from his inside jacket pocket.
My heart thudded at a thousand beats per minute as he crouched down to take what looked like a piece of paper from the blonde girl’s hand.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his face, watching the way the corner of his mouth turned up slightly before scribbling something, and a pang of jealousy washed over me.
Was he leaving them a note? His number? Were they friends? Or worse—what if they were lovers?
I sucked in a breath and gritted my teeth together, turning around before I could figure out who or what they were to him. He was like a drug I hadn’t even realized I was taking, and I had to get as far away from here as possible before I lost control of myself completely.
I shoved my hands into my jean pockets as I forced myself out of the room, walking outside without so much as a glance back as I all-but stomped towards the subway.
With each step further and further away from that place, clarity was finally able to knock some sense into my brain, and embarrassment crept up my cheeks, heating my face and neck.
Here I was, acting like everyone had been listening to my immoral thoughts on broadcast for the past hour. I needed to get a grip.
I rubbed the bridge of my nose as I descended down into the belly of the subway station, struggling to regain my composure.
These feelings were impossible to ignore.
I was completely and inexplicably drawn to him, but I wasn’t supposed to latch on to strangers like this.
I had to forget that man the second I got home, or Toby was right.
I really was pathetic.