Chapter 2 #2
I follow his gaze to see the band walking off to the last cheers and claps from the crowd. They disappear behind a black curtain, and for a second I can scarcely believe they were even here in the first place.
With a start, I realise that the show is actually over. And I’m still here, despite the lingering traces of anxiety racing through my body.
I’ve done it.
I survived my worst nightmare and wildest dream all at once. I stood in a crowd of people. Stayed. Endured. And I kept my nervous system under control. My chest expands with pride and for a second, I wish I could bask in this feeling.
But sadly, no time. I make a note to myself to celebrate this later and turn back to the more urgent task at hand.
I look down at the worn drumstick: my hand holding one side, his gripping the other. I’m not sure if there is any point in being transparent or attempting to elicit some kind of compassion from him, but I decide I might as well try before I have to consider getting on my knees in front of this man.
‘Listen, I know for a fact that I had a hold of it first and I love this band more than anything so I really, really have to insist that you let go. Please.’ My words come out in a desperate rush.
I’m not above violence, but I’m also apparently not above begging.
I stare into his eyes imploringly, trying to communicate to him without any further explanation that I don’t just want this thing. I need it.
I need to keep a piece of this day as a reminder to myself that I had done this. It would always serve me as a reminder on the bad days that I know will come, that there is a strength and resilience inside me that I can reach.
And finally, some proof. After months and years of hiding from the world, I could have physical evidence that I had done something. Proof that I had lived. And that maybe I can do it again, if I really wanted to. If I work hard enough.
Although I know it’s a selfish motivation, I can’t let this drumstick go. I will not. Not ever.
His cool gaze holds my own and he sighs with frustration. ‘I’d love to give it up, but you’re not the only one who really wants this.’
My attention snaps to Hennie as she appears beside me.
‘Where have you been?’ I ask her.
‘Sorry, someone knocked my phone out of my hand and I just risked my life to get it back. What on earth is all this?’ she asks, gesturing at the drumstick and our hands newly linked together.
‘Your first guess is probably correct,’ I say dully.
‘So… you caught Teddy’s stick and you’re kindly letting this gentleman touch it for a second?’ Hennie asks, casting a befuddled look at him.
‘Nope, he’s claiming we caught it at the same time,’ I say simply, knowing she will understand my predicament.
The crowd around us is slowly starting to disperse, but I can feel the glare of several amused eyes on us as they watch the scene unfold. I swear I even spot someone filming us with their phone. Sensational! With my luck it will go viral.
‘I hope this is a prank, pal,’ Hennie warns him. ‘For your own sake. I wouldn’t be surprised if she makes an attempt on your life.’
His glare turns to Hennie. ‘Death threats seem a little unnecessary.’
‘Wrong.’
I don’t really mean to say it out loud but to my chagrin, he briefly presses his lips together as if to keep from laughing.
Hennie crosses her arms and snorts at him. ‘So wait, you’re really going to hold your ground and not let go of this?’
He stares at her wordlessly, cynicism dripping from his eyes.
‘That’s awfully chivalrous of you,’ Hennie drawls.
Appearing almost bored, he turns his attention to the crowd around us, as if he’s looking for someone.
Or perhaps deliberating on dashing away and finding the quickest way out.
The size of the crowd has reduced significantly already as most people have taken off to see their next act, so it would be feasible for him to run off.
‘Just so you know, and I’m sorry if this sounds menacing, but if you attempt to run away with this, I will catch you. I’m a fast runner.’
False. I am not a fast runner. But I hope the warning may still take effect. Thank God Hennie can keep a straight face.
He turns his eyes back to me, tilting his head to one side. I study his jawline covered in dark stubble and the long, dark lashes framing his misty blue eyes. Why must horrible boys be gifted with the longest of eyelashes? I hate him desperately.
‘Alright, I know you’re a big fan of the band–’
I hold up a hand to cut him off. ‘I’m not a “big” fan of the band. Queen Ego meant everything to me in my teens and changed the direction of my life. If you think I’m some kind of deranged fangirl–’
He assesses me with a plain look. ‘Are you not?’
I blink at his cold observation. I had to get used to people being brutally honest about me from a young age, but I haven’t had anyone deliver their opinion about me in such an unemotional way for a long time.
Heat rushes to my cheeks. Losing my temper is something I’ve never been prone to, but apparently I’m not a scared teenager anymore.
‘And you’re an entitled prick who’s probably never had anyone say no to you in your life.’ The words flurry out of me in a tangled rush.
‘That’s quite the assessment.’ One of his brows arches upward, and I swear my face goes even redder.
‘I’ve made my point. I caught the stick too, fair and square.
I’m not letting go of this.’ He lifts his hand and his side of the stick to demonstrate his point, bringing my arm up with it.
‘It’s pointless arguing about who caught it first.’
I sigh with frustration. ‘Okay, why don’t we have a quiz then, to test our knowledge and see who knows more about the band?’ There isn’t a single fact or statistic about this band that I don’t know. I would annihilate him. ‘Whoever wins gets the stick. That sounds fair and square to me?’
‘I didn’t exactly come to Firecrest Festival to participate in quizzes, while that is an interesting idea.’
I feel my face turn into a glower. Every word out of his mouth makes my nervous system boil. I think my hand on the drumstick might even be shaking.
‘I don’t suppose anyone has ever told you that you’re painfully unreasonable?’ I snap, eliciting a snort from Hennie behind me. After all, it’s a rare occasion that I’m the one in the midst of a fierce confrontation. I have no doubt she is loving this display from me.
His eyes flicker down my face again quickly, his expression wary.
‘Uh… no, actually,’ he says with what sounds like mild interest.
I might kill him.
‘So what do we do?’ I demand. ‘Snap it in half? Share custody? Or would you prefer to stand here until we die?’
‘The stick goes to its rightful owner,’ he says simply. ‘Who will probably end up being me.’
‘On what grounds?’ I bite out.
‘On the grounds that I am never letting go of this.’ His heated gaze goes right through me.
‘Neither am I,’ I snarl.
Fury licks up my spine. The idea of breathing fire out of my nostrils and setting him alight has never felt more possible.
His dark brows furrow together in thought. ‘Okay, fine. Clearly neither of us are going to let go and walk away from this.’
‘Clearly.’ I try to keep my voice steady. ‘So what’s your solution?’
He casts his eyes around again as if he’s looking for someone and then turns back to me. I take advantage of his momentary silence.
‘Why do you care so much anyway? Surely any normal person would give in and just let a “deranged fangirl” keep this?’ I ask.
He keeps his eyes locked on mine, his gaze softening slightly. For a second I think he might relent when his chin lifts and he raises his hand to bring the drumstick between our chests again.
‘Okay… what do you think of this – and keep an open mind, alright?’
I narrow my eyes at him out of necessity but nod anyway.
‘Simple: whoever holds onto the drumstick the longest gets to take it home. That’s fair, right?’
I shake my head in disbelief. ‘What do you mean? We both just… walk around Firecrest Festival together holding this drumstick until one of us lets go?’
That surely can’t be what he means. That is demented.
‘Yep.’
Oh.
‘You want us to genuinely walk around attached like this? The two of us? Together?’ I point my free hand between us both.
‘Why not? It’s clear we get on very well,’ he says with the faintest hint of a smile.
Oh, good. Now he’s fucking with me.
A breath of laughter escapes me, and I can’t help but notice a glimmer of amusement in his expression.
‘But what… where would we sleep?’ I ask him. ‘What about both of us seeing the music we want to see? What about going to the bathroom?’
What about my sanity?
He cringes and awkwardly uses his free hand to swipe a lock of hair out of his face. It’s the first time I’ve seen a whisper of humanity in his expression. Interesting. Perhaps he has a soul.
‘We’ll… work that out as we go. Of course I wouldn’t do anything that makes you uncomfortable. The second I do, the stick is yours.’
I drum my fingers against the stick and consider the idea.
While I know I can’t trust this man for even a moment, I can’t help but feel reassured that he seems to care about my wellbeing, at least enough to put the drumstick on the line if I wasn’t comfortable.
I’m fairly certain he wouldn’t push me in front of a bus, anyway.
Whilst the idea is completely abnormal, maybe it isn’t the worst idea?
It would be a fair fight. And at least it gives me a chance of actually keeping the drumstick at all.
Otherwise we might stand here and argue all night.
And ideally, I’d like Hennie to enjoy Firecrest. She loves music as much as I do and if there’s anything she wants out of this festival, she’ll have it. If I have any say.
I also know for a fact that I will still be holding onto this thing by Sunday night.
If it actually goes that far. Which I’m sure it won’t. I have every intention of being so insufferable he has no choice but to let go to escape me.
I feel Hennie’s hand grip my arm and she eyes my newly attached companion warily. ‘Harty, I support you all the way, but please know we can save up our earnings and buy you Queen Ego paraphernalia online if you need. Freedom is an option.’
There’s no way I’m letting her spend that much on anything for me. I know how much this sort of thing sells for. They are not cheap.
‘I love you, Hen, but you mustn’t spend that many British pounds so I can have two pieces of wood.’
His deep voice pipes up again. ‘Doesn’t really sound like you care much for our drumstick in this moment.’
I turn back to him in bewilderment. ‘Our drumstick?’
He smirks, his gaze never leaving mine. ‘Well, it looks like we both own it currently. And we’re still both in for a chance of winning it.’
Oh God. His cool stare makes me feel unreasonably flustered, which makes it much harder to summon a compelling argument.
I really hope this doesn’t ruin our weekend beyond repair. Shouldn’t I be running around making memories with my best friend? Not this stranger I met on the first day? Who might also coincidentally be the most infuriating man in existence?
But I already know I can’t willingly let go of the stick. I can’t part with it when it’s so close to being mine.
‘Hennie.’ I look to her with the plea in my eyes. ‘Would you be alright with this? If–’
She waves a hand. ‘If you’re happy, it’s a no-brainer. I’m actually starting to think that the second you let go of that thing you might start screeching and turn into dust.’
‘Are you sure?’ I ask more quietly.
She nods and leans closer to me to whisper, ‘Let’s do it. It’ll be weird and hilarious.’
I didn’t need further evidence that I’d perish without this woman, but here is some anyway.
She steps between him and I, addressing him coldly. ‘I’ll be taking your details and if you come anywhere near crossing a line with her or trying to take it and bolting, I’ll deal with you accordingly. I’m not fucking around. Part of the deal, okay?’
He nods sharply and even looks a bit frightened. ‘Of course.’
‘One last question: what if we’re both still holding onto it by the end of Sunday?’ I ask.
He regards me coolly. ‘I seriously don’t think that will be the case.’
Well, for what it’s worth, neither do I.