Chapter 41
On reflection, I’ve been very smart avoiding this up until now. Being in this crowd is like being in a physical fight. I’ve never been in contact with so many limbs in my life.
Sweaty, energetic, aggressive limbs. Arms, knees and hands brush up against me. Swaying me to the side, nearly knocking me over. Elbows of excited dancers crack against my temple.
I’ve uttered ‘sorry’ under my breath to so many people that it doesn’t sound like a real word anymore. I imagine Elliot pushing his way out of this enormous crowd to get to me, and guilt swirls in my gut.
The crowd was thin around the edges but the further I’ve moved in, the denser it has become. It’s not long before I’m stumbling over peoples’ feet and bags sitting on the ground.
‘Watch out!’ a girl snaps when I trip over the straps of her backpack.
‘Sorry!’ I call over my shoulder, but she doesn’t even hear me.
I clench my fists together and release them as I move through the never-ending throng. Despite the fact I’m looking into the jaws of hell, my concentration is unshakeable as I continue on my search.
Ignore the tell-tale burning on the back of my neck and down my spine.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Don’t look behind me, only forward.
Pause. Scan the area.
Laser-focussed on finding a certain pair of blue eyes.
I struggle through a particularly busy section, panting as I make my way through. I brace myself for the next part. But peering around the shoulder of the man in front of me, I can see that it’s somehow even more dense. Endless bodies crammed. Immovable.
I come to sudden stop, my hands shaking.
Why did I do this? What was I thinking diving headfirst into this crowd with no preparation? The sheer size of it suddenly feels like it’s pressing down on me, like my body is being held underwater; the view of the surface of a sprawling ocean floating above me, just out of reach.
My chest spasms, fighting for air. My breath comes out in short and hard bursts. The first priority is to get that under control. I wrestle with my perception of the space around me, arguing with my own brain that there is air for me here. Oxygen is plentiful. I cannot run out of air.
My fists are clenched so tightly that they are practically vibrating. I force my attention on the sensation, then force a deep breath out. With great effort, I breathe in again. It’s shaky but I succeed.
It’s a small win, but a win all the same. I am still on my feet. It’s far more than I ever thought I was capable of achieving.
Everybody sings in sync around me, masking the sounds of my breathing. The couple next to me haven’t even noticed my episode, their attention is so focussed on the stage.
After repeating my breathing exercise several times, I decide it’s time to turn around and consider my journey back.
A voice breaks me out of my thoughts. It’s familiar, but over the roar of the crowd I can’t tell how close it is. That is, until a strong hand firmly wraps around my upper arm.
‘What are you doing here,’ the voice demands, urgent and desperate. The hand tugs me towards the sound. I whirl round to see who has me in their grip, and my eyes can scarcely believe what they’re seeing.
Because he’s here. He has somehow managed to find me inside this endless maze.
And I realise that I have found myself attached to Elliot Walker in the middle of a crowd for the second time.
‘It’s you,’ I say, sounding as breathless as I feel.
Relief tears at the very edges of me, my insides spilling over with it.
The last remnants of the sunset envelope us in thick orange threads, bathing us both in a pool of warm, heady light, and I can’t tear my gaze away from his face; at the way the warmth hits the hard angles of it.
I try my best to memorise it in case this all goes horribly wrong.
His grip on me goes slack as he studies me with a panicked expression.
I release a long exhale, my body loosening. His arm curls around my shoulder, protective and tender all at once. Something fierce flashes behind his eyes but when he speaks, his voice is soft.
‘What are you doing here?’ he repeats, his face twisted with worry. Watching me with carefully concealed curiosity.
A fresh wave of guilt crashes against my gut. It feels as if all I’ve done is bring disruption into this man’s life. But I have to swallow it.
My heart thunders in my chest as I become uncomfortably aware of the eyes surrounding us on all sides. The term ‘head empty’ has never felt more relevant.
What am I here for again? What am I doing? Why didn’t I rehearse something or make some notes??
‘We should stop meeting like this,’ I say weakly, but my voice is ragged.
His mouth twitches at the joke, but the unrelenting tenderness in his face is what halts any rational thought occurring in my brain, and makes me want to trace the frown carved into his skin with my fingertips.
I attempt to silence the noise echoing in my mind and tune out the sensation of the rippling crowd that we’re currently drowning in.
Because what is happening is this: Elliot’s arms are around me. He’s currently watching me like I am something precious and breakable. I know that we have only known each other for three days, but the part of me that can no longer be reasoned with wants him. All of him.
And when I meet his gaze, there is one thing that I know to be absolutely true: I’m safe.
So without any further consideration – even though it feels completely unfamiliar and alien to me – my hands slide into his hair. And I kiss him.
The sensation is enough to blur my awareness of everything around us, his lips just as soft and tender as I remember.
But it seems I’ve surprised him, as when he kisses me back, his movements are tentative.
Hesitant. In a way that makes me wonder if I’ve read this all wrong; maybe this was all in my head and he views me as a friend.
Maybe there’s another Nora Hartley out there that someone desires enough to write on a post-it.
I draw back and fill my lungs with a nervous inhale, checking his face for signs of wrongdoing. He stares at me as if I am an apparition, and my concern doubles.
‘Um,’ I say, trying not to stare at him but unable to look away. ‘Uh, I’m sorry, I–’
His lips are on mine in an instant. And this time I’m the shocked one as his arms wrap tightly around my waist, pulling me to him.
If I weren’t busy kissing him, I’d punch the air.
My frantic breathing turns into a sigh as his lips move over mine, and I have to stop myself smiling into his mouth. The kiss is slow and patient, his movements deliberate in way that make the sharp edges in my mind softer, quieter.
Despite the fact I am standing in this horrific, immeasurable crowd – a clear-cut vision of my nightmares – everything about this moment is perfect.
Of course, until the girl standing behind us taps me lightly on the shoulder.
‘Sorry to interrupt,’ she says, not sounding very sorry. ‘But I’ve been waiting to see this band live for years and I can’t see a thing. Could you please move?’
This is a very reasonable request. The way Elliot and I tower over her means we are undeniably blocking her view, and I can’t help but think she’s being much nicer than I would have been if this had happened to me during Queen Ego.
‘Sorry, of course,’ I say with an eager nod.
Elliot’s frame curves protectively around me.
‘Let’s get you out of here,’ he murmurs into my ear.
I cast him a grateful smile when his fingers intertwine with mine. ‘Do you want to lead or shall I?’ he asks.
‘You, please,’ I say, my voice coming out reedy.
He nods dutifully and starts leading me out of the crowd, step by careful step.
Getting out of the crowd takes several years. It’s a punishing and unrelenting test of my body. Even with Elliot so close, I can’t get the kind of deep breath I crave. As the crowd we creep through cheers with elation, the ground buckles and bows beneath my feet. But I plough on.
When we finally meet the edge of the crowd, I tip my head to the sky and take a greedy inhale, letting my body expand as I do so. After a moment, when my body feels more like my own, I turn to Elliot to thank him.
But I can only assume he has noticed my flushed cheeks and heaving breaths, because his immediate instinct is to sweep me into a firm embrace.
His strong frame creates a sanctuary for my nervous system, which is still frazzled and frantically searching for solid ground.
I melt into his arms, basking in the sensation.
‘You okay?’ he asks, his arms around me unyielding.
I laugh nervously in response. When he releases me from his embrace, he cups my face in his hands, his thumbs grazing my cheekbones.
‘Why would you do that?’ he asks softly, looking utterly bewildered. ‘I said I was coming for you.’
‘I know,’ I reply, my voice still trembling. ‘I just couldn’t stay still.’
A laugh falls out of him, and it doesn’t sound like it’s just me who is shaken up.
‘Thank you,’ I say, still in awe that he’s here. ‘For getting me out of there unscathed.’
‘You did that,’ he tells me, nodding back at what we just survived. ‘Not me.’
I would disagree with him, but I’m not sure I have the energy.
I give him a bashful smile. ‘Want to go back to where we first met? It’s just through there.’ I gesture at the pathway behind him.
He blinks. ‘Yeah, sure,’ he says, his voice still uneven.
He’s probably still suffering whiplash from my unpredictable behaviour, which I can’t really blame him for. I owe the guy an explanation, at the very least.
Nonetheless, his hand gently brushes my lower back and we finally exit the Firecrest Stage field, side by side once again.
We make our way into the quiet, until the sounds of the Firecrest crowd are just a memory.