I love music. You name it and I’ll listen, but like everyone else, I have my preferences. My favorite genre is indie, and it’s not simply because of the music, although the music alone is awe-inspiring. The words…are beautiful. Every story, every line, every syllable is emotion come to life. I love a song that wraps around my soul so absolutely that I can feel their pain, love, lust, hate, whatever the musician feels. Indie music is more than words and song notes; it’s full of novels that never were.
Naturally I attend every decent indie concert I can. So tickets came up to see one of my favorite bands and I got them a month before they started selling. I have connections – my sister works for a radio station – and I like to be prepared.
So I buy the tickets a month before they’re selling. Three days before they sell I start recruiting anyone I can find to go with me. I feel that my mission in life is to share the eroticism of music with all that I can, so it’s no surprise to see me walking up to a stranger on the street, handing out flyers about upcoming concerts. Really, the bands that visit my state should hire me as a roadie.
Anyway, I tend not to invite my friends to concerts as much as one might suspect. I save the finest concerts for my friends; the one I was planning on attending was certainly counted among the best. Two weeks before the concert, I handed out my ever-present flyers to friends, enemies, and even teachers. Sadly, and oddly, everyone said they couldn’t go. I guess I wasn’t that surprised; spring break is a major event.
However, going stag to a concert was still a good reason to go and enjoy the hell out of it. The day of the concert, I went ahead as planned, dressed in jeans that weren’t too tight and a faded brown T-shirt with the band picture. I even sewed patches of the band onto my jeans. I was a freak for them and I was proud to let the world know it.
I got there early, as usual – a good few hours. I hung around, chatted with fellow fans and admirers, and flirted with a handful of hot girls that were there only to try and seduce the band. Obviously I didn’t get very far with them, but who cares? An hour to go and one of my favorite bands was going up on stage.
I didn’t watch the entire warm-up show, but got there for the last part of it. The band was good; they were an alternative rock band, which is an interesting mix for indie, but they blended well with the fans. The music was catchy enough and I danced a little with some newly found friends, and after the warm-up band stopped, I made a mental note to look up more about them when I left.
Finally – it was time. Anticipation building and rising in my throat, I stood on my toes and caught my breath as one of the most transitional indie bands climbed on stage. Really, they weren’t just indie. They combined dance, indie, and the occasional somewhat-soft rock song. They were beautiful.
Some people prefer sitting very close to bands in order to see them better, hear them better, and be seen better. If they’re lucky, they may get a high five or even a smile. I tend to drift, but in all honesty, I prefer the back. While the front does supply an amazing experience, it’s in the back where you meet the fans. To me, the hardcore fans are just as important of the band, and I rarely attended a concert without making a new acquaintance. This concert was outside, with a cover over the first twenty or so seats, and a grassy hill behind. I located my promised front-row seat but made a note to later drift to the back and socialize.
One reason why I love music is because for me, it’s so easy to escape into. I don’t believe in any god, but when I listen to music I lift not only my voice but often my hands…I feel as if I could jump and be lifted straight to the heavens. Music is beautiful…it is liberating, but a double-edged sword. Music not only frees people; it can drive them insane. A dangerous tool and a powerful ally, if I ever planned to take over the world, music would be high on my list for propaganda.
I had been listening to the band for a little less than an hour when I decided it was time to explore the grassy knoll behind me. I floated towards the back and made easy conversation with several people. It’s very easy for me to find people who share similar feelings for music; they’ll be the ones with their eyes closed, their mouths open, and their souls freed.
Just like me.
A group of people was dancing in a circle, and I made motions to join them. From what I could tell, none of them knew each other before tonight. Another good aspect of music – it brings people together. I swear that at one point we were all connected, everyone feeling the same emotions and power. My goal completed, brought to an orgasm of music, I left to explore more aspects of the concert.
It was upon leaving the circle that I saw her. I was pleased, actually, to see someone I knew. But I was more surprised than anything. This girl wasn’t really the type of person I would see at an indie concert. I wondered if she had seen my flyers and decided to come. I debated on whether or not to say hi, but before I could decide, she spotted me.
Opening her mouth slightly in a smile, she tossed a strand of straight brown hair out of her eyes and headed my way. I had to admit that she looked particularly good tonight, in low-cut blue jeans and a simple black shirt that raised a few inches above her jeans. Very sexy.
“Hey,” she greeted me casually.
“Hey.”
“Good concert.”
“Amazing. You listen to them much?”
“Not so much. You know me, I’m more of a rock girl.” This was true. Most of the time I caught her listening to the music – which was rare, we barely knew each other – it was mainstream rock. Usually decent.
“Ah. I love indie.”
“I think I saw you dancing. Is that right?”
“Yeah. I love dancing, too.”
“Me, too.”
I paused to consider this. She was beautiful. She was smiling at me casually. And she loved dancing.
Fuck. Why not? The thick cloud of marijuana surrounding us probably influenced my decision, too. “Wanna dance?”
The smile became a little less casual and a little more dangerous. “Love to.”
And dance we did. May I say that the girl can dance? Because from what I knew about her, she was a bold and slightly rebellious teenager. Known to party while managing to not look like an ass, it didn’t surprise me that she agreed to dance with me. What did surprise me was that I actually wanted to dance with her.
Again, the pot – and the music – definitely egged me on.
“What made you come here?” I asked her.
“I got this flyer for it.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. What about you?”
“Well, I made the flyer for it. Once you do that, it’s almost mandatory.”
In her surprise, she stopped dancing for a moment. “You made that flyer? I assumed it was something off the Internet.”
“No, I make lots of flyers for bands. I love music.”
“You’re in music theory, right?”
“Yeah.”
“And you play…?”
“Guitar, piano, and violin.”
“Wow. You branch out. I play a little guitar in my spare time. Acoustic. I cannot make distortion sound good.”
We laughed together and I caught the scent of her hair. Under the smell of beer, cigarette smoke, and weed, it smelled pretty good. Like roses. Which made me think about her lips, also the color of the roses. Damn, the girl knew how to make herself look good.
We danced some more, sometimes pausing and talking, sometimes dancing and talking, sometimes dancing in silence. I sang along with the words, quietly, hoping that my voice didn’t suck too badly. A few times she closed her eyes and seemed to sway into the beat rather than with it. Quite sensual to watch.
I started mentally reviewing everything I knew about her. Like I said before, she could party. She could obviously dance. I did hear a whisper that although she wasn’t loose, she would mess around with guys that she knew and trusted. Made me wonder how well she thought she knew me. I’m not usually one to hook up with any random chick, but the way she was acting reminded me of a term I heard a friend use once: concert soulmates.
Concert soulmates are people who are so powerfully drawn to each other during concerts that they hook up there and never see each other again, but leave with no regrets. If they do manage to keep in contact, all the better.
Concert soulmates. Rose-scented hair. Dark green eyelids, no earrings, tight blue jeans. Dancing. Swaying.
Suddenly, as if it were a sign, a song came on. A song that fit the situation perfectly. Loving with no inhibitions and understanding that the free lovers where the ones with the most pain to hide.
I had a lot of pain to hide. I also had a lot of love to give. So, cheesy and pathetic as it was, I let the song guide me.
I leaned closer to her ears and lightly whispered, “I like your shoes.”
She paused and cocked her head to the side, confused, and for a moment I was afraid I had made a total jackass of myself. She probably didn’t know the words.
But then: “Thanks. So, um, can I follow you?”
I had the perfect place to go, too. Off to the side, there were booths set up, selling band shirts, CDs, lighters, concession. So I took her by the hand – shyly, ‘cause again, I don’t usually pick up stranger girls – and led her off to those booths. I knew fully well from having strolled by before that there was a trailer set up behind one of them – an empty trailer, by the looks of it. With any luck, it would still be empty.
It was. I felt a little stupid, leading her into this empty trailer, but thankfully it wasn’t really dirty or anything. Just bare. And tiny. Picture the size of a medium U-Haul truck.
“So, you like that song?” I asked. In my nervousness, I ran my hand through my shaggy black hair. Hmm. I hoped she liked guys with longer hair.
“Actually, yeah. I decided that if I was gonna go to the concert, I should study up on the music. I stumbled across it one day and was hooked. It’s me, essentially.”
“I understand that.”
We looked into each other eyes for a moment, then she broke contact, blushing. I never saw her blush before. It was cute. I was starting to have trouble breathing, and by the looks of it, she was, too.
“I, uh, I don’t have any wine,” I apologized.
“That’s okay. I don’t like wine much. I guess you can’t ask my name, either.”
“I could, but it would be pointless.”
“Well…what time is it?”
I smiled a little as I checked my watch, hardly daring to believe that we were following along with song lyrics. “It’s eleven.”
“So…what do you want to do?”
I’m sure my face fell, because if we were truly going by the lyrics, our next step would have been obvious. But I could see why she might not want to rush into things. This was an odd situation, one I had never been in before.
I could hear the band playing in the distance. I chose them as a topic.
“What do you think of the concert?” I asked, nodding my head towards the direction of the sounds.
“They’re awesome. I think I’ll convert.”
I laughed easily. “They are amazing,” I agreed.
“You never talk to me at school.”
“I’ve never had a reason to. Not that I wouldn’t want to. But it’s weirder talking to random people at school than at a concert or a party.”
“You don’t party often,” She mused.
“No, I don’t. You do.”
“I like having fun.”
Then why aren’t we right now? I shook myself mentally. I was getting ahead of it all.
“Why’d you talk to me tonight?” I asked her, and her eyes lit up a little with I think embarrassment.
“I guess I didn’t really know anyone else. Believe it or not, I can be a little shy.”
“I won’t believe that. You’re too amazing to be shy.”
Goddamn it. Did I really just say that?”
“You don’t mean that. You can’t mean that, you don’t even know me.”
“I like what I know.”
She leaned over and I could see slightly down her loose black shirt. I tried not to look. Her eyes were almost as enrapturing. They were widening, and I could see the specks of green concealed in the brown. God, she was gorgeous.
She kissed me on the cheek slightly, then leaned back, almost shyly. She was watching me, seeing how I would react. My mouth drifted apart as my eyes closed slightly. I was hoping that wouldn’t be the only kiss I got.
“I like you, you know. Right now, I mean. I didn’t before tonight.”
“We didn’t really know each other before tonight,” I murmured.
She moved closer, and I held out my arms to take her. “True,” she whispered back. “Let’s get to know each other a little better, okay?”
I would have answered with words if my mouth hadn’t been otherwise occupied.
It wasn’t two in the morning when we left, but it was shortly after midnight. The concert was wrapping up although they ran a little late (no one complained) and I led her, once more by the hand, through the crowds of people to hear the last song. She stood behind me and wrapped her arms around my chest, rubbing slightly. I sighed deeply, focusing on how her touch felt and her good her lips tasted. I was damn lucky, that’s what.
“Time to go,” she said lightly as the band left the stage. I could have sworn that I heard a cell phone ringing. I breathed a little in disappointment, sad to see the night disappear along with the music.
“Good show.”
She responded, “Good trailer.”
I laughed. “We could still go hang out somewhere, if you’d like.”
“I would like that. Want to come back to my place?”
“Sure.”
We were walking amongst the onslaught of people, all talking and laughing and still singing and basically raving about what a great show we had just seen. Well, most of us had just seen. I definitely missed a good majority of it.
We were out in the parking lot when she stopped dead, and I almost walked into her.
“Oh, shit,” she said, then laughed.
“What?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Try me. What?”
“I can’t remember where my car is parked.”
I froze for a moment, then burst out with laughter. “You’ve got to be shitting me.”
“I swear to God I’m not!”
“Well, we could just take my car and come back for yours later.”
“Sure.” She sounded doubtful.
“What’s the matter? Think I’m gonna rape you or something?” I leaned in and nuzzled her neck a little.
She softened. “I just don’t want my car stolen. Not that anyone would. It’s an ugly piece of crap. All right, then, let’s go.”
We walked towards my car – I remembered where I was parked – and I got in and studied her for a moment. I couldn’t believe this was happening. It was like a dream, or a fantasy. My first concert hook-up, I thought with a smile. God, what a good night.
“Are we gonna go?” She asked, fidgeting.
“Yeah, sorry. I’m just thinking that it’s probably best that I’m not too drunk to talk, ‘cause there’s no way in hell I’d ever let you drive my car.”
She smiled at me, that shy yet seductive smile that had been driving me insane all night. I leaned in to kiss her and felt her tongue slide over mine, smooth as velvet. I allowed myself to rake my fingers through her hair, brown as chocolate, before starting the car.
“I assume you know the way to your house?” I asked.
“Yeah, but it’s not a house. I live alone. In an apartment.”
I whistled slightly. “Even better.”
I drove to her house as quickly as I could, making conversation along the way. What I found truly amazing was how easily we conversed, although I had to admit that my mind was on different matters.
“It does feel good.” She said at one point. She was referring to our own experiences.
“It’ll get even better once we get home.”
“Give it all a try?”
“God, yes. When do you want me gone?”
“Morning.”
We couldn’t arrive at her apartment quickly enough. We were heading up the stairs and I was pressed against her jeans, her hands wrapped around my neck, mine around her waist, kissing her softly then harder as time progressed, her hair, her lips, her neck, while she tried to unlock her door. I paused for a moment, gazing at her gorgeous hair, and at last she opened the door.
Once inside, I held her close for a moment, but didn’t kiss her. I looked upon her deeply once more, prepared to go anywhere with her. Then I smiled, realizing that I had found what attracted me to her in the first place. I didn’t really want to talk, though. The air felt different, as if there was some deep magic that might be disrupted if I spoke too loudly.
“What is it?” She whispered, noticing my smile but apparently feeling the way I did about speaking.
“Your eyes,” I responded. “They’re quite…bright.”
She understood. I didn’t need the smile, or the parting of her lips, or the shutting of her eyes to realize that. She understood.
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Submission Name: Concert Soulmates
