I had finished my exams earlier that afternoon, and headed straight out into town. I was alone, but happy. I ended up in a small, dark music space, heaving with people; aggressive, political punk thrashed at my eardrums. After a few too many beers, I was jumping, dancing, enjoying the throb of the bass, the sweat and the heat. I stopped to catch my breath and turned around briefly – and that's when I caught her eye.
She was a little taller than me, with a shaven head and a scruffy old t-shirt. Her eyes sparkled through the darkness, and the hint of a smile on her lips made my heart melt. I'd seen her around before, but I never realised how beautiful she was. I wanted to reach out and say something to her, but the moment passed; I lost her in the crowd again, and forgot about her.
The next time I saw her was in the summer. There was a festival in the park – stalls, music, politics and hippies – so many hippies – all in one bright, blurry crowd. The sun was gorgeous and hot, and there was a hint of marijuana in the soft breeze. I took a stroll through the grass, and she was selling pie for animal rights. I walked over. My knees were weak, and it took an enormous effort to put one foot in front of the other. My eyes were carefully, painfully, glued to the path ahead of me, and my cheeks were burning crimson. Like a schoolgirl with a crush, I hardly dared look at her.
When I reached the stall, my lips stretched themselves into a foolish grin, and finally I looked up at her. The sunlight reflected off her face, and I took a moment to admire her features – somehow both flawed and perfect in equal measure. She said some words to me, and I stumbled over a response and ended up with a slice of pie. I was too in awe of her to remember what we talked about.
As I hurried away, my heart felt ready to burst. I sat under a tree to eat the pie and bask in the glory of having spoken to her.
It felt like forever until I saw her again. Months had gone by, and the balmy summer had given way to a miserable, drizzly autumn. The dark clouds in the sky were a perfect mirror of my mood. Not a single day passed where I didn't think of her. My heart leapt every time I thought I saw her. I spent all my quiet moments contemplating her face, her eyes, her smile. I blushed at my own thoughts sometimes, the ones that made me wriggle around in my seat, aching and yearning for her. It seemed ridiculous in some ways, that a near stranger could have captivated my heart so intensely, but everything about it felt right.
I decided on a whim to stop by a gig on the way home from visiting some friends in another city. I had work to do, but I told myself I'd only stay for one drink. The music and dancing were in full swing when I arrived; there was barely space to stand. I cracked open a cider and found a couple of people to dance with. I tried to keep track of the time, sternly telling myself I should leave soon, but there was a cheap bar and I persuaded myself another drink was okay... and another, and then a few more.
The night was getting rowdy, as we all laughed and danced together in an energetic mass of sweaty bodies. The room was stiflingly hot, I'd been elbowed by overenthusiastic moshers more times than I could count and my legs were tired. The lure of the fresh air outside became irresistible, and I fought my way out through the crowds.
The night breeze was wonderfully cool on my face, and I breathed a satisfied sigh as I sat down on a step outside. I stared ahead of me at the boarded up windows of the warehouse across the street, peacefully ignoring the drunken debates in the air around me. It was spotting with refreshing rain, and I nodded my head slowly to the rhythm of the music floating through the door. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a blur of black, peach and ginger swagger over and sit next to me.
My heart leapt into my mouth, and I nearly choked on my cider.
"I wasn't expecting to see you here."
Her voice was husky and sweet, and I felt myself trembling as I looked up.
"I just stopped by on my way home. I was only meant to have one drink..."
She chuckled. "I know how that goes." She dug around in her pocket for a pouch of tobacco. "Do you want a spliff?"
I nodded, a little dumbstruck, and she began carefully rolling, intense concentration on her face as she made sure everything was just perfect. I wished I knew what to say to her, but everything that came into my head sounded crazy, foolish, pathetic. I made small talk about the bands that were playing as she nodded, licking the paper and twisting the end.
"It's been a good night," she mumbled, with the spliff hanging from one corner of her mouth. She patted her jeans, and then called out, "Anyone got a lighter?"
A skinny young punk turned and handed one over. She lit the joint and pocketed the lighter, with a little triumphant grin. We sat on the step for nearly half an hour, smoking and talking and admiring the smattering of stars in the clear sky above us. She held out her hand, and asked if I wanted to dance; my entire body flushed with warmth, and a tingling spark rippled down my back as her fingers clasped around mine and pulled me up. My eyes wandered over her soft lips, and I wondered if she'd ever let me kiss them, but she turned her head and pulled me back inside and through the crowd.
Her dancing was incredible; her body moved as though it were a physical manifestation of the music, and I was entranced. I felt like a broken marionette in comparison, but when my eyes met hers, they were full of admiration. I stepped backwards towards the wall. She stopped dancing and looked at me in confusion, before following me. Our faces were so close I could feel her breath tickling my neck.
My gaze flickered between her eyes and her lips, pleading – begging, even. She smiled, and closed the gap between our mouths. My body melted into hers. Her tongue was softer and sweeter than I'd ever imagined. Her warm breasts pressed against mine as she held me close. I had never wanted anyone more than I wanted her that night. She pushed me back against the wall, and her kisses grew urgent.
I traced my fingers down her damp back, and cupped her bum in my hands. Her arms wrapped around my waist and she teased at the exposed skin below my t-shirt. I pushed a couple of tentative fingers just inside the elastic of her pants, and she pulled back, putting her hands firmly over mine.
"Not here," she whispered. "Not now."
"I'm sorry."
She smiled, and kissed me again, a gentle peck on the lips. "I just want it to mean something, you know?"
