Week 3: Hullabaloo

Week 3: 20th July to 26th July.

Hullabaloo

I had never been much of a dancer. I was that sort of girl who would be standing in the corner minding her own business. This girl always wore a leather jacket that was way too big for her. Yeah, she was a loner. And yeah, she was self-obsessed enough to refer to herself in the third person.

I did have friends-Tanya and Layla. They were the ones waving the lameass ‘Will you marry me, Luke Scott?’ banner. Bigamy was an offense punishable by law. Didn’t they know?

At least, it wasn’t polygamy. Luke was single and I was obsessed. A little.

Not like Luke Scott would notice them. I mean, why would he? He’s like a freaking God among us mortals. Don’t believe me? Trust me; you would if you were in my place. I was standing (Yeah, you guessed it correct) in an amazing corner. And why was this corner so amazing? I had a clear view of Luke’s dark blue eyes. They appeared black in the dim, hardly there lights.

I had goosebumps as my ears picked up his smoky voice blocking out all others.

This guy had unknowingly kept me sane after IT had happened. I became aware about an ache in my stomach. It was a constant companion but recently I had been successful in blocking it out. I pulled my jacket tighter around myself. It had ceased to provide the comfort it used to. Then again, it fit snugger than before.

I told my brain to shut the fuck up. My first Wanderlust concert wasn’t going to go down in tears. No way, Jose.

It was easy this time. I just concentrated on Luke. He probably thought I was a stalker or something. Well, he would, if he actually glanced in my direction.

My heart was soaring in the best way possible as ‘Trains’ came to an end. The band announced a five minute break.

Due the lack of Luke Scott themed awesome on stage, I snapped out of the trance of sorts I had put myself into.

Crowds. People. I couldn’t breathe. I had never really been a big fan of crowds. My claustrophobia had gotten way worse after …after it had happened. I couldn’t even step inside a supermarket. My shrink referred to it as a ’loss of security’. This concert had been a huge risk. But I couldn’t miss it.

I forced myself to take deep breaths. Deep, slow breaths.

My eyes were swimming in tears as Wanderlust came back up. Luke Scott had been wearing a simple black button down and blue jeans. Now the sleeves were pushed up and his ‘Dear Amelia’ tattoo was on show. I had always wondered who the hell Amelia was.

Luke grabbed the mike and flashed us his famous crooked grin. Every female in the room (and some males) shrieked at that. I swear I heard some of them meowl.

“Hey guys! Missed us?”

The noise level went up considerably at that. I was going to go deaf. I stood mute like a ghost, mesmerized by the sight of him. It was a dream fulfilled. I wish, I could tell him that his music had changed my life, that it had kept me alive.

“I see you did. Now we have a special treat for you guys…”

It got even louder. These people were going to go hoarse. And also deaf. But the energy and enthusiasm was undworldly.

“…Yeah, you got it right! We have a new song coming up. It’s called ‘Hullabaloo’ and is written by a fan-Emma McLaughlin. So let’s go!”

Hullabaloo? No! No! This can’t be happening! Not that goddamn song. Not now!

Blue, the guitarist, started playing the chords and I was assaulted by the familiarity of the melody. I could almost see dad playing it. My dad had been a shitty singer but a wonderful pianist. We had written ‘Hullabaloo’ together. And now he was gone.

The song engulfed me. I could not stand being in the room any longer. I needed some air. I needed something. I needed someone. I needed dad.

Relying solely on my instincts, I pushed myself through the throng of bodies leaning towards the stage. They were pulled towards the sound coming from the stage. The Wanderlust had taken up the song and made it into something so much more. I felt a little proud of myself. I was a part of ‘Hullabaloo’.

I could finally see the exit as I pushed the last people apart. I rushed towards it. The exit was pretty desolate. No one wanted to leave. Except me. I looked at the band one last time. There weren’t going to be any Wanderlust concerts for me in the near future.

After all this time, they were playing the damn song. Luke sexy, sexy voice suited the song just like I thought it would. That gave me a sense of satisfaction. At that kiddish part of me who used to hang posters of the great Luke Scott in her bedroom and who had mailed him the song begging him to play it.

Luke was a force to be reckoned with, especially when he sang.

For a split second, my conscious deceived me into thinking that I was staring into his eyes and he was staring right back into mine. I smiled, turned and left.

It was raining outside. I didn’t mind. The freshness of the rain took away the saltiness of my tears. By the time I reached my car, I was completely drenched. I got in and turned on the heater. I couldn’t leave yet. Tanya and Layla would stumble out after the concert was over, drunk as drunk girls. I was their ride back home.

I took of my jacket and dumped it at the back. The comfort I used to get from it was lost. My walls crumbled. I hurt all over. I missed him so much. Every damn moment. The tears flowed freely. Fortunately I had tissues to blow my nose. I was experienced at tears.

I was experienced at handling myself. Soon, I had no more tears to let out. My water intake for the day had been low, I suppose. I wasn’t okay, not by a long shot. But at least, I wasn’t crying anymore.

Instead I was glaring out of the window. Anger, I could handle.

I heard a car door open and shut and I felt a presence next to me. I hadn’t locked the doors. Wow. Talk about stupid. There was probably an axe-murderer in my car now.

I turned to look at the intruder’s profile. I was looking into blue eyes lit by the parking lot lights. They were familiar and strange all at once.

“Drive! Drive! Drive!” He yelled. His voice was hoarse because of all the singing he had been doing. I could hear some kind of commotion behind us but all I could think about were my swollen, red eyes and the unattractive way in which my mouth was hanging open.

He smelt of wet leather and sweat. He was still wearing the button down over which he wore a jacket. His long black hair was plastered over his forehead. He looked at me as if I was dumb.

It was bloody unbelievable.

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