by Holly Bourne
“Shh.”
And that was all the resistance I bothered with before I kissed him right back.
We emerged from the dressing room dishevelled and, embarrassingly, our friends cheered when we arrived back.
“You guys took a while,” Will said. He had his arm around Ruth and his chest puffed out. I think he was enjoying playing the Rock God role for the evening.
“Yeah…umm…we got lost?” Noah said, laughing and putting his arm around me.
“Lost?”
“Yep.”
“In each other’s mouths?”
Noah laughed again. “Maybe… So, does everyone have the set list memorized?” he asked, clapping his hands together, pretending it was just business as usual.
“Yes, boss,” the band echoed.
“And has everyone peed? I know it sounds weird, but you don’t want to need an almighty slash mid-set.”
“Jesus, Noah,” said Ryan. “I think you can trust us to take care of our own urinary secretions.”
“I’m just saying. Rock stars shouldn’t pee themselves. It’s just not cool.”
“Well, I’ll go before we go on, I promise.”
“What about you, Jack? We all know you have trouble holding…after that road trip to Oxford.”
Jack went a bit red while the boys high-fived each other.
“Shut up. We were in that traffic jam for hours!”
“Just go pee and I won’t tell the girls what happened.”
I hadn’t realized it before – I’d been far too distracted with the beginner’s guide to uncontrollable lust – but Noah was a ball of nervous energy. He was swinging my hand manically as well as tapping on his thigh. And he was also doing his own mini-tap dance on the hard corridor lino. If he wasn’t so cute I would’ve taken the piss. Instead I squeezed his hand and whispered, “You nervous?”
“Am I that obvious?”
I swept back a piece of hair from his face.
“You’re going to be great. You know that, right?”
“I just hope I don’t freak out and screw it up for everybody. This is our big shot, Poppy.”
His eyes were wide open, vulnerable, and I loved him more that second than I ever had. It rushed through my veins, making me feel warm and sick at the same time.
“That won’t happen, I swear. But if you do start to freak a little, just find my face in the crowd. I’ll be there, front row, fighting off your fans with a baseball bat…” He smiled. “And then, whatever’s happening, you can be secure in the knowledge that someone loves you. Unconditionally. Even if you end up putting your guitar on backwards and crying.” He smiled again. “And that’s all that matters in life, in the long run.”
Noah’s eyes burned into mine and for a moment I thought he was going to ravage me again. Instead his eyes got a teeny bit watery and he stroked the soft skin on my cheek.
“I am so very lucky to have you.”
“I know.”
My words seemed to calm him and we joined in the banter around us. Ryan was boasting about all the girls in the crowd he could bring backstage for a “seeing-to”. I think the excitement had gone to his head. This, of course, upset Lizzie, who went into one of her well-rehearsed rants about feminism. Jack had asked Amanda if he could practise his drumbeats on her back, so she was leaning forward a little awkwardly, trying to smile as he repeatedly hit her. And Will kept trying to get Ruth’s attention, but she was too busy trying to spot more important people around us.
A flicker of recognition crossed her face and her eyes lit up. She put her hand up to shush us.
“Guys,” she said. “It’s the band.”
Ponyboys were heading straight for us. Brian, the lead singer, was for some reason soaking wet, like he’d just come out of the shower. He was followed by the other three band members. I didn’t know their names – it was always about Brian really. An angry-looking short blonde woman was scowling behind them. I guessed it was Brian’s wife, still fuming about the groupie fiasco.
“Dudes and dudettes.” Brian greeted us in a faux-American accent and high-fived Noah.
Brian from the Ponyboys. High-fiving my boyfriend, like it was a normal thing to happen.
“Alright, Brian?” Noah replied coolly. “You look a little damp. What happened, mate?”
Brian shook his long brown hair and we all flinched as we got sprayed with water.
“I went out for a cigarette, didn’t I?” he said. “You know, to calm the nerves and all that? Anyway, out of nowhere there’s this big clap of thunder and it starts PROPER pissing it down and I’m soaked through instantly. Weird shit, huh? It reminds me of that time in New Orleans when…”
And then he was off. I noticed, quite quickly, that Brian liked the sound of his own voice. He didn’t seem to care that no one was listening. My friends were just staring at him, like they couldn’t believe he was real. His bandmates were just waiting patiently for him to finish, rolling their eyes in a here-we-go-again way. Only Noah was politely nodding and agreeing in the right places.
When the story finally finished – the gist was that it rained in New Orleans and Brian got wet – he looked at his watch.
“Bloody hell, is that the time? You guys are going on soon.”
“We should probably do a few last-minute checks,” Noah said.
“Good luck, guys, not that you need it. I heard you in rehearsal and you’re going to rock this joint.” Brian high-fived Noah again. “Of course you won’t be as amazing as us.”
And he walked off in the opposite direction, muttering about getting dry. His band and wife dutifully followed him.
Our group were quiet for a moment.
“Wow,” Lizzie said. “I can’t believe I just sort of met Brian from Ponyboys.”
“He’s a nutcase, isn’t he?” Ryan said. “We caught him randomly playing the violin earlier.”
Noah clapped his hands again. “Okay, listen guys. It’s time. I want you all to go to the loo. Especially you, Jack.”
“Oh God, here we go. Bladder police out on patrol again.”
“I’m serious. Then let’s meet back here in five and get ready.” He turned to us. “Ladies, you should probably head out front. The security guys will make sure you get a good view.”
A bustle of activity followed, with everyone taking off in all directions. I was about to follow the girls towards the stage when my hand was grabbed back.
“Hey,” Noah said, spinning me round into him.
I scratched the top of his chest where his bare skin was on show. “Hey, yourself.”
“Aren’t you going to wish me luck?”
I played with his necklace. “You don’t need any luck, but break a leg anyway.”
“Do I get a good-luck kiss?”
I brought my lips to his and they gently brushed. I delicately traced the tip of my tongue along the tip of his and then pulled away.
“Go on, Rock God,” I said. “It’s your time to shine.”
He gave me another gorgeous smile. “I love you.”
“I love you more. Now go out there and show everyone how brilliant you are.”
And I turned and ran after the rest of the girls, not quite believing that my boyfriend was about to hold the stage at a massive arena gig.
True to Noah’s word, the backstage workers let us in at the front row.
“Just slip in here,” said a blonde lady holding a clipboard. “You get the best view from this side.”
We thanked her and nudged our way into the crowd. Our arrival wasn’t welcomed by the large number of girls who’d crushed their bare-skinned bodies into the front row. In fact, we got a lot of people yelling “queue jumpers”. Luckily we had Ruth with us. She delighted in the negative attention and flung her middle finger at them with a massive beaming smile.
“Just imagine,” she said. “These losers have been queuing in the rain for hours and we get to shimmy right to the front. God, I love sleeping with the band.”
Lizzie grinn
ed, obviously equally unbothered by our unwelcome reception. “And I haven’t even had to sleep with anyone. I get all this just because my mates are sleeping with them.”
“You could so get with Jack if you wanted,” Ruth said. “He’s pretty into you.”
Lizzie made a face and I smiled inwardly, remembering her rant a few weeks ago about true love.
“When will the music start?” Amanda asked. She looked a tad squashed but was trying to style it out.
I looked at my phone. “Five minutes.”
“This is so exciting.”
“I know.”
Considering it was only seven, the place was already pretty full. Usually people don’t bother sitting through support bands and just rock up five minutes before the headliners start. The support acts are just a boring thing to get through, something to endure to ensure a good view. But, by the look of things, people were here for Growing Pains as well.
We were jostling for personal space with a few other girls, some of whom were intent on pulling a band member. One girl had an I love Brian T-shirt and was excitedly telling her friend about the “really romantic time” she’d had sex with him in some club toilets after a gig.
“It was so sweet,” she said. “He made it really special. He lay his coat down on the toilet floor so it wasn’t too cold on my back.”
His poor wife.
Her friend, a tall girl with long brown hair, was eating up the details.
“Brian’s nothing,” she said, tossing her hair back over her bare shoulder. “Have you seen photos of the support band? That guitarist! I am so going to get myself backstage tonight.”
Hang on? Was she talking about Noah?
“I’ve heard they’re really good,” toilet-sex girl said. “And I heard that guitarist is a total male slut. Screws anything that moves.”
“As long as it’s me, I don’t care.”
I felt worse.
“Psst.” Lizzie nudged me in the side, dragging me from my rage and insecurity.
“What?”
“I don’t wanna ruin your night but…” She pointed her finger down the front row. “…I thought you should know.”
I followed the line of her finger. “Oh no.”
“I’m sure she won’t cause any trouble.”
It was Portia. I’d forgotten all about her. But she obviously hadn’t forgotten about Noah. She had secured a spot right in the middle and was eyeing the stage with that determined look in her eye. It didn’t help that she looked fabulous. She was wearing a silver bodycon dress that sparkled in the lights. Her long blonde hair slid down her back like an elongated halo and her face was perfectly made-up.
I groaned. “I shouldn’t have come.”
“What? Why not?”
I gestured towards all the girls around me. They could sense the band were about to begin so the energy was building and the pushing had started. Previously timid-looking girls had suddenly morphed into aggressive monsters, elbowing people and accidently-deliberately stepping on toes to keep their places.
“This,” I said, “is doing nothing to boost my self-esteem.”
Lizzie put an arm around me. “Don’t be silly. Noah’s head-over-heels for you.”
“But how can I compete with all these girls?”
“Because,” Lizzie said, “you are Poppy Lawson and you are brilliant. Tonight is about enjoying ourselves! Poppy, we have backstage tickets to the biggest gig that’s ever come to Middletown. Now swallow that anti-ego sweet you’re sucking on and have some fun.”
I was about to reply when all the lights went off and everyone started screaming.
My heart began to beat, fast. My mind flashed back to that very first gig – the very first time I’d seen Noah. It seemed like a million years ago.
I saw dark figures walk onto the stage and could sense, from the way my body was behaving, that one of them was him.
The screams got louder, the energy more frenzied. The pushing got worse but the barrier in front protected us.
I saw Noah pick up his guitar on the side of the stage nearest to us. He seemed so far away, even though it was only a few feet. I wondered what was going through his head right then and prayed he would be okay.
Ryan’s voice boomed around the arena.
“Evening, ladies and gentlemen. We are…Growing Pains.”
The lights came up and the band launched straight into one of their best songs. The heaving mass of the crowd went mental and started jumping up and down in a big thronging heap. My feet weren’t touching the ground but I was smiling.
Noah had no reason to be nervous. His hands were gliding up and down the neck of his guitar in a blur. Every note was in perfect timing with the frantic drumming. Ryan’s voice was the best it had ever sounded. They were good. And less than twenty seconds in, the crowd knew it. The band knew it too. Noah’s posture improved and he looked out into the crowd for the first time – trusting his hands to continue playing so he could take in the spectacle. And his eyes found mine. Mine. My face out of the thousands. He shot me his very best smile. And my knees buckled as I realized I would never fancy anyone but him. Ever again.
Two songs in and the crowd were going wild. Drinks were being tossed through the air with abandon and I was glad we were at the side and not in the firing line. To my delight, I spotted Portia wailing after a nearly-full pint of beer flew through the air and drowned her perfect head in amber liquid. Oddly, a few pairs of knickers were sailing through the air at random intervals. Ryan, who you would never believe was shy in real life, was loving it. He was putting them on his head or flicking them back into the audience.
As the band went into some of their more ska-sounding songs, everyone began to dance madly until the entire standing section was like one big organism. The toilet-sex girls had their arms around me like we were best friends and were forcing me to pogo with them. But I was really only focused on one thing: Noah. I couldn’t keep my eyes off him. Lust zinged through my blood; the longing in my body was like a thirst. And, although I would never admit it to Ruth, I was glad I’d painted my toenails. I’d never wanted anything as much as I wanted him right then. His arms around my body, his skin on my skin, his taste in my mouth. I was halfway to diving onto the stage and ripping off my dress.
Unfortunately, lots of other girls at the gig seemed to share the same sentiment.
“That guitarist is so FIT,” one of the jumping girls screamed in my ear mid-bounce.
I just nodded, thinking our new friendship would be short-lived if I turned round and said arrogantly, “I know. And he’s my boyfriend.”
The girls were loving it too. Lizzie was getting her groove on, a sight that was always enjoyable, as she danced like a nutter. Amanda was bopping her head while simultaneously keeping a concerned eye out for flying beer cups. Ruth was leaning over the barrier and licking her lips whenever she caught Will’s eye – although, for once, the power balance between them had reversed and Will scarcely gave her any attention. He was in love with the crowd. He basked in the adoration, glowing, like he was a plant photosynthesizing.
After four fast songs in a row, the band drew to a stop. The lights went dark and Ryan approached the microphone (he had left it for a while to go stage-diving).
“Hey, everyone,” he said, and had to pause to let the whole place cheer. He shook his head, overwhelmed. “We’re going to go all acoustic on your ass now. As you are fully aware, I am a very gifted singer…”
The crowd whooped and cheered.
“…But I’m going to give this one to our brilliant guitarist here.” He pointed towards Noah and the crowd erupted again. “He wrote this one, so it’s only fair he gets to sing it. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Noah Roberts.”
More screams as Noah approached the microphone and whispered in Ryan’s ear. They high-fived.
“What’s going on?” Lizzie asked. “I didn’t know they did acoustic songs.”
“Neither did I.”
Noah pulled up a st
ool and sat with an acoustic guitar on his lap.
“Thank you,” he said, waiting for the crowd to calm down. “Right, this is a new song I’ve written about a very special girl…”
Everything got hazy.
“…Her name’s Poppy and she’s here tonight.”
I couldn’t believe what was happening. Lizzie was squealing but I didn’t hear her.
“…She’s the best thing that ever happened to me, and I just want to let you all know how amazing she is.”
And then he strummed his guitar, opened his mouth and began to sing.
It was beautiful. I know I’m incredibly biased – I mean the song was written about me, for God’s sake – but it really was beautiful. I’d never heard Noah sing before, but his voice was like chocolate melted in a warm cup of tea. The lyrics almost brought me to tears. Lizzie had to practically hold me up, I became so emotional. Noah stared at me throughout the whole song and it was like we were the only ones in the room – despite there being a sea of people waving iPhones around in appreciation. I couldn’t help but think that things like this didn’t happen to real people, especially girls like me. Sure, they happened in films and books and cheesy television shows, but when did this sort of thing ever actually happen in real life?
Yes, admittedly, the moment was briefly ruined by my new friends yelling “You lucky cow!” but other than that it was completely and utterly perfect. When the song finished, the crowd were quiet for a few seconds. Noah looked up self-consciously, like he’d only just realized where he was. Then the clapping started, and the cheers and whoops. His entire face lit up.
“I can’t believe that just happened,” Lizzie yelled into my ear. “You officially have the most perfect boyfriend of all time.”
I could only smile as Ryan retrieved the microphone. The band launched into their final song, a massive beat-heavy tune that had everyone dancing again. I jumped up and down on a euphoric high, watching Noah, loving him and wanting him. And then the last chords rang out to signal the end of the set and the hard-core applause began. The boys, with childlike expressions of utter happiness, took a bow. I screamed as hard as I could until my throat got sore and Lizzie produced an impressive two-fingered whistle. My hands were raw from clapping, sweat was dripping down my forehead, and when the lights came on it was like waking from a dream. Nondescript background music played as people either went to the bar, toilet, or kept their places for the headline act. The girls and I stayed where we were, jumping up and down, hugging and squealing into each other’s ears with giddy excitement.
