Teeth | c.h. [ON HOLD]

ii

I find myself lost in his chocolate brown eyes as he expertly strums the strings of his bass. His fingers move effortlessly as he stares back into my dark eyes. My breathing hitches in my throat as I watch this man in front of me.

Every other girl must be entranced by his enigmatic movements; it was almost as if this was second nature to him.

His eyes graze over my face for a second before stepping up to the microphone, pressing his lips against it softly, grazing it effortlessly.

"The blood in my veins is made up of mistakes," he sings, keeping his eyes on mine. He glances down briefly at his guitar and smirks before singing, "Let's forget who we are and dive into the dark."

His lips turn into a small grin in my direction before singing the chorus with the rest of the band. I let out a heavy breath, watching him move towards the lead singer, his gaze no longer on mine. 

I breathe deeply, my heart pumping against my chest as I watch him do what it seems he does best.

Perform.

*

I know I said I wasn't excited, but I'm actually quite impressed. Their songs are a little punky for my taste, but they're not bad by any means. 

I'm pretty surprised.

"Was that not just the most amazing thing you've ever seen?" Molly marveled. She wraps her arms around by back, holding my shoulders as we walk towards the front of the venue.

"It was okay," I reply, letting out a small laugh when she scoffs at me and shoves me.

"They're just so incredible in the way that they perform, and I could never imagine not-" Molly talks at a million miles a minute and I quickly interrupt her to get her to slow down.

"Let's go get you some merch or something," I laugh. "I think we need to occupy you for a little bit."

Molly scoffs and rolls her eyes at me. "You're trying to distract me," she sneers. "But lucky for you, I like things and I like this band, so I will shut up for now and let you buy me a Luke shirt." 

I let out a laugh at her request and shake my head, heading over to merch table. There's a  massive line of girls with their wallets, and moms with tired expressions on their faces. I feel like a mom taking her band-obsessed daughter to a concert. That band-obsessed daughter being Molly, of course. 

We stand at the back of the line and Molly begins jabbering about the performance all over again. I find myself just listening to her instead of trying to change the subject because she's just so happy. I can see it all over her face. Even if this isn't a trip I would've chosen for us, I'm glad that me coming along made her happy.

"But then when he did that thing with the guitar, God was he-" Molly continues, but she's interrupted when I feel a small tap on my shoulder.

I turn around and a large man with a security shirt is standing in front of me, staring down at us. He has tattoos up his arms, which, by the way, are pretty much busting out of his incredibly tight shirt. He stands at probably six-five, meaning he's far taller than Molly and myself.

And incredibly intimidating.

"Can I-" I begin, but he cuts me off.

"Ladies, can I interest you in an opportunity to meet the band?" 

"Sorry, what?" I question. What kind of bizarre cliché is this?

 I must have some kind of surprised and confused expression on my face because the man smiles awkwardly before continuing.