1991

1991 part 3

Blue and stormy.  A tempest. That's all I can see. All I can think. 

"She came with you?" White T-Shirt's asking me a question, focus. My mind's a fog.

"Er..no. She came with Kirsty...the dark haired girl. She was with Nick when I arrived." I tear my eyes away and pull some paper towels from the dispenser behind me. Shaking I step forward and hand them over. Maybe we'll graze fingers I think but Kind Faced Guitarist takes them from me instead. I hover, not sure what to do.

"Paramedics are on their way," Scrunch comes back into the bathroom, "and Jeff's got that dudes head pinned to the bar," he adds nonchalantly. He looks at me with concern, "you ok, er...?"

"Sam, my name's Sam," I'm aware that my hands are shaking, rage probably and shock from seeing Becky like this and... something else. The only thing that's not unpleasant about this whole episode, something like anticipation in my chest.

"It's ok, she's in good hands and that dick's not going anywhere." I smile at Scrunch and breathe out slowly, steadying my nerves. Becky is quiet, her eyes are closed and flicker gently. Her legs have stopped shaking, wrapped in Kind Faced's jacket. He sees me looking at him gratefully.

"I'm Mike, hi. Not the best introduction to have but, hey," he smiles kindly and sort of waves.

"Thanks Mike," I smile. My eyes flick to White T-shirt who is looking at Becky's face intently and gently stroking her hand, her head is still in his lap. For some inexplicable reason I feel a pang of envy for a girl lying in a pool of puke on the floor.

"And this Doogie Howser wannabe is Eddie," he indicates White T-shirt guy. I repeat it out loud.

"Eddie." 

Eddie looks up from his patient and catches my eye. Again it's like being caught by a tidal wave, what is it with this enigmatic mother fucker?! I smile awkwardly and my heart thuds with astonishment as he reciprocates with a lopsided grin and a dimple. 

"I'd shake your hand but..." he laughs exposing his teeth and signals his puke-covered state. God, even his teeth are sexy. What the hell has gotten into me? This man is covered in god knows what disgusting mess and I'm looking at him like it's a hot day and he's an ice-cream sundae, with extra whipped cream and sprinkles. I breathe in quickly.

The paramedics arrive. Becky is quickly attended to and taken away on a stretcher. Kirsty climbs into the back of the ambulance with Becky, and like a knight in shining armour Scrunch went too although I'm doubtful his intentions are 100% honourable. He offered way too quickly but Kirsty accepted before he'd even got the words out of his mouth so at least it's mutual. Becky's conscious and breathing unaided, fortunately most of whatever Nick gave her came out and is probably on Eddie's t-shirt now. Nick gets bundled into a squad car, although Jeff seemed less than keen to let him go. The bar has emptied out and I'm left alone with three band members. I look around for the forth. He's not there so I head back into the bathroom.

Eddie's at the sink, washing up. It's a pretty feeble effort given the state he's in.

"That's not much thanks for all your help is it? Leaving you covered in puke," I say quietly. 

He smiles at me in the mirror.

"Good thing I'm not squeamish right?" he pulls a paper towel out of the dispenser and dries his hands. I look at his shirt, it's soaked.

"Er... you missed a bit?" I point at his t-shirt. It's disgusting. "You can't wear that."

 He looks down and raises his eyebrows. In one fluid movement he pulls his shirt up and off, and drops it in the trash. For a second his hands go to the top button of his fly, then it's as though he suddenly remembers where he is and he stops, his hands still clutching his waistband. He glances at me through the hair that's fallen on his face. I can't stop myself take a sharp intake of breath. 

"Sorry, forgot where I was for a second," he pushes his hair back with an arm and focuses on me in the mirror. I'm staring at the soft line of dark hair, that starts at his belly button and disappears beneath the waistband of his underwear, visible above the top of his shorts. I'm wondering what it would be like to trace it gently with my fingertip, and follow it all the way down, down, down.  

"Enjoy the show?" 

"Excuse me?" I'm pulled out of my trance. Was my staring that obvious? I blush hard.

"The show, you seemed to be into it," that penetrating stare, that devilish grin with the arched eyebrows is reflected at me. I'm so embarrassed I can't speak. "What was your favourite?"

"Favourite?" The moment when you took off your shirt was pretty good if I'm honest, I think to myself.

"Yeah, your favourite song?"

"Oh!" I blurt out, recovering quickly, "favourite song!"

"Yeah, why? What did you think I meant?" He knows what I was thinking, he's teasing me.  He smirks. I raise an eyebrow back.

"I enjoyed the whole thing."

Without breaking eye contact in the mirror, Eddie begins to unbutton his shorts. If this is a game I'm not going to give an inch. I stare straight back. He bites his bottom lip fighting a grin and slips his shorts to the floor so he's standing in his boxers, socks and boots. It should look ridiculous but on him it doesn't. He's perfect, every inch is perfect. My stomach swirls. Not willing to lose our silly game I focus hard on his eyeline and cross my arms. Amused he bends over, picks up his shorts and turns to face me.

"I need a shower, Sam," he says with a wicked grin and walks past me, out into the bar in just his underwear and boots.