All It Took

1.Alison

Any Man of Mine // Shania Twain

I'm sitting in the bleachers waiting for the dumb concert to end. This is not my band, and certainly not my music, but I am a good friend so I'm here. Misty is nothing if not quirky, in every aspect of life, and music is no exception. I consider myself open to new experiences, but this is pushing it.

Who in their right mind listens to freaky clowns playing heavy metal? If that is indeed what you can call this crap. I'm here in a plaid flannel and boots. Clown-girl next to me has full face paint and her clothes are practically shredded. How did I get myself into this mess?

Oh, right. I owed her a favor. I need to remind myself never to forget my keys and lock myself out of my apartment at three-thirty in the morning. If Misty hadn't picked me up at zero-Dark-o'clock and let me crash on her couch until my roommate got back from out of town, I wouldn't be surrounded by my worst nightmares. Honestly I don't think I'll be able to sleep for the rest of the year.

It's only June.

"I'm going to the bathroom!" I yell into Misty's ear. I need out of this circus and the bathroom is my only escape.

"What?" she yells back.

"BATHROOM!"

Misty finally nods in understanding and steps back so I can shove my way past more freaky clown fans. They look creepy but at least they step out of my way so I can exit the row.

I finally make it to the stairs. We're in row X, the only tickets either of us could afford on part time salaries. It was a long way down and steep, on top of how high we were. My stomach coils in nerves, not exactly enjoying high places. Especially ones surrounded with, yeah, clowns.

I make it exactly six rows before I lose my balance. I'm sure it's just my perception. I'm not really falling, but I instinctively reach out to grab the rail as I feel that feeling, the one where you know gravity has taken over and your face is about to make friends with the concrete.

My hand misses the rail and I gasp, awaiting the inevitable pain on its way. But I never hit the ground. I never even fall half way. Something has stopped my fall. Something warm and strong.

Something not painted to look like a clown who wanted to eat me.

I look up into the face of my rescuer and audibly sigh. Thank goodness for the decibel level of this atrocious music, because the gorgeous face staring at me would have turned to run the other direction if he had heard my vocal reaction. Tall, brown hair and eyes, a little dimple in his chin...this guy is, wow.

No face paint to be seen on him, or any ripped clothing. Just a sheepskin jacket all buttoned up  with the hint of a white T-shirt peeking out. I quickly glance down to see light washed jeans molded around strong thighs. My heart rate just increased by a thousand.

And he has boots on. I think I'm in love.

Realizing I'm ogling the poor guy, who no doubt has a hot girlfriend ready to knock me out for checking out her man, I look up and gulp. He's still looking at me, a concerned expression on his face. I can't tell if it's been seconds, or dear God, minutes, since the whole thing started and I'm just standing there staring at him. My mouth is open and his hand is still gripping my arm. It's not even making contact with actual skin, but I feel burned.

"Hey, you okay?" he shouts at me, but somehow it sounds more like a verbal caress. Is that a thing? It must be a thing, because I just felt it.

"Yeah," I manage to say, and yes my voice cracks as I say it. The way it does in the early morning when you're just waking up and you haven't had a glass of water yet. That's how he makes me feel. Parched.