The Middle | Hemmings + Styles AU

33. lilac vinyl

The bar was a decent size and completely full of people in their early twenties. The electronic-indie three piece that was Lilac Vinyl had taken a short break half way into their set and everyone seemed to draw towards the bar like magnets on metal.

Harry and I stayed in our spot, waiting for the band to come back on the stage. I didn't want or need any alcohol tonight. Everything about Harry seemed to intoxicate me; the stories told by his tattooed skin, how words dripped slowly through his perfect lips, the way his hands created fire when they brushed against my skin. 

He was enough to make me feel drunk and lose all sense of good judgement. Adding alcohol to the mix would have been asking for trouble.

"You should go and get a drink if you want," I encouraged Harry. Just because I was being sensible didn't mean he should feel obliged too.

"I doubt your parents would approve of you riding around in the car with a drunk boy."

For some reason, I laughed. The word boy didn't seem to fit Harry. There weren't many words that seemed to fit Harry. Right now, as I stared at his intent green eyes, the only one that seemed to do him justice was beautiful. Did boys mind being thought of as beautiful?

"I can drive back, if you want to have a drink."

"It's okay," Harry smiled. "I'm not really a big drinker."

"Really? I thought hard liquor would have gone hand in hand with your whole rockstar vibe." I looked him up and down, from his brown boots to the white mostly unbuttoned shirt. The top of his butterfly tattoo was teasing me and for a fleeting second, I imagined Harry unbuttoning the rest of his shirt, slipping off the fabric so I could explore the rest of this body.

The very thought sent shivers down my spine. Breathe, Stella.

The corners of Harry's mouth twitched up, obviously amused. "Rockstar vibe?"

I found myself blushing and quickly changed the subject. "So, is this the first time you've seen them?"

"Third. What do you think?"

"They're good," I answered thoughtfully. And then, even though I wasn't sure Harry would understand my comparison, I added, "Sort of like, Twenty One Pilots meets The Cranberries."

His entire face lit up. "That's exactly what I thought! I'm waiting for the day they cover Linger."

"I hope I'm here the day they do," I smiled.

I was still smiling when the band walked back onto the stage. They played a handful more songs before thanking everyone for coming out and announcing the next song would be their last. 

Behind the upbeat tempo of the last song were hauntingly beautiful lyrics. It was nostalgic and it made me think of Aunty Peg. How she has all of these stories from when she was young, but they aren't stories to her. They're memories. 

Not so long ago, she was a young girl, watching bands with boys and laughing with her girlfriends, and squeezing the life out of every single minute so that now, when she tells me about those moments, she doesn't have a single regret.

Moments too quickly become memories, and then they're untouchable, unchangeable. Memories are stuck exactly as they are forever.

When the last song ended, no one moved for a while. We were all stuck in this moment, connected by the music and breathing in the lyrics in whichever way we interpreted them.

A while later, half of the bar had emptied out. The rest were either draped by the bar or dancing to the music played by the DJ which had taken Lilac Vinyl's place on the wooden stage.