Page 3 of Feral Touch
“It was fine.”
They both narrowed their eyes at me and I blushed, remembering the tears.
"I guess I don’t need to ask which one is your favorite.” Jen said.
“It’s getting late,” I said, changing the subject. “Let’s grab your jackets and go home.”
“We can’t leave now.”
“Is there more?” I asked, incredulous.
Jen and Natalie shared a grin before speaking as one.
“It’s time to go meet the band!”
I frowned at Jen, confused. “Meet the band?”
“All the hardcore fans wait outside the back entrance of the concert hall to catch the band coming out. Sometimes they take pictures with us!”
“And how long does that take?” I was already dreaming of my warm bed and comfy blankets. I didn’t want to know how late it was.
Jen shrugged. “Sometimes they come out right away, other times it takes a few hours.”
“Are you serious? I’m not waiting outside in the cold for hours just to get a glimpse of some guys, famous or not.”
Unfortunately for me,my two friends were determined and dragged me out back despite my protests the whole way.
“It’ll be fun, you’ll see,” Natalie consoled me. “It’s almost like you revert back to your fourteen-year-old self, when everything was new and exciting and you were experiencing puppy love for the first time. There’s this kind of emotional high you get when you meet your idols.It can stay with you for months.”
“They’re not my idols.”
“I seem to recall a certain someone crying during a violin solo.”
“Not the same,” I muttered.
Jen and Natalie chatted excitedly as we waited; I tried not to sulk.
“Kell was so on point tonight,” Jen said. “It’s like he gets better with every concert.”
“You’d think his vocal chords would get tired or strained, but seriously, he’s better than ever!” Nat replied.
“Which one is Kell?” I asked.
“The lead singer,” Natalie answered. “With the curly blond hair. The other singer in the group is Jayce, but he’s only back-up vocals. He’s the lead guitarist."
I remembered seeing shirtless leather jacket guy with a guitar and microphone stand, so I figured that must be Jayce. As Jen and Natalie continued to talk, I hopped from foot to foot and exhaled hot air onto my fingers to keep them from freezing.
I didn’t know why I was asking about the band members. It wasn’t like I really cared. I was just wasting time. I resisted the urge to ask about the bass guitarist. I didn’t want them to think I was interested in him. I wasn’t some fangirl groupie after all; I just thought he played his instruments very well. He was talented. As a classically trained musician, I admired that.
He made me think maybe rock music wasn’t as shallow as I’d thought.
It was only twenty minutes later when the creak of a metal door drew our attention and someone stepped out. I winced as shrieks filled my ears.
“It’s them!” Natalie cried, trying to push her way to the front. We had somehow found ourselves near the back of the crowd again.
I wouldn’t say I’m short, but I certainly wasn’t the tallest person in the crowd. I could barely see over the tops of people’s heads. It seemed like a group of men were slowly making their way through the crowd, pausing every few feet to take pictures and sign autographs.
Two of them towered over the crowd with stern faces and thick, muscled necks, most likely bodyguards. After them, I caught the top of a blond head, then two short-haired men.
