|…and he hadn’t even begun
From the time this rockstar stepped on stage, he drew every eye in the house including hers. He paused, the light reflecting off his dark black-blue skin, cocooning him in a cobalt glow, growing in size, larger and larger to encompass the entire audience—till he and them were united in destiny. And he hadn’t even begun. With the first thwang of the guitar he had them hooked, drawing them into the music, in between the threads of notes, interweaving them into the moment, the final pattern—a mosaic of a wild ride of astounding rock, soft as silk, yet hard as steel. That dark, inaccessible part of him that had repelled her so much in real life was—she realised—attractive in a macabre fashion, under the spotlight. Fuelled by his instincts, it was a form of chaos, which danced with the collective will of the audience. Despite herself she was hypnotised, and before she knew it, everything else drowned out so she was nodding rhythmically to the beat, arms folded, resisting the impulse to fling them out as if to hold onto that feeling of well being which music always infused her with.
“What a rush!” she hadn’t noticed Neil come up to stand behind her. She looked at him noticing the shine of sweat on his forehead, running down in rivulets down his cheeks, he put his right hand into the pocket of his ridiculously long shirt which came up to mid thigh—this time a shade of lighter purple than what he would normally wear. “This has gotta be the greatest feeling in the galaxy.”
“For once I agree with you,” she smiled at him only to realize that he was looking at her with a strange look on his face. “Are you alright?” He didn’t answer her, continuing to stare as if seeing her for the first, making her uncomfortable. She pushed at him then “Neil…”
“You have no idea do you?” he asked.
“No, what?” she stuttered.
He bent down and brought his lips to hers, a soft touch of surprise, which was almost not there. She looked straight into his wide unblinking eyes. The hair on her forearms stood on end, and when her eyes shuttered down, she could feel the tension in him communicate to her. No other part of their bodies touched, except their lips, their lives in parallel for just a millisecond. She didn’t need to stand on tiptoe for he bent down to her. She could feel his heart speed up, the drumming of his pulse syncing with hers, which thudded in response, remixed with the beats that echoed around the room at first, until that faded too leaving behind a strange calm, as if she was back on the moonlit beach, and in the distance she saw a figure walk towards her, except it wasn’t her father anymore, it was Neil looking at her with that same incomprehensible expression from a few minutes ago. Her eyes sprung open, “no!” it was torn out of her, and pushing him back she stepped onto the stage, turning away from him. So intent on getting away from him was she that she did not realize she was halfway across the stage, until the rockstar turned to her. As if anticipating her entrance he held out his arm. The tears streaming down her cheek blinded her to everything and she did not remember reaching out, till he held up their intertwined palms as if displaying a trophy. “Give it up, don’t hold anything back…” he screamed, and the crowd roared in response, sensing a climax of a kind, gratefully taking the curve of passion that they had been thrown, a relief from the straight line they had been on. Desire whipped through them, hitting her like a wall of heat. She stumbled and he held her upright, bending to whisper in her ear, “rock with me.”
About Laxmi Hariharan (in my words): Though born in India, wanderlust drove me out of my home country, and I lived in Singapore and Hong Kong before being based in London where I now live. I am inspired by Indian mythology. It was in embracing my roots that I found my voice. My debut novel The Destiny of Shaitan is available on Amazonhttp://tiny.cc/szqsew. Reach me :