Unrequited

That’s when I glimpse the flash of red in the crowd. Hair the color of burning copper; vivid in the dark.

A pair of hazel eyes, staring at me wide with shock and disbelief.

Perfect lips rounded in a silent ‘o’.

It’s her. She’s here.

And suddenly, the distance falls away; that detachment shatters around me on the stage. I'm in the moment, natural as breathing, feeling the music flowing through me, just the way it always does; the spotlight, like sunlight on my skin.

This is what I was made to do.

It all fades away, until the only people in the world are the two of us, suspended in this moment. Me and her and the music. It takes me over, just the way it should, hot and dark, buzzing with restless memories and tightly-coiled desire. I fix on her, only her, those eyes shining like beacons in the crowd, calling me home.

I put it all in the music, Singing everything to her -- channeling the song like a seduction, that no girl on this f**king earth could ever resist.

I'm on a mission now, and nothing’s going to stop me.

I'm going to make her mine.

4.

DEX

The crowd is still on its feet, demanding another encore when I hand my guitar off and climb down from the makeshift stage. My heart is pumping, adrenalin like a live wire, and all I want is to find her again.

"That was amazing!"

"You're like, the best!"

The crowd surges forwards, desperate for a word or a touch, and suddenly it comes back to me -- how much I hate what comes next, the moment the spotlight fades away. This: the grabbing, the excited squeals. Everyone feeling like they deserve a piece of me, like just because they know the words to my songs, have seen some photos in the tabloid magazines, that somehow it means they know me.

"Sorry," I growl, fighting through the scrum. I look for the girl, but she's nowhere in the crowd.

“We came all the way from Asheville,” a fan gasps. “Can you sign my shirt, please?”

Dammit. I scribble across her back with the sharpie she thrusts into my hands, and try to keep my cool. “Thanks for coming out,” I push on, searching frantically. "Sorry, I've really got to go."

I catch a glimpse of that red hair, disappearing through the front exit.

It’s her.

I fight my way through the crowd without stopping, emerging through the doors in a rush. I look around. There she is, over on the sidewalk, her arm already up to hail a cab.

She’s leaving.

“Wait!” I yell, my head still spinning. I figured after that performance, she’d stick around for sure. Maybe she's not the kind of chick who hangs out by the stage door begging for an autograph -- and more -- but after the performance I just gave, all for her, I don't know why she's already got one foot off the curb like she can't wait to get away.

“Hold up!” I reach her, out of breath. I'm sweating and still wired from the show, but I’m struck dumb all over again by how beautiful she is. Not teased and buried under layers of makeup and hair product, no, this girl is all natural: barely any makeup, her hair tumbling free over a simple black dress.

Her eyes widen. “It’s you,” she gasps.

I grin. "It's me." I take a step closer. "I didn’t get your name before. I’m Dex.”

She pauses. “Alicia,” she answers shyly.

Alicia... I roll it around my head, already wondering how it would rhyme. “A pleasure to meet you. Did you like the show?"

I'm surprised to find I'm nervous, waiting for her response, and relief washes over me in a swift wave when she gives me a bashful smile and nods.

"I can't believe I didn't recognize you before." She looks away. "You must think I'm such an idiot."

"Not at all." Her hair is still falling free -- free from where I tugged it from its neat braid -- and I can't help but reach out to push a silken lock back from her face.

She startles under my touch, her eyes rising to meet mine again in surprise. There's something so honest and pure in her gaze that I hesitate. My usual charming lines feel wrong and fake. Instead, I take a chance. I tell her the truth.

"I think you're beautiful," I say softly. "I want to get to know you better."

Alicia steps back. Caution skitters in her gaze. "I'm sorry," she says quickly. "Before... That wasn't me."

"It felt like you to me." I take her hand this time, curling my fingers around to stroke her delicate palm. Just touching her makes me feel calmer. The madness of performing melts away, and I realize in a shock that I can’t imagine letting her go. Already, the connection is that strong; her small hand made to fit into mine. "What do you say we get out of here?"

Alicia shakes her head quickly, her hair falling in a veil over her face. Burning copper, the brightest sunset sky. I could write whole albums about that hair, her face, those lips...

"I can't."

What?

I stare at her in confusion, trying to figure this out. She wants me, she feels this too. She has to! The heat between us when she kissed me back there, that was one in a million chemistry, and I should know. I must have kissed a hundred girls, and never felt anything like it.

So what's holding her back? Why is she so scared to take a chance on me?

“Is there someone else?” I ask quietly.

Her hazel eyes flare. "What? No! No," Alicia gulps. "What kind of woman would kiss you if she was…? If she had someone?"