Rock’n’roll
Part one
Aria had been counting down the days, marking them off her calendar, which was usually reserved for Christmas. Feather Crest, the band that had soundtracked her teenage angst and recent triumphs, was finally playing in her city. The ticket was her prized possession, carefully tucked away in her purse, a promise of an evening of electrifying music and cathartic release.
Then, in its predictable and often cruel fashion, life had thrown a wrench in the works. A messy, tear-soaked break-up had landed on her doorstep just hours before the concert began. Her initial instinct was to curl up in bed with a pint of ice cream and mourn the shattered remains of her relationship. But the memory of the ticket, the anticipation buzzing in her veins, and the sheer stubbornness that came with being a long-time fan propelled her forward. She had booked this, she had looked forward to this, and damn it, she was going.
When she arrived, the venue was a cacophony of sound and light, and the air thrummed with anticipation. Ordering a stiff Bacardi and Coke, Aria found a spot near the back and tried to lose herself in the general hum of excitement. But the rawness of her emotions kept bubbling to the surface. Each booming bass note seemed to echo the ache in her heart.
Suddenly, a wave of energy coursed through the crowd. A collective roar erupted, and everyone surged forward, drawn toward the stage like moths to a flame. Aria, swept up in the momentum, found herself being carried along. Surprisingly, she managed to navigate the throngs and secure a surprisingly good position right in front of the stage.
And then, Feather Crest exploded onto the scene.
The lights blazed, the drums pounded, and the crowd’s roar reached a fever pitch. Aria felt the music course through her, a potent cocktail of energy and raw emotion. Singer Jaxon King stalked the stage, his voice a husky rasp that resonated deep within her soul. For the next hour and a half, she forgot everything—the break-up, the loneliness, the ache. It was just her and the music, a shared experience with thousands of other fans united in their love for Feather Crest.
As their encore’s final chords faded, Jaxon King stepped to the microphone. “We’ll hang out at the back of the room, signing autographs for a while. Come say hi!”
The announcement sent another wave of excitement through the crowd. Aria’s heart did a little flip. Autographs. She wanted one. Badly. But the thought of pushing her way through the crowd and talking to Jaxon King filled her with a dizzying mix of excitement and terror. She was painfully shy, especially around people she admired.
But something inside her, a newfound resilience born from the evening’s turmoil, urged her forward. She had faced heartbreak; she could face a crowd. Taking a deep breath, she started pushing towards the back.
The line was long and chaotic. She inched forward, her palms growing clammy. Finally, she was close. She could see him now, Jaxon King, signing autographs and exchanging quick words with fans. He looked even more captivating in person, his eyes crinkling at the corners when he smiled.
As she approached, their eyes met. For a fleeting moment, the noise of the crowd faded away. Jaxon King’s face broke into a genuine smile. It seemed to recognise her, a smile that felt…personal.
“what’s your name ?” he asked, his voice even more profound and captivating up close.
Aria’s heart skipped a beat. “Aria …?” she stammered, completely flustered.
He chuckled a warm, melodious sound. “I saw you upfront, rocking out. You were feeling the music. So, Aria, what can I do for you?”
She managed to find her voice, a little shaky but steady. “Just…an autograph. And maybe…a picture?”
He readily agreed. He signed her ticket stub with a flourish, adding a personalised message: “For Aria, keep rocking! – Jaxon King.” Then, he motioned for someone to take a picture of them together using her phone. He placed a hand lightly on her back, a gesture that sent shivers down her spine.
Aria felt floating as she walked away, clutching her signed ticket and phone. The picture on her mobile proved that she had met Jaxon King, evidence that he had seen and smiled at her. Even though the place was so loud, he made time for her.
By the time she got home, her head was still spinning. She replayed the encounter in her mind, amplifying each detail and analysing each word. Jaxson King was everything she had imagined and more. He was charming, attentive, and seemed genuinely interested in her.
As she drifted off to sleep, the image of Jaxon King’s smile was the last thing she saw. The break-up still stung, but tonight, she had felt alive, vibrant, and seen for a few precious moments. And that, she knew, was something she would treasure forever. Maybe, just maybe, this messy break-up had inadvertently opened the door to something new, something unexpected, something…exciting. The thought sent a thrill through her, a spark of hope igniting in the ashes of her heartbreak. After all, anything was possible now.
Thank You for Reading
Deborah C. Langley
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