Blazed (18 page)

"But Scott
—"

"Oh my god!" I threw my head back to laugh. Blaze caught me in his arms when I staggered back and lost my footing, cradling me against his hard, also slightly sparkling body. I lost my senses for a minute, drunkenly stupefied by the glitter. " 'I was wishing that I could believe you were real. And I was wishing that I wasn't afraid'."

"Did you... did you just 
Bella Swan
 me?"

I fanned my face with my hand. "I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me. Though with my inhibitions stunted, I can promise that the sentiment is true. Scott was just a challenge
— I was showing off to some unsociable arsehole. That's the usual response to meeting people you idolise, but I don't lo—" Blaze cocked his head at me when I stalled, cutting myself off before I said something stupid. It had almost fallen from my mouth without thinking, a four letter word with the potential to ruin my life. 

But yet, he dared me with a look, goading me to sabotage myself. "Don't what?"

"I don't..." The alcohol fuzz turned into a nervous churn in the pits of my stomach. I needed to think of something else, and fast. "I don't 
look
 at them like I look at you. They're almost fictional to me, people I'll probably never meet again. But by your own admission, you're a constant figure in my life. You brought me here, so I wouldn't disrespect you by leaving with someone else. You're my first choice for everything these days and I can't see that changing, not when you keep making out that you're going to marry me or something."

"Marry you?" His face flattened and became expressionless, plunging me into a realm of panic and regret.
 
Oh Jesus
, that's not what he meant. It was never what he meant. When he talked about permanence, he meant nothing more than being a weekly fumble for the foreseeable future. 
What were you expecting? A live in lover, patiently waiting in the wings until you decide you don't want Hunter anymore? Yes, remember him? Why would he ever change his mind when you've pushed him to the back-burner? You just need someone to love, don't you? You just need something hopeless to cling to. You wouldn't want Blaze if you could really have him. You'd just fuck it up by getting too fat...

"Emmeline?" Blaze clicked his fingers in front of my eyes to halt Fat Emmy's tirade. "Whatever she's saying, it's not true."

"What?" Flustered, I stepped back out of his arms and folded mine protectively over my torso. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it seriously."

"Shame. Could you imagine the honeymoon?" Simpering at my feeble squeak, he reached for my hand and pulled me towards an ornate wooden staircase that twisted around the back of the room, inclining slowly towards a balcony that housed the dressing rooms. "Stop worrying about saying something to scare me away. There's nothing you can do to get rid of me."

"I'm a post-op transsexual with a taste for necrophilia."

"If that were true, you'd be happy to wake up next to me. I sleep like the dead."

THE dressing rooms were the epitome of
Hollywood chic. Harshly bright bulbs were set into the frame of a mirror that spanned the entire length of a wall above a wide shelf that normally would have been used for the likes of face paint and make-up. In Monday's Miracle's case, it was used as a drinks counter and desk, cluttered with MacBooks logged into their social networking accounts, media players and an entirely too extensive collection of mobile phones.  Chase, Jordan and Matt sat quietly together while Scott and a girl— not the girl he'd been with before but just as young— dry-humped in a dark corner.

Between the three well-behaved musicians sat a petite girl with acid green hair styled into a tall quiff. Below the spectacular 'do, her face was childlike and youthful. Why were they surrounded by young girls?

"Oh, Blaze." She smiled brightly from her seat and heaved herself up to stand. "Are you ready?"

He shot her a smile that got his usual stammer inducing reaction of near-disgusting desire and tugged me over to a couple of folding canvas directors chairs facing the mirror.

"You've lost me," I blinked at his brightly illuminated reflection, "ready for what?"

"Oh, I'm going on stage for the first part of the set tonight. Didn't I mention it?"
 

Even Scott stopped his entirely too graphic necking session to watch my reaction.

"You? On stage?"

"Sure. It probably won't ever happen again, so when they asked me this morning, I couldn't think of anyone I'd rather have watching me from the sidelines. You want to be my groupie?"

"Oh Blaze," sighing dramatically, I slouched down in the chair and draped an arm weakly over my face, "I want to be a lot of things right now, but groupie is only second on my list."

"What's first?"

"On your face." The whole band cracked into laughter again, reflecting the type of girl I'd been pre-Hunter— the girl who offered little more than vulgar humour to a situation. It was bitter sweet, being someone who made people laugh so effortlessly but would never be seen as anything more than the clown. I was well-liked or ridiculed, but never a face that people would pick out in a crowd as exceptional. Living proof that brains weren't as favoured over beauty as people liked to make out.

As ever, my perception was flawed. Scott unfurled himself from girl number two and left her sat alone in the corner to join the rest of his group. "Well damn, Blaze. Your girlfriend is awesome.
 
Muy caliente. Muy bien.
"

Feeling my face turning puce, I tried to hide behind my hand and tease the residual glitter from my
hair. "Oh, I'm not—"

"Yeah," Blaze's arm snaked around my shoulders and stunned me into an obedient silence, "she's the best."
 

AND without even asking, that was how I became
 
that 
woman in his life without the complications of being 
that
 woman in his life. Monday's Miracle would use my 'label' in an interview about their secret gig the next morning, an interview that would get me in trouble. My background would remain a secret, but the world would know that Blaze  had picked his woman from billions and I was her. 

Neither of us would make any demands for more time
— his long absences would carry on and I wouldn't chase him. We both seemed to accept each others reluctance— no, 
inability 
to make an emotional investment. But on the outside, we looked just like any other couple out with friends.

Nothing would change. The words 'boyfriend' and 'girlfriend' meant nothing. They were just name tags we wore so the world knew who we were to each other on some deep, fundamentally fucked up level of fantasy we didn't care to debate. Maybe he'd steal a couple more cheeky kisses and hold my hand when it wasn't necessary, but it wouldn't uncomfortable or intense. Just natural. As natural as breathing. As natural as the storm that would definitely follow when our uncomfortable truths and complications came into the light.
 

But I took that moment and grabbed it both hands. My ignorance was indeed blissful, my head swimming, and my 'boyfriend' about to go out on stage for the first and only time in six years, ready to sing his heart out to approximately three hundred lucky people. I was the luckiest of them all.

CHASE JOINED ME on the sidelines as Blaze took his place at the microphone for the first four songs on their set list. I barely noticed him though, partly through the desire to honour my promise that Blaze's was the only face I saw, but mostly because of how nervous I was for him. Of course, he hid any nerves he might have had well, hopping between the balls of his feet to the music that played out to the crowd that roared when they saw four shadows walk out onto the stage. 

The gap between the recorded music ending and the live music beginning was
 torturous and agonisingly long. The first chord hit me like a bolt of lightning, charging every nerve with static and standing every hair on end. Already, I was captivated, and tipped forward on my tiptoes waiting for the sound everyone was waiting for.

His voice triggered a wave of red hot, molten and raw emotion that pooled into my chest and choked me. I hadn't known what to expect, but as ever I'd underestimated just how soulful and deep he could be in so many ways.

The stage lights lit him up like a divine entity, the reds, blues and whites reflecting off his bared forearms while he strummed at a guitar, yet his eyes still looked vividly emerald no matter what colour shone at them.   

Fascinated, I watched him sing on that stage like he did it every day with a voice as silky as his laugh. The crowd was mad for him, ravenous even, and bounced on their toes to the beat of the drums and bass guitar. On occasion he glanced sideways and shot me a smile that hit me so deep down inside that I started to feel light-headed and winded.

"First time watching him?" I nodded, unable to speak, Chase laughed and crammed a glass into my hand. "He's a complete show off. Great showman. Ah." He pointed out towards the stage just as Blaze took a step back and ran out across the stage, throwing himself over the dangerously small sea of heads and hands that somehow still carried him safely to the back of the room while he continued to sing as though he was standing still. My heart jumped into my mouth the minute his feet left the ground but I quickly coughed it out with a laugh when I knew that he'd reached the foot of the wooden staircase safely. 

"He's crazy." I muttered, turning slightly to smile at Chase. I knew my eyes must look far too bright and pupils too dilated like I was drugged. Honestly, it felt like I was.

"He is. Are you too?" There was something in his tone that told me he wasn't talking about my mental stability.

I tested the waters with a vague response.
 "It's not like that." Instinctively, I thought he was referring to Blaze, but didn't want to risk incriminating myself with any awkward confessions. Besides, when someone implied that a man that transcendent was crazy for me, I couldn't help but be a little sceptical, not really sure how I could possibly deserve that kind of high regard.

"Sure looks like it's 'like that', Emmy. I've spent a long time warning him that one day he'd meet a girl who'd turn his life upside down and force him to seriously consider the way he lives. I'll be the king of
Denmark if you're not that girl."

"I'm just a font of sarcasm, uncomplicated sex and a guaranteed lay." Definitely not the dream woman he was making me out to be.

"There's no such thing as uncomplicated sex." He squeezed my shoulder gently and made towards the stage as Blaze emerged next to us, glistening with sweat and his shirt tucked into the waist band of his jeans. Was I really that much of a big deal for this man who was so damned beautiful it hurt to look at him?

"So, what do you think?" Without hesitation, he curled an arm around my waist so our bodies were flush against each other. "Enjoy the show?"

"You're amazing. Ah..." I glanced downwards, hoping that my hair would cover the embarrassment. "Amazing out there. Quite a turn on actually."

"You want me inside you? Too bad you'd just fall asleep afterwards, or I'd service you in the middle of that audience and nobody would ever know. We'll have to wait." I pushed myself back from him and grunted an objection. "It's as much as a disappointment for me too, Emmeline. That skirt is so short..."

"You keep saying," I tugged at the back of it fruitlessly, covering no more flesh that before, "I keep telling you that it's your own damn fault for picking it."

Blaze bit his lip playfully and pulled me back towards him by the V of my vest. "My, don't we get
 feisty when denied the good lovin'?"

I sneered. "Who says it's good?"

"Oh, mean implication! But I know you're lying." He dipped down and kissed me, softer than he ever had before. I melted into him and wrapped my arms around his bare neck, one hand sliding down to the firm muscles in his chest.   I was— I was crazy about him. That much was sure. How I'd ruin my life over another inconvenient fixation was still a mystery. "Just for tonight, Emmeline, let's not focus on why we can't and focus on why we are anyway. Now, nothing would make me happier than seeing you stripped, sweating, caked in glitter and boneless after a good fucking across that stage..." My jaw hit the floor at his brazenness and my eyes tracked across the length of the stage. That was a tantalising idea but we both knew that it would put an abrupt end to our night. "But I'll compromise and settle for sweating and caked in glitter. For now. Into the fray with you."

SOMEONE THREW UP in my mouth at some point between 'the fray' and my getting home. I don't remember it, but I was certain it had happened from the way I felt the next morning. That or the apocalypse had happened, localised entirely in my skull. 

Sticky eyed, and almost definitely still drunk, I had little to no memory of what had happened after Blaze led me down into the crowd and insisted that I climb on his shoulders. I think I fell, I might have flashed my chest, and for some reason I recall a zebra. The details are a fuzzy black hole in my mind, but what I do know was that I woke up in my bed, undressed and stinking of sweat and liquor. A
 sequinned orange top hat lay on the bed next to me and the ache between my legs gave me the impression that I might find myself getting another noise complaint. I just hoped it was Blaze who'd left the bite mark on my inner thigh.