Soulmates (30 page)

Unfortunately, lots of other girls at the gig seemed to share the same sentiment.

“That guitarist is so FIT,” one of the jumping girls screamed in my ear mid-bounce.

I just nodded, thinking our new friendship would be short-lived if I turned round and said arrogantly, “I know. And he’s my boyfriend.”

The girls were loving it too. Lizzie was getting her groove on, a sight that was always enjoyable, as she danced like a nutter. Amanda was bopping her head while simultaneously keeping a concerned eye out for flying beer cups. Ruth was leaning over the barrier and licking her lips whenever she caught Will’s eye – although, for once, the power balance between them had reversed and Will scarcely gave her any attention. He was in love with the crowd. He basked in the adoration, glowing, like he was a plant photosynthesizing.

After four fast songs in a row, the band drew to a stop. The lights went dark and Ryan approached the microphone (he had left it for a while to go stage-diving).

“Hey, everyone,” he said, and had to pause to let the whole place cheer. He shook his head, overwhelmed. “We’re going to go all acoustic on your ass now. As you are fully aware, I am a very gifted singer…”

The crowd whooped and cheered.

“…But I’m going to give this one to our brilliant guitarist here.” He pointed towards Noah and the crowd erupted again. “He wrote this one, so it’s only fair he gets to sing it. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Noah Roberts.”

More screams as Noah approached the microphone and whispered in Ryan’s ear. They high-fived.

“What’s going on?” Lizzie asked. “I didn’t know they did acoustic songs.”

“Neither did I.”

Noah pulled up a stool and sat with an acoustic guitar on his lap.

“Thank you,” he said, waiting for the crowd to calm down. “Right, this is a new song I’ve written about a very special girl…”

Everything got hazy.

“…Her name’s Poppy and she’s here tonight.”

I couldn’t believe what was happening. Lizzie was squealing but I didn’t hear her.

“…She’s the best thing that ever happened to me, and I just want to let you all know how amazing she is.”

And then he strummed his guitar, opened his mouth and began to sing.

It was beautiful. I know I’m incredibly biased – I mean the song was written about me, for God’s sake – but it really was beautiful. I’d never heard Noah sing before, but his voice was like chocolate melted in a warm cup of tea. The lyrics almost brought me to tears. Lizzie had to practically hold me up, I became so emotional. Noah stared at me throughout the whole song and it was like we were the only ones in the room – despite there being a sea of people waving iPhones around in appreciation. I couldn’t help but think that things like this didn’t happen to real people, especially girls like me. Sure, they happened in films and books and cheesy television shows, but when did this sort of thing ever actually happen in real life?

Yes, admittedly, the moment was briefly ruined by my new friends yelling “You lucky cow!” but other than that it was completely and utterly perfect. When the song finished, the crowd were quiet for a few seconds. Noah looked up self-consciously, like he’d only just realized where he was. Then the clapping started, and the cheers and whoops. His entire face lit up.

“I can’t believe that just happened,” Lizzie yelled into my ear. “You officially have the most perfect boyfriend of all time.”

I could only smile as Ryan retrieved the microphone. The band launched into their final song, a massive beat-heavy tune that had everyone dancing again. I jumped up and down on a euphoric high, watching Noah, loving him and wanting him. And then the last chords rang out to signal the end of the set and the hard-core applause began. The boys, with childlike expressions of utter happiness, took a bow. I screamed as hard as I could until my throat got sore and Lizzie produced an impressive two-fingered whistle. My hands were raw from clapping, sweat was dripping down my forehead, and when the lights came on it was like waking from a dream. Nondescript background music played as people either went to the bar, toilet, or kept their places for the headline act. The girls and I stayed where we were, jumping up and down, hugging and squealing into each other’s ears with giddy excitement.

The rain hammered on the windscreen of the jeep. The wipers struggled to scrape off the fury of water beating down on them. It was dark and the air was filled with the electricity of the storm.

Rain looked out the window. He nervously tapped his hands on his knees, going through procedure over and over in his head, praying he wouldn’t mess up. His jeep was first in a convoy of six, leading through the narrow country roads where twists and turns appeared suddenly from the blackness of the rain. He was glad he wasn’t driving.

Anita sat next to him, computer on her lap, deep in concentration. Her forehead wrinkled as she deciphered the code trickling aggressively down the screen. Someone from the SWAT team sat on Rain’s other side. He’d never met him before, an intimidatingly large officer, trussed up with his helmet, gun, baton and bulletproof vest. The other jeeps were full of more officers, also ready to attack. They were privately contracted in of course. They didn’t know what the targets had done. All they’d needed to be told was that the targets were dangerous and needed to be neutralized. Preferably without killing either of them, of course, but then you never knew with these sorts of situations. Sometimes you didn’t have a choice. Dangerous people were much more potent if they were unaware of their power. It was like putting a three-year-old in charge of a nuclear missile.

Whispering, so Mr. Butch wouldn’t hear him, Rain asked, “This weather? Is it being caused by them?”

Anita’s eye twitched but she didn’t reply immediately. She shot a sideways glance at the officer and only responded when she saw he was staring aimlessly out of the window.

“I’m guessing so,” she whispered back. “The readings certainly suggest so. I think tonight is definitely the night.”

Rain shivered, vividly aware of his own mortality and how fragile his unimportant life was.

It could all end tonight, if anything went wrong.

“Have we left it too late?” he asked, voicing his fear. “Will we get there in time?”

“Let’s hope so.”

That was no comfort at all.

The jeep took a sharp left-hand turn and skidded on a giant puddle. Rain’s body jerked and he bashed into Anita, squashing her against the jeep door.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“Anita?”

The road seemed to have straightened now, judging from the view afforded by the full-beam headlights piercing into the darkness of the storm.

“I’m a little scared.”

He wasn’t sure why he was admitting it, especially to her. But it was true. He was terrified and there was nobody else to tell. His family and few remaining friends were thousands of miles away, blissfully unaware of his peril and, if he were to fail, ultimately their peril as well. He needed reassurance.

Anita reached over and took his hand. To his surprise, she gently squeezed it.

“Don’t worry. We’ll get there in time. They have no idea what’s coming to them.”

A backstage worker beckoned to us and we leaned over the barrier to hear her better.

“The band said you can join them backstage and watch the Ponyboys from there if you’d like?”

“Of course we would,” Lizzie said, her eyes almost bulging out of their sockets with excitement.

We slipped backstage, ignoring the evil looks from everyone.

Lizzie was holding my waist and Amanda grabbed hers and Ruth took Amanda’s, so we ended up practically conga-lining. Not regulation cool-people behaviour, but we were too overexcited to care.

The band was in the corridor, looking a mixture of elated and utterly knackered. They were all doing that jumping on each other’s backs thing that only boys do when they’re excited, until Noah caught my eye and shoved Jack off him, beaming. I broke free from the conga line, ran and threw my arms around his neck, squealed and hugged him tight. I could feel his sweat smoosh into my body. He smelled heavenly.

“You were so, so good,” I garbled into his ear. “That song for me. Oh my God, Noah. And did you see the crowd? I think there are about two thousand girls in love with you now.”

Noah hugged me back. His hair flicked sweat onto my face but I didn’t care.

“It went well, didn’t it?” Noah was incapable of not grinning. “And you really liked the song? I’ve been working on it the past few weeks but I was worried you might think it was pathetic.”

I planted a kiss on his lips.

“It was pathetic. Horribly so. And if it wasn’t written about me I would’ve been making sarky comments. But it was about me, therefore it was the best moment of my life.”

Another earth-shattering grin.

“The rest of the band were amazing as well.” I turned to congratulate them. Ruth had pushed Will up against the wall and was attacking his mouth for all she was worth. And Lizzie had got Ryan and Jack involved in the conga. They were snaking up and down the corridor, singing “We rock, we rock, we rock”. I laughed and turned back to Noah.

He stared back. His eyes were suddenly intense, like he was seeing right into my heart. I blushed, wondering if he could tell what I wanted to happen that night.

“Why have you gone red?” he asked, cupping my face gently.

I leaned my cheek into his hand. “Have I?”

“Yep. You’ve gone beetroot. It looks cute.”

I flushed further.

“Now you’re a beetroot with blusher on.”

“Hey!”

“What’s making you blush?”

I thought about saying the words – wondered if I could pull it off. Was I sexy enough to talk about sex without it being totally cringe? I wanted him so badly.

“It’s just,” I said, snaking my arms around Noah’s neck, “…I really want tonight to be the night we…you know?”

Noah held me at arm’s length and my already-flushed face got even hotter. But his face was plastered with a mischievous grin. His eyebrows were cocked, his eyes sparkling.

“Poppy? Are you sure?” He kissed my neck. The touch on my sensitive skin was enough to make me whimper.

“I’ve never been surer about anything,” I sighed. “Ever.”

And with that Noah’s lips were on mine fiercely, his tongue plunging into my mouth, tasting me, me tasting him. His arms were grabbing at my dress with urgency and I was stroking his back furiously. The inside of my legs began to burn with a feeling I’d never felt before, like my inner thighs had their own patience threshold that had just been breached.

Then there was a cough.

“Jesus Christ, you two are worse than Ruth and Will. You’re missing out on all the conga action.”

Jolted back to reality, I turned to see everyone staring at us. Even Will and Ruth had sprung apart to watch the show.

“Sorry,” I muttered.

Noah laughed and put his arm around me. “Yeah, sorry. Poppy was just thanking me for writing that song.”

“That is all fair and well,” said Lizzie. “But there is a victory conga going on here and we demand you join in.”

I rolled my eyes then grabbed Noah’s hand and took him to the back of the line. Lizzie began the conga again and we snaked up the corridor yelling “We rock, we rock, we rock”.

I think it’s fair to say we’d forgotten, if only for a moment, that we were at a cool rock concert. The power of the celebratory conga took over and Lizzie’s demanding chants were infectious. Everyone was laughing. You could almost feel the relief dripping off the band as they basked in the afterglow.

Of course it all came to an abrupt juddering halt when we conga-lined straight into Brian and the other Ponyboys. They were dressed in varying degrees of cool. There were lots of skinny ties and hair gel going on.

Brian took in our makeshift line and asked the only obvious question.

“Er. Are you guys doing the conga?”

“It’s a victory conga,” Lizzie explained matter-of-factly. “We’re celebrating how well the set went.”

Brian spent a moment thinking, then he grinned. “Victory conga. I love it! We should do that too, guys.”

The band didn’t look quite so excited by the idea.

“By the way, you guys utterly rocked.” Brian started individually high-fiving them. “That’s the best support we’ve had in ages. I might have to talk to our manager about getting you along for the rest of the tour.”

Noah looked at the others and gave them his half-smile, which I knew was really his I’m-so-excited-I-could-die-but-I-have-to-look-cool smile. “That would be excellent.”

“Great. I’ll talk to Howie after the show. Speaking of which…” Brian looked down the corridor. “…I suppose we’d better get out there. You guys watching from backstage?”

We nodded.

“Excellent.” He swung his guitar over his head. “Let’s get this over with.”

And the band dodged our conga line and made their way onstage while the echo of applause slammed down the corridor.

We ran after them so we didn’t miss any of the set, grabbing a spot at the side of the stage. Ponyboys didn’t do onstage theatrics. They just walked out without saying hello and launched into their first song, a ska-type cover of “Walkin’ On Broken Glass”. It was their biggest hit and the crowd went insane. It was odd watching from backstage. You basically got an incredible band’s-eye view. The audience seemed to go on to infinity. I could see why Noah was so keyed up. I was getting high on the energy emanating from the fans and I was tucked away.

Despite the amazing atmosphere, my mind was only on one thing. Noah.

He was standing behind me, his arms around my waist and his chin resting on my shoulder. An innocent enough position, but it was still setting off fireworks in every inch of my skin. I longed for his hands to move lower, his grip to get tighter. I could feel his hot breath blow through my hair. It sent shudders ricocheting through me.

I tried to focus on the music. Everyone else seemed able to. Lizzie and Amanda were holding hands and bopping. Ryan and Jack were doing that weird boy head-nodding thing, and even Ruth and Will seemed able to listen intently. But to me, the songs were like background music on the radio. All I could concentrate on was Noah. It was almost killing me – raw lust, like nothing I’d ever experienced before.

I was sure he was just as caught up in the music as everyone else, and felt a little ashamed for being so distracted. Then, just when I’d given up hope, he pushed back my hair and gently whispered, “Fancy getting out of here?”

Just the sound of his voice sent another 10,000 electric bolts racing through me.

“What about the gig? Don’t you want to stay? Need to stay?”

Noah shook his head. “The roadies are delivering our instruments back to the rehearsal studios tomorrow morning.”

He stroked my neck delicately with his little finger. “And I definitely
want
to go. There are so many things I want to do right now, and…” He lowered his voice. “…Most of them involve us being alone.”

He took my hand and pulled me away. My friends, lost in the live music, didn’t notice either of us leaving.

The corridor was empty as we dashed towards the exit. We stopped briefly in the dressing room to pick up our coats. Giggling, we re-enacted what we’d got up to last time. In fact, my lips seemed incapable of being without Noah’s company. We kept stopping for kissing breaks, half passionate, half giggly, before resuming our hasty exit. Just as we were about to leave, Noah pulled me in for one more kiss. He pushed me against the wall, all his body weight pinned against mine, and his hands explored my body while his tongue explored my mouth. When we came up for air, I saw the fat bouncer standing over us, glaring.

“Knew it,” he said, his fat face shaking. “I knew you were a bloody fan.”

All we could do was laugh as we pushed past him outside.

I’d forgotten it was supposed to be raining. And raining it was. A lot. Within five seconds of leaving the arena we were both drenched.

I held my coat above my head in a pathetic attempt to protect my dress.

“Why does this always happen to us?” I said to Noah, struggling to be heard over the howling wind.

“I’m not sure,” he yelled back, raindrops dripping down his face. “But it’s getting boring.”

The wind was so strong it took a lot of physical effort to walk to the taxi rank. Some of the crowd barriers had blown down and we trod over them carefully, stepping into unavoidable puddles and soaking our shoes. Nobody else was mad enough to leave halfway through the headline act so we were able to stumble into a taxi straight away.

Noah held out his hand to help me into the cab. I took it. More electricity. I sat as close to him as my seat belt would allow.

“This rain is ludicrous,” the taxi driver grumbled, either deliberately ignoring or not noticing Noah’s hand move up my leg. “I’ve not seen anything like this before. And we just had the snow…”

His words washed over me. In fact, I barely noticed the storm hammering at the car’s windows. It was like I’d had a lust lobotomy. All that mattered was Noah’s hand on my leg and how good it felt.

The journey seemed to take for ever and I ached to finally be alone with him. My mind was rewinding back to him onstage. Ruth had been right, it was the biggest aphrodisiac ever. Finally, the cab stopped and Noah chucked some money at the driver before practically dragging me out of the car. We ran through the rain into Noah’s building, and straight into the lift.

The moment we were actually alone, the atmosphere skyrocketed.

There was no small talk. No nerves. In fact, the part of my brain that usually analysed everything appeared to be in total shutdown. Noah pushed me against the lift door and the kissing resumed. Before I knew it, my dress was hiked up around my waist. The bell kept ringing, signalling we’d arrived at his floor, but we stayed where we were, the doors opening and closing, not caring who might see us.

Then, without any warning, he backed away.

“Noah,” I asked, panicked. “What’s up?”

He leaned in to kiss me briefly and then straightened himself again.

“Not like this, Poppy.”

“What are you on about?” My lips began to wobble. “Don’t you want to any more?”

And then Noah laughed. “OF COURSE I want to.” He leaned in for another kiss but I didn’t respond.

“It’s our first time, Poppy,” he said, running his hands through his wet hair. “I know this isn’t a very macho thing to say, but I want it to be special. Not some hormone-driven quickie.” He stared me right in the eyes. “I want to make love to you, Poppy.”

“I want to make love to you too. I don’t understand—”

I was interrupted by the lift bell ringing again and the doors re-sliding open. Noah laughed again.

“Look, can we at least get into the flat? And give me the chance to make the place nice? To calm myself down, so I’m not humping you like a dog on heat?”

I relaxed, finally beginning to understand his reasoning. “Okay.”

He looked concerned. “You understand?”

I nodded and he took my hand and led me to his front door.

“Yeah, I get it.” I looked down at my sodden feet. “Plus, I’ve still got my shoes on.”

“Exactly my point. Let’s not rush this.”

He unlocked the door and went in first. I followed after him and stared bemusedly as he darted around the flat, looking agitated.

“What are you doing?”

He looked a bit sheepish. “Just lighting some candles.” He pulled out a lighter and began lighting some on his coffee table. I looked around – there were candles everywhere.

“You’ve set up candles, eh?” I said, smiling. “That was a bit presumptuous, wasn’t it? How did you know I would sleep with you tonight?”

Another sheepish look. “I dunno…I didn’t… It would’ve been nice anyway, even if we didn’t…or don’t. I just had a feeling… Why are you laughing?”

I took off my shoes and pointed my feet at him.

“What are you doing?”

“My toenails. I painted them this afternoon.”

He looked confused.

“And…well…I don’t normally bother. But I wanted to look my best tonight…I think I had a feeling too.”

We looked at each other in wonder for a moment, and then Noah was by my side. This time, instead of a passionate kiss, he held me tight in a fierce embrace. And I suppose it felt nicer. Less frantic, less teenagery.

“Are you still sure you want to do this?” he whispered. “Because I’m willing to wait as long as you need.”