He Loves Me For Me
Chapter 1
-Elodie-
The wind sliced my face as I walked towards the back door, lugging my guitar case. The aroma of sweat and alcohol hit my nose. I was used to it. I've been coming to this place for 2 years now. Rig greeted me with our handshake. Rig was like my brother. He took care of me, I guess you can say. I set my guitar down in the back and went to watch the acts. One man with red hair and stunning blue eyes sung a song. Just him and his guitar up there was magic. Who knew two things could come together and create such a beautiful composition. Listening to all these great singers got me pumped. I was nervous myself. But when I got on that stage, my nerves slipped away like a banana peel. Tonight I was going to sing "Breakeven" by The Script. I made my way to the back to grab my guitar, Rig stopped me.
"I would wish you good luck, but you don't need it." His raspy voice spoke.
I smiled at his words. I made my way onto the stage. People clapped as I prepared myself on stage. After 10 seconds, the claps died down, it was uncomfortably quiet. All I saw as I peered out onto the floor were eyes all on me. I liked the feeling, but at the same time I didn't. I strummed my guitar. My fingers danced across the strings. Putting the chords together like a puzzle piece. They fit perfectly. I projected my voice. I let the words sink into the audiences ears. Some smiled and closed their eyes. Others bopped their heads. I sang the high note with such gentleness, just barley running my finger across the string. Bringing the song to a slow end, everyone started to applaud. Some even standing.
"Thank you." I smiled into the microphone.
Rig grabbed me and hugged me. My face smushed against his hard chest. As he released me, I felt the buttons on his plaid shirt make an imprint on my face.
"You killed it out there!" He said shaking me.
"Thanks." I said smiling.
When he left, I let a deep breath escape my lips. I rubbed my arm, as a result of him squeezing me very tightly. I made my way to the bartender, Nate. Dirty blonde hair covered his eyes. Making it hard to meet his ocean blues.
"You were on fire out there!" He whispered.
I gave him a thumbs up, and turned my attention to a girl with sleek black hair that hugged her neck. As she sung, she squeezed her eyes shut, singing with so much passion. Like she experienced what she was singing about. As I swiveled my chair around, I made eye contact with a two boys. One had noticeable stubble and the other had a curly brown glob of hair. The red head I saw on the stage earlier was sitting at their table, but was paying attention the singer. The one with brown hair was staring at me while talking and the other with the stubble nodded. I turned around quickly, puzzled. 10 minutes passed and all of a sudden I heard a thick British accent.
"Can I buy you a drink?" The curly one asked me.
I took notice in his green eyes. Light green bloomed from the iris of his eye, then faded into a darker green. Each curl on his head was placed carefully, looking perfect where they laid. Memorized by the way he looked, I took a while to answer. I snapped back into reality.
"No thank you. I don't drink." I said.
I vowed to myself that I would never drink after all the things that happened with my mother.
The wind sliced my face as I walked towards the back door, lugging my guitar case. The aroma of sweat and alcohol hit my nose. I was used to it. I've been coming to this place for 2 years now. Rig greeted me with our handshake. Rig was like my brother. He took care of me, I guess you can say. I set my guitar down in the back and went to watch the acts. One man with red hair and stunning blue eyes sung a song. Just him and his guitar up there was magic. Who knew two things could come together and create such a beautiful composition. Listening to all these great singers got me pumped. I was nervous myself. But when I got on that stage, my nerves slipped away like a banana peel. Tonight I was going to sing "Breakeven" by The Script. I made my way to the back to grab my guitar, Rig stopped me.
"I would wish you good luck, but you don't need it." His raspy voice spoke.
I smiled at his words. I made my way onto the stage. People clapped as I prepared myself on stage. After 10 seconds, the claps died down, it was uncomfortably quiet. All I saw as I peered out onto the floor were eyes all on me. I liked the feeling, but at the same time I didn't. I strummed my guitar. My fingers danced across the strings. Putting the chords together like a puzzle piece. They fit perfectly. I projected my voice. I let the words sink into the audiences ears. Some smiled and closed their eyes. Others bopped their heads. I sang the high note with such gentleness, just barley running my finger across the string. Bringing the song to a slow end, everyone started to applaud. Some even standing.
"Thank you." I smiled into the microphone.
Rig grabbed me and hugged me. My face smushed against his hard chest. As he released me, I felt the buttons on his plaid shirt make an imprint on my face.
"You killed it out there!" He said shaking me.
"Thanks." I said smiling.
When he left, I let a deep breath escape my lips. I rubbed my arm, as a result of him squeezing me very tightly. I made my way to the bartender, Nate. Dirty blonde hair covered his eyes. Making it hard to meet his ocean blues.
"You were on fire out there!" He whispered.
I gave him a thumbs up, and turned my attention to a girl with sleek black hair that hugged her neck. As she sung, she squeezed her eyes shut, singing with so much passion. Like she experienced what she was singing about. As I swiveled my chair around, I made eye contact with a two boys. One had noticeable stubble and the other had a curly brown glob of hair. The red head I saw on the stage earlier was sitting at their table, but was paying attention the singer. The one with brown hair was staring at me while talking and the other with the stubble nodded. I turned around quickly, puzzled. 10 minutes passed and all of a sudden I heard a thick British accent.
"Can I buy you a drink?" The curly one asked me.
I took notice in his green eyes. Light green bloomed from the iris of his eye, then faded into a darker green. Each curl on his head was placed carefully, looking perfect where they laid. Memorized by the way he looked, I took a while to answer. I snapped back into reality.
"No thank you. I don't drink." I said.
I vowed to myself that I would never drink after all the things that happened with my mother.
Ok :)
6/28/13