Sweet Ache

And then his voice comes through the speakers as a single spotlight lights up the empty stage. A frenzy ensues all around us as women begin shrieking in epic decibels so that I can’t hear his voice but can feel it somehow. The crowd must feel the same way because the shrieks calm just in time for him to hit the first chorus.

You killed my heart.

You snuffed it out.

You stole my hope.

He sings the notes to their biggest hit, “Stolen,” and even though the fangirls are on an ecstatic high, the power of his voice a cappella silences them. Goose bumps chase over my skin despite the stifling heat of the arena. I’ve heard the song a hundred times on the radio and yet the raw emotion when he sings, like he’s scraping the words from his core, captivates me.

The lights flood the stage in a blaze of brightness, and Hawkin stands there, head down, foot tapping, a striking profile dressed in dark clothing against all of the light. He slowly lifts his head to end the chorus and the guys kick in with their instruments.

And I’m lost.

I know he’s entertaining thousands and has no clue I’m even here and yet I feel, as he peers into what I’m sure is a mass of blinding light on his end, that he’s looking straight into me.

I tell myself to move, to dance and not act like I’ve just been struck by lightning, because as much as I’m electrified by him on stage in front of me, I did come here with Luke. And I might be a bitch for wanting Hawkin while I’m on a date with someone else but Luke’s a good guy, we’re just not right for each other.

“He has an incredible voice, doesn’t he?” Luke says above the music, breath hot against my ear. I nod at him with a smile on my face before making the concerted effort to not just stand there.

Soon enough the song ends with a melancholy note in Hawke’s voice that’s almost haunting as his voice rounds out the solo. The crowd erupts into a riotous frenzy all around.

“Los Angeles!” His voice booms into the microphone. “How the fuck are you?” If I thought the screams were loud before, they are deafening now. He chuckles suggestively into the mic and—I’m sure like every other female in this arena—I feel like it caresses my skin and wraps hold of me. Screams of “I’d rather be fucking you” ring out and I bristle at the comments while he plays right into them. “Hey, I’m all for that babe but I’ve got a few more songs to sing before my mouth can be otherwise occupied.”

Vince walks over to him and hands him a beer and they tap the necks together while more women scream, plus a few bras and panties hit the stage. I scoff at the desperation to be Hawkin’s just-for-the-night-girl and wonder why the hell am I getting miffed at something he sees all the time. I mean shit, how can I even think he still wants me when he can have his pick of women.

I’d rather be eating you out instead….

His words rush back and give me a slight feeling of advantage since at least I know he was talking directly to me. This sense of sudden insecurity and inadequacy I feel is ridiculous.

“Settle down ladies, the men in the house need to retain their hearing so they can hear you screaming their names later if you catch my drift.” He gives that lazy, lopsided smirk that makes my body respond to him instantly, even though I know better than to want him.

“Hey, Hawke, that man back there,” Gizmo says into the mic, pointing with his drumsticks from behind his set, “says thank you.”

The crowd laughs as Hawkin motions with his hands for everyone to settle down. “On a serious note, I want to thank you all for coming here tonight for a cause that’s near and dear to my heart. Your tickets will benefit research to help our grandparents and parents and hopefully find a cure for this ugly disease before it can affect us. So thank you so very much for coming tonight and helping us donate all of the proceeds to this worthy cause.”

The crowd erupts in cheers.

“Okay, so Noel and Kellan and Wethers already sang their asses off for you, now you ready for Bent to end the night with a bang?” The screams erupt again. “C’mon boys, let’s rock!”

My ears are still ringing as we fight our way opposite the crowd leaving the arena. Luke holds my hand as he leads me backstage and into a holding room of sorts where a few other ecstatic fans are practically vibrating with anticipation.

I’m antsy too but for completely different reasons.

Luke is rocking on his heels like a little kid and it really is endearing to witness. “Oh my God,” he says, pointing down a hallway where a mob of men are walking. “That’s Black Falcon…. Noel, Riff …” His voice fades off as he smiles sheepishly. “Do you follow them?”

I shake my head no. “They were really good, though…. I’ll probably start now.” The comment earns me a huge grin.

Chatter in the room pulls our attention back and when I look up, I’m staring straight into Vince’s eyes from across the room. And then a slow, sly smile slides across his lips before he shakes his head and looks away. It’s only a momentary connection before he focuses his attention on the two fans in front of him but even in that quick glance, there’s so much exchanged between us: What the hell? You’re with him?

I’m confused by the whole exchange but luckily Luke caught none of it that I can tell.

We wait as Vince makes his way around the room. I fidget restlessly, nervous that Vince is going to acknowledge me and then I’ll be left to explain to Luke that I’ve met him before when I’ve made no mention of it tonight. I track his progress and when it comes to us, he stares a beat longer than normal. “Hi,” he finally says.