Unclassic Hero

I can’t seem to take my eyes off him as the band plays. The way he skillfully manipulates the guitar strings, the way his hair falls into his face, and how he brushes it back with his fingers.

“Wow, someone’s got it bad,” Desiree’s voice interrupts my daydream.

“Hmm? What?”

“Exactly.”

“He’s just so…”

“Sexy, dark, mysterious, talented, not a high school boy? Yeah, I know.”

“I just don’t know if I can just walk up and talk to him. He’s probably not into younger girls.”

“He’s a guy, isn’t he? Trust me. He’ll be interested, Syd. You look smoking hot tonight.”

“Maybe there’s more to him than that,” I suggest.

“Oh, look at you, already defending him, and you haven’t even spoken to him yet.”

“It’s mostly wishful thinking. I’m expecting a brushoff.”

“Hey, cut that shit out, Sydney. You need to have a little more confidence in yourself. You are beautiful, smart, kind, and a little of everything else. Any guy would be lucky to have your attention.”

I blush at her compliment, but can’t find the words to respond. I don’t have to, though, as the music stops, and the room fills with loud applause.

“Thanks, guys. We’re just going to take a break. We’ll be back in a half-hour,” the lead singer announces into the mic.

The band sets down their instruments and starts heading toward the side of the stage.

“Come on, Syd, let’s go,” Desiree says, quickly standing up. “Let’s beat the crowd.”

I stay seated, feeling very nervous. Desiree huffs and pulls on my arm impatiently.

“Come on, you chicken.”

I sigh in resignation and let her pull me along toward where the band is just coming off stage. Desiree lets go of my hand just as I bump into a passerby.

“Sorry…” I mumble to the person who is already long gone.

When I turn back around, I slam right into another person, the force strong enough that it knocks me right down onto my butt.

“Ouch,” I groan.

Hard concrete does not forgive.

“Oh shit! I’m so sorry. Here, let me help you up,” a voice from above says as I see a hand appear in front of my face.

My eyes travel up to see the cause of my pain. My eyes nearly bug out of my head when I see his face. It’s him! He’s taller than he looks on stage.

“Um…uh…thanks,” I manage to say as I take his hand.

He pulls me to my feet with what seems like no effort at all. I can feel my cheeks burning in humiliation. Of all the times to be a klutz! His hand is warm and slightly calloused.

It causes the skin on my hand to tingle.

“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going,” I blurt.

His eyes are warm, and he’s smiling at me, then he chuckles softly.

“It’s no problem, I wasn’t really paying attention either,” he says, though I’m sure it’s only to make me feel better.

I stare back at him, I don’t want him to go, and so I try and think of something to say before he does.

“Hey, you’re in the band,” I say, grasping at straws.

He nods once.

“Yeah. Are you enjoying the show?”

“I really am.”

Okay, maybe I can make this last a little longer.

“I hadn’t heard of you guys before tonight, but my friend said that she heard you guys were terrific,” I add.

“And do you agree with that assessment?” he asks, smiling at me.

“I thought you guys were awesome. I feel like I should have heard about you before tonight.”

“Well, thank you. We’re pretty new to playing here, just the past few months. I joined the band in May. Apparently, before that, they were only playing small pubs, that’s probably why nobody really heard of us before this summer.”

“It seems like you guys have built a pretty big fan base already, though, so it won’t be long before you book bigger gigs.”

Sure Syd, fawn a little more, could you? Luckily, he laughs in response.

“We hope so. That’s the goal.”

I just nod. I don’t know what else to say. Where’s Desiree, anyway? I look around and spot her just a few feet away, chatting with the lead singer.

“So, what’s your name?” he then asks me, taking me by surprise.

“My name?”

Nice, good one, duh!

“Yeah, I’d like to know who I’m buying a drink for.”

What?

“Um…”

He laughs. Oh man, it’s such a sexy sound.

“My name is…”

Do I tell him Sydney or Jane?

“Sydney,” I decide.

“Nice to meet you, Sydney. I’m Conrad.”

Conrad. Sigh.

“Nice to meet you, Conrad,” I say, and smile brightly at him.

“So, about that drink.”

He gestures for me to lead the way toward the bar. I start walking, and I can feel him following close behind me, really close. My stomach is doing little flip-flops.

I can’t believe this is happening. We take a seat side by side at the bar, and Conrad flags down a bartender who promptly makes his way over.

“So, Sydney, what can I get you?” he asks me.

“Whatever you’re having is fine,” I tell him.

I don’t really want to order the frilly drinks that Des and I were having earlier.

“All right. Let’s see…”

He furrows his brow like he’s really thinking about it before grinning and turning toward the bartender who waits patiently, despite the crowd.

“Jimmy, two shots of tequila and a couple of beers, please.”

Tequila? Oh boy.

“Right away,” Jimmy, the bartender, responds, getting to work on our order.

Conrad turns to me, his eyes curious. I can feel my cheeks warming under his gaze.

“So, Sydney, how old are you?” he asks.

Definitely not eighteen.

“Twenty-one?” I reply, and he chuckles.

“Is that a question?”

“No…no, I’m definitely twenty-one.”

He nods, but there’s a look on his face that suggests he’s not entirely convinced.

“So, you mentioned you’ve never seen us play before? I take it you don’t frequent this place?”

“No. This is my first time here.”

“Really? Where do you usually hang out?”

I’m not sure if he’s trying to catch me out or if he’s genuinely interested. Either way, I don’t have a good answer.

“I don’t really go out much,” I confess, “I’m not a big fan of bars.”

“That’s not a bad thing. So, what do you do for fun, if not hitting the bars?”

“I worked a lot over the summer. When I wasn’t working, I was usually reading. I guess I’m not the most exciting person. That’s why my friend Des dragged me out tonight.”

“Reading, huh? That’s a nice change. I read a lot too. What are you reading at the moment?”

Just as I’m about to answer, Jimmy places our drinks on the counter. Conrad hands him some cash and slides one of the shot glasses towards me.

“Can you handle it straight, or do we need some limes and salt?” he asks.

“I’m not a big drinker…”

“Limes and salt it is,” he laughs, reaching over the bar to grab a salt shaker and a couple of limes.

I watch him curiously, and he catches my eye.

“They know me here, don’t worry. Okay, Sydney, you know how this works, right?”

“I don’t drink much, but I know how to take a tequila shot,” I assure him with a smile.

“Just making sure. Ready?”

He licks the side of his hand, sprinkles some salt on it, and passes the shaker to me. I do the same.

“Okay, ready? Go,” he announces.

We down the shots simultaneously. He manages to keep a straight face, but I can’t help but grimace.

“Oh! That’s awful,” I groan, shaking my head.

Conrad bursts into laughter, something he’s done a lot since we met.

“I told you I wasn’t a big drinker.”

“I can see that, but it’s not a bad thing.”

The way he’s looking at me sends a shiver up my spine, and my palms start to sweat.

I find it hard to maintain eye contact with him. Every time I look into his eyes, my cheeks flush. Conrad slides a beer towards me.

“Here, wash it down with this,” he suggests.

I take the bottle and have a sip. It’s not terrible, but it’s not my first choice either. Still, I’ll drink it because Conrad was kind enough to buy it for me.

“You don’t have to drink it if you don’t like it,” he says suddenly as I lift the bottle for another sip.

“No, I like it,” I lie.

“No, you don’t. I can tell. Just tell me what you like, Syd,” he insists.

I know he’s talking about the drink, but his words seem to carry a deeper meaning, and I like it.

“No, really, it’s fine.”

“When a girl says it’s fine, it usually means it’s not.”

Suddenly, Conrad reaches out, takes the bottle from my hand, and sets it down on the bar. He doesn’t take his eyes off me as he signals Jimmy.

“Jimmy, the lady needs something a little…smoother.”

“I think I can manage that,” Jimmy replies.

I watch as Jimmy grabs a few bottles, mixes a bit of this and that in a tumbler, shakes it with ice, and pours a now purple liquid into a glass.

“Try this,” Jimmy suggests.

Conrad watches me with a smirk as I take the glass and sip through the straw. I take another sip.

“Good?” Conrad asks.

“It tastes like a Jolly Rancher,” I say, taking another sip.

“Thanks, Jim,” Conrad says, handing him another bill.

“You really didn’t have to do this.”

“I wanted to.”

I meet his gaze and hold it for a moment. His eyes are so deep and dark, they’re almost hypnotic. Afraid I’m staring too much, I look away first.

A noise from the stage draws our attention. The rest of the band is coming back on stage.

“Well, I guess that’s my cue. Are you sticking around for the rest of the show?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” I reply, feeling a pang of disappointment that our time together is ending.

“Great. Come see me afterward, okay?”

What? I wasn’t expecting that.

“Really?” I blurt out.

“Yeah. Why not?”

“Okay.”

“Promise?”

“I promise,” I assure him, trying to hide my growing excitement.

“You better,” he says, flashing me a wide grin before picking up his beer and heading towards the stage.

I stand there, watching him walk away, when I see Desiree approaching. She looks excited.

“Oh my God, tell me everything,” she practically squeals.

“There’s not a lot to share. He bought me a few drinks, and we chatted a bit.”

“Don’t give me that. From my vantage point, it seemed like there was some serious flirting happening.”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

“Come on, Syd. You’re either fibbing, or you’re really bad at picking up on signals.”

“Alright, maybe a bit. I’m not sure.”

“So, that’s a yes.”

“He asked me to find him after the show,” I confess.

Desiree playfully hits my shoulder.

“Hey, that hurt.”

“If that’s not a clear sign, then I don’t know what is. This works out perfectly, because I was talking to the lead singer, Harrison, and he asked me to do the same. Looks like we both hit the jackpot.”

“I’m feeling jittery. I mean, Des, they’re so much older than us. What could possibly happen? Conrad thinks I’m twenty-one.”

“Oh, so his name is Conrad? I like it. It fits him. And who cares if they’re older? We’re just looking for a little end-of-summer fun.

“We’re not aiming for a long-term thing here, Syd. By next week, we’ll be back in school, and we probably won’t even see them again.”