On an Edge of Glass

Payton’s just shaking her head, mildly irritated by Ainsley’s seduction tips. 
    The Blind Bear is a well-known bar on a side street on the fringe of downtown.  Usually, the bands booked there are up-and-coming artists on the cusp of hitting it big, so I’m pretty impressed that Ben’s band is the headliner tonight. 
    I hear the music as we walk up to a la rge glass-plated door.  The song is one that I’ve heard Ben practicing this week in his room, so I know that Accidental Sweet Tea is already playing.  My stomach twists itself into coils as the beats curl around me.  My nerves are telling me that I have one chance, and I better make it count.
    We walk down a dank hallway that spills into a larger space.  A large bar spans the width of the room.  Faded green walls edged in dark wood trim give way to a glassed-in area that leads to the outside.  In good weather all those doors are left open and people drift in and out to the second-story porch.  But it’s mid-winter, so tonight the room is understandably closed-in. 
    Even with the crowd, and the fact that the stage is only lifted about one foot off the ground, I spot Ben right away.  He’s bent over his guitar, a veil of shiny dark hair hiding his face.  I watch his body move and sway with the music.  His black boots pound out the beats as his fingers move swiftly over the strings of the guitar.  When the music gets faster he throws his head back.  A thin sheen of sweat coats his forehead.  His mouth is parted on the last word of the chorus. 
    God, he’s beautiful.  And he seems completely unaware of the effect he’s having on all the women in the crowd.  I can practically see the drool dripping down their chins as the y vie to get closer to the stage.
    I glance over my shoulder at Mark and he raises his eyebrows like he knows exactly what I’m thinking.  I take a breath and move forward before he has a chance to prod me.  I unsnap the clasp on my bag and pull out my camera and begin to take the pictures that I came here to take. 
    Ben spots me while I’m taking a series of Taylor, the lead singer.  Through the lens, I see his head jerk and his eyes narrow in on me.  I move the camera away from my face and smile shyly.  It takes a few stunned seconds before his eyes crinkle and his mouth curves into a grin.  I edge closer.
    By the time the set is over, the crowd is electrified.  Everyone is jumping up and down and calling for more. I am up near the front and Payton is at my elbow watching Nick like a hawk.   
    Taylor , the lead singer, places his hand over the microphone and leans into the other guys.  Ben has a small blue towel in his hand and is running it over his face to mop up his sweat.  Taylor asks him something and he nods.  Then, Taylor shifts back on his heels, removes his hand from the microphone, and says to the waiting crowd, “Hang around.  We’ll be back in fifteen.”
    Payton leans in so that I can feel her body heat against my back.  She whispers loudly in my ear.  “That means you’re on girl.”
    My heart is hammering as Ben winds through the crowd, brushing off two girls, to get to where we’re standing.  The blue towel is draped over his shoulder and he’s pushed his sleeves up.  The other guys are with him and we go through the awkward motions of introduction.  Taylor, Connor, Nick.  They all seem to know exactly who I am even though I’ve only officially met Nick before tonight.   I’m not sure to take that as a good sign or a bad one. 
    “ Thanks for taking photos,” Taylor says to me, pointing at the camera that’s now hanging from my neck. 
    Taylor is nearly as tall as Ben, with dark spiked-up hair and matching dark eyebrows, one of which is pierced with a silver stud.  He’s got a lazy grin, roaming eyes, and a tattoo peeking from beneath the collar of his shirt.  He’s exactly what I would expect from the lead singer of an indie rock band. “Ben told us that you’re a great photographer.”
    He did?  I glance over, but Ben’s looking away.  I see his hand lift in recognition and follow the path of his gaze until I settle on Mia, the too-cute replacement guitarist.  She’s perched at the bar, with her elbows holding her up to the counter.  She sticks her tongue out and makes a face.  Ben smiles back wryly. 
    I’m glad that no one but Taylor is watching me because I’m sure that all sorts of things that I don’t want the world to see pass over my face.