Songs About a Girl Read online

  Immediately outside was a small balcony, barely big enough for ten people, that looked out over a seething mass of fans. A crowd of thousands was yelling and screaming down below, while Olly, Yuki, and Aiden stood side by side on the balcony, grinning and waving, arms across each other’s shoulders. On the ground, girls screeched and pleaded for a second of their attention, waving their banners, eyes brimming with tears.

  Hidden behind a brick pillar, I crouched down and took a snap of the boys, their faces in profile against the purple sky, sculpted features picked out by a nearby floodlight. Next, I crept backward, careful to remain out of view, and captured the wider scene: the band’s heads and shoulders from behind, and beyond, the howling, throbbing crowd.

  As I flicked through the photos, my heart racing, I felt someone brush past my shoulder in the dark. I looked up, the racket vibrating in my ears, half expecting to find the stage manager standing in front of me, ordering me to leave … but he wasn’t there. Someone else, tall and slim, in a fitted T-shirt and torn jeans, had joined us on the balcony and was clapping and waving to the fans.

  It was Gabriel West.

  The screaming suddenly doubled in volume.

  “GabriEL! GabriEL!” chanted the crowd, rasping and shrieking, as Gabriel fell in with the rest of the band. He slipped an arm around Olly’s shoulder and whispered something in his ear, and I ducked back to my original position behind the pillar to capture a shot of the four of them in profile.

  As I zoomed in, I noticed something odd. Beside Gabriel, Olly’s expression, though it hadn’t exactly changed, went strangely tight, and his smile seemed to darken. It was too subtle for the fans below to notice, but I saw it. I saw … something. And my camera saw it too.

  I squeezed the button and took the picture.

  “OK, lads, that’s enough, we’re done!” said the stage manager, sweeping out onto the balcony. He spoke into the receiver on his shoulder, then repeated: “We’re done! Let’s go!”

  The crowd wailed as the band was ushered from sight and back through the windowless door, and we all piled down the stairs, breathless, chattering, feet slapping against the wood.

  When we reached the floor, I fell back against the wall, one hand to my chest, barely able to keep the smile off my face.

  My heart was beating like a drum.

  * * *

  So what happened next??? Where are u now??

  I was sitting alone in the dressing room. The boys were all waiting beside the stage, and the crew were scattered around the building, making the final preparations for the opening of the show. I could hear the muffled hysteria of the fans in the auditorium.

  We went out on the balcony, I wrote back to Melissa. Looked out over thousands of people, all screaming, going nuts. It was unreal

  Ping.

  Oh. My. Actual. God. www.crazyjealous.com

  It’s so amazing here

  Aiden’s acoustic guitar lay on the counter in the corner of the room, and Olly’s T-shirt was folded over the back of his chair, a pair of high-tops lined up neatly underneath. I thought about everything that had happened so far, the way it felt to crouch out of sight on that balcony, the freezing air chilling my fingertips, the skull-shaking noise from below. The first time I’d seen Olly standing in that spotlight. Staring at Melissa’s name on my phone, I remembered how close I had come to missing out on it all.

  Thank you for making me do this, mel xxxx

  Ping.

  No sweat, CB. That’s what best friends are for :) xxxxx

  I could see from the speech bubble that she was still typing.

  Well that, and STEALING UNDERWEAR FROM THE DRESSING ROOM OF A CERTAIN IRISH POP STAR AND THEN DONATING SAID UNDERWEAR TO ONE’S AFOREMENTIONED BESTIE

  I pulled a face at my phone.

  What would you want with aiden’s underwear? I wrote, then thought better of it. Actually, I don’t wanna know

  Melissa sent me a line of grinning emojis.

  Gotta go, concert’s starting. Through the walls, the crowd was reaching fever pitch. Message you later xx

  Gathering up my bag, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, tugged my hat down at the sides, and headed for the exit. One final message vibrated in my pocket.

  Don’t do anything i wouldn’t do

  And I stepped out the door.

  * * *

  I’d never been to a proper concert before. I’d seen live videos on YouTube, of course, and festival footage from Glastonbury, but this was different. I’d never actually felt the heat from the crowd, inhaled the burned chemical smell of dry ice, or blinked in the glare from the spotlights. Never felt the bass moving in my bones.

  Standing in the wings at the side of the stage, I peered out into the arena from behind a thick black pillar. Fire&Lights was due onstage at any moment, and the tension was building beneath pumping dance music and the hypnotic swirl of red lights. An ocean of fans, stretching up and out into the far reaches of the auditorium, churned and chanted, frantic with excitement, waving banners and screaming their lungs out, tiny white phone lights dancing in the dark.

  In front of me, the stage was a playground of runways, balconies, and podiums, with a long, extended walkway that jutted out into the crowd. If you looked into the faces of the lucky few lining the walkway, you could see it in their eyes: The boys will be close enough to touch. One group of fans was holding a sign that said “GORGEOUS GABRIEL, WE WANT TO TAKE YOU HOME.” It was huge, covered in glitter, and decorated with photos of Gabriel from magazines. One of the girls was laughing and crying at the same time.

  A ripple of anticipation passed through the audience as the dance music died away and a group of shadowy figures, the band’s musicians, swarmed onto the stage. One sat at the drums, others at keyboards, and others strapped on guitars, while on either side of them on the giant video screens, recorded footage of the band began to play. The drummer pounded his kit and the crowd clapped along in unison as, on film, the boys could be seen green-screened against various unlikely backgrounds: the Pyramids, the Taj Mahal, the Grand Canyon. Then, a clip of Yuki backflipping on a trampoline, Aiden waving as he walked up a metal staircase into an airplane, Olly singing into a microphone in a recording studio. And finally, a shot of Gabriel, stepping out of a limo to the frenzied snapping of cameras, which sparked renewed shrieking from all corners of the arena.

  Alone, beside the stage, my body pulsed and shuddered with every thump of the bass drum. The music was building, the guitars were beginning to howl, and soon, over the soundtrack, a booming voice-over could be heard.

  “Reading Areeeeenaaaaaa…!”

  An earsplitting answer from the crowd.

  “Are you ready…”

  Screaming, shouting, desperate cries.

  “… for FIRE…”

  The whole building went dark.

  “… AND … LIGHTS?”

  An almighty thunderclap shook the stage, and plumes of hot sparks erupted into the air, bright white light flooding every corner. High up above the musicians, four lithe figures could be seen lined up beneath an archway, steam billowing around them, their silhouettes unmistakable.

  Spotlights hit the boys, and the crowd roared the roof off.

  Fire&Lights had arrived.

  Over a driving beat, Olly, Gabriel, Yuki, and Aiden split off between the runways and cascaded down toward their fans, high-fiving musicians as they passed, clapping their hands above their heads. The sight of them spilling out across the stage, lights flying, while thousands of people rose simultaneously from their seats was like something out of a movie. I hated to admit it, but it sent a shiver down my spine.

  “People!” called Yuki, pointing into the auditorium.

  “You guys ready to have some fun?” yelled Olly, throwing both arms up. At his command, the sea of heads became a sea of hands, grasping, waving, punching the air, and he led them in a steady clap with the drums, the growl of guitars building slowly underneath. The music swelled and grew, filling the spac
e, until finally it dropped down to a single guitar, and Gabriel began to sing.

  Straightaway, Gabriel’s voice was joined by the voices of the fans, and they knew every single word. Mouths moved in unison, eyes shone like stars. Then Aiden took over, bouncing down toward the audience, pointing out into the arena as he sang. Yuki took the next verse, twirling his microphone between lines, one foot casually elevated on the rim of a low speaker. The slogan on his T-shirt read, “Almost Famous.” Finally, Olly led everyone into the chorus, and the auditorium seemed to vibrate with the sound, thousands of people united in song, colored lights flashing, cymbals crashing, the boys jumping up and down with the beat.

  I’d never seen anything like it in my life.

  When the song ended, over throbbing applause, Olly wandered out onto the walkway and sat down on the side of the stage, swinging his legs. Girls immediately lunged forward to touch him, and he reached out, their fingers grasping for his.

  “So how’s everybody doing?” he said, as the camera zoomed in on his face. The giant screen showed off the whiteness of his teeth, the sparkle in his eyes. “You know this is my hometown, yeah?” The fans cheered back at him, and one group in particular, huddled together on the upper circle, clapped their hands and yelled for his attention, waving a banner that read “CAVERSHAM HIGH LOVES OLLY SAMSON!!!”

  “I went to school here, back in the day.”

  The Caversham girls cried and hollered, furiously flapping their banner. Olly noticed, and pointed in their direction.

  “That was me: Caversham High, class of 2012,” he said with a dazzling smile, and the girls turned to each other and shrieked, leaping up and down.

  “So we have an epic show lined up for you guys,” he continued, standing up again. He strolled back toward the rest of the band. “A few songs you might have heard before.” Rapturous cheers. “Aiden might even play some guitar.”

  Aiden smiled and took a little bow.

  “Hey, Aiden,” said Yuki, sauntering over to him. “You look good tonight, bud.” He reached out and mussed up Aiden’s hair. “I like your hair that way.”

  Aiden smoothed his fringe back down, laughing, and Yuki turned to the crowd.

  “You guys are big Aiden fans, right?” They screamed back at him. “Thought so. Give it up for Aiden Roberts!!”

  With the fans chanting Aiden’s name, Yuki walked across the stage toward Gabriel. He leaned an elbow on his shoulder, and the two of them appeared on the big screens.

  Yuki nodded sideways at his bandmate. “Hey … you guys wanna know a secret about Gabriel West?”

  Everybody cheered and whistled and, for just a moment, the screens cut across to Olly. He bit his lip, and his eyes dropped to the ground.

  The camera returned to the action.

  “It takes Gabriel…” said Yuki, raising two fingers in the air, “two hours … to do his hair for the show.” He nudged Gabriel in the ribs. “Ain’t that right, G?”

  Gabriel, unruffled, rubbed his jaw, then leaned into Yuki’s microphone.

  “Yuki,” he said, his eyes trained on his bandmate, “… wears Ninja Turtles pajamas.”

  Cue ecstatic applause, laughter and whooping, and a modest bow from Yuki. The drummer piled into the next song and, to the stamping of feet, Gabriel planted his hands over Yuki’s ears and kissed him hard on the forehead.

  The concert passed by in a boisterous, intoxicating blur. Music soared, fireworks flew, blinding lights circled and swooped. All night my senses crackled, and everywhere I looked, something magical was happening: Olly sharing a private joke with Aiden, Gabriel winking at Yuki, Yuki stealing Olly’s scarf and wrapping it around the drum kit. It was almost too much. It was a feast, a riot, and I didn’t want it to end.

  A few numbers from the end, during a guitar solo, Olly wandered over to my side of the stage. He was standing behind the guitarist, admiring his handiwork, the two of them head-banging in time with the rhythm. The guitarist wailed into his big finish and, on the big screen, Olly raised both his hands in triumph. The fans roared in response.

  Then, just before he swept back into the action, Olly turned, lowered his microphone, and threw me a smile.

  I felt as if my heart might burst from my chest.

  A split second later, he was back with the group. I leaned against the pillar, my hands shaking, face hot, an involuntary laugh tumbling out of me. I turned my head to see the four band members bounding together down the walkway, stooping to touch the hands of girls in the front row, and I realized I’d been grinning from ear to ear since the concert began. I couldn’t help it. Fire&Lights was infectious. Watching them perform filled me with this intense, electric joy that I could feel in my fingertips, and the crazy thing was, I hadn’t seen it coming. I’d never followed the band, I didn’t listen to their music or watch their videos, and the last thing I’d expected was to become a fan. But in that moment, standing beside that stage that was lit up like a neon sign, I finally got it. I understood the hype.

  I was completely and utterly hooked.

  9

  The Fire&Lights after-party was in full swing. Hip-hop was booming through the sound system, Aiden was strumming along on his guitar, and Yuki was intermittently pressing a bottle of wine to Aiden’s lips, tipping it upward, and more often than not, spilling it down his shirt. A group of VIP fans were gathered around them, talking over each other and giggling into their drinks. They laughed at everything Yuki said, whispering to each other in between, tugging subconsciously at the hems of their skirts. On the far side of the room, Carla was standing opposite Gabriel, leaning into him as she spoke. He was swigging from a bottle of beer.

  It was nearly half past ten, and my dad’s official curfew was eleven o’clock. I was still buzzing from the concert, but if I stayed any longer, I’d never get home on time.

  “Hey, Charlie.”

  I was slipping my coat on when Olly appeared, hair still sweaty from the show, the bottle of water in his hand nearly drained.

  “Hey.”

  “Everything OK?”

  I thought of the look Olly had given me during the concert, while I was standing backstage. That smile in front of thousands, meant only for me.

  “The gig was awesome,” I said, hitching my camera bag onto my shoulder. “Honestly, it blew me away.”

  “Hometown crowd,” he said, with a shrug. “Can’t fail. You not staying for the party?”

  My eyes flickered toward the door. “I don’t know if I should…”

  “Come on, you’re part of the team now,” he replied, finishing his water.

  Part of the team. I still couldn’t get used to that.

  “It’s just … I should think about heading home…”

  “You sure? This is the fun part.”

  I glanced around the room. Yuki was attempting to open two bottles of beer at once, while rapping. The girls were screaming with laughter.

  “I suppose it might be good to get a few more pictures…”

  “Exactly,” agreed Olly. “In fact—”

  “So this is the photographer.”

  The voice was coming from behind me, and I recognized it straightaway. Gabriel’s voice was rich, deeper than his bandmates’, strong and pure but with a catching, jagged edge, and it hit you somewhere unnerving, behind the chest. I turned to find him standing at my shoulder, his eyes glowing amber from behind those tumbling strands of hair.

  “Gabe, this is Charlie Bloom,” said Olly with the hint of a sigh.

  “I’m Gabriel,” he said, as if he wasn’t near enough the most famous eighteen-year-old in the entire world.

  “Hi,” I replied, pulling my hat down over my ears.

  “You’re not leaving, are you?” he asked, nodding at my coat.

  “I was thinking ab—”

  “Hey, now listen,” Gabriel said, addressing me but speaking loud enough for everyone to hear, “this is an after-party, right?”

  Somebody in the room whooped.

  “And from what I
hear, you’re a privileged guest.”

  His gaze was fixed on mine, and it was making me nervous. I couldn’t tell whether he was being sincere.

  “So stay,” he added, sliding a can of Coke from a nearby table. “No one ever left a Fire&Lights party before closing time.”

  “I just—”

  “Seriously. Have a drink, take some photos. We don’t bite.”

  He passed me the Coke, and I gripped it unnecessarily hard. It had been an incredible night, and if I was being honest, I wasn’t ready to go home. I thought about my curfew, and then my father, sitting in front of the TV. The flicker of adverts, falling asleep in his chair. I could be half an hour late. He wouldn’t mind.

  As I undid my coat, Gabriel’s mouth curled up into a smile, and he pointed at me with both hands. “You made the right decision, Charlie Bloom,” he said, backing away into the crowd.

  “Coming through!”

  Squealing and giggling erupted in the far corner as Yuki emerged from the doorway, riding a skateboard into the party. He zigzagged through the gaggle of fans. “Watch your back, kids!”

  The crowd parted, and Yuki crashed into Gabriel from behind, spilling his beer. I slipped my camera from its case.

  “What the—?” Gabriel turned around and, disentangling himself from his bandmate, shook the beer from his fingers. “You should be careful, Harrison. Riding that thing without a license.”

  Yuki stomped on the tip of his skateboard and caught it with one hand.

  “OH, I HAVE A LICENSE,” he said, forming his other hand into a pretend pistol, turning it sideways, and pointing it at Gabriel. “License to be gnarly.”

  Gabriel disguised a smile and addressed the room.

  “OK, then,” he said, sliding his drink onto a nearby shelf. “Who here thinks I have better board skills than Yuki ‘look at my ridiculous hair’ Harrison?” He winked at Yuki, who slowly shook his head.