Page 11

Six

Ysolde

It’s confronting actually— more so than I thought it’d be—seeing other people want him.

The stylist threw me for an absolute loop. That was weird and hard and I wished I didn’t care—I shouldn’t care—I’m a million times prettier than her but then, she’s been where I’ve been and actually, she was there first, and that makes me hate her a bit.

Her aside, just being at his show is sort of fucked-up and crazy.

Fallow are a big band, I know that. I wasn’t blowing smoke up Joah’s arse when I said they’re the biggest band in the world.

Arguably, of all the bands in the world that are actively touring today, Fallow is the biggest. Maybe only barely eclipsed by U2, but even then, I’m not so sure because Bono doesn’t look like Joah, and that without a doubt counts for something.

There’s an energy and an expectation in the room that I haven’t really felt anyplace else, and they’re not even onstage yet.

Lala and I are led towards the sound desk by Aleki—we get stopped a few times on the way as people recognise us—no one thinks anything of it.

Whatever Joah and I are, the papers haven’t cottoned on properly yet.

Jilly said there were a few articles, but this last week, he and I weren’t papped together once.

I am, to everyone here, just another Fallow fan.

And I’m not not a Fallow fan. I do know the big ones. You can’t not know the big ones; they’re always on the radio.

“What’s their big, famous one again? ‘Boys and Girls’?” Lala asks, glancing around.

I shake my head. “I think that’s Blur?”

She nods like she’s remembering. “Oh, that’s right.”

“He’s quite weird about them, actually…” I shrug. “Them and some other band. Brightlines.”

“Bright Line ,” she corrects me.

I roll my eyes.

She looks interested. “Is he competitive?”

“I think so.” I nod. “I’ve really only known him in a very contained and insular environment, so I can’t be completely sure, but I have my suspicions…”

She thinks about it for a minute. “That’d be kind of sexy. I like competitive men.” She thinks more. “To a certain degree.”

I give her a dubious look. “I’m not going to name names, but you dated an impossibly glorious man, who was incredibly competitive in his field, and you hated him in the end.”

She groans. “We work in the same field! I don’t want him to be competitive with me . I want him to be competitive with other men. It’s, like, sexy and primal—”

I roll my eyes at her, and she probably would have tried to prove her point more except the lights dim, and the loudest sound I have ever heard in my entire life erupts from the mouths of everyone around us.

I mean, I jump from fright.

It’s different than last year at Glastonbury. People were excited then—of course they were—everyone’s excited to be at Glastonbury. But this is something else.

They let them scream for a minute or so and then a guitar rips a single cord, and somehow, the loudest sound I’ve ever heard gets even louder.

Lala and I trade looks, and I wonder for a second— who am I sleeping with? —like, I know who, obviously. And I know literally that it’s Joah Harrigan from Fallow—but conceptually, who the fuck am I sleeping with?

And then—as though it is even possible—the screaming gets so loud, I feel it through my body and down to my bones, because Joah walks onto the stage, and that’s who the fuck I’m sleeping with.

He waves at a few people screaming his name from the audience as he steps up to the microphone, spots me as he does. He subtly nods his chin at me, gives me a hint of a smile, and my heart goes entirely berserk—and that’s before he’s even started singing.

They open with one of their big ones—I don’t know the name of it but you’ve definitely heard it, it’s arguably their most famous one—and it’s weird, you know?

How many girls stare at him like they want him—actually, how many of them stare at him like they love him—? That’s kind of terrifying.

I did go into tonight sort of telling myself, Okay, he’s in a popular band, there are going to be fans there, they’re going to call his name, look at him with googly, dreamy eyes, and you’ll probably think it’s funny and weird —and I mean, I get it, I have fans too.

It’s a strange thing to navigate and I’ve navigated it before.

I’ve dated other people with fans before, but I’ve never dated someone with fans like this.

There is this one girl, she is crying. Actually, there are lots of girls crying, but there is one in particular who is frantic, like, truly, actually shaking, reaching up for him from the pit of people in front of the band.

Lala nods at her. “That’s…insane—”

“Right?” I say, unable to look away.

People with celebrities can be so weird, as though they’re starving and the person themself is the only sustenance left on the planet.

It’s beyond adoration and adulation.

It’s not just girls either, it’s men too.

Granted, not as many crying manically, but eyes closed, arms in the air, singing, chanting, and yelling his name and the words he wrote, absolutely making a god out of that twenty-three-year-old boy who was on his knees in my bedroom last night, his head between my legs.

They are incredible though. Quite unparalleled in the way they perform and undeniably unparalleled in the way the audience responds to them, and still—do you know what? He kind of stares at me the whole time.

And maybe he’s just masterful at his craft, maybe he makes everyone in the room feel like he’s singing to them personally—but I feel like he may have been actually singing to me specifically.

“Do you know what?” Lala yells into my ear about midway through the show.

“What?” I yell back.

She flicks her head in Joah’s direction. “I get it.”

I love having her approval. I feel my back straighten, all proud. “Do you!”

“Yep.” She nods. “Very sexy.”

It feels strange watching Jo onstage—because lots have an onstage persona, I get it—Madonna is actually quite normal in real life.

But Joah is very cocky onstage. Which—think about it—he’s not not cocky offstage either, so think about what that’s implying.

But it works for him? I wish it didn’t. I wish I didn’t find his arrogance sexy, but I do.

I want to do filthy things to that man. But I suspect at this point that that feeling isn’t exclusive to just me in the room.

I feel actually quite confident that given the opportunity, many people present would be pleased to do sexy things to Joah. Or Richie, I suppose.

I have gathered that there’s a bit of a rivalry amongst the fans about which brother is the better brother, though I suspect the scales tilt fractionally in favour of the front man who’s shared a bed with me for this last week.

His brother is attractive though. Similar height. Shorter, wavier hair. Same blue eyes though. I think he’s a bit more measured. I’m not sure why I think that, that’s just the feeling I get.

Anyway, they sing a couple more songs, and I don’t know how many songs are on the album but I feel like it has to be wrapping up soon when Joah starts speaking.

“You know the best part about being in the biggest fuckin’ band in the world—?” he says to the audience. “It’s all the girls, innit?”

The crowd cheers, but Lala pulls an uncertain face. Onstage, the brother tosses the bass player a confused look.

“Fuck me, I love girls—” Joah keeps going. “Love ’em. Always have—”

I purse my lips, unsure where exactly this is going.

“You know what, man? I met a girl…” he says and there’s some cheering from the audience. “This week, didn’t I—?”

I go still. What’s he doing?

“And you know what? It’s been the weirdest fuckin’ thing…

but I cannot get her out of me head.” He says that whilst staring directly at me.

I’m not sure anyone in the room besides Lala and the band know that, but it’s an impossibly and bizarrely intimate moment between us that just happens to take place in front of two thousand people we don’t know.

“And I’m singin’ these songs—arguably the best fuckin’ songs in the world to you lot—” He gestures to the audience and they cheer.

“ Undeniably the best motherfuckin’ fans in the world—” They cheer louder.

“And it’s my pleasure to be here with you lot, isn’t it, yeah—?

But I cannot— for the life of me —get this fuckin’ girl outta my head.

” There’s cheering again, albeit perhaps a bit less because he’s undoubtedly crushing the dreams of much of his female audience who believed (genuinely, as so many of them somehow often do) that they may have been in with a shot at going home with him later tonight.

“She’s like a tune in my brain, man—?” He’s staring at just me again. “That I can’t stop humming. Don’t want to stop humming, do you know what I mean—?” He looks away, and thank god because I thought I was going to burst into flames.

“And I wanna sing her a song, but I don’t have a song about her yet.” The audience boos a little, I hear someone yell Poor form! And Joah looks at them, a bit amused. “I know—I know—shut up, man, like—we only met on Sunday, didn’t we? Fuckin’ calm down—”

“You had all week!” yells someone playfully from the crowd.

“Well, I was a bit busy, wasn’t I—?” Joah rolls his eyes from stage.

“Doing what?” calls an audience member.

“Her, mate.” Joah laughs, and the room erupts in laughter and cheering.

My cheeks are so flushed—and this is crazy, because Lala is wildly protective of me.

She doesn’t think it’s funny or endearing ever if someone’s crass or vulgar about me—so let this be a testament to how irresistibly charming Joah Harrigan is: Lala laughed at that.

“Ain’t had time to write one yet, have I?” Then he looks back at me. “But I will, mark my words…” My heart skips, like, thirty beats. Joah pushes his hands through his obnoxiously perfect (and now a bit sweaty) hair. “So I’m just going to sing her favourite instead, if that’s alright with you lot.”

The audience cheers but the band trade confused looks, and I can tell immediately, it’s the first they’re hearing of this.

Rich covers his mic and yells, “What?”

Joah yells something back.

I think I see the bassist say, Are you fucking kidding me? and then Joah shrugs before he turns to his brother. Just fuckin’ play it, I think he says.

The brother flips him off, then stomps on the pedal in front of him a couple of times, and I’m not totally sure what’s happening until I hear the guitar riff.

“Now I don’t hardly know her,” Joah sings, and he’s back to staring at me, and I’m back to being a puddle when he unflinchingly sings the next line:

“But I think I could love her.”

Girls in the audience start crying again, and it’s hard to tell whether it’s because it’s the best song in the whole entire world, or because they’re aware he’s singing that song to a girl who isn’t them.

It’s impressive, actually. How good the band sounds with not even a moment’s notice to perform a song they’ve apparently not rehearsed.

Joah sings the whole song without looking away from me, and there’s something so sexy about him singing “Crimson and clover, over and over” again and again, his eyes locked on just me the whole time.

It’s the best rendition to that song I’ve ever heard, aside from the original, and when they finish it, the room loses their fucking shit.

Lala lets out an exasperated breath. “Ugh.”

I look over at her, surprised. “What?”

“We’re going to be late to the after-party…”

I look at her, unsure. “Why?”

“Well, you have to go backstage and shag him now, don’t you?

” She gestures towards backstage. “I mean, are you kidding, Sol? What the fuck was that? That was the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen.

You should have his baby, probably. If that song didn’t already make you pregnant, my god, Ys—what are we saying? Like, go—”

I blink at her twice.

“Go.” She waves towards backstage again. “Go now. This is their final song.”

I look at her quizzically. “How do you know?”

“This is the last track on their album? It’s probably their most famous song.”

“Oh.”

“Wow.” She stares at me, almost but not quite impressed. “You know startlingly little about their band. No wonder he’s so into you.” She adds that last part as an afterthought. “Go.” She shoos me. “I’ll find the brother or something.”

The band finishes and then the crowd goes mental.

I get stopped a few more times on my way through as I navigate my way back towards backstage.

Aleki’s behind me again—and it’s always weird when I’m trying to hook up with someone and he’s just there—like of course he is, it’s his job.

But then he just has to awkwardly hover outside or nearby—?

Awful. And awkward. So we decided fairly early on to just believe that whenever I’m doing that, actually , I’m just in that room playing rummy.

Just a nice, little game of cards, that’s all.

I hover outside Joah’s dressing room, glancing back at Aleki. I give him a sheepish smile.

“I’m just going to play some cards now…”

He rolls his eyes, but there’s some amusement under there. “After that—? I’m sure you fucking are.”

I knock on the door.

“What?” Joah calls through it.

So I open it, peer through—his face lights up.

It’s quite lovely, someone’s face lighting up when they see yours, don’t you think?

“Hi,” I say quietly as I walk inside, close the door behind me.

“You weren’t in the wings…” He gives me a playful smile.

“Were you disappointed?”

“Crushed.” He fights off a smile, then he rushes over towards me, picks me up off the ground by my waist, kind of spinning me as he does it.

“Fuck, I missed you.” He grins.

I’m completely delighted, but try my best “Did you?”

He gives me this seriously? look that frankly is too adorable for a man with his charisma and sex appeal to be throwing around willy-nilly. “Watchin’ you from a distance that whole time—fuck!” He presses his lips into mine. “You like it?”

“Very much.”

“How’d we sound?” he asks, eyebrows up and hopeful.

“Heavenly.” I trace my thumb over his immaculate jawline. “You’re very good.”

“Yeah, I know,” he says, matter-of-factly. Arrogant, to be sure—hard to argue with, though.

“Were the band annoyed about ‘Crimson and Clover’?”

“Oh yeah—” He gives me a steep look. “I’m gonna fuckin’ eat shit for that…”

His gaze settles on me, flicking from my eyes to my mouth. He swallows heavy. “Worth it, but.”

My hands fall to the button of his jeans and I give him a little, tiny smile.

“I should quite like to make sure it was so worth it, though…”

“Yeah?” He tilts his head, blinks a couple of times, and I have to steady my breathing because everything he does is spectacular, even if it’s nothing at all. “Any bright ideas?”

I reach behind me and lock his green room door.