Lakeli

You can’t believe how crowded this place is. Outside, the line zigzagged all around the building; the concessions and merch booths were a zoo, and the concert hall is just as chaotic. Sweat beads on the back of your neck with the heat of the lights and bodies.

“Wow,” Larissa says over your shoulder. “How close are these seats?”

“Umm, right by the stage,” Heather calls back. “Hey kid, you got the jackpot.” Heather turns and walks backwards, leaning to see around you to your other coworker. “Hey Lar, that’s what it’s like to not have kids.”

“Oh, to be young again,” Lariss bemoans.

You chuckle nervously. You don’t mention that you’re still paying off that credit card statement or that they were the only seats left. You want to impress them but you don’t want to come off desperate.

“Didn’t think you’d be into this kind of music,” Heather spins around and points along the front row, nearly spilling her beer. You follow her.

“Well… I know a few songs.” You lie. “I’ve never really gone to a concert before but I figured it might be fun.”

“Oh really?” Larissa says. “You gotta live a little and you picked the right ones.”

They both laugh. Everything is an inside joke with them. Or whispers. You just don’t want to be left out anymore. This is your ticket in. Literally. 

You heard them talking about the big Bucky Barnes concert in the break room. They didn’t even notice you at the other table. Even as you typed into your phone to snag the last few seats. This better work. You can’t afford for it not to.

You shakily unzip your belt bag as you find your place. You slip your phone inside as you note the ‘no recording’ notice on the giant screens above the stage. Heather and Larissa settle in on either side of you.

“You sure you don’t want a drink?” Heather asks.

“I don’t wanna be running to the bathroom,” you say. It’s partly true. You’re already overwhelmed by all the noise and people, alcohol won’t help that.

“Not me,” Larissa lifts her cup before she drains it. “I’m gonna enjoy the kid-free night. Jessie is pissed I left him with the heathens.”

She cackles and Heather does too. She adds, “mine are old enough to order pizza. I told them no ragers.”

You smile and pretend to laugh with them. You don’t have kids and you really can’t see yourself ever having them. Maybe because you still feel a little like one. You’re the newest person at the office and everyone reminds you of that. Constantly. Getting in with these two might get the rest of your coworkers off your back.

Larissa and Heather chat over your head as you bounce on your feet. As the furor builds and people fill the seats, Larissa runs off to get a second round. You refuse another offer for a drink. Instead, you stare at the stage as Heather gabs to the woman on the other side of her with the studded hat and the Bucky Barnes tee.

You can see the techs moving on the darkened platform as they fiddle with the instruments. You’re intrigued by it all. You’ve never been very musical but you do enjoy listening to a bop or two.

Larissa returns and hands a beer to Heather. The lights dim and the stage lights crackle on. There’s a hush then a roar all around you. Heather squeals.

“I’m so excited!” Larissa chimes beneath the wall of excitement.

You stare up at the stage as the slow guitar strum silences the crowd. They listen intently, vibrating with intrigue as a spotlight focuses on a lone figure. The red hue limns the man as he strums, a piece you can tell just by listening is complex. The rings on his fingers catch the light.

He builds to a climax and the drums and bass join in. Then the array of percussion and keyboards in a rock symphony that has the crowd shouting and singing along as he grits out the lyrics. You’re in awe of it all. You marvel at the instruments and the coordination, less startstruck than you are amazed.

The singer, Bucky Barnes, the infamous rebel with a guitar stops right in front of you. You don’t even realise it at first. Your eyes fall on his guitar and his expert pluck of the string. His muscular arms are exposed as his cotton tank hangs loose and low over his buff chest. 

The strands of grey in his hair catch the shifting hues of the light as you let your eyes peel away from his hands. Your eyes meet, or seem too, as he stands only a foot from the edge of the stage, almost right in front of you. He can’t really be looking at you. Not as the crowd crushes you, reaching for him.

You grab the high collar of your sweater and tug on it. You didn’t think about how hot it would be in here. The wool is killing you.

You bite your lip and glance around nervously. It just feels like he’s watching… You look back up as he finds his way to the mic again. You sigh in relief. You’re paranoid. Maybe a bit deluded.

Heather and Larissa press into you on either side. “He’s even hotter up close.” The former preens.

“Oh, he’s still got it,” the other agrees.

You bat your lashes and stare up at the star of the show. He commands the crowd so easily as he plays to a silence. The cheers batter your ear drums. In the lull between songs, Heather nudges you.

“She don’t get it. The young ones don’t know what a real man looks like,” she cackles. Larissa joins in.

You shrug and rock as you cross your arms. Bucky hushes the crowd just by speaking. His deep voice growls through the speakers.

“This one’s for the lonely girls.” He drawls. “When you’re all alone at night… just think of me.”

The squeals nearly deafen you. You always thought a man in leather and denim, with tattoos all up his arms would be more of a masculine draw. Listening to the high-pitched fervour, you’re assured he’s just as much a heart throb. Even this far into his career.