Page 69 of Dark Room Junkie

I said nothing for a while, observing Noé as he introduced the band and announced the next song. Only when the music blasted through the vaulted cellar once more did I shift my attention back to Tom.

“I’ve fallen in love with him,” I admitted openly. “I can’t help it. I look at him and just want to be near him. But he ... What can I do to make him give me another chance?”

“My advice to you: forget about him. And I’m not saying that because I want to protect Noé, but for your sake. He doesn’t know what love is. And he doesn’t trust anyone. He can’t even if he wanted to. He just drew a shitty card.”

“What card?” I asked, confused.

“Not everyone grows up in a protected environment.”

For a brief moment, I took that personally, but I pulled myself together and didn’t show how much it bothered me. “You act like that’s the end of the line.”

“Just trust me. No matter how much he might like you, he won’t let you in.”

I didn’t want to hear that. I was well aware that Noé wanted nothing to do with me anymore. But that didn’t mean I had to accept it. It had been extremely difficult for me not to contact him over the past two weeks. I had tried, albeit poorly, to get my life back on track—alone. Today’s concert was my ray of hope, especially after I had already said goodbye to Livio last weekend on Saturday and hadn’t stayed until Sunday evening. I knew myself that this wasn’t the right way to sort out my shit, but it wasn’t easy either. It had hurt me even more that Noé apparently appreciated my radio silence. It had only increased the distance between us, so it was urgent for me to have a conversation with him. I needed to explain to him what had happened to me in the last two weeks, as it was the only way he might understand me.

“So what can I do?” I asked Tom again. “You didn’t answer my original question. I just want to talk to him calmly. Help me, please.”

While I didn’t hear Tom sigh, his movements said it all. “For starters, you could stop pushing yourself onto him.”

“I’m not pushing myself,” I clarified immediately. “I haven’t contacted him since that morning.”

“Okay, then catch up with me later. We’ll probably grab some drinks by the river. Just join us. I’ll make sure you get your chance.”

“Thanks. I appreciate that.”

“And now go!” he said again with a laugh. “I want to enjoy the concert.”

I nodded to him and returned to the small staircase leading to the stage. From there, I took a few more photos and watched the concert until the end. When the house lights came on and loud rock music blared from the speakers, it was clear that there would be no encore, and I made my way backstage.

The band was toasting ceremoniously with Robert, and Marco called out a toast. Everyone was drenched in sweat, with beads of perspiration dripping from their foreheads. I was similarly affected. The vaulted cellar wasn’t particularly large, and the heat was trapped inside like a sauna. Before I went to freshen up, I pulled out my camera one last time and took a few pictures. The energy and adrenaline still coursing through the guys were worth capturing. Noé toasted with a water bottle, took a big gulp, and poured some of it over his face.

Water, I thought.I was such an idiot.

21

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Noé

I stood outside by the river, shivering. Pablo silently drank his beer, and Tom settled for an iced tea, while I clung to my water bottle as if it were a hot water bottle. The rush of adrenaline had faded, making room for self-doubt.

“People wouldn’t have applauded if you were crap,” Tom remarked dryly, and Pablo nodded in agreement.

“Swiss people are just polite,” I countered. “I can hardly imagine it being the same in Italy or France.”

“No, it’s probably even better there!”

“What if they start throwing beer cans at me?”

“Then you throw them back, of course.”

“Of course. What else.”

“Sick set, guys!” a guy shouted, slapping me on the shoulder.

I turned to him in alarm, but he and his group had already passed. However, I saw Alex coming out of the club, glancing around briefly before heading straight toward us. When I turned back to Tom, he even waved at him.

“What are you doing?” I hissed at him.

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