Page 61 of I’m Dreaming of a New York Christmas

‘Fuck it, let’s do it!’

The doorman waved us through without us even having to ask about ticket availability, and Ethan paid at a small window in the entranceway. The band was in full swing by now, and I recognised the song as the opening track from their seminal album – suggesting they’d be playing the tracks in order. We dropped our coats in the cloakroom and ran into the main room, taking in the scene before us. The space was busy, but not horrifically so, with the crowd less dense than I was used to in the UK – not that I’d been to a gig recently.

‘This is amazing!’ I shouted, through an open-mouthed grin.

‘I can’t hear you!’ Ethan yelled back, his hand cupped to his ear while his mouth was equally agape with joy.

‘It doesn’t matter!’ And I meant it: nothing else mattered right now beyond the music and making the most of this moment.

With this person.

I grabbed Ethan by the elbow and pulled him into the undulating mass of people, weaving us through it to get closer to the action.

Mum and Anneka had always been mystified by my teenage love of loud music, confused as to why I couldn’t tolerate their incessant chatting yet was more than happy to blare out my favourite indie albums in my bedroom – the louder the better. To be fair, I couldn’t really explain it either – until I’d met Will at uni.

‘You enjoy predictable sounds,’ he’d said, matter-of-factly, during one of our lengthy conversations that had seeped long into the night during freshers’ week. He’d always had a logical answer or explanation for everything. Me, Will, Laurie and Ben had gone to a fair number of gigs and indie club nights together at uni, but after we all moved to London and the reality of work kicked in, we slowly fell out of the habit. Once Laurie and Ben had moved to Bath, my concert-going dwindled to near-zero, with the exception of occasional stadium shows where Will preferred to sit than stand.

As I allowed my body to move to the beat of the song in whatever way felt right, I realised that this was the first gig I’d been to – let alone danced at – in over a decade. Why had I been denying myself this all-encompassing thrill for so long?

Because Will never loved gigs in the same way I do.

Life with Will had been pleasant and straightforward, and I did miss existing that way. But had life with Will ever been joyful?

I was reluctant to compare Ethan to Will, especially since I was less than a couple of hours away from saying goodbye to Ethan forever, but as I watched his body move in the same uninhibited fashion as mine – his eyes squeezed shut as he belted out the lyrics – I felt more connected to this goofy guy than to any other human being I’d ever met. Because I knew he was experiencing the same state of self-generated ecstasy. And, for me, the only feeling that was more powerful than music-induced joy was shared music-induced joy.

Once the band’s first three high-energy songs gave way to a track with a slightly slower tempo, I admitted to myself that I was desperate for a wee.

‘I NEED A BIO BREAK!’ I shouted in Ethan’s ear.

‘I’LL COME WITH YOU!’ he shouted back, gesturing towards the far corner of the warehouse-like space with his thumb to indicate the location of the restrooms just beyond the bar. He held out his hand and I took it without hesitation, enjoying the way our palms slotted together while trying to ignore the jolt of electricity that zipped up my arm.

Ethan leaned against the wall next to the toilets while I joined the small queue inside the doorway. I glanced at myself in the mirror as I waited and almost gasped; I looked unrecognisable. My cheeks were flushed pink with exertion and Mum’s Collection 2000 mascara had smudged all around my upper and lower eyelids, giving me a not-unpleasant smoky-eyed goth vibe. My entire face glistened with a sweaty sheen that didn’t look massively unlike Tabbi’s ‘glass skin’ whenever she peeled off one of her pricey Korean sheet masks. But, shiny face aside, I simply looked – and felt – more like me than I had done in… forever?

As I washed my hands and used the excess moisture to tame some flyaway strands of hair, the song finished and the familiar opening strums of This Hush Is New filled the air. I dashed outside and, without acknowledging him, dragged Ethan straight back into the crowd so we could fully immerse ourselves in the mass appreciation for the song that had been playing when we’d first met.

By the time the chorus dropped, we found ourselves just a few rows from the front, deep among the hardcore fans who were throwing themselves around like the last decade-and-a-half had been a figment of our collective imagination. Ethan and I clung tightly to each other’s arms so we wouldn’t get separated, his thick hair rising and falling just behind the beat, never able to fully settle thanks to our rhythmic bouncing in time with the crowd of strangers that surrounded us.

But, here and now, none of these people felt like strangers. Instead, we were a single entity of euphoria, united by music, sweat and sheer, unbridled elation.

The second chorus ended and the drums took a breather, the lead guitar trilling and teasing as the song prepared to jump into a whole other gear. Ethan and I locked eyes; we knew what was coming, and we shifted our arm grips to a finger-interlocking hand-hold, fully aware that the next section of the song would send the already-animated crowd into an absolute frenzy.

As Ethan’s body heat transferred to my palm, and mine to his, I couldn’t help but imagine what would be happening in this scenario if I’d come to this gig with Will. He might be holding my hand, sure, but he’d also be tugging it, manoeuvring us both out of the mosh pit for safety, forging a path towards the back of the crowd. But me and Ethan weren’t going anywhere. Instead, we were both braced for the biggest rush of endorphins that only jumping around to one of your favourite songs while bashing up against other pleasure-chasers could produce. The moment in question didn’t let us down; I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so connected to my own body – and so aware of someone else’s.

By the time the final chorus rolled around, I was breathless with exertion and exhilaration, and could barely move anymore, let alone sing. I gave it a good go anyway, grinning from ear to ear as the song reached its final destination. As the crowd cheered and the frontman switched to an acoustic guitar, which he spent some time tuning, I started to become hyper-aware of Ethan’s hand, still interlaced with mine. As if he was thinking exactly the same thing, he squeezed my palm gently, and I traced one of my infinity loops on his with my thumb. That was all it took. With one assertive tug out of nowhere, he pulled me towards him, so we were no longer side-by-side, but face-to-face. The room and the hundreds of people in it faded away after that. The next song must have started, but by the time Ethan and I stopped kissing it was two album tracks later and we were no longer in the middle of the crowd, but had drifted towards a wall. A wall!

Had it ever felt like this when Will and I had kissed?

No.

It’d never felt like this with anyone – not that I’d had tons of experience before I met the man who I thought I’d be spending the rest of my life with. I’d never been the kind of teenager who’d snogged random blokes in dingy suburban nightclubs, but this wasn’t a million miles from that experience – I was just having it almost two decades later than average.

Against a wall. I giggled in amusement.

‘What is it?’ Ethan spoke into my ear, his voice thick with craving.

‘I’m in New-fucking-York, kissing a relative stranger in a warehouse to the soundtrack of my teenage years. The whole scenario is beyond insane. Is it even real?!’

Ethan ran his thumb along the length of my bottom lip before speaking into my ear again. ‘It’s real. And I don’t think we’re anything close to strangers anymore, Flora Bell.’