I stand at the entrance and crane my neck to look for him, or at least another familiar face. Most of the bar tables arranged in a circular manner in front of a stage are already filled. A couple of guys in black T-shirts are on the stage, inspecting the drumset, guitars and microphones.
I feel a tap on my shoulder. "Miss?"
I look to my left and see a sausage of a finger on my shoulder. I look up, and gulp. A goateed bouncer glares at me from behind a pair of shades.
"In or out? You're blocking the way."
"I'm waiting for my friend."
He steals a quick glance at his chrome watch, which looks too small on his wrist. "You're Eizlan's girl?"
My heart almost explodes. He's never introduced me to anyone as his girl. Actually, I don't even know where we stand. Not knowing what to answer, I can only nod.
The man points toward the center of the bar. "Table twenty. In front of the stage."
"Thank you."
He nods. Maybe he's born with a permanent scowl. His expression hasn't lighten up a fraction.
I weave through a sea of strangers toward an empty bar table with a "RESERVED" sign set in front of a flute-tip vase centerpiece. A single stalk of turqoise rose in full bloom stands in the transparent vase. I take a seat facing the stage. My feet swing idly as I fidget with my phone. Where is he?
As a waitress in a red blouse passes by, I order a glass of Pepsi. Somehow, a cup of coffee seems out of place here, and I'm agitated enough as it is. All around me, there are at least two to four people per table, chatting and laughing and leaning close to one another. I feel out of place, just like a cup of coffee. He knows I don't like strangers. Why isn't he here yet?
After what feels like forever, there is finally activity on the stage. Four guys, all around my age, take their places behind each instrument. I didn't even check which band is playing tonight. Must be someone big, judging from the turnout. I crane my neck around.
"Looking for me?"
I almost fall off my seat. Eizlan is standing behind me, grinning. His hands rest firmly on my arms, though I only realize it belatedly. He turns my seat so that I face him.
I blink at him. I'm still trying to process the intimate gesture he just did. Maybe he only wanted to stop me from falling, is all. "You cut your hair."
He scratched the back of his curly head. "I only trimmed a bit. Didn't think anyone would notice."
I notice everything. Instead, I reply, "Looks good."
"Thanks. Hey, have you ordered your drink?"
"Yep. I haven't ordered for you. Didn't know what you'd want."
"I'll drink later. I need to do something first."
With that, he turns my seat facing the band again and then bounds onto the stage. He stands behind the microphone at the center. He looks beautiful, in a snug white T under an open-button checkered shirt with rolled-up sleeves. I think it's his favorite shirt. He throws a smile at me before addressing the crowd.
"Hi. Welcome to Ben's Singers' Corner. I didn't expect the crowd will be this big. Thanks, guys."
Scattered claps and cheers from the audience. Suddenly I feel like my guts have been wrenched out. I never knew Eizlan has a band. And I thought I knew everything about him.
"I don't know if you guys know this, but our local singer and model, Adrian, used to sing here before he became famous."
"He still does, when I call him!" a Chinese man in his forties hollers from behind the bar.
Eizlan gives a lop-sided grin. "Say hi to Ben, ladies and gentlemen. Anyway, rumor has it that all his songs are written for his girl. That's how he tells her how much he loves her without saying 'I Love You'. I hope to one day write songs as beautiful as his, but for now, I'll cover one of his songs for my own special someone."
I turn red and shrink into myself when I hear claps and hoots from the crowd. If only my fringe was longer, I can at least hide my eyes.
"Tasha," Eizlan continued after the cheers have settled. "I love you."
Before I can react, the drummer starts to play, and Eizlan closes his eyes. He grips the microphone with both his hands, and sings.
Suddenly the rest of the world dims. Only he exists. His voice is clear, with a tinge of huskiness. I can lose myself in his voice and not want to find my way out ever again.
When our eyes meet, I know he is just as lost as I am. He extends his right hand toward me.
I hold out my hand to reach for him.
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