Day 1
I had made my way to Sweden for the metal festival that I’ve been looking forward to for months and now I’m finally here. I had meant to be coming with Drew, my now ex-boyfriend, but here I am alone in a country I barely speak the language of, other than some phrases I have committed to memory.
Drew had tried to get me to sell both our tickets, he’d said that there was no way I’d come here alone, and he would have been right if he hadn’t have challenged me. I was damn sure I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of being right. Petty, I know but he makes my blood boil.
So here I am standing in line, waiting to show my ticket and get my belongings checked before I get into the campsite. The line behind me stretches as far as the eye can see with another one just as long parallel about 40 feet away. I’ve been standing for hours and finally I can see the end - there’s only a couple of groups ahead of me.
I trudge forward as the line moves frustratingly slowly, pushing a small flatbed trolley with my tent and supplies on it. I sigh and turn around leaning against the trolley as, yet another person is painstakingly searched.
Kicking my boots at the ground and picking my nails, I glance around. There is a sea of band t-shirts, piercings, and tattooed bodies; each person completely unique and yet an almost mirror image of the next until they all seem to blur into one amorphous blob. That is until I notice one guy who seems to stand out from the ocean of bodies.
He’s tall, I can tell even at this distance, and his plain white t-shirt clings to his well-defined torso leaving nothing to the imagination. His blonde tresses are tied at the back of his head and as he leans down slightly to say something to the guy standing next to him, I catch a glimpse of what look to be tattoos snaking their way around his neck and down under his top. I can tell he has a beard but other than that he’s too far away to make out any specific features of his face.
I’m in a great mood, despite all the waiting around, and the sun is beating down, so I allow myself to bask in the comfortable atmosphere and take this Adonis brazenly in. Wondering as I do, if the rest of his body is as mouth-wateringly tempting as I imagine.
I think about peeling his leather jacket and thin t-shirt off, revealing his rippling muscles and running my tongue all the way down until I drop to my knees. I bite my bottom lip, smiling to myself at the thought when I realise not only am I staring at him but he’s staring back at me.
Shit. He’s noticed me. My first instinct is to turn away embarrassed that he caught me mid-fantasy. But my braver side prevents me, instead I continue to undress him with my eyes and bite my lip seductively and even from here I can tell a smirk is plastered on his face.
The dreadlocked guy behind me grunts wordlessly, beckoning me to move forward in the line which has moved significantly during my daydream. I don’t want the moment I’ve been so brashly enjoying coming to an end, giving a final coy smile to the blonde God I turn around to find I’m next.
Coming back to my senses, I wonder what has gotten into me. It’s not like me to act so blatantly obvious but it’s also been months since I’ve been kissed let alone anything else. A warm, wetness has pooled between my legs unknowingly, only now I realise how turned on I got as I eye-fucked that guy.
I scurry forwards with my things to the front the queue. Finally. Two stocky men with closely shaved heads and black polo shirts begin to unceremoniously rake through everything making me feel like a criminal. I roll my eyes, fold my arms across my chest and shift from foot to foot, as they continue their search until they usher me through the invisible barrier into the campsite.
I’m directed by volunteers to my tent-site and I begin to put up my tent and somewhat unpack my belongings or at least as much as I can. A few hours have gone by and my earlier tenacity has left me, and now I’m trying to convince myself that I won’t run into him.
There are thousands of people here. The chances of running into him is minuscule. There’s no way he’d recognise me anyway. My mind reassures me successfully.
I look around at my temporary home and conclude that I’ve done everything I need to, so I set off towards the festival site. Although there’s no bands that I’ve heard of playing tonight, I want to soak up as much of the atmosphere as I can.
By the time I make my way back to my tent, it’s 1 am. I’ve had a couple of drinks and I’m feeling suitably tipsy. I’d seen a couple of bands play but hadn’t been able to get too close. There were bodies and limbs flying everywhere, crashing into anyone and everyone not caring what damage they’d inflict. I’d been caught a few times, which had sent my 5-foot 4 body flying into other people and on one occasion to the floor where I had been promptly stood on before clawing my way back to my feet. It had hurt a lot, but I’d never felt more alive, more exhilarated, although I’m pretty certain I’ll pay for the experience in bruises tomorrow. As I snuggle down into my sleeping bag, I close my eyes falling asleep to the sound of drunken laughter and far off music.
