Rebel Love.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?NR=1&feature=endscreen&v=uCjV-80Tqog

“Andy!" I called up the stairs over the blasting music and cheering crowd in the front yard. They had been going crazy all night since the band that we had hired began to play, and it was too facinating not to watch.

 

"Yeah, I’m coming,” his voice floated over the music and cheers easily like cutting through air, both soft and full of warmth.

When we first met, he was a wanna-be metal head: full leather get-up, black make up over most of his face, red lips, metal studs, the full out look. And with that look, came the constant suspicion that he was up to something, or some kind of criminal.

 

But, as I soon found out, he wasn’t at all.

 

 

 

“I hate having to wear all this crap,” he said one night after our second or third date, “I wondered if that’s why we started to date, but I guess not, huh?”

 

“Hell no,” I remember saying, leaning against the doorframe of his bathroom door and watching him as he washed away the black from his face. “I saw your eyes, and I just knew.”

 

“My eyes?” He looked up at me through a mess of black matted hair and makeup, “what about them?”

I laughed, and wiped his face with a towel, “they told me how gentle you are, and how much you’ve gone through to get here.” He smiled, and hugged me, his wet hair dripping onto my shoulders the longer we stood there.

 

 

 

“Oi!” I said, watching his baby blue eyes as he made his way down the stairs, “b***h where you been?” He knew I was joking, so he smiled and laughed, grabbing me up and holding me against him, feeling his heart beating.

“I didn’t know what to wear!” He exclaimed, his black hair falling over his right eye, shinning in the light from the open door, as he placed me back down on the ground, “and I know how much you enjoy my appearance.”

 

I smiled as I took in his choice of clothing; he sported a white t-shirt and black jeans, a perfect fit for him. I wasn’t picky over what he wore, but most of the things he owned were still a flashback from his hardcore leather days, and he had better things he could be wearing.

“You look beautiful, even in the leather,” I said, reaching up and playing with his lip ring, which was black and as shiny as his hair.

 

“Thanks babe,” he said, smiling with his set of perfect white teeth, “maybe I’ll go change then...” He winked at me, before wrapping his arm around my shoulder, and leading me out the door and into the bright sun, and loud crowd. The guys performing on stage had slowed for a break, and were talking to the crowd, when I heard our names being called.

 

“And will Andy and Leah please make their way to the stage immediately?!” The bass player asked through the mic, smiling and waving us up. Andy grabbed my hand and lead our way through the winding crowd and up the short steps to the stage.

“Long time guys,” he said, hugging the bass player and patting him on the shoulder. The bass player nodded and gave a wave my way, “you wanna do one last performance, man?”

 

Andy looked over at me, and smiled, “as long as Leah doesn’t mind us f*****g this place up...”

 

I laughed, “Go to your damn marriage, brides.”

 

Andy smiled, grabbed the mic, and the music began, the crowd going wild; this was sure one way to celebrate my birthday, but I was happy to see Andy jamming the way he use to when he was younger. He began to sing into the mic, his voice warm and loving, just like he was with me.

 

“I cannot hide, what’s on my mind,” his voice got faster, “I feel it burning deep inside!” He looked over at me, and smiled, “A passion crime, to take what's mine! Let us start living for today!” He took in a deep breath and closed his eyes.

 

“Never gonna' change my mind! We can leave it all behind! Nothin's gonna’ stop us, no not this time!”