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Superstar, Ripp Collins had the crowd spellbound, enthralled by his beauty and raspy, haunting voice as he belted out a verse. “When you look at me, tease my desire with a mere gaze, it shreds the edges of my soul…”
The indie rock band Devil’s Avenue was under the spotlight tonight, and they had the club packed to capacity.
The pulse of the bass drum and the cry of the electric guitar whipped through the building like a harsh, metallic rock n’ roll storm. The music’s roar mingled with the fans’ zealous screams. Multicolored lights flashed over the performers, adding to the dark and mysterious ambiance they created.
But Ripp… He glistened under the fluorescent beams, like a divine being. Flicking his fingers across the guitar strings, he rocked his hips to the beat, threw his head back, and let out one of his gritty primal cries.
The crowd went wild.
An unwanted smile dared to cross my face. I sat rooted to the barstool at the back of the club, refusing to let his bad boy allure draw me under his spell, like everyone else. But damn, I couldn’t take my eyes off of him, which meant, I was already enchanted. Now that I think about it, I’ve been spellbound for quite some time now.
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