Lust before love

Chapter four: The dedication

Celestia wasn’t sure why she had agreed to come.

The room smelled of sweat, alcohol, and all kinds of perfume. The bass from the stage throbbed in time with her heartbeat, making her stomach twist. She wasn’t a club person. She wasn’t a concert person. And yet here she was, standing on the edge of a crowded music hall, Grace practically dragging her by the arm.

“Relax,” Grace said, grinning from ear to ear. “You’re going to love this. Trust me. You just have to watch and enjoy.”

Celestia raised an eyebrow. “And what exactly am I watching?”

Grace’s grin widened. “Blaze Lincoln, fronting his new band. Singing his heart out. And maybe, just maybe, dedicating a song to someone.”

Celestia froze. “What?”

Grace elbowed her lightly. “Don’t tell me you’re not intrigued. You know it’s coming. I saw the way he looked at you at the last party. He hasn’t stopped thinking about you, I swear.”

Celestia rolled her eyes. “Grace, I—”

“Shhh,” Grace said, pointing toward the stage. “Just watch.”

The lights dimmed. A spotlight hit the stage, and the crowd erupted into cheers. Celestia’s eyes followed the movement and there he was—Blaze, guitar slung over his shoulder, messy hair falling perfectly around his face, smirk in place, but eyes scanning the crowd. And then, as if he had been looking for someone , his eyes locked on hers.

Her pulse skipped. She told herself to look away. She didn’t.

Grace nudged her. “See? Told you. You’re going to melt.”

Celestia crossed her arms, pretending to be unimpressed, though her stomach betrayed her with a subtle, insistent flutter. She couldn’t deny it: seeing him perform, seeing the energy he radiated, seeing him look straight at her in that crowded room—it was… something.

The band launched into their first song, fast and rhythmic, the guitar and drums blending into a raw, infectious energy. Blaze’s voice was… different live. More confident, more commanding, yet somehow still intimate, like he was singing directly to every person in the room.

Celestia found herself watching him, noting the way he moved with the music, the way his fingers strummed the strings effortlessly, the way his expression softened during the slower notes. She felt that familiar pull in her chest. Not exactly desire. Not exactly curiosity. More like… intrigue.

Then, in the middle of the set, Blaze paused.

The crowd quieted, sensing a shift. He leaned into the microphone, eyes sweeping across the audience until they landed, unmistakably, on Celestia.

“This next one,” he said, voice low but carrying, “is for someone who’s… complicated, amazing, and maybe a little infuriating. Someone I haven’t stopped thinking about.”

Celestia’s stomach lurched. She felt heat rise to her cheeks.

Grace squealed beside her. “Oh my God! He’s talking about you!”

Celestia pressed her palms to her face. “I’m not—this is ridiculous.”

But even as she tried to hide, Blaze strummed the first soft chords of the song. The music was slow, melodic, almost tender. And then he began to sing, his voice rich, raw, carrying words she could hear clearly even over the crowd:

“You came like fire through a quiet night…

Caught me off guard but felt so right…

I don’t know what you’re thinking, I don’t know if it’s real…

But every look, every laugh, I want to feel…”

Her heart hammered. She tried to tell herself she wasn’t flustered. She was watching, analyzing, cataloging. Objectively. But her knees felt weak, and she had to grip the back of a chair to steady herself.

Blaze’s eyes never left hers as he sang. Each word felt like it was meant only for her, and for the first time, she wondered: maybe he did mean it. Maybe this wasn’t just a performance, a stage act, or some reckless display for attention.

The song ended. A gentle silence hung in the room, broken only by the crowd erupting into cheers. Blaze smiled softly, a hint of mischief in his eyes, and bowed slightly in her direction before stepping back.

Celestia’s knees threatened to buckle. She forced herself to look down at the floor, telling herself it was nothing. It was just a song. Nothing more.

Grace grabbed her arm again. “He dedicated a song to you, Celestia! Can you even believe it?”

Celestia shook her head, trying to regain composure. “I can’t believe you brought me here.”

“Details, details,” Grace said, dragging her closer to the stage for the next set. “You need to pay attention. Observe. He’s amazing. And it’s all for you.”

Celestia glared but couldn’t stop herself from glancing back at Blaze. He was moving through the crowd, talking to his band, but she caught him looking at her again. That smile—the one that made her want to scowl and grin at the same time—made her heart pound.

After the show, the crowd began to thin. Grace was already planning where they would go next, practically bouncing on her heels, when Celestia noticed Blaze moving toward the backstage exit. He paused when he saw her still lingering near the stage.

For a brief moment, their eyes met. And then, he gestured toward her with a small nod, a silent question: Want to talk?

Celestia hesitated. Her brain shouted caution: He’s Blaze Lincoln. Charming, infuriating, unpredictable. Do not follow.

But curiosity won. Slowly, she nodded.

Blaze led her up a narrow flight of stairs to the rooftop balcony overlooking the city. The cool night air was a welcome contrast to the heat of the crowd. Below, the last of the revelers were leaving, and the lights of the city twinkled in every direction.

Blaze leaned against the railing, giving her space. “Thanks for coming out,” he said, voice softer than it had been on stage. “I know this isn’t exactly your scene.”

Celestia shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “Not really.”

“I meant… for me.” He gave a small, self-conscious smile. “I didn’t want to assume you’d come. But… you did.”

She raised a brow. “Does this mean I’m obligated to think highly of you?”

“Not at all,” he said with a faint laugh. “I just… wanted to see you. In person. Outside the library, outside… everything.”

Celestia studied him. The arrogance, the bravado, the infuriating charm—it was still there, but beneath it, she saw something softer. Honest. Vulnerable.

“Why dedicate the song?” she asked cautiously. “Was that… genuine?”

Blaze’s eyes met hers. “Every word. I didn’t do it for the crowd, or for attention, or for your friend’s amusement. I did it for you. Because I wanted you to know… that I notice you. That I think about you. That you matter.”

Celestia felt her chest tighten. She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came immediately. This was different. No teasing, no bravado, no messy kisses in hallways. Just… truth.

“You really are impossible,” she said finally, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“Thank you?” Blaze replied, smirk returning faintly. “I take that as a compliment.”

Celestia shook her head. “I’m not sure if I should be flattered or annoyed.”

“Both?” he suggested. “Seems fair.”

A brief silence fell between them. The city lights stretched endlessly around them, and for the first time, neither of them felt the need to push, to tease, to rush.

“You’re… different than I thought,” she admitted softly. “Not just… Blaze Lincoln on stage. Not just… the guy who spills coffee or kisses randomly. You’re…”

He raised a brow. “I’m?”

“More. Complicated. Not careless. Not reckless. Just… human.”

Blaze smiled, quieter this time, almost shyly. “And you?” he asked. “You’re more than the control-freak librarian everyone assumes you are. I can see that now.”

Celestia laughed softly. “Careful. Compliments like that could make me suspicious.”

“Good,” he said, eyes twinkling. “I like keeping you suspicious.”

No one moved closer. No one touched. No fireworks. No kisses. Just two people standing on a rooftop, sharing the quiet truth of themselves in the city night.

For Celestia, it was… enough.

For Blaze, it was… just the beginning.