People were streaming up the concrete steps into the main entrance from the sidewalk. The atmosphere was upbeat, and the audience included people of all ages. Some guys would give me a second look, as if they were wondering about the girl waiting in the shadow of the tall, silver building, constantly checking her phone.
My feet ached, and I shifted uncomfortably in the heels Naria had persuaded me to wear.
I felt great when I got into the Uber and drove to the concert. My skinny black pants fit perfectly, and my blue sleeveless top had no tan lines. My hair was also cooperating, allowing me to curl my brown locks into soft waves with volume rather than the flat, stick-straight style I usually wear it. I'd painstakingly followed YouTube tutorials on 'date night makeup,' so I was confident
