O+
Two
“You know who that was right?” That’s the first thing Sasha asked me when we got into our room. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at her as I unpacked my bags, putting my clothes in the small little dressers we were provided with. Sasha responds to my silence with a groan as she plopped onto the bed, a small smirk quirked up my lips as I folded a band t-shirt. Me and Sasha had very different music tastes, but we were always put into the same category: black girls who wanted to white. I hated the label, especially since I was only half black and though Sasha was full fledged black, what did the color of our skin have anything to do with how we acted? We liked what we liked and what we liked people gave the label “white” as if that was the accurate depiction of our personalities. A stupid fucking color.
“Yes. Your little boy band,” I finally responded after closing the dresser with my hip. I’d long since taken my coat off and let it hang in the tiny closet, leaving me in only a Ramone’s fitted tee and ripped up skinny jeans. I’d also dumped my beat up converses in the closet, letting my toes wiggle out of their prison. I hated socks. It was just that if I did have to wear them, the minute I got inside, that was one of the first things I took off. It was just the feeling they gave me and Sasha told me I was weird for it, but that didn’t really change my opinion on the matter.
“Ugh yes and Harry was totally checking you out! Who knew the boys were into bl-” She stopped herself before she could finish it. She knows how I get offended when she calls me black. It’s not that I’m not proud of my black side, it’s just that when people see me that’s not what I want them to think. “Oh. She’s black.” No. I want them to think “Oh she has a great taste in music!” or “Oh! I really like her pants!”. It’s so tiring to be identified by the color of your skin no matter what shade of it you are. She looks over at me like a wounded puppy but I decided not to say anything, spare her the mercy of that little rant that I am not a color. That I am a person. She’s heard it far too many times on more than one occasion to more people than just her. I bet she’s kind of sick of it.
“He was not,” I decided to say instead, throwing my empty suitcase into the closet much in the same manner I had thrown my shoes off. There’s a full body mirror right beside the closet so I can see the way she puts her hand on her hip to accompany the horrendous sound of her sucking her teeth at me. Just because we act “white” doesn’t mean we can’t have a bit of sass, but her reaction makes me turn on my heel so I can really look at her. She’s not joking at this point. I can see it in her expression. She seriously thinks that Harry, whoever that was, had been checking me out while we were in the elevator and honestly, I couldn’t see how she could notice with all the shaking like a leaf she had been doing in the prescience of the five boys.
“He was. He gave you that look. You know, that look where it’s like you’re the only person in the room,” Sasha always goes on these little rants on how guys give me “that look” all of the time, but I think she’s just imagining it 99 percent of the time. She’s just looking for someone to hook me up with so I’m not so lonely and a boy in a boy band is not on my list of people I even want to consider dating to cure the said loneliness that Sasha supposedly thinks I have. I’ve had enough long distance relationships to last a life time and I can’t even tell you which of the five was Harry, if you were wondering.
“You say that about every single guy,” I complained as I brushed through my hair. I’d probably have to straighten it again before heading out to find the retired doctor. I just hoped he wasn’t so old that he wouldn’t remember the name. I was running on just a little bit of faith here for a man I couldn’t even remember. Maybe I had acted a bit impulsively lying to her like this about getting tickets to see them and wanting to take her all the way to London. I mean, the idea had seemed so far fetched anyways, but I was her best friend. She wasn’t going to think I was lying about something like this, especially not now that we were here.
“But this time it was real!” Sasha groans and climbs off her bed, walking over to me and helping me brush through my hair before pinning it up for me. “Why don’t you believe me when I tell you that you’re beautiful, Abi?” Her voice has grown quieter and I could tell she was pained by my insecurity, but I really couldn’t answer her, so I just shook my head and grabbed my purse. What could I tell her really? She hadn’t been in my life when I had my heart broken for the very last time. She wasn’t aware of my existence when I fell apart my senior year, breaking down into heaving sobs during graduation because my boyfriend had decided that now was the time to end it when I thought he’d end up in the stands with a wedding ring. That was 2 years of my life down the drain. 2 years.
“I’m gonna take a walk. Just need some time alone. Do you want some Mcdonalds or something when I come back?” I asked as I moved back to the closet, grabbing my jacket and slipping it onto my figure. I always covered myself with big t-shirts, but this one was tighter than usual. I tended to only wear it while I was inside, but I didn’t really feel like changing my shirt just to go out and hopefully find the doctor. Sasha’s shoulders sag in defeat. She knows there’s more to it. She knows we don’t see the same thing when it comes to my appearance and she knows I probably won’t ever see myself that way, but that doesn’t stop her from trying.
“Sure. Get me a fry or something. I can’t get myself fat before the 1D concert so I’m on a temporary diet,” She explained and that’s enough to make me roll my eyes. Such a hypocrite, but she was my little hypocrite.
**Time Lapse**
I walked back into the hotel with a chocolate milkshake and a bag with two small fries in it. I hadn’t had any luck on finding the doctor and it’d been even worse trying to get back into the hotel due to the screaming fan girls who had apparently figured out that the boys were here, but they just didn’t know what floor they were in, let alone how to get in wearing all that one direction merch, but that was kind of their fault anyways.
I headed towards the elevator, clicking the up button just as the elevator dinged and the doors slid open. It was that curly haired boy from that band Sasha liked again and when he saw me there, his eyes kind of lit up. I didn’t want to believe that it was what I saw. I wanted to think that maybe my eyes were deceiving me and that those jade greens weren’t lighting up at the sight of me at all, but then he’s stepping out and I’m just looking at him rather stupidly. He brushed a hand through his curls before he’s standing beside me, that dimpled grin on his face and there’s really no denying it at this point. Though I can’t tell if he’s being friendly because he thinks I’m a fan or maybe Sasha was right, if this guy is even the Harry she speaks of.
“Hi, love. I’m Harry,” His voice is deep and heavily British. If the sound of melting chocolate had a sound to it, it would be his voice. He puts his hand out for me to take and I do. His hand seems to devour mind and his handshake is light and playfully. I soon find myself pulling my hand away and trying to zoom into the elevator. He’d so easily distracted me and the doors are closing, but there he is right after me, like he hadn’t just gotten out of the elevator. “What’s your name?” and there’s a sort of desperation in his tone as he holds the door open, half his body in and half his body out of the elevator. I pressed the button for my floor, but it does no good with him standing there. I just suddenly I feel really nervous.
“Abi, my name is Abi,” I said quietly and something in the way that he looks at me makes me wonder if he knows something about me that I don’t know and I hate that feeling, but I kind of want to know what he knows all at the same time. It’s like he can read my thoughts as he steps all the way inside, his shoulder brushing against mine, but he doesn’t reach to press the button to his floor, so I guess he plans on walking me back to my room, which is strange. I guessed that Sasha was right for a change, but I’d rather her not have a heart attack once she saw Harry lugging in behind me. If she even gets the opportunity to see such an act happening.
“I’m Harry,” He says breathlessly and I can’t hold back the little smidge of a giggle that escapes my lips after he does. I’d expected that since he was in a boy band where there was always girls upon girls that he’d be this overly flirty and charming guy, but somehow he’s managed to make a complete fool of himself and I love it and that’s the scary part. I don’t just like it. I love it. I really really love it.
“You already said that,” I stated once I got my act together and the elevator dings on my floor. When I look over my shoulder at him, he’s a flustered and blushing mess and god, I’m really not used to having this effect on normal guys, let alone ones in world famous boy bands! Yet here Harry is being so imperfectly perfect that it kind of makes me want to listen to their music, not just tolerate it, but actually listen to it.
“Sorry. I- Are you coming to the show tomorrow night?” He asked as he leans on the elevator door. The question kind of caught me off guard and I guessed I should be honest with him, that I wasn’t going, because I didn’t have tickets, though I had lied to Sasha and told them that I had them and that I was such a terrible best friend. I bit into my lip for a moment and he just kind of stood there, waiting for my answer like a true gentleman would and that stuns me even more, to be quite honest.
“No. I…I told my friend that I have tickets, but I don’t. She’s a big fan and I wanted to make her happy and I needed to come to London to find the man who did my kidney transplant 9 years ago, but she doesn’t know about that and I wasn’t ready to tell her about it, but I wanted to find out who my donor was because none of my more recent doctors know and he’s retired living somewhere in London, but I didn’t realize London was this big and now I’m not going to find out who my donor is and I’m going to lose my best friend and I-” It’s the feel of his finger on my lips and the light ssh sound his own make that make me stop mid-rant. His eyes are shining delightfully as he pulls two slips of paper out of his pocket.
“You won’t be losing anything,” He said quietly and I look the two slips over, growing wide eyed when I see that they’re tickets to the show and not just that, but they’re front row. He backs up into the elevator then, letting the doors close, leaving me stunned into silence by his act of kindness. One out of the many that I have yet to have realized he’s done for me.
“Yes. Your little boy band,” I finally responded after closing the dresser with my hip. I’d long since taken my coat off and let it hang in the tiny closet, leaving me in only a Ramone’s fitted tee and ripped up skinny jeans. I’d also dumped my beat up converses in the closet, letting my toes wiggle out of their prison. I hated socks. It was just that if I did have to wear them, the minute I got inside, that was one of the first things I took off. It was just the feeling they gave me and Sasha told me I was weird for it, but that didn’t really change my opinion on the matter.
“Ugh yes and Harry was totally checking you out! Who knew the boys were into bl-” She stopped herself before she could finish it. She knows how I get offended when she calls me black. It’s not that I’m not proud of my black side, it’s just that when people see me that’s not what I want them to think. “Oh. She’s black.” No. I want them to think “Oh she has a great taste in music!” or “Oh! I really like her pants!”. It’s so tiring to be identified by the color of your skin no matter what shade of it you are. She looks over at me like a wounded puppy but I decided not to say anything, spare her the mercy of that little rant that I am not a color. That I am a person. She’s heard it far too many times on more than one occasion to more people than just her. I bet she’s kind of sick of it.
“He was not,” I decided to say instead, throwing my empty suitcase into the closet much in the same manner I had thrown my shoes off. There’s a full body mirror right beside the closet so I can see the way she puts her hand on her hip to accompany the horrendous sound of her sucking her teeth at me. Just because we act “white” doesn’t mean we can’t have a bit of sass, but her reaction makes me turn on my heel so I can really look at her. She’s not joking at this point. I can see it in her expression. She seriously thinks that Harry, whoever that was, had been checking me out while we were in the elevator and honestly, I couldn’t see how she could notice with all the shaking like a leaf she had been doing in the prescience of the five boys.
“He was. He gave you that look. You know, that look where it’s like you’re the only person in the room,” Sasha always goes on these little rants on how guys give me “that look” all of the time, but I think she’s just imagining it 99 percent of the time. She’s just looking for someone to hook me up with so I’m not so lonely and a boy in a boy band is not on my list of people I even want to consider dating to cure the said loneliness that Sasha supposedly thinks I have. I’ve had enough long distance relationships to last a life time and I can’t even tell you which of the five was Harry, if you were wondering.
“You say that about every single guy,” I complained as I brushed through my hair. I’d probably have to straighten it again before heading out to find the retired doctor. I just hoped he wasn’t so old that he wouldn’t remember the name. I was running on just a little bit of faith here for a man I couldn’t even remember. Maybe I had acted a bit impulsively lying to her like this about getting tickets to see them and wanting to take her all the way to London. I mean, the idea had seemed so far fetched anyways, but I was her best friend. She wasn’t going to think I was lying about something like this, especially not now that we were here.
“But this time it was real!” Sasha groans and climbs off her bed, walking over to me and helping me brush through my hair before pinning it up for me. “Why don’t you believe me when I tell you that you’re beautiful, Abi?” Her voice has grown quieter and I could tell she was pained by my insecurity, but I really couldn’t answer her, so I just shook my head and grabbed my purse. What could I tell her really? She hadn’t been in my life when I had my heart broken for the very last time. She wasn’t aware of my existence when I fell apart my senior year, breaking down into heaving sobs during graduation because my boyfriend had decided that now was the time to end it when I thought he’d end up in the stands with a wedding ring. That was 2 years of my life down the drain. 2 years.
“I’m gonna take a walk. Just need some time alone. Do you want some Mcdonalds or something when I come back?” I asked as I moved back to the closet, grabbing my jacket and slipping it onto my figure. I always covered myself with big t-shirts, but this one was tighter than usual. I tended to only wear it while I was inside, but I didn’t really feel like changing my shirt just to go out and hopefully find the doctor. Sasha’s shoulders sag in defeat. She knows there’s more to it. She knows we don’t see the same thing when it comes to my appearance and she knows I probably won’t ever see myself that way, but that doesn’t stop her from trying.
“Sure. Get me a fry or something. I can’t get myself fat before the 1D concert so I’m on a temporary diet,” She explained and that’s enough to make me roll my eyes. Such a hypocrite, but she was my little hypocrite.
**Time Lapse**
I walked back into the hotel with a chocolate milkshake and a bag with two small fries in it. I hadn’t had any luck on finding the doctor and it’d been even worse trying to get back into the hotel due to the screaming fan girls who had apparently figured out that the boys were here, but they just didn’t know what floor they were in, let alone how to get in wearing all that one direction merch, but that was kind of their fault anyways.
I headed towards the elevator, clicking the up button just as the elevator dinged and the doors slid open. It was that curly haired boy from that band Sasha liked again and when he saw me there, his eyes kind of lit up. I didn’t want to believe that it was what I saw. I wanted to think that maybe my eyes were deceiving me and that those jade greens weren’t lighting up at the sight of me at all, but then he’s stepping out and I’m just looking at him rather stupidly. He brushed a hand through his curls before he’s standing beside me, that dimpled grin on his face and there’s really no denying it at this point. Though I can’t tell if he’s being friendly because he thinks I’m a fan or maybe Sasha was right, if this guy is even the Harry she speaks of.
“Hi, love. I’m Harry,” His voice is deep and heavily British. If the sound of melting chocolate had a sound to it, it would be his voice. He puts his hand out for me to take and I do. His hand seems to devour mind and his handshake is light and playfully. I soon find myself pulling my hand away and trying to zoom into the elevator. He’d so easily distracted me and the doors are closing, but there he is right after me, like he hadn’t just gotten out of the elevator. “What’s your name?” and there’s a sort of desperation in his tone as he holds the door open, half his body in and half his body out of the elevator. I pressed the button for my floor, but it does no good with him standing there. I just suddenly I feel really nervous.
“Abi, my name is Abi,” I said quietly and something in the way that he looks at me makes me wonder if he knows something about me that I don’t know and I hate that feeling, but I kind of want to know what he knows all at the same time. It’s like he can read my thoughts as he steps all the way inside, his shoulder brushing against mine, but he doesn’t reach to press the button to his floor, so I guess he plans on walking me back to my room, which is strange. I guessed that Sasha was right for a change, but I’d rather her not have a heart attack once she saw Harry lugging in behind me. If she even gets the opportunity to see such an act happening.
“I’m Harry,” He says breathlessly and I can’t hold back the little smidge of a giggle that escapes my lips after he does. I’d expected that since he was in a boy band where there was always girls upon girls that he’d be this overly flirty and charming guy, but somehow he’s managed to make a complete fool of himself and I love it and that’s the scary part. I don’t just like it. I love it. I really really love it.
“You already said that,” I stated once I got my act together and the elevator dings on my floor. When I look over my shoulder at him, he’s a flustered and blushing mess and god, I’m really not used to having this effect on normal guys, let alone ones in world famous boy bands! Yet here Harry is being so imperfectly perfect that it kind of makes me want to listen to their music, not just tolerate it, but actually listen to it.
“Sorry. I- Are you coming to the show tomorrow night?” He asked as he leans on the elevator door. The question kind of caught me off guard and I guessed I should be honest with him, that I wasn’t going, because I didn’t have tickets, though I had lied to Sasha and told them that I had them and that I was such a terrible best friend. I bit into my lip for a moment and he just kind of stood there, waiting for my answer like a true gentleman would and that stuns me even more, to be quite honest.
“No. I…I told my friend that I have tickets, but I don’t. She’s a big fan and I wanted to make her happy and I needed to come to London to find the man who did my kidney transplant 9 years ago, but she doesn’t know about that and I wasn’t ready to tell her about it, but I wanted to find out who my donor was because none of my more recent doctors know and he’s retired living somewhere in London, but I didn’t realize London was this big and now I’m not going to find out who my donor is and I’m going to lose my best friend and I-” It’s the feel of his finger on my lips and the light ssh sound his own make that make me stop mid-rant. His eyes are shining delightfully as he pulls two slips of paper out of his pocket.
“You won’t be losing anything,” He said quietly and I look the two slips over, growing wide eyed when I see that they’re tickets to the show and not just that, but they’re front row. He backs up into the elevator then, letting the doors close, leaving me stunned into silence by his act of kindness. One out of the many that I have yet to have realized he’s done for me.
9/28/13