Sequel: Pretty Bird ›
People Got A Lotta Nerve
Goodnight & Go; Imogen Heap
"Oli...Oliver I think it was. Well, I called him that. He didn't object.." I twirled the spaghetti around my fork like a pro. When it came to me and Italian food, nothing got in my way of enjoying a good meal. I focused on the meatball being displaced on my plate, the spaghetti under it spinning onto my fork.
"Christian, he was as drunk as all get down, and probably stoned too. Who knows why this kid said what he did." Emma looked at me through her thick eyelashes, swallowing a noodle. "You cant take everything to heart."
"But what did he mean?!" I exclaimed, making fingerprints on my glass of water. "You're real interesting, love...What the hell?!"
In all honesty, it was all just my self consciousness talking. I tend to freak out over minute details. In fact, I'm willing to bet 100 dollars that this Oliver, tripper boy kid didn't even remember me. But sometimes I just obsess, I nitpick the smallest details and I analyze and analyze, trying to fit myself into the mind of the person....into his mind.
"Why do you care so much?"
"I cant really explain it..." I took another bite of spaghetti. "I just do. Don't you know by now that half the crap I do is completely irrational?"
Emma rolled her eyes, and took out her phone. "You know I love Saturday night roommate dinners, but I'm meeting Jamie for ice cream at 8."
"Jamie the fox?! A second date now? Lets hear it for the boy!" I cheered, teasing Emma as the soft blue light from her phone lit up her face. She giggled, and replied to the text she had apparently just received.
"I really like him, Chris. I'm not used to feeling this way, at all..."
I rolled my eyes this time. Emma was 20 years old, an apprentice at a piercing shop, and completely irresponsible. I could hardly believe that she was feeling any kind of long term feelings for this guy...of course, I use the phrase 'long term' lightly...2 dates for Emma was like 2 months to the average person, such as myself.
"Ill ask Jamie if he knows this Oliver character though, if you want dirt...is that what you're after here?" Emma smiled. I smiled back, thankful for her futile attempt at calming my nerves.
"I am not a stalker, Em..." I swallowed the last bite of spaghetti, waving my hand at her. "Its not big deal. Want me to take your plate?"
Emma nodded, and grabbed our glasses, her soda fizzing softly.
"That shit will kill you..." I remarked, watching the fizz from the coke attach itself to the sides of the glass.
Emma smiled, and tipped her head back. With one fluid motion, she brought the cup to her lips, and poured all of the remaining coke into her mouth. "It tastes good though!" A few drops dribbled down her well made up chin.
"Tell Jamie I said hi, okay? Cant let him think you live with a hermit or something." I smiled, setting the dishes in the sink, hoping Emma would cave in first and wash them once she got home.
"Yeah yeah, like that wouldn't be far from the truth." Emma laughed, as she grabbed her purse. She waved, and just like that, she was gone out the front door.
It was a typical night, as always. I could feel my laptop burning down through my lap, my legs at this point surely looked like charred meat, but schoolwork was schoolwork, and when you do graphic design, your laptop is your best friend.
I told myself that today, no one was going to barge in on me in an awkward situation. I piled my hair hair on my head in a twisted, lopsided bun, and my contact lenses were taking a break, my thick rimmed glasses now being employed to take care of my vision. My good, reliable boxers hugged my hips, and a simple black tank top kept me looking decent.
It was midnight, and as much as I hated admitting to it, I wanted Emma home. The house was just quiet and barren without her, and as much as she and I were so different, I think we both knew we needed each other, just to stay grounded.
With all homework done, I decided to research this Oliver character. I couldn't remember his band from the night at Soma, and I mean, if he was flying from England to the West Coast just to perform, Im sure he had some credibility. At first, I couldn't remember the name of the band...so, I just typed in 'Oliver'
Oliver Twist, Oliver and Company, Camp Oliver?, Robert Oliver?, Oliver Restaurant in Buffalo, New York....
No. No 'rock star Oliver' link for me to click. This search was going nowhere.
Suddenly, I was struck with a sudden stroke of genius. My finger danced across the laptop keys, until the internet pulled up the Soma San Diego website. Using my fingers to count back the days since the show, I looked to see who played on the day we were there.
"Bring Me The Horizon!" I said, clapping my hands excitedly. Clearly, the hands of fate wanted me to find his band. I never have genius moments!
The myspace page of Bring Me The Horizon at first...freaked me out. Blood guts, yelling angry music...a 180 degree difference from the ambient CoCo Rosie I was playing before. Clicking the pictures link, I instantly recognized tripper boy. There he was, in all his tattooed glory, contorting his face in silly ways, showing off his tattoos, his clothes, his band. I could feel the confidence radiate off of him through my monitor. I instantly felt a pang of jealousy in my stomach...at least I thought it was jealousy.
I couldn't look at his pictures for too long without deviating my eyes. Something about the way he looked in them intimidated me, made me want to hide behind my awkward jokes and weird social skills, just stay out of his way...but another part of me wanted to understand him, understand what made him tick inside that cocky little head of his.
Its not like it matters anyways.....Good Christian again....You wont ever see him again, you know...
I sighed, and closed my laptop, my brain obviously too fried for anymore work. I stretched my legs out, flexing my toes and rotating my ankles in little circles. I could feel the bones snap and crack, an instant calming reaction seeping inside my head.
I leaned over, and grabbed my cell phone from the end of the couch. To my surprise, I actually had an unread message! I flipped open the screen, ready to reply to my mother, or Emma, but instead, the number was not in my address book, just a pattern of numbers.
Now would you fancy that, tripper had mad skills getting your number, don't I? :)
"Christian, he was as drunk as all get down, and probably stoned too. Who knows why this kid said what he did." Emma looked at me through her thick eyelashes, swallowing a noodle. "You cant take everything to heart."
"But what did he mean?!" I exclaimed, making fingerprints on my glass of water. "You're real interesting, love...What the hell?!"
In all honesty, it was all just my self consciousness talking. I tend to freak out over minute details. In fact, I'm willing to bet 100 dollars that this Oliver, tripper boy kid didn't even remember me. But sometimes I just obsess, I nitpick the smallest details and I analyze and analyze, trying to fit myself into the mind of the person....into his mind.
"Why do you care so much?"
"I cant really explain it..." I took another bite of spaghetti. "I just do. Don't you know by now that half the crap I do is completely irrational?"
Emma rolled her eyes, and took out her phone. "You know I love Saturday night roommate dinners, but I'm meeting Jamie for ice cream at 8."
"Jamie the fox?! A second date now? Lets hear it for the boy!" I cheered, teasing Emma as the soft blue light from her phone lit up her face. She giggled, and replied to the text she had apparently just received.
"I really like him, Chris. I'm not used to feeling this way, at all..."
I rolled my eyes this time. Emma was 20 years old, an apprentice at a piercing shop, and completely irresponsible. I could hardly believe that she was feeling any kind of long term feelings for this guy...of course, I use the phrase 'long term' lightly...2 dates for Emma was like 2 months to the average person, such as myself.
"Ill ask Jamie if he knows this Oliver character though, if you want dirt...is that what you're after here?" Emma smiled. I smiled back, thankful for her futile attempt at calming my nerves.
"I am not a stalker, Em..." I swallowed the last bite of spaghetti, waving my hand at her. "Its not big deal. Want me to take your plate?"
Emma nodded, and grabbed our glasses, her soda fizzing softly.
"That shit will kill you..." I remarked, watching the fizz from the coke attach itself to the sides of the glass.
Emma smiled, and tipped her head back. With one fluid motion, she brought the cup to her lips, and poured all of the remaining coke into her mouth. "It tastes good though!" A few drops dribbled down her well made up chin.
"Tell Jamie I said hi, okay? Cant let him think you live with a hermit or something." I smiled, setting the dishes in the sink, hoping Emma would cave in first and wash them once she got home.
"Yeah yeah, like that wouldn't be far from the truth." Emma laughed, as she grabbed her purse. She waved, and just like that, she was gone out the front door.
It was a typical night, as always. I could feel my laptop burning down through my lap, my legs at this point surely looked like charred meat, but schoolwork was schoolwork, and when you do graphic design, your laptop is your best friend.
I told myself that today, no one was going to barge in on me in an awkward situation. I piled my hair hair on my head in a twisted, lopsided bun, and my contact lenses were taking a break, my thick rimmed glasses now being employed to take care of my vision. My good, reliable boxers hugged my hips, and a simple black tank top kept me looking decent.
It was midnight, and as much as I hated admitting to it, I wanted Emma home. The house was just quiet and barren without her, and as much as she and I were so different, I think we both knew we needed each other, just to stay grounded.
With all homework done, I decided to research this Oliver character. I couldn't remember his band from the night at Soma, and I mean, if he was flying from England to the West Coast just to perform, Im sure he had some credibility. At first, I couldn't remember the name of the band...so, I just typed in 'Oliver'
Oliver Twist, Oliver and Company, Camp Oliver?, Robert Oliver?, Oliver Restaurant in Buffalo, New York....
No. No 'rock star Oliver' link for me to click. This search was going nowhere.
Suddenly, I was struck with a sudden stroke of genius. My finger danced across the laptop keys, until the internet pulled up the Soma San Diego website. Using my fingers to count back the days since the show, I looked to see who played on the day we were there.
"Bring Me The Horizon!" I said, clapping my hands excitedly. Clearly, the hands of fate wanted me to find his band. I never have genius moments!
The myspace page of Bring Me The Horizon at first...freaked me out. Blood guts, yelling angry music...a 180 degree difference from the ambient CoCo Rosie I was playing before. Clicking the pictures link, I instantly recognized tripper boy. There he was, in all his tattooed glory, contorting his face in silly ways, showing off his tattoos, his clothes, his band. I could feel the confidence radiate off of him through my monitor. I instantly felt a pang of jealousy in my stomach...at least I thought it was jealousy.
I couldn't look at his pictures for too long without deviating my eyes. Something about the way he looked in them intimidated me, made me want to hide behind my awkward jokes and weird social skills, just stay out of his way...but another part of me wanted to understand him, understand what made him tick inside that cocky little head of his.
Its not like it matters anyways.....Good Christian again....You wont ever see him again, you know...
I sighed, and closed my laptop, my brain obviously too fried for anymore work. I stretched my legs out, flexing my toes and rotating my ankles in little circles. I could feel the bones snap and crack, an instant calming reaction seeping inside my head.
I leaned over, and grabbed my cell phone from the end of the couch. To my surprise, I actually had an unread message! I flipped open the screen, ready to reply to my mother, or Emma, but instead, the number was not in my address book, just a pattern of numbers.
Now would you fancy that, tripper had mad skills getting your number, don't I? :)