I Live a Life Style

My steps echoed through the silent park in Plainwell, Michigan, a town not too far from where we were playing tonight.

My black Ray Bans covered my eyes, but not because it was too sunny. Oh no, it was November here, and Michigan in November is very cold. The cold penetrated through my heavy jacket, chilling me to the bone. It was that cold.

I don’t know what brought me here. The band and I took the van to see what there is to be seen in Michigan, let me tell you something, it isn’t much. And where the rest of my band was, I didn’t know, but I was a little too lost in my own world to care.

That’s when I saw her. She was sitting on a small stone bench, positioned right in front of the small playground the park held. Her face could be spotted out of a crowd in a heartbeat. It wasn’t usual you see a Asian in Michigan. Her hair was almost covering her face, just barely long enough. She had a pencil in her hand, writing something out. An mp3 player was sitting next to her, headphones plugged into her ears, drowning out the whole world. Her long, lean, athletic legs were crossed, supporting the notebook she was writing in. Her thick rimmed glasses almost hid her eyes, but you could still somewhat see those hypnotizing brown almost black irises. A thin flannel jacket was thrown over a hoodie, trying to stop the cold from seeping into her body. Black flares where covering her legs, over shadowing a pair of overly loved black low rise converse on her feet. I didn’t need to know her to know she was almost the vision of perfection.

She stood up, brushing off her jeans, and throwing her notebook in the hand sewn bag that was once sitting next to her. She wrapped her headphone cord around the player, starting to walk away. As she walked away, pulling her hair pack with a hair tie, when her phone fell out of her hoodie pocket.

She didn’t seem to notice as the cellular device crashed onto the cement. Whether it would still work or not was the question, I couldn’t let her just leave it there.

The blue and silver LG Rumor glistened in the little light shining through the heavy cloud cover as I picked it up. I jogged over to her on the wooden boardwalk, hoping to catch her. My steps echoed as I made my way under the cement bridge for M-89.

“Hey,” I called. I gently touched her arm, as she readjusted her bag. “you dropped your phone.”

“Thanks, I don’t know where I’d be without it.” she smiled. Her voice was a little scratchy, like she was fighting off a cold. The tone was just like any other girl’s only not overly high pitched it makes you cringe at the first word.

“Does it still work, it hit the pavement pretty hard.” I asked, as she slipped it into her pocket.

“It should, if it doesn’t I’d be surprised. It’s been dropped repeatedly. I’m a very clumsy person.” She laughed bit. That’s when she phone started singing out in our song Whoever She Is. I quickly check to make sure my glasses were firmly on the bridge of my nose. She checked her phone, putting it back in her pocket. “Sorry, my friend, Holly, she finds the most inconvenient times to text me.” She smiled nervously, biting her lip. It was an amazingly cute gesture.

“Garrett, come on, we have to get going.” Jared called after me, the rest of the band was probably sitting in the park.

“Be there in a second,” I replied, looking back at the girl in front of me. She was smirking a little. “I have to-”

“It’s fine, maybe I’ll see you again.” She was smirking again. It was like she knew something I didn’t.

‘I doubt that.’ I thought to myself. “Maybe, who knows,” I said instead.

“Yeah, who knows, bye.” She smiled turning around starting to walk away.

I turned too, headed back to my place in the world, Garrett Nickelsen, bassist for The Maine. Being a national idol to millions of people, heartthrob to millions of teenage and pre-teen girls.

“Oh, and Garrett, “She said turning back. I turned quickly to look at her, “good luck tonight Mr. Nickelsen.” He smirk appearing back on her perfect face, running off towards her home. Leaving me there, gaping at her presents.

It was then that I knew I wanted to see her again.

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“Thanks for coming out tonight, we love you guys.” John yelled to the cheering crowd. It felt really good to be out there. Making tons of people, fans, of all ages happy.

We made our way off stage, as I set my bass guitar down. Picking up a bottle of water and towel, I made my way outside, in the frosty air. No matter how cold it was, it felt extremely good to be in just my skinny jeans, muscle shirt and flannel jacket.

Shaking out my recently dyed auburn hair, I walked toward the fans, taking pictures, and signing things for them. This is one of the best things about being famous, meeting your fans and remembering when you were simply just like them. A fan of someone’s music, going to the shows, and having the time of your life.

I had been out there for about 15 minutes, when I saw her again. She was standing next to a few other girls. Her blonde friend was dressed much like her, with a billed beanie on her head. Another girl, probably a couple years younger than her, stood next to her, about to start jumping up and down. One other girl, a little heavier set, but with gorgeous curves stood by, smiling a lot, looking really happy, and excited.

I walked up to her, tapping her on the shoulder. She turned around, her face went from confused to happy to her I-know-something-you-don’t smirk.

“What’d I say, I said I’d see you again.” She smirked as thought she knew it. I smiled not believing this girl.

“Do mind a picture?” Her blond friend asked, pulling out a camera. I took a picture with everyone of the girls. Saving her for last.

“Oh, now you choose me?” She smiled. I just smirked in her direction. I held onto her waist, waiting for her friend to finish getting the camera ready.

“I saved the best for last,” I whispered in her ear. I could feel her shiver under my grasp. I smiled, pulling her a little closer.

“Okay, here we go,” her friend said, situating her digital camera.

Just as the flash when off, I had twisted her around, pressing my lips to hers. As the flash was sensed in front of my closed eyes, her arms were felt around my neck.

I pulled away from her. She looked shocked. I had just kissed a girl I had barely met about 6 hours ago. And it felt, well, just, right.

“Jack Betley, nice to meet you.” She smiled.

“Garrett Nickelsen,” I responded, shaking her hand. We both started laughing as I leaned in and kissed her lips again. This time, she kissed back.