Our Time Has Come, and We've Got These Big City Dreams

“Talk to you later.”

I stared at my phone.

“Should I call him?” I wondered aloud.

My phone gave no reply. No sign. No random, out of the blue sign that you see in movies so that the main character would pick up the damn phone and just call him.

I took a deep breath to steady myself, picked up the phone and dialed the number that I had memorized hours earlier.

I took some more breaths to steady myself as the phone rang.

“Hello?” The voice, obviously masculine, was unfamiliar.

“Uh, hi? Is Alex there?” I asked.

“Yeah, hold up,” mystery boy answered. “Yo, Alex! It’s another for you!”

Another for you.

My theory; proven.

I was starting to regret calling. I didn’t want to be another one, another victory, another challenge met. I was debating whether or not to hang up, when he picked up.

“Hello?” Alex spoke into the phone.

My breath caught in my throat. I had forgotten how lovely his voice was.

“H-hey!” I stammered, instantly berating myself for sounding like an idiot.

“Who is this?” He demanded.

I felt myself flush. Of course he wouldn’t have remembered me. “Tara.”

“I know,” his voice was light and joking, “I was just messing with you.”

“Oh!” I laughed nervously.

He chuckled. “Listen, would you like to go out tonight?”

I knew he was bad, bad for me. But I still said, “Sure!”

“Great! Meet me at the café next to the Hilton Hotel.”

“The big, fancy one?” I asked.

“That’s the one,” he answered.

I glanced at my clock and asked, “What time?”

“How about seven?” he asked.

I nodded, and then upon realizing that, duh, he couldn’t see me, said, “Alrighty then!”

“See you at seven?”

“Yup.” We said our goodbyes and I hung up.

The following two hours were spent by me running around, trying to preoccupy myself. I couldn’t find anything to do, really, so I was very relieved when 6:25 rolled around. I pulled on my black skinny jeans, multicolored paint splat tee, and pink converses. I grabbed my purse, cell phone, keys, and walked down the stairs. I tiptoed past the living room where my father was in a drunken sleep, and walked into the kitchen. I picked up my hoodie, which had been slung across my chair, and walked out of my house, making sure to lock the door. Upon opening the car door and sitting down, I felt free, released.

The drive was nerve-wracking. It was twenty minutes, and I had to focus to keep my attention on driving, due to the fact that my thoughts were all centered on Alex.

I parked in a parking spot in front of the café. Beside it, the Hilton Hotel looked overly crowded. Groups of teenagers were surrounding the front doors, all pushing and shoving and screaming. I looked at the scene before me, then shrugged and walked into the café. I sat at a table and waited for Alex to arrive.

I began to trace the designs of the menu with my finger tips. Intricate loops and swirls, all very elegant. I looked up when my name was called. Alex was walking towards me, taking off his hat and scarf.

“Hi,” I greeted him as he put his sunglasses, hat, and scarf on the table.

“Hey.” He sat down.

“What’s with the sunglasses?” I asked curiously.

He looked down in surprise for a second, before answering, “Oh, I accidentally grabbed them.” He chuckled.

“Oh,” I laughed. “So, where do you—”

My sentence was cut off by someone saying, “Oh. My. God.”

“Oh my God!”

“AH!”

More screams and cries joined in, and I heard one thing in particular being repeated: Alex Gaskarth.

We were instantly mobbed by a bunch of screaming girls.

“Alex Gaskarth? From All Time Low?” I asked no one in particular.

One girl looked me over in disdain. “Duh. You’re on a date with him, you should know.”

Alex and I locked gazes. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

The only thing I could say was, “Holy. Shit.”