Chasing Thunder

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“Oh gott,” Georg laughs, shaking his head so his damp hair flings water everywhere. “Did you hear that girl scream on the ride?”

Tom laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling up as he turns so he can see his friend. “Ja! I just thought it was because she saw your face.” He quickly dodges the bassist’s friendly punch, stepping to the side and nearly knocking over Nikki, who just looks startled at the sudden German boy in her path.

“Uh hi,” She laughs, reaching out and steadying herself on his arm. “Not that I hate having you throw yourself at me, Tom, but at least save it until we’re somewhere more private.” And she punctuates her sentence with a sleazy wink that garners her a collective round of oohs from the two G’s and Bex.

It was nearing dinner time and we’d been at the park all day with Tokio Hotel. We had systematically ridden all of the roller coasters and rides that the main park had to offer and then we moved on to Boomerang Bay, the massive water-park next door, sometime after lunch. The past few hours have been spent exploring the water slides and pools.

I had begged off on the last forty-five minutes, deciding instead that I would rather lay out on a beach towel and catch some sunrays. I had been alone for about fifteen minutes before an increasingly familiar lead singer dropped down next to me and offered to keep me company. And so the last thirty minutes were spent talking and laughing, Bill even going so far as to teach me a few German phrases—though I’m not quite sure how trustworthy these words are; I’d seen the mischievous gleam in his eye when I dutifully repeated the foreign words.

“So what’s the plan now?” Bex shields her eyes against the setting sun with one hand while her other hand is resting on her hip. “I’m hungry. Do you want to get some dinner?”

A ripple of agreement floats through the crowd before Nikki speaks up, temporarily distracted by how pruny her skin has gotten from being in the water for the past three and a half hours. “So where does everyone want to go? Do you want to sample some more Cincinnati classics or do you want to stick with something safe, like McDonalds or pizza?”

“I think we should take them to eat chili,” I announce with a wicked glint in my eye. “Let them have one more experience before we send them home to Germany.”

“Skyline it is,” Bex laughs, bending over and beginning to gather our things together. “Which one do you want to take them to—the one right outside the park or the one by their hotel?”

“Hotel,” I reply, standing up and rolling up my beach towel. “This one outside the park is so outrageously expensive.”

My comment sparks a bit of a debate between Nikki and Tom about the price exchange between American dollars and Euros and as I look around me for the gray shorts that I had entered the water park with, I nearly run into Bill.

“Oh sorry,” I smile, picking up the crumpled material and sliding them up and over my hips. “I didn’t mean to—“

“You’re fine,” He grins quietly, arms crossed lightly across his chest. “Should I be scared of your chili?” The word sounds weird coming from him, tinged darkly with his thick accent. But it sounds beyond cute and I can’t help the wide smile that appears as I listen.

I shake my head, folding up my wifebeater and tucking it away in my bag. It is far too hot to be putting my clothes on again and the only reason I put my pants on is because we had to cut through the main park to get to the car. And the workers typically frown on their guests strutting around in string bikinis. “No, I promise that it’s really, really good and if you don’t like it, we can stop at McDonalds and get you a burger.”

“Except I don’t eat meat,” Bill reveals suddenly as our group starts to move towards the exit of the park. “Tomi and I have been vegetarians for nearly two years now.”

I’m thoroughly impressed. I had a brief romance with vegetarianism back in high school and I had abstained from meat for nearly six months after viewing a graphic slaughtering video on the internet. But my diet consisted mostly of junk food and carbs and the lack of protein threw my body for a complete loop and I fainted at the top of a staircase in school. I woke up with Mom hovering over me in the nurse’s office and she insisted that I immediately start to eat properly again. I have since found better ways to cope with my distaste of animals being mistreated.

“That’s really admirable,” I remark, folding my arms around my waist as we walk. The wind is blowing faintly, teasing the ends of my long hair that’s pulled back into a ponytail. “What made you decide to give up meat?”

Bill shrugs, looking faintly nostalgic as he recalls back to some distant, private memory. “I was just tired of hearing about animals being abused and killed so cruelly. Tomi and I, we rescue dogs back home. We only have one now—his name is Scotty and I love him dearly. Giving up meat just seemed like the right thing to do.”

“I understand. I was a vegetarian for about six months back in high school,” I shrug my shoulders, turning my head slightly so I can see his face despite the dark sunglasses perched on my nose. “But I didn’t end up eating properly, so my diet was all sorts of screwed up. I failed hardcore at that.”

He laughs, the whites of his teeth sparkling in the sun. His laughter is so infectious that I find myself laughing with him, even though what I said wasn’t particularly funny. “That’s cute. You should pick it back up again.”

“Maybe,” I bite down on my lower lip as we cross the barriers back into the main park. “I love burritos too much to give them up, I think. Oh!” I exclaim suddenly, a sudden thought occurring to me.

Both Bex and Nikki turn around upon hearing me and before I know it, I have everyone looking at me concernedly. I can’t help but feel a bit stupid for making things sound so dramatic and urgent, but honestly, I was just remembering something from earlier today.

“Do you still want to ride Delirium again?” I ask Bill, referring to the fact that I promised that we’d ride it again and we had never gotten around to it. “It’s just over there, if you want to.” I nod my head in the general direction of the ride.

Bill’s face lights up and he nods. “Yes! Does anyone else want to ride it?”

“What if you and Addy go ride it and we’ll meet you at the front of the park with the cars?” Nikki suggests sweetly, something devilish hiding in her smile. “We can meet you out front in twenty minutes, just give Bex your car keys, Ads.”

I hesitate, trying to read my best friend’s face, but her twinkling eyes give nothing away. I chance a small glance at Bex, who looks completely clueless to Nikki’s not so subtle plan, before I admit defeat and hand over the tote that contained my clothes, beach towel, wallet and car keys. “We’ll only be fifteen, twenty minutes, alright?”

Bex nods, accepting my bag and swinging it over her shoulder. “Okay, sounds good. I promise not to wreck your car too badly.”

“Thanks,” I shake my head, pushing my mobile into my pants pocket. “That really make me want to let you drive my car.”

Bex and Nikki both wave us away and our group splits into two neat sections—five going towards the park’s exit and two heading in the opposite direction towards the roller coaster in question.

Bill and I walk quietly for the most part, sticking together since it was later in the evening and the park was currently being over-run by teenagers who were let out of school for the weekend. It’s only when a particularly large wave of people overwhelm us that Bill reaches out and clasps my hand loosely in his own.

My mind goes into over-drive. I can’t deny the way my heart speeds up or the way my lips curve upwards into a pathetically cheerful smile. My conscience is screaming Jordan’s name and I chastise my brain, comforting myself with the fact that we were only holding hands because Bill didn’t want to get separated in the crowd. He would let go as soon as we got through this swarm of people.

But once the crowd disappears, Bill doesn’t relinquish hold of my hand. Instead he begins to swing it cheerfully between the two of us, humming loudly as we arrive at Delirium’s turnstiles. He goes through first, his arm twisting back at an awkward angle so that our fingers can remain locked, before I slip through, using my hips to push the bar down.

He leads me through the silver barriers until we come to the end of the line, which is much longer than it had been earlier this morning. Bill leans against the fence, still swinging our hands back and forth lightly. He doesn’t seem aware of the fact that we’re still connected as he looks all around him interestedly, his dark eyes alive and alert.

It suddenly occurs to me that his eyeliner hasn’t smeared a bit, despite the fact that we spent all day in two different theme parks. “Is your eyeliner waterproof?” I find myself asking before I can stop myself. And then I cringe as he turns to look at me, confusion clearly written across his face.

But then comprehension dawns on him and he smiles gently, nodding and gesturing towards his face with his free hand. “Ja, it’s my favorite brand. I’ve been trying different brands over the years, but this is the best one in my opinion. I hated coming off stage and having my eyeliner be dripping down my face because of the lights and the sweat, so I think I’ve tried every single product out there.”

“It looks good,” I announce, glad for the chance to openly stare at his gorgeous eyes without coming off as creepy. “Do you do your own makeup?”

Bill purses his lips and then shrugs his thin shoulders halfheartedly. “For the stage and photoshoots, I have a makeup artist who does it for me. But if I’m just at home or like if I’m here in the Americas, than I do it myself.”

“So you’re pretty good at it,” I say more to myself than him. I’ve been doing makeup since I was about twelve, spending hours in the bathroom with Bex, testing out new looks and the latest styles that we spotted in magazines. “How long have you been wearing it?”

“Uhm, for about six, seven years?” He smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling up. It’s only then that I realize that he looks a little uncomfortable, like I was making him out to be a freak because he was a boy who liked to wear makeup.

I muster up a brilliant smile and squeeze his hand lightly. “Well I’m jealous of your eyeliner skills. Maybe I’ll have you do mine one day.”

He laughs, tugging me forward as the line moves ahead. “Maybe. I would do something crazy because your eyes are gorgeous and I’d like to see them pop more.”

I’m well aware of his underlying compliment and I flush appropriately, using my free hand to brush my bangs away from my forehead; though as soon as I do, they tumble right back into place. We stand in a bit of a silence, other peoples’ screams and the rattle of coasters flying past us provide the background music as we wait in line.

I’m scrambling for something to discuss with him. It’s weird. We hadn’t been at a loss for conversation all day and now neither one of us can come up with anything to say. What does one say to a nineteen-year-old internationally famous rockstar?

It appears that both Bill and I are having the same problem, because we both turn to each other at the same time and start to speak, only to stop and laugh and gesture for the other one to continue first.

“Go ahead,” I let my gaze drop down to the ground where I take in the black spots where people spit out their gum and dirt stuck on top. “Mine wasn’t important.”

“Neither was mine,” He admits good-naturedly. “I was just going to ask if you ever listened to our music before you met us.”

I feign hurt, placing my hand over my heart in a mock-wound. “Ouch. So you revert back to the standard question that you probably ask all of your fans when there’s nothing else to say?”

Bill laughs loudly at my words and shakes his head, blissfully oblivious to the looks that he’s attracting with his boisterous attitude. No doubt it isn’t common for people to hear a heavy German accent with a decidedly Ohio-an accent. We make for a pretty interesting couple. “No, no, no! It is an honest question. I’m curious.”

“Truthfully,” I begin as the line moves forward again. “I didn’t listen to your music. But I started to when Sid made her wish and I recognized a lot of your songs from listening to them through Sid’s bedroom walls all of these years.”

“It is a relief to meet someone who doesn’t worship us for what we do,” He speaks quietly, his voice serious and low. He looks off to the side, like he’s a bit ashamed of his words. “Not like I do not appreciate my fans—they’re the best in the whole entire world. But it is nice to meet someone who likes me for me and not because I’m famous. Does that make me a selfish person?”

I shake my head immediately as we’re given our numbers and we walk into the corral as we wait for the ride to end and the previous passengers to get off so we can board. “No, I don’t think so. I think it makes you human. We all just want companionship and I would think that, especially in your situation, finding solid, real friendships is really rare. It would make life difficult, I’d imagine.”

Bill looks grateful that I understand, that I’ve not jumped to conclusions and judged him horridly. He smiles brightly, his eyes a nearly divine color as he looks down at me. And then suddenly he’s hugging me tightly, his arms warm and surprisingly strong around my body. He’s gone just as quickly as he’s there, looking a bit taken aback at his new-found courage.

Neither one of us get the chance to say anything about it, because the ride attendant opens up the gate and the line moves forward as people start to search for their seat number. It’s a familiar routine, finding the right number and hopping up into the bucket seat. And then it’s only a matter of bringing the harness down and snapping the seatbelts around the waist securely.

As we wait for the attendants to walk around and double-check the fastenings, I lean out of my seat as far as I can so that I can see Bill. He turns when he feels my eyes on him and he raises a questioning eyebrow at my sudden stance.

“Your tattoo,” I motion towards his arm. “What does it mean?”

“Freiheit 89,” He replies immediately, holding out his arm so that I can see the black swirling font properly. “Freedom ’89 in English, the year Tomi and I were born. I think it’s pretty self-explanatory.”

“Is that the only one you have?” I ask curiously as the platform starts to lower away under our feet, even though I know for a fact that I saw a massive one stretching down his entire ribcage while we were out in the water park this afternoon.

Bill shakes his head. “I have three more—one on my neck, one on my hip and the last down my side.”

Tattoos are such a weak spot for me. Jordan has two half-sleeves and a few on his chest that I think are incredibly gorgeous. I guess I’ve always been attracted to guys with ink. “You’ll have to show me.” But that’s all that I get out because the ride starts to move and my head is pushed back into the harness by gravity.

Beside me, Bill is half-shouting and half-laughing as we whirl about, the wind smacking our faces. My legs are being thrown about carelessly and I laugh childishly, holding on to the handles of my harness tightly as my eyes close to stop from watering.

Much too soon for my liking, the ride begins to slow down and I can open my eyes fully once again. I release my grip on the handlebars and lean back in my seat as we slowly rock back into a standing position and the floor starts to come back up.

Bill is out of his seat in record time and he watches me undo my belt with an excited glimmer in his eyes. He’s bouncing a bit in place, his hands clasped tightly in front of him as I hop down onto the platform and readjust my shorts around my waist.

“So do you still like the ride as much as you did earlier this morning?” I laugh as we make our way towards the exit, walking past the other riders and emptying out into the common grounds. I instinctively start to guide us towards the exit of the park, since I have a feeling that we’re rapidly approaching our deadline.

He nods excitedly, still on an adrenaline high as we walk. His hair, which got wet and tousled in the water park, has dried since we rode the ride and it’s now framing his face adorably. “I think even better than I did earlier. If we didn’t have to leave, I’d insist that we ride it again.”

We stop at a fork in the road and I’m mentally debating with myself. If we turn right, we’re going towards the exit of the park and towards where my friends and Bill’s friends are waiting for us so that we can go grab some dinner. But if we go left, we’ll make a bit of a circle and walk past the entrance of Delirium once again.

“Come on,” I announce, grabbing his hand and tugging him to the left.

Bill follows willingly, though I know that he’s confused by my actions. I was clearly disobeying the signs that point towards the exit. But when I turn the corner and make my way towards Delirium’s barriers, an excited cry slips from his lips and he, in turn, matches my pace.

“We can just tell the others that the line was really, really long,” I explain, feeling like I was thirteen and purposefully disobeying my mother’s orders. “You’re sortof on a vacation here in Cincinnati, so why not get to do what you want on your vacation?”

He nods understandingly, positively vibrating with excitement as we come to the end of the line again. “It’s not very often that that happens,” He ducks his head, a wide pleased grin dancing upon his lips.

I don’t have the chance to ask him what he means by that, because the line surges forward again and we’re drawing ever closer to the front of the line. There’s a sudden swell of hushed, rapid-fire whispering coming from behind us that I didn’t pay much attention to until Bill glances over at me uncomfortably.

I look behind us and spot a group of teenage girls, all huddled together and eyeing Bill hungrily. And then I connect the dots in my head quickly. Obviously they’re fans and they’re freaking out over seeing Bill standing in the same line as them at the amusement park.

Bill looks a bit mortified, like he wishes that the ground would open and swallow him whole. And I want that look to disappear from his face. We’d been having a great time all day, so why would running into some of his fans have to ruin anything?

I shuffle closer until our arms brush together lightly. “Do you think if we ignore them long enough, they’ll go away?” I’m speaking softly, trying to lighten the sudden heavy, gloomy atmosphere.

He shoots me a grateful smile and shakes his head. “If they’re anything like European fans, than no. No, they won’t leave us alone.”

“So do you go say hi or do you wait for them to come to you?” I inquire curiously as the line moves forward again.

“Wait for them to come to me,” He answers evenly. “You don’t mind, do you? We can leave if you want and go to the car. If you’re uncomfortable—“

“I’m not,” I hurry to reassure him. “I don’t mind one bit. Unless you want to ditch the ride?”

Bill glances up at the now spinning ride and I can see the boyish longing in his eyes. Then he peeks over his shoulder at the four girls before he looks back at me. “I’ll be alright.”

Secretly I’m pleased with his answer. It would rub me the wrong way completely if he decided to pull major diva rockstar attitude and completely ignore his fans, but I also want him to have one last chance to ride his favorite ride in the entire park.

There is a pointed throat clearing behind us and I watch as Bill pastes on the automatic smile that he must reserve for the public before he turns on his heel and unleashes his mega-watt smile on the fan behind us.

Her voice is trembling and high-pitched as she stammers her way through gushing about how much she loved the concert two nights ago, about how much she loves him, the band and his music.

Bill replies friendlily, his eyes flickering with concern as she explains how he saved her life with his words. And I watch silently on the side as he transforms into the caring, loving front man that I’d met two nights ago on stage. He’s almost like a protective father, reaching out and hugging the girl lightly to his chest, telling her how much her words mean to him.

I’m gripped suddenly with a vision of Sid in his arms. She is an incredibly lucky girl to receive the royal treatment from the MAW Foundation and from the band and she made enough memories to last her a lifetime. But it’s obvious enough that she wouldn’t have been graced with all of that specialty treatment if she’d been healthy. Would Bill have treated her exactly the same if this had been her standing behind him in line?

I’d only known the foreign boy for a couple of days, but I already know the answer. Bill is an amazing guy and from what little I’ve seen from him, I know that he’d bend over backwards to help out a fan, even it means taking a minute to talk and sign a scrap of paper.

It’s only when we get separated from the fans by the waiting corral with our numbers that Bill turns to me with an apologetic look on his face. “Sorry, that took longer than I thought it would. She was incredibly sweet.”

“It’s not a problem,” I grin back, fanning my flushed face with my hand. “I’m glad you took the time to talk to her. It would have been incredibly off-putting if you hadn’t.”

Bill doesn’t say anything, but the secretive smile on his face speaks volumes as he studies the concrete below us intently. And it makes me wonder what exactly is going on in that head of his.

-X-

“So what exactly am I eating?” Tom asks dubiously, staring down at his plate concernedly, like it was going to leap off the china and attack him.

Nikki rolls her eyes next to him and points to the first thing on his plate. “It’s a chili-dog. It’s a hot dog with chili, onions, mustard and cheese. Just ignore the way that your arteries are clogging just by looking at the food and take a bite. I promise that you won’t regret it.”

“I’m going to break my vegetarianism for something that looks like it’ll give me a heart-attack if it comes any closer to me,” Tom mutters as he picks up the hot dog gingerly. He studies it a bit before he catches his twin’s gaze from across the table. “Here it goes,” He mock-toasts Bill before he leans forward and takes a bite.

The entire table watches him with baited breath as he sets the chili-dog back down on his plate and wipes his mouth, chewing slowly. He has a million different emotions flitting across his face, switching from looking disgusted to intrigued.

Finally, he swallows and leans back in the plastic booth with an over-exaggerated sigh. “That wasn’t actually that bad.”

“I told you!” Nikki returns her attention back to her own food. “How did I end up sitting next to the drama queen of the table?”

“Because you want to fuck him,” Bex coughs into her closed fist, trying to hide her laughter.

Luckily for her, she’s sitting far enough away from Nikki that she can’t be on the receiving end of Nikki’s foot and Bex had rushed all of her words together, so the boys didn’t quite grasp what exactly she’d said.

But that doesn’t stop me from openly laughing, nearly snorting my Mountain Dew out my nose. Amidst Nikki’s loud protests from across the table, I cough into my hand, my eyes stinging painfully. “Shut up, Nik! We all know it’s true.”

“Ugh, this is going to reflect poorly in your Christmas presents this year,” She mutters, though her dancing eyes give away that she’s not at all opposed to sleeping with the German guitarist sitting next to her.

“So,” Bill uses his fork to prod the food on his plate experimentally. “What exactly am I eating?”

“A three-way,” I answer, glancing down at his food. “It’s noodles, chili and cheese with oyster crackers over top.”

“Can I pass on it?” He mumbles quietly, looking down at the unappetizing mess on his plate. “It doesn’t quite look edible.”

I swallow my own mouthful of food before I shrug. “If you don’t want to eat it, you don’t have to, but I think you should try it. Just one bite?” I request, having sudden flashbacks of trying to coerce Logan into eating her vegetables.

Bill twists his lips down at his food before he uses his fork and spears some of the mess onto the ends of the prongs. Slowly, hesitantly, he brings the utensil up to his mouth and then pushes the food past his lips, his teeth grinding on the metal a bit. He looks revolted immediately, his hand flying up to his mouth like he was going to throw up all over the table.

“Do you want a napkin?” I ask, already handing over my own.

But he shakes his head, chewing slowly. Eventually he swallows it all down and then grabs at his glass of Pepsi, gulping thirstily at the carbonated drink. “How do you eat that?” He asks in a horrified voice, peering back down at the plate like it was going to fly up in his face.

I shrug, neatly twirling my noodles and taking another bite. “I guess if you grow up with it, it doesn’t seem so weird. But Bill, I had no idea you had a flair for the dramatics.”

“It must run in the family,” Nikki announces wisely, arching a thin eyebrow at me.

I nod, shaking my head as Bill reaches across the table and picks up Tom’s chili-dog, taking a bite without even consulting his brother. But Tom doesn’t protest, too busy having a conversation with Georg about some bet that they had made ages ago.

The rest of our dinner passes quickly. Bex, Nikki and I split the check three ways, despite heavy protesting from the boys. And then we herd everyone back into the cars before we drive back to the Netherlands Plaza, pulling back up to the valet service smoothly.

Bex climbs out first, shifting her seat forward so Georg can climb out. I shift into park before I get out, too. Bill unfolds himself gracefully, patting down his pockets to make sure that he has everything.

“Thank you for taking us out today; we had such a good time,” He begins, smiling down at me.

I flush, shrugging my shoulders. “Thank you for giving my baby sister the best day of her life.”

A thousand more unspoken words are exchanged between us before Bill leans forward and hugs me to him tightly. This time, I don’t hesitate in squeezing him back. He breaks apart eventually, still holding onto my hands tightly as he says something about making sure that we meet up in Miami.

And then we pull out our phones and double-check to make sure that we have the other’s mobile number and email address so that we can stay in contact. I’m busy typing in the number to dial international when the rest of the band joins us.

It takes a good ten minutes to hug everyone and thank them for coming to Cincinnati just for Sidney. The boys brush aside our thanks politely, trotting out the dutiful excuse that it was no problem, that Sid deserved it.

And then we wish them safe travels back to Germany before we all collect one last round of hugs and the boys walk back into their hotel, already talking about their day in rapid-fire German.

Bex climbs back into my car and I lead Nikki back to my house, driving through the streets of our city expertly, since I was more than used to navigating these roads with Jordan on his frequent pit-stops around the city to do work.

By the time I pull into my driveway, the clock on the dash reads just after seven in the evening and I’m beyond exhausted. And I still have the entire evening to get through before I can crash. Mom and Jack are going to Micah’s baseball game, since it is one of the last of the season. Which means that I’m stuck with babysitting duties for the night—something that I promised Mom nearly a week ago, though I’m sorely regretting my promise now.

Somehow I manage to say goodbye to my friends and they leave in their respectful cars with all of their overnight stuff. I trudge into the house, nearly colliding with Logan, who’s sprinting around the first floor with a drum hanging from her neck and an Indian headband around her head.

“Logan,” I call out, but she ignores me as she rounds the corner and heads into the kitchen, banging on her drums loudly. I guess this is just another typical Friday evening in my household.

Sid is lying on the sofa, a heavy knit blanket over her slender body as she watches television through half-lidded eyes. Just as I open my mouth to ask her how she’s feeling, my mobile erupts into Enrique Iglesias' I Like It.

“Hey Sid,” I call out as I dig through my bag and pull out my iPhone. Jordan’s face is flashing on the screen and I hit answer before I bring it up to my ear. “Hey baby.”