Status: Active
Cherry Bomb
Night One
“Lukas, you said you’d come out.”
“I’m sick.”
“Lukas, you’re fine. Come out.”
“I have the bubonic plague.”
“Lukas!”
My best mate’s incessant banging on my apartment door, finally tore me away from my Entourage box set, and I opened the door, ducking by reflex as his fist came towards my face, not expecting the sudden opening of the hinged object. I blinked at him, his face becoming slightly lost in the haze of smoke that drifted upwards from the cigarette clenched between my lips. Noel glared at me, “Get dressed.”
I puffed at the cigarette obnoxiously and turned away as Noel made a big deal of coughing and waving the smoke away. “Your house is a tip.”
“It’s not a house, it’s an apartment.” I stated as I crashed some dirty plates into the already loaded sink, and then stubbed out my fag in the overflowing ash tray. Noel made various noises of disgust, turning off my DVD player, ignoring my protests. He then proceeded to walk into my bedroom, make my bed and then lay out an outfit. I suppose having a gay friend can turn out in your favour sometimes.
He pushed me into the bedroom, shouting at me that he wasn’t leaving unless I was coming with him. I grinned, flashing a straight tooth smile at him, “That’s what she said.”
Noel rolled his eyes at me as he pushed me into my bedroom, closing the door behind me, “Sometimes I forget you’re a twenty-six year old man with the maturity level of a seventeen year old boy.”
I grumbled to myself but did as I was told, knowing that Noel would do exactly what he said. I had first hand experience after refusing to go on a night out with him, of having to put up with him, sitting on my couch beside me, chatting non stop. In the end, I wished I had gone out.
I emerged minutes later, and ran my hand through my hair, causing it to become scruffier than usual. I brushed my teeth, and looked around to the door of my bathroom where Noel was leaning, swinging my beloved Canon camera from his hand.
I swiped it from him, placing it in my satchel and picking up my keys, “Well, then. Let’s go…you’re buying me my first pint.”
Noel chuckled and I ducked his swipe for me, as we walked out the door together. I pulled him back by the collar of his jacket and then raced him down to hail a taxi.
~
Three hours later, I was in the middle of a crowd of people I did not know. Noel had disappeared with a blonde German boy called Günter and I desperately wanted to go home. I managed to extract myself from the claws of a pretty brown eyed boy who refused to believe I didn’t swing his way, and sat at the bar by myself as usual. I looked into the bottom of my glass, swirling the foamy remains of the beer and contemplating the meaning of life.
“You going to stare into that glass all night? Or buy a girl a drink?”
I jumped at the voice that appeared beside me and looked across at the girl sitting on the stool next to mine. Her eyes were intense as she looked at me, a flicker of amusement dancing in her pale irises. Her head was covered by a black beanie, but bright red hair spilled from underneath to fall onto petite shoulders. Her black top was decorated with dancing skeletons, her legs wrapped in black tights embellished with prints of white skulls on them. I stared for a moment, gulping the sight of her in, wondering what she was doing talking to a guy like me.
My confidence came back a second later when I recovered from her appearance in my life, and I smiled the smile that often had girls swooning at my feet. It hadn’t been working to full effect lately, but tonight I felt confident suddenly with this girls eyes upon me. “I will once I know what that girl is drinking.”
She smiled and it shocked me for a brief moment. The smile that flashed across her red lips was so real and came so easily to her it stunned me. You didn’t see a lot of that these days. People were so fixated on being miserable, I was one if them. But this girl, this strange girl who’d only spoken one sentence to me already had me entranced. I don’t know what it was, maybe the way her eyes were framed by dark lashes or the way she ran her tongue over her perfectly white teeth after she spoke which stood out in sharp contrast to her crimson red lips. She was beautiful, she was young, and she was undeniably free.
I bought her a Captain Morgan’s, and she smiled a thank you at me, my heart doing a strange swooping thing I’d only read about in those sappy romance novels I read when on the jacks in my sister’s house. And I suddenly knew I wanted to make her laugh, I wanted to be the reason for the smile on her face because it would be beautiful.
“Lukas.”
She looked at me over the rim of her glass and that dancing amusement played in her eyes again, and I watched it, I watched her.
“Rosalie.”
Rosalie. It was perfect. It was wild.
Drink after drink. The camera came out. The music began to disappear in the background as it all became a blur, and no-body could be made out anymore except for her. The only thing that seemed real was the feeling of her hand in mine as she led me onto the wooden floor in the pub that wasn’t meant to be a dance space…but she made it one. She made it ours.
I woke up the next morning with a thumping hangover. I couldn’t remember anything. And then as I stumbled into the bathroom and looked at my reflection in the grotty mirror, I examined the lip stain on my cheek, it was bright red.
I smiled, remembering her. And then took out my camera, where images of her dancing with me flashed across the screen, images of us smiling at the camera and I looked happier than I had in a long time.
Rosalie.
Who was she?
“I’m sick.”
“Lukas, you’re fine. Come out.”
“I have the bubonic plague.”
“Lukas!”
My best mate’s incessant banging on my apartment door, finally tore me away from my Entourage box set, and I opened the door, ducking by reflex as his fist came towards my face, not expecting the sudden opening of the hinged object. I blinked at him, his face becoming slightly lost in the haze of smoke that drifted upwards from the cigarette clenched between my lips. Noel glared at me, “Get dressed.”
I puffed at the cigarette obnoxiously and turned away as Noel made a big deal of coughing and waving the smoke away. “Your house is a tip.”
“It’s not a house, it’s an apartment.” I stated as I crashed some dirty plates into the already loaded sink, and then stubbed out my fag in the overflowing ash tray. Noel made various noises of disgust, turning off my DVD player, ignoring my protests. He then proceeded to walk into my bedroom, make my bed and then lay out an outfit. I suppose having a gay friend can turn out in your favour sometimes.
He pushed me into the bedroom, shouting at me that he wasn’t leaving unless I was coming with him. I grinned, flashing a straight tooth smile at him, “That’s what she said.”
Noel rolled his eyes at me as he pushed me into my bedroom, closing the door behind me, “Sometimes I forget you’re a twenty-six year old man with the maturity level of a seventeen year old boy.”
I grumbled to myself but did as I was told, knowing that Noel would do exactly what he said. I had first hand experience after refusing to go on a night out with him, of having to put up with him, sitting on my couch beside me, chatting non stop. In the end, I wished I had gone out.
I emerged minutes later, and ran my hand through my hair, causing it to become scruffier than usual. I brushed my teeth, and looked around to the door of my bathroom where Noel was leaning, swinging my beloved Canon camera from his hand.
I swiped it from him, placing it in my satchel and picking up my keys, “Well, then. Let’s go…you’re buying me my first pint.”
Noel chuckled and I ducked his swipe for me, as we walked out the door together. I pulled him back by the collar of his jacket and then raced him down to hail a taxi.
~
Three hours later, I was in the middle of a crowd of people I did not know. Noel had disappeared with a blonde German boy called Günter and I desperately wanted to go home. I managed to extract myself from the claws of a pretty brown eyed boy who refused to believe I didn’t swing his way, and sat at the bar by myself as usual. I looked into the bottom of my glass, swirling the foamy remains of the beer and contemplating the meaning of life.
“You going to stare into that glass all night? Or buy a girl a drink?”
I jumped at the voice that appeared beside me and looked across at the girl sitting on the stool next to mine. Her eyes were intense as she looked at me, a flicker of amusement dancing in her pale irises. Her head was covered by a black beanie, but bright red hair spilled from underneath to fall onto petite shoulders. Her black top was decorated with dancing skeletons, her legs wrapped in black tights embellished with prints of white skulls on them. I stared for a moment, gulping the sight of her in, wondering what she was doing talking to a guy like me.
My confidence came back a second later when I recovered from her appearance in my life, and I smiled the smile that often had girls swooning at my feet. It hadn’t been working to full effect lately, but tonight I felt confident suddenly with this girls eyes upon me. “I will once I know what that girl is drinking.”
She smiled and it shocked me for a brief moment. The smile that flashed across her red lips was so real and came so easily to her it stunned me. You didn’t see a lot of that these days. People were so fixated on being miserable, I was one if them. But this girl, this strange girl who’d only spoken one sentence to me already had me entranced. I don’t know what it was, maybe the way her eyes were framed by dark lashes or the way she ran her tongue over her perfectly white teeth after she spoke which stood out in sharp contrast to her crimson red lips. She was beautiful, she was young, and she was undeniably free.
I bought her a Captain Morgan’s, and she smiled a thank you at me, my heart doing a strange swooping thing I’d only read about in those sappy romance novels I read when on the jacks in my sister’s house. And I suddenly knew I wanted to make her laugh, I wanted to be the reason for the smile on her face because it would be beautiful.
“Lukas.”
She looked at me over the rim of her glass and that dancing amusement played in her eyes again, and I watched it, I watched her.
“Rosalie.”
Rosalie. It was perfect. It was wild.
Drink after drink. The camera came out. The music began to disappear in the background as it all became a blur, and no-body could be made out anymore except for her. The only thing that seemed real was the feeling of her hand in mine as she led me onto the wooden floor in the pub that wasn’t meant to be a dance space…but she made it one. She made it ours.
I woke up the next morning with a thumping hangover. I couldn’t remember anything. And then as I stumbled into the bathroom and looked at my reflection in the grotty mirror, I examined the lip stain on my cheek, it was bright red.
I smiled, remembering her. And then took out my camera, where images of her dancing with me flashed across the screen, images of us smiling at the camera and I looked happier than I had in a long time.
Rosalie.
Who was she?