Hello Sheffield

It was fucking cold outside. There was snow littering the front yards of houses and puddles on the street. It was dark, probably because it was night. The streetlamps had been on for only an hour or so. It kind of smelled like frost or snow and I liked it. I liked it a lot.

The fact that I was here, a whole ocean away from any type of relative other than my dead ancestors was a reason in itself to like it. I was finally living by myself; paying my own bills, doing my own laundry, playing by my own rules. It was all just a bit too much.

So here I was, spending all of my inheritance money that my grandmother left me, living on my own in England. I felt so liberated that I was finally here. It had been my dream for a long time. It was overwhelming, setting up my own furniture and doing everything by myself though. I needed a friend pretty desperately and needed to figure out the money over here.

Finally, I saw the small corner store at the edge of the residential neighborhood I now lived in. It seemed that I desperately needed cigarettes as well as friendship. I actually kind of hate smoking but in stressful times I lit up a few. I stepped over an especially large puddle and into the warm store.

I glanced around and noticed a few people standing around. I made my way towards the freezers and grabbed a carton of milk. I clicked my tongue against the roof of my mouth, thinking about what else I would need for the morning, and got on line behind an older man.

The girl behind the register looked like she was ready to commit a mass homicide just for entertainment. She was pretty, yes, with her long blonde hair and green eyes. They were the perfect, doe-eyed shape that everyone wanted. She knew just how to line them with that dark black color. Her effortless demeanor was so frustrating.

I felt like shit compared to her.

My hair was nowhere near hers. I had this light brown, wavy hair that never really fell right. My bangs were probably the only thing I liked about my head. My eyes constantly pissed me the fuck off because they were never as pretty in pictures as they were in real life. The brown was dull and you couldn’t see the orange and green flecks in them.

I stepped up when the man was done, ready to scream, and put the pint of milk down. “Is that all?” she asked boringly in her amazing accent. “Can I get a pack of Marlboro Lights?” I asked. She looked at me for a moment, surprised maybe, and then asked, “Ten or twenty?” I was surprised and then shrugged. “Ten, I guess.”

She produced the cigarettes from thin air and punched in some numbers. “Right, that’ll be a £6.15,” she said. This was the part I was dreading so completely and totally. I understood nothing of the pound. I sighed, pulling some of the money out of my pocket and looking desperately at the blonde cashier.

She wasn’t going to be of much assistance it seemed, so I fumbled around for a few minutes. This was frustrating. All I wanted was my milk and my cigarettes. The girl stared at me impatiently with her cold doe eyes. Her pale gray nails tapped against the counter with a horrible derisive rhythm. Here I was, being a legitimate dumb fuck.

“I think you need some help,” someone said; my savior of the day. He stepped forward and took the notes from my hands. After dropping a few on the counter, he handed me the rest of the money. I let out a shaky breath and smiled up at my savior. As soon as I did that, I froze.

Suddenly, I was hyper aware of the Bring Me the Horizon t-shirt I had on underneath my sweatshirt. I tugged at the zipper uncomfortably. He was gorgeous. Honestly, ten times better looking up close and personal. “ ‘Ere’s yeh’re change,” the girl said. I took the money and shoved it back in my pocket. I slipped the milk and the smokes off the counter and stepped aside.

“Thanks for helping me,” I said sweetly, while he paid for his gum and chips. “No problem,” he said, handing the cashier (who warmed up to him) his money, “American then, are yeh?” I blushed slightly. Oliver Sykes was making small talk with me. I didn’t know why, nor did I care at the moment.

“Uh, yeah. I actually just moved here two days ago.” He seemed surprised. “Moved here? To Sheffield?” I smiled as he gestured towards the door. I walked towards it beside him. “No, here, to this corner store,” I said sarcastically, “Obviously to Sheffield, I live right down the street.”

He looked at me with his eyebrows raised. “You think yeh’re funny, do yeh?” I put a hand over my heart and smiled sincerely up at him. “Actually, I know that I’m funny. Thanks for noticing,” I said cheekily. He chuckled.

“I’m Oli,” he said, flipping some hair out of his eyes. Again, I felt so aware of the band shirt clinging to my skin. It was easy to ignore when he flashed a bright smile down at me and offered me his hand. I shook it while I introduced myself.

“I’m Olivia, but everyone just calls me Liv.” He let go of my hand slowly. “Well, Liv with a sense of humor who just moved ‘ere two days ago down the street, would you mind very much if I walked yeh home?”

Butterflies fluttered up from my stomach into my throat. “I don’t think I would mind very much at all,” I said in a small voice. We walked silently for a little while, down the cool street.

“So did you move here with family or friends or?” he trailed off, tucking one hand in his pocket. I glanced up at him sideways. His hair fell in just the right way, and again, I was left feeling self conscious. I ran a hand through my own locks.

“Actually I moved here alone. I don’t like my family and my friends didn’t really want to commit to staying out here with me for a while,” I told him honestly. I had nothing to hide anymore and he was obviously surprised by the truth.

“Wow, that’s impressive. How d’yeh like England so far then?” he asked. His eyebrows were still missing in his dark hair.

I laughed nervously. “It’s kind of wonderful but I barely even knew where to buy milk. I’ve just been moving in mostly. I’m moving my furniture around tomorrow. That should be fun,” I complained sarcastically.

We walked silently down the road, my house getting closer and closer. It was kind of a looming prospect for me. What would happen when we got there? Would he say good bye? Would he ask for my phone number? Would I give it to him? All valid questions with no real answers.

I breathed in the cold air deeply, and it hurt the back of my throat pleasantly. This was surreal at best. The second day I live here and I ran into Oliver Sykes. Sure, Emily, my best friend back in the States, had joked about this happening. Never in a million years would I have even considered it.

“Well, this is my stop,” I announced when we reached the end of my walkway. “It was nice meeting you Oli,” I offered up as he stood there awkwardly. I was pretty confident that my awkwardness surpassed his on a completely different level.

“It was nice meeting you too. My parents,” I suppressed a broad grin at the cuteness of his accent, “Live a few blocks over. I’m sure I’ll be seein’ yeh around.” I smiled.

“Yeah, I’ll definitely see you around,” I assured, biting my lip. He did this cute little wave thing as he started walking away, showing off the tattoo I always looked up to him for getting. I waved back and turned up the walkway to my house, squealing quietly in excitement.

The tide was turning, no doubt about that. I looked over my shoulder at the tall man walking away only to find him looking over his. My heart thumped in my chest, threatening to explode with all the force in my veins. Oliver Sykes helped me, he spoke to me, he walked me home, he smiled at me. I didn’t even know he could smile.

I stood on my doorstep in the fucking cold weather, not yet ready to go inside and think of all this. I finally pulled a cigarette out of the pack and brought it to my lips. I resolved not to smoke in my new home. I patted my pockets before realizing that I had no matches. “Motherfucker!”

But even despite this, I couldn’t help but feel that England was looking up for me.