The Fox and The Hare

I had never planned on going alone, nor finding Michael there, honest. It just happened. They were a band, my favourite band, and they were in town for a night. I had a cousin who was just as big of a fan as I was, and so we planned on going together. It made sense, right? Since we both were planning on going anyway. We had spent most of our last Saturday standing in line to get the tickets for this concert. Now, it probably would have been smarter to order the tickets online, like most other person would do, but you can’t just order tickets online for this band - if you get tickets, you should wait in line, plus, it feels far more rewarding than positioning your cursor over the “Buy Tickets Now” button on the online page. So instead, we waited in line, practically starving because neither of us wanted to leave, though one could have held the other’s spot when they went for food. It just made the pizza afterwards far more rewarding at the Pizzeria. We bought our tickets and went to the well deserved Pizzeria, and we both had every intention on going to see this band. Only, it was the night before the concert that my cousin, Julia, cancelled on me, forcing me to go alone as I wasn’t going to give up now. I wasn’t too fond of it - I hated going to concerts alone, but I’d make it through it.

Though, I’d have to say, not all bad things are completely bad, something, out of the blue, something utterly amazing happens.

As coincidences go, or maybe he had been following me (he never told me if it were either), I met up with Michael waiting in line to get into the concert. I had just been standing there awkwardly, silent, playing around with my phone of all things. I was along, obviously, as Julia had sold her concert ticket to some boy on the internet so he could go to the show. Sure, I felt a bit mad, angry that she had backed out last minute and left me all alone, so I had no one to go with. That wasn’t going to stop me from going, though. It was my favourite band playing after all and it seemed like I never had the chance to go to concerts anymore, anyway.

“I’m with her,” I heard him say to those who complained about him butting into line. I thought nothing about it really, as I was stoked to be here, and I didn’t hear the voice very well anyway. He popped up behind me, setting his chin on my shoulder, his lips so close to my ear. “Hiya, Delilah,” he had said, making me jump. He had laughed at me, laughed at me! As if he found me funny, and I assume he had. At first I did question why he was here, as it didn’t seem like this was the kind of music he would listen to. But it was Michael, and I figure it would be better not to ask questions and just go along with it. “I didn’t know you liked these guys.” It really should have been the other way around - me saying that I didn’t know that he liked this band. It just seemed like he should like the more.. Well, hardcore bands, or at least bands with frontmen covered in tattoos and ears stretched to the size of Kansas.

“They’re my favourite band,” I had answered, my voice a little meek as it always was talking to Michael. He chuckled, an arm finding it’s way around my waist and pulling me close; my cheeks instantly flushed a deep crimson red. We moved up in line as the doors finally open and I sigh of relief escaped my lips. Sadly to say, we didn’t make it anywhere near the barrier that separated the crowd from the stage, but the stage wasn’t too obstruct from our vision. All in all, singing along to the music with the brightest smile on my face, it as all worth it to come, and I’d like to think that it was a good time for Michael as well. He always assured me that it had been a good concert every time I ask him (which is a lot, if you were wondering).

After the concert, Michael found it right to keep an arm around my waist on the way home; both of us were laughing and commenting about the concert and just how amazing it was. It had been one of the most outgoing and comfortable I’ve been around someone I really didn’t know (even thought I’ve been talking to Michael since the second week of school) for a long time. It surprised me just how much I talked, and at a comfortable volume and speed at that.

We didn’t make it home, not immediately.

“What the hell? That’s disgusting!” Michael laughed, seeing me dip a French Fry into a vanilla milkshake; milkshakes were exactly what had distracted us on our way back home. Actually, I think it was the awful looking fifty’s style diner; Michael’s favourite diner, that distracted us, that, and Michael saying that we had to stop by. My cheeks had flushed red at his comment and I plopped the milkshake covered French Fry into my mouth, remembering that no everyone would like what I do. Some might even find it a wee bit odd, disgusting even as Michael had declared. You shouldn’t knock things until you try them though. “So that’s why you wanted them!” he exclaimed, the realization coming to him.

My head nodded as I reached for another of the sticks and dipped it into the shake once more. “It’s good, Michael!” I smiled, lifting the milkshake covered fry to the boy’s lips, not even hesitant as I usually would be. With an arched eyebrow, he opened his pink, plump lips and took the fry into his mouth. I had glanced to his lips, and then to his eyes, seeing as they widened slight and a sound of pure pleasure escaped his pink lips.

“Hot damn!” He had laughed, and I realized how much I loved to hear his laugh. He and I hate the rest of the French Fries covered in the vanilla milkshake.

That was the first milkshake we shared in a fifty’s style diner with awful wallpaper. I wouldn’t have it any other way, though.