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Carry Us Away

But it's meant to entertain

Garrett:

A felt a pillow whack me in the face. I groaned and turned over, burying myself deep under the covers. My blanket was ripped off of me.

“Okay, I definitely didn’t intend to see you half naked this morning, but Garrett you need to wake up!” I turned to see my best friend and band mate, Pat Kirch.

“It is too fucking early, Pat!” I mumbled into my bed.

Pat slapped my back hard. The sting caused me to jump up. Oxygen rushed to my head making me dizzy. Once I was steady, I shoved Pat off my bed onto the ground. “Dude, what the hell? First you wake me up and then you slap me? I am not your fucking btich.”

“Hey, don’t shoot the messenger!” Pat whined. “John and Tim are the ones that scheduled this meeting so early.” John was the lead singer of our band and Tim was our tour manager as well as Pat’s older brother.

Pat got up and headed to the door. “Be down in ten.” He went to leave and then stopped, “Oh and make sure you do something about your hair. It’s a mess.”

I chucked a pillow at Pat but he had shut the door just in time. Getting out of bed I went through the clothes strewn across the floor looking for something clean to wear, finally settling on a thin, gray, long sleeved shirt. I threw it over my head and paired it with some black skinny jeans. Then I looked at my hair. I ran my fingers through it only making it stick up even more.

I quickly gave up. It didn’t matter much anyways we were just going to a small meeting at some small place. It would be fine I assured myself. Despite this I still went into the bathroom and wet my hair under the sink running a comb through it quickly to try and flatten it out a little bit. It wasn’t much, but at least it was somewhat decent.

I stared at myself in the mirror turning to one side, studying myself. I stopped. What the hell was I doing? But I knew what it was.

I couldn’t get that girl out of my head. The way she strung me along like I was her puppet. I didn’t even know how to keep up. It was fucking annoying.

With one last look in the mirror, I frowned before turning off the lights. I thought back to her number in still in the pocket of my jeans from last night. Yeah, I wouldn’t even dare to call it.

We made the short drive to the place we were having our meeting. We had to park a few blocks away, because we had been unable to find a parking space. As we walked, I saw a familiar head come out of the building we were heading towards.

My throat went dry at the sight of her, but I had to be sure. I watched as she disappeared into her car.

“Hey, Garrett, you coming?” Kennedy, the rhythm guitarist in our band, was standing at the door holding it open for me.

I waved him off, “Yeah, just give me a second. I think I see somebody I know.”

With a shrug Kenny, walked in letting the door shut behind him. I made my way toward the car and was about to knock on the passenger seat window when movement in the backseat caught my attention. Peering into the back seat window, I quickly jumped back in surprise, my cheeks instantly warming up.

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Gabrielle:

I sighed in aggravation. It was Sunday morning. On one hand that meant no school, but on the other hand that meant I had to work at my two jobs on the same day. It was torture since I only got paid for one, the other was an internship were I got paid in “experience”.

At the moment, I was at my internship. I interned for a small, local studio so that I could get some outside experience for my photography class at Arizona State University. Don’t get me wrong; it was an awesome place to work, but juggling college, work, and interning was beginning to take its toll.

I liked taking pictures of anything, but my favorite things to take pictures of were people. Portraits were a way to see into the soul of someone whether that person intended you to or not. For some unexplainable reason, a camera could capture expressions and convey emotions that the normal eye could not detect. My favorite age group to photograph was the elderly. To me it always seemed that their portrait was able to reflect their entire lives and experiences or at least make you wonder what their life story was exactly.

At most studios, it was encourage to not speak to a person while taking their pictures other than the normal cliché phrases to get them to smile or look this way or that way, but I liked to hold actual conversations with them. I found that the pictures came out a lot better that way, because whenever a person talked about something that was important to them you could see it in the photo.

At the moment, I wasn’t taking pictures, but instead I was learning the basics of different lighting structures. I looked at the clock and let out another sigh. Time to get ready to leave for my other job. Looking at the time I could already tell that I would be a couple minutes late.

I quickly told my boss, Michaela, that it was time for me to leave and she barely offered a goodbye, too preoccupied with the two adorable blonde twins she was trying to take pictures of. I ran to my car quickly and rushed into the back seat.

I got out my uniform for the small restaurant chain that I worked for and quickly shred the clothes from my first job. I switched my top first and then laid down to change my pants. Boy, did I live a crazy life. I thought bitterly. In a flash I was out of the back seat.

I was about to get into the driver’s seat when I heard a voice come from the sidewalk, “How did you do that so fast?” The voice asked in amazement. “One minute you were in one thing, the next minute you come out of your car wearing something completely different.”

I froze and looked up to see some kid who looked vaguely familiar. He was slightly obscured by the shadow of the building he was next to and the sun was casting a glare into my eyes. He took a step forward and I instantly remembered him being the guy that had driven me home last night. He ran a finger through his messy hair.

I cringed wondering how much he had seen. “Great, perv.” I scoffed. “Now, you’re following me? Believe me, I’m flattered, but you could have just called if you wanted to see me again.”

He raised his eyebrows and stared at me like I was out of my mind, “Are you serious?” His voice came out low and controlled like he was very good at dealing with people like me. “I think you’re the one trying to flatter yourself. I just happened to be with my band checking out this studio to see if they have any photographers that can do on location shots. But hey, go on ahead and believe that I’m your stalker if it makes you feel better.”

I looked at him dumbfounded, “No, that’s not what I—” but he cut me off.

“Oh, and for your information. I didn’t see shit. So you don’t have to worry about a thing. I just saw you walk out the door of the studio and knew you looked familiar so I waited for you to come out.”

I stared at him unable to say anything clever back. We turned our heads at the sound of someone calling the guy who had just ripped me to shreds with his words. What’s worst was I couldn’t even remember his name.

I saw a small guy with long hair poke his head out of the studio and say his name once more, “Hey, Gare, we need you in here.”

Garrett, I remembered now, turned back to me, “So if you’ll just excuse me. I kind of have more important things to do than to be accused of stalking by some chick who can’t even say thank you for driving her home last night.”

He turned to go into the studio that I worked for, but I ran up to him quickly not even caring that I was going to be super late for work now. “Um, Garrett, I’m—just… thank you. For last night. I’m sorry I was such a bitch.” I was about to say more, but words wouldn’t form. Something about Garrett made me want to get to know him; it had to with the way he pushed me away. I liked the challenge, but then I remembered my rules.

Rule number two when dealing with douche bag guys: never give them what they want.

The only problem was: I wasn’t sure if Garrett really qualified as a d-bag.

But the bigger problem was: I wasn’t sure what Garrett wanted.

“I’ll see you around?” I asked and was shocked that I was actually nervous about it.

He looked at me skeptically. His next words came out bitterly, “If our paths ever cross again, I’ll be sure to say hi.”

Yup, I definitely didn’t know what he wanted.
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*This is getting more and more exciting as I write it! I hope you guys like where this is headed! :) I'm trying to write this in a way where you don't have to know much about The Maine to enjoy this story. Comments would be lovely <3

*Thank you to the three amazing people that commented, but maybe I could get some more? The following are awesome:

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