I Guess I'll Never Get To Call You Mine
ALINE
A weekend with David Desrosiers wasn’t what I planned. After we finally shouted down the gang to go and leave, Dave and I played a game called Staring-At-Each-Other-Awkwardly until I told him that maybe I should go. Well, that broke the ice.
“Hold up, I made a policy to myself that if I run over people with my bike, I would take that person to lunch,” David announced. “When is the policy created?” I asked, slightly amused. “Like, a few seconds ago,” David shrugged. “Do you want ice-cream?” “You want ice-cream for lunch?” “Actually, no. I don’t even like ice-cream that much but I have discount coupons that will expire if I don’t use them before this weekend,” he said seriously. I laughed. “Okay, let’s go get your ice-cream.”
Hanging out with David wasn’t as bad as I thought. We went to the ice-cream place to redeem his coupons before heading (in my case, limping) toward a nearby park. I didn’t even know why I’m a little surprised. David just doesn’t seem to be the type of guy you’d find strolling through a park on a sunny day. He looked more like someone you’d find at a bar surrounded with a circle of laughing friends.
He had his arm around me now, as I can’t balance properly on one foot. He’d offered to take the bike but there’s no way I’m riding the thing that hit me. Right now I’m getting some stares from people walking past us.
A bunch of teenage girls stopped to cast envious looks at my direction. Older people seated on the park benches looked up from their books, and a couple of boys stopped playing ball to stare. They were all fixed on David, looking sort of in a daze, as if fascinated, but they don’t seem to know why. It’s the same way fans stare at my brother Randy when we were up on stage playing music for them. Charisma—it’s a ‘you have it or you don’t’ thing, and David Desrosiers definitely had it.
“Those girls are staring at us.” “Yeah? Well they probably want to sleep with me.” “So are those people.” “Well I can’t help being drop-dead gorgeous, can I? Oh look there’s someone coming toward us. She probably wants my autograph.” He turned to a shy-looking girl about nine or ten years old who’s been lurking behind us. “How may we help you, sweetheart?” he asked, smiling. “Excuse me,” the girl squeaked, sounding abnormally high-pitched. She turned to face me and blushed. “I’m a really big fan of The Youngbloods. Can you sign my notebook?”
“Of course.” I smirked at David’s shocked expression as I took the pen the girl held up and signed my name across a page. “There you go! Thank you for your support.” “Thank you!” the girl gushed. “I thought you guys are awesome! Your brother Randy is so hot!” “That’s great, I’ll tell him that. What’s your name?” I asked. The girl beamed. “Deanne,” she said.
“Hey, Deanne. Do you know who I am?” David interjected. She squinted up at him and frowned. “Are you…in a band?” she said doubtfully. “You’re in the right direction.” “Um…are you in Blink-182?” she asked eagerly. I snorted. It’s not everyday I get to upstage David. “Actually, I’m from Simple Plan,” David said. We waited for some sign of recognition.
Deanne did not disappoint. “Oh, yes! Simple Plan! I know you looked familiar! I don’t believe it! I meet Aline Young and Jeff Stinco on the same day!” she said, clapping her hands. I would’ve died laughing there and then but managed to hold it in to see David’s reaction. “You got that right! I’m Jeff, hottest member of the band. Also, I’m actually bald. I’m using a wig for today because it’s a really hot day today and I don’t want my scalp burned. Usually my head’s all nice and shiny. I polish it everyday with hair spray.”
I turned around and practically choked as David cheerfully signed an autograph for an impressed Deanne. As she turned to leave I laughed and shook my head. “Jeff is going to kill you for this.” “Well I do believe he used hair spray occasionally. How else does he manage to keep his head looking like a light bulb?” he grinned. “You are so bad, David,” I laughed.
I got back home in a pretty good mood. After that autograph incident I’d accidentally spilled my ice cream down his front, so he shoved his cone onto my shirt. When I told him that we ought to clean up he splashed me with water from a birdbath. He literally took the thing in his hands and dumped water all over me. I was still grinning at the memory as I limped back to my hotel lobby.
I stopped at the sight of a tall, brown-haired man pacing anxiously in front of the reception desk. I registered the Role Model hoodie, jeans and Converse sneakers. I stopped in front of him, surprised. “Chuck, what are you doing here?”
“Hold up, I made a policy to myself that if I run over people with my bike, I would take that person to lunch,” David announced. “When is the policy created?” I asked, slightly amused. “Like, a few seconds ago,” David shrugged. “Do you want ice-cream?” “You want ice-cream for lunch?” “Actually, no. I don’t even like ice-cream that much but I have discount coupons that will expire if I don’t use them before this weekend,” he said seriously. I laughed. “Okay, let’s go get your ice-cream.”
Hanging out with David wasn’t as bad as I thought. We went to the ice-cream place to redeem his coupons before heading (in my case, limping) toward a nearby park. I didn’t even know why I’m a little surprised. David just doesn’t seem to be the type of guy you’d find strolling through a park on a sunny day. He looked more like someone you’d find at a bar surrounded with a circle of laughing friends.
He had his arm around me now, as I can’t balance properly on one foot. He’d offered to take the bike but there’s no way I’m riding the thing that hit me. Right now I’m getting some stares from people walking past us.
A bunch of teenage girls stopped to cast envious looks at my direction. Older people seated on the park benches looked up from their books, and a couple of boys stopped playing ball to stare. They were all fixed on David, looking sort of in a daze, as if fascinated, but they don’t seem to know why. It’s the same way fans stare at my brother Randy when we were up on stage playing music for them. Charisma—it’s a ‘you have it or you don’t’ thing, and David Desrosiers definitely had it.
“Those girls are staring at us.” “Yeah? Well they probably want to sleep with me.” “So are those people.” “Well I can’t help being drop-dead gorgeous, can I? Oh look there’s someone coming toward us. She probably wants my autograph.” He turned to a shy-looking girl about nine or ten years old who’s been lurking behind us. “How may we help you, sweetheart?” he asked, smiling. “Excuse me,” the girl squeaked, sounding abnormally high-pitched. She turned to face me and blushed. “I’m a really big fan of The Youngbloods. Can you sign my notebook?”
“Of course.” I smirked at David’s shocked expression as I took the pen the girl held up and signed my name across a page. “There you go! Thank you for your support.” “Thank you!” the girl gushed. “I thought you guys are awesome! Your brother Randy is so hot!” “That’s great, I’ll tell him that. What’s your name?” I asked. The girl beamed. “Deanne,” she said.
“Hey, Deanne. Do you know who I am?” David interjected. She squinted up at him and frowned. “Are you…in a band?” she said doubtfully. “You’re in the right direction.” “Um…are you in Blink-182?” she asked eagerly. I snorted. It’s not everyday I get to upstage David. “Actually, I’m from Simple Plan,” David said. We waited for some sign of recognition.
Deanne did not disappoint. “Oh, yes! Simple Plan! I know you looked familiar! I don’t believe it! I meet Aline Young and Jeff Stinco on the same day!” she said, clapping her hands. I would’ve died laughing there and then but managed to hold it in to see David’s reaction. “You got that right! I’m Jeff, hottest member of the band. Also, I’m actually bald. I’m using a wig for today because it’s a really hot day today and I don’t want my scalp burned. Usually my head’s all nice and shiny. I polish it everyday with hair spray.”
I turned around and practically choked as David cheerfully signed an autograph for an impressed Deanne. As she turned to leave I laughed and shook my head. “Jeff is going to kill you for this.” “Well I do believe he used hair spray occasionally. How else does he manage to keep his head looking like a light bulb?” he grinned. “You are so bad, David,” I laughed.
I got back home in a pretty good mood. After that autograph incident I’d accidentally spilled my ice cream down his front, so he shoved his cone onto my shirt. When I told him that we ought to clean up he splashed me with water from a birdbath. He literally took the thing in his hands and dumped water all over me. I was still grinning at the memory as I limped back to my hotel lobby.
I stopped at the sight of a tall, brown-haired man pacing anxiously in front of the reception desk. I registered the Role Model hoodie, jeans and Converse sneakers. I stopped in front of him, surprised. “Chuck, what are you doing here?”