Sequel: Fact Or Fiction ›
Looking Back
Looking Back
Why oh why must I take the bus?! Oh yea. Because I can't afford a car. I continue to grumble to myself as I await the bus. I'm in my second year of college at USC. And lucky me (yes, that was sarcasm people) I get take the bus to and from school because I decided to live off campus. I sigh, watching the cruddy city bus sputter up the hill. This sucks. Really it does.
Putting my fare in, I search for an empty seat. He's here!! I am so sitting behind him. I carefully make my way to my chosen spot. I see this boy on the bus four times a week. I don't know his name or anything though. Everytime I get up the courage to talk to him, this blonde tramp that's in some of my classes gets on the bus and sits with him. She talks about her poodle. Who the fudge thinks a poodle is a good conversation topic?
I'm not expecting today to be any different. He and I have our starring contest as usual. He does this everyday. I'll sit behind him and as soon as I'm situtated, he'll turn around and stare at me. If blondie doesn't get on the bus, he'll observe (I use that word so this doesn't seem as creepy) me until I get off the bus. He has me curious.
Oh great. Here's blondie's stop. I watch, uninterested, as she saunters onto the bus. She licks her lips as she see him. But wait! A change in the ever mundane routine. Instead of sighing and rolling his eyes as he usually does when she graces us lowly bus patrons with her presence (again, sarcasm people), he slides around the seat and comes to rest right next to me. My hazel-green eyes widen as do hers. This is not supposed to happen. Gena!! That's her name. I knew I knew it. Wait. Focus....
"Hey."
"Um, Hi?"
He laughs, "I'm Zacky."
"Tiffany." I take the proffered hand. "Why are you sitting with me?"
He looks to the front of the bus, where Gena is sitting. "I'm tired of her interrupting me whenever I get the balls to say something to you. It just hit me today that I can sit with you instead of her. So Tiffany, how old are you, where do you work, and is black your natural hair color?"
"20, a sex shop, and yes."
"You work in a sex shop?" His eyes slowly get larger. I nod. "So cool. Can I come visit you at work?"
Now it's my turn to laugh, "I say I work in a sex shop and the first thing you want to do is visit me at work? You are not normal." He shrugs, shifting a little closer to me. "How old are you, where do you work, and why do you always stare at me?"
"22, I'm in a band and we're recording right now, you're very pretty."
"What do yo play?"
"Guitar. I love how you blush at the compliment, but don't say anything about it."
"Well I'm not shy or anything. And if a hot guy is going to tell me I'm pretty, I'm not going to ruin it by embarassing myself or making it seem like I'm stuck up by commenting." Again, he edges a little closer to me.
"What are you doing tomorrow?"
"Classes. I'm enrolled in USC."
He thinks for a minute before speakin again. "Well how about you skip your classes and come to the studio with me."
"Okay."
I sit back on the couch, wrapping an arm around my ten year old daughter, "And that is how your father and I met."
"Dad was crazy even then? He told me it's your fault he is the way he is." I glare playfully at Zacky.
"You weren't supposed to tell her that, baby girl." He picks her up and starts tickling her.
I still find it hard to believe that we got married a week after we first spoke to each other. He was going on tour and he wanted to be sure I would be there waiting for him. My husband is one of the weirdest people I know.
Putting my fare in, I search for an empty seat. He's here!! I am so sitting behind him. I carefully make my way to my chosen spot. I see this boy on the bus four times a week. I don't know his name or anything though. Everytime I get up the courage to talk to him, this blonde tramp that's in some of my classes gets on the bus and sits with him. She talks about her poodle. Who the fudge thinks a poodle is a good conversation topic?
I'm not expecting today to be any different. He and I have our starring contest as usual. He does this everyday. I'll sit behind him and as soon as I'm situtated, he'll turn around and stare at me. If blondie doesn't get on the bus, he'll observe (I use that word so this doesn't seem as creepy) me until I get off the bus. He has me curious.
Oh great. Here's blondie's stop. I watch, uninterested, as she saunters onto the bus. She licks her lips as she see him. But wait! A change in the ever mundane routine. Instead of sighing and rolling his eyes as he usually does when she graces us lowly bus patrons with her presence (again, sarcasm people), he slides around the seat and comes to rest right next to me. My hazel-green eyes widen as do hers. This is not supposed to happen. Gena!! That's her name. I knew I knew it. Wait. Focus....
"Hey."
"Um, Hi?"
He laughs, "I'm Zacky."
"Tiffany." I take the proffered hand. "Why are you sitting with me?"
He looks to the front of the bus, where Gena is sitting. "I'm tired of her interrupting me whenever I get the balls to say something to you. It just hit me today that I can sit with you instead of her. So Tiffany, how old are you, where do you work, and is black your natural hair color?"
"20, a sex shop, and yes."
"You work in a sex shop?" His eyes slowly get larger. I nod. "So cool. Can I come visit you at work?"
Now it's my turn to laugh, "I say I work in a sex shop and the first thing you want to do is visit me at work? You are not normal." He shrugs, shifting a little closer to me. "How old are you, where do you work, and why do you always stare at me?"
"22, I'm in a band and we're recording right now, you're very pretty."
"What do yo play?"
"Guitar. I love how you blush at the compliment, but don't say anything about it."
"Well I'm not shy or anything. And if a hot guy is going to tell me I'm pretty, I'm not going to ruin it by embarassing myself or making it seem like I'm stuck up by commenting." Again, he edges a little closer to me.
"What are you doing tomorrow?"
"Classes. I'm enrolled in USC."
He thinks for a minute before speakin again. "Well how about you skip your classes and come to the studio with me."
"Okay."
I sit back on the couch, wrapping an arm around my ten year old daughter, "And that is how your father and I met."
"Dad was crazy even then? He told me it's your fault he is the way he is." I glare playfully at Zacky.
"You weren't supposed to tell her that, baby girl." He picks her up and starts tickling her.
I still find it hard to believe that we got married a week after we first spoke to each other. He was going on tour and he wanted to be sure I would be there waiting for him. My husband is one of the weirdest people I know.