Baby I've Got My Eye On You

Beth and I spend the next few hours talking about things with Syn. I actually found this really helpful setting things straight in my mind, as my older sister she had a lot of advise to offer and I tried to keep an open mind about everything she said: I had no idea about what to do with the whole thing and she knew this.
“It’s in your nature to be utterly feckless” she told me, taking a scoop of ice cream. I decided not to tell her the real story of how I knew Syn, it was a nice thing to just keep to myself, you know? When she asked, all I said was that I’d known him in brief for a few weeks but didn’t really talk, and made sure she knew that I’d only just discovered the fact that he was famous.
“I think this is awesome” she said with a Cheshire Cat grin, obviously feeling much better than this morning, “You’ve like bagged your self and amazingly hot, rich and famous guy. You lucky bitch”
“Beth he’s really famous” I stated, hoping she would understand what I meant. She didn’t.
“I knooow isn’t it great”
“But… well I’m just me. Plain little Rosie Ellison. I’m not glamorous or anything!”
She raised her eyebrow at me.

“Roz, you are not glamorous no,” she said shaking her head and looking away “But you’re no way even close to plain. Half the guys in our neighbourhood totally want you and you don’t even realise it because you keep yourself in your own little bubble and don’t talk to anyone.”
“I don’t live in a bubble” I said in my defence.
“Yes you do. You like to get in a comfort zone and push away all the things that could be potentially great because they could be potentially terrible. Like Syn for example.”
“That is so not true”
“Eugh. Yes it is Roz, I’ve sat and watched you for years completely dismissing every compliment you’ve ever been paid, turning away from boys because you think they’re laughing at you when really they’re just trying to let you know they think you’re hot. And if you think for one second that you’re doing the same thing to this guy you have another thing coming, because if you don’t do something then I will.”

I was in shock of what she had said. I could have tried to be offended but really, I knew most of this to be true. She was right. I was hopeless.
“…Beth I’m just worried,” I admitted.
“Of what?”
“Of getting hurt I suppose”
“Roz, I guarantee it. You will get hurt eventually. But you can not spend your entire life running. Sooner or later you have to fall.”
“You sound like Yoda” I laughed at her prophetic words.
“Yes. But do as I say you must”
“Well… what about the fact he’s in a band and stuff… you know like the stereotypical rock star thing, what if I just end up being a slut or a groupie to him or something”
“You’re only thinking that because it’s an excuse not to go and see him. If you didn’t know he was in a band you’d feel exactly the same and you know it. Stop being ridiculous.”
“Well what should I do?”
“Do you know where he lives?”
“Yes” I should have said no.
She pulled my up from the floor and pushed me towards the door.
“Oh Beth no!” I complained “I’m not going”
“You are” she said pulling my hair out from the messy bun I’d had it in all day so that it fell loosely right down my back in rubbish, undefined waves. My hair was far too long and took too long to straighten or curl properly, I hated it but was too worried of looking worse if I cut it short.

“I don’t expect you home till late or not at all” she winked forcing me out the door.
“Beth I don’t want to I-” she shut the door in my face.
What could it hurt, going to see him? Hopefully he wouldn’t be in or he’d have company and I’d have to come straight home. I supposed I could go and ask him exactly why he never told me he was famous, but I didn’t want to make him mad. What If he didn’t want to see me? It didn’t seem that way last night though. Oh what to do. I blamed my parents for being away inside my head, knowing that if they didn’t have such a crappy marriage that they’d be at home and I’d be unable to do this. Maybe that would make me want to do it more though. I pretended for a moment that My mother was at home, throwing plates at my dad in the kitchen, arguing about how it was his fault I’d ran off to go and see a heavily tattooed man with long hair, who would most likely be a ‘bad influence’ or a ‘piece of work’. The thought made me smile as I realised this was what I wanted – not for my parents to be fighting of course, but surely giving it so much thought indicated how much I wanted to see him. And yes, if they were there, throwing shit about the house yelling at each other, I’d be out the door in a second. At least they wouldn’t have to know.

Before I knew it I was stood outside Syn’s house. I’m surprised I even remembered the way. His car was in the driveway, the curtains were open and I could hear music playing inside.
Shit. He was in.
I hadn’t even thought about what I would say to him. My brain was screaming at me to try and plan this a little bit, but my arms betrayed me and wandered up to the bell and pressed down hard.
There was the sound of thumping footsteps and some increasing crumbling as I heard him get near to the door.
“Gwen for fucks sake I told you to get awa- oh, Roz, hey” he said as he opened the door, screaming in anger at first then submerging in to a grin as he recognised me. I felt very confused.

“Hello Brian”
His face dropped a little then he smiled.

“How do you know that?” he asked
“I googled you” I said, before realising how psychotic it may sound.
I heard him laugh. He took a hand and scratched his head a little looking down, as if embarrassed. He didn’t even have a shirt on. I hope to god I wasn’t blushing.
“Come in?” he said stepping back, letting me inside.
I took the liberty of sitting down on his couch as he shut the door.
“I didn’t expect you’d come round” he laughed, motioning to the mess on the floor, that included a couple of porn magazines. How amusing.
“I like to be unpredictable” I lied.
“Do you?”
“No”
“…Well why did you sa-”
“I just lied. People do it all the time”
He rolled his eyes at me and sighed.
“Rosie I didn’t lie I just hadn’t told you yet”
“It’s a big thing not to tell someone about”
He nodded.
“I don’t see how it makes much of a difference though”
“Yes you do. Or you would have told me”
He sighed again.
“Why does it matter if I’m in a band?”
“It makes you famous” I said “Like really famous.”
“So?”
“I think you’re a little out of my league.”

He fell silent, just staring at me intently. His facial expression was unreadable: a mixture of shocked and confused, concerned and intrigued.
He sat down next to me, causing the cushions beneath us to shift a little in his direction.
“That’s so ridiculous” he whispered and I looked away quickly: he was looking at me much too affectionately.
“Roz that really is ridiculous” he repeated.
“Syn there are a thousands of girls who would fucking kill to be with you. You could have any girl you wanted.”
“No I can’t”
“Yes you can”
“Really now?” he was patronising me.
“Yes Syn.”
“Any one I wanted”
“Any one and every one”
“Well if I can get any girl I want…” he said slipping his hand on to my thigh, “…then what if I want this one?…”

I turned and looked at him. His eyes were so fucking lovely: I felt like I’d fall into them. But I didn’t understand why he’d want me.
I felt him move his hand further up my leg as he pulled me closer to him.
“The problem with running away all the time” he said, his mouth inches away from my own, “Is that, well Roz… you have to have someone to run to.”
I felt my bottom lip quivering: I wanted to kiss him so bad, I just wanted him to kiss me, but he held there, inches away, lingering, waiting like he wanted me to make the next move. I couldn’t take much more, the anticipation was making me ache, and each second seemed so long that I might die before the next one passed. Finally, my lips locked on to his gently, and he kissed back, sighing in to the kiss as if in relief. I smoothed my fingers through his black hair as his hands moved up my top; before I knew I was in my underwear, and he was carrying me in to the bedroom.