ೃ⁀➷ In the year 1994,
Maya Bennet travels to New York to attend a famous music festival, Woodstock. After stumbling into the wrong tent when searching for her lost boyfriend, she has an odd interaction with a handsome mysterious stranger. A year l...
𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐌𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐘𝐨𝐮 | Stealers Wheel 𝐆𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐚 | Led Zeppelin 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐫 | The Lumineers
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Placing my hands down against the front of my dress as a gust of wind forces the hem to rise, I push down the fabric and whip my head toward the shop as I walk through the tall field of grass.
I look over at Zayn through the random braids in my wavy hair, watching as he leans over a shiny black Honda Accord with a joint between his pinched lips.
With dirty hands, a few tools down by his feet, and his head hidden as he looks underneath the raised hood, music plays loudly from the boom box across from him; mixing in with the sound of the birds chirping and cars passing by the unpopular street.
Today's a Thursday—a very autumn Thursday as the ground is covered in leaves and the cool breeze sends a chilling sensation over my body each time the wind picks up. October just rolled in and the town's preparing to celebrate their favorite holiday as kids whisper about whatever it is they are eager to dress up as.
Stores around town are full of orange and black decorations as flower shops replace their sunflowers with pumpkins outside of their doors; placing a few pansies that poke out from the top of their carved jack-o'-lanterns.
The gas stations are full of pumpkin shaped cookies with candies and treats on display at the registers for the children who walk in to purchase gas for their parents who are waiting at the pumps.
And while most towns wait until Christmas for people to gather around at the park and watch a large tree glow with all the lights and decorations they worked so hard on, Halloween has been the holiday everybody loves to celebrate in this town.
With parties every weekend, and holiday specials at each restaurant you walk into, you'll even see kids running up and down the streets in witch or ghost costumes weeks before the day arrives.
It's been that way ever since I could remember.
Glancing back down with leather from Harry's jacket covering most of my hands, I look at my feet as I walk through the poorly raked red and brown leaves, wincing from the small scratches and cuts the sharp edges leave on my ankles as I twirl two small yellow flowers I picked from the grass between my fingertips.
Normally I would have worn a different outfit to work, but I was called in last minute since Harry was running late. So now I'm stuck in a sundress, a leather jacket, and hightop converse that are decorated and splattered with dirt and mud—I don't often wear them anymore because I haven't cleaned them since Woodstock and truthfully, I'm not planning to.
