"lives for the memory, a woman who's just in his head."
The full story of two online friends, separated by 3336.684 miles.
As they meet in an unexpected turn of events, the worst of inconveniences and timing never on their side, one simple miscommu...
It seems like all I knew how to do was fuck up and get drunk.
It was currently sometime in the early morning, and I had decided to let my feet take me wherever it pleased, so here I was walking around aimlessly in the cold and dark streets of New York City.
My feet were aching, and I couldn't think straight. My vision was blurry and my mind was clouded with alcohol as I walk around an almost empty parking lot, counting the lamp posts each time I circled the empty space.
I had no fucking idea how long I had been there, my concept of time going completely out the window. I had gone to three bars and spent most of my money there, and I still didn't want to go home. I didn't want to go back to my room and be faced with the memories of him saying that he didn't want to be in a relationship, at least not yet.
Maybe, just maybe, if I had enough to drink I'd be able to forget everything. The last seven months going down the drain after downing enough tequila shots to make a rockstar in the seventies crumble.
Brushing my cold hands to the ground, I sit down and soak in the quiet, almost feeling blissful in my intoxicated state. The air was cold, and the moon was bright. Everything felt nice for a second.
"What are you doing on the ground?" A man says to me, his shadow elongated on the ground from the lights shining from up above, and I sigh.
"I'm not a prostitute or a hooker, go look for someone else," I say, tracing patterns into the ground.
"Well I didn't ask you if you were a prostitute did I? I asked you why you were sitting on the ground at—- 3:35 in the morning in an empty parking lot." He says, making me aware of the time.
"Holy shit, it's three in the morning?" I say, finally looking up at the stranger and seeing his face.
He was attractive, tall figure, pale face and angular features. His jaw was sharp, sharp enough to look as if he were some statue carved by angels of another time. Long chocolate brown curls scattered along his head and peaking through his beanie, and a coat wrapping along his frame.
One of his hands were deep into his pockets, and I think to myself that this stranger could have a gun in there. It didn't seem to phase me much.
"What are you doing on the ground?" He asks me again, this time sitting down next to me with a groan.
"I've been walking since one, so I'm tired," I state simply, sparing the details of my sob story.
"One in the morning?" He asks, making me nod.
"Yep," I stretch my legs before tucking them into me, pushing my chin out to rest on my jean clad knees. "I went to a few bars, got completely wasted and started walking from there," I add on, smelling the alcohol on my own breath.
"Cool," He says simply, fishing something out of the pocket of his coat, making me stare.
"Do you want one?" He finally says, as he traps a cigarette between his pink lips and fishes his pocket once more until he finds a lighter, lighting it up and taking a drag.
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"Sure," I said.
"You do know that it isn't safe for you to be out here this late at night alone, drunk too I might add," He says, blowing the smoke out of his lips and through his nostrils, and I put the cigarette between my lips.
Before I could grab the lighter, he stretches his hand out to light it up for me and I try to smile, trying not to drop the cigarette at the same time.
"Thanks," I say, coughing a bit as I inhale the smoke. "And it isn't safe for you to be out here either," I say.
"Well it's different for me," He shrugs.
"How is it different?" I ask, furrowing my brows.
"Well, you're a woman... Can't be much older than seventeen, drunk, alone, in New York City of all places," He says, exhaling the smoke through his nostrils once again.
"Sixteen," I correct him.
"I'm sorry?"
"I'm sixteen," I say, making his eyebrows shoot up.
"Oh wow, that's like... that's even worse." He says, making me smile.
"Yep,"
"Elio Kennedy," he says, reaching his arm out for me to shake and I do.
"Daisy Kensington," I say back to him.
"So, how old are you Elio? And what are you doing at three in the morning wandering the streets of New York City?" I say as I take another drag of my cigarette, successfully not coughing in any of the smoke this time.
"I dunno, it's a weekend and my parents are driving me nuts. Do I need to have another other reason to?" He says and I shrug.
"Fair enough, why were your parents driving you nuts?" I pried. I didn't mean to pry but I guess it was just something I did.
"I'm seventeen, by the way. Turning eighteen next month, that's exactly why they were driving me insane. They keep hounding me on what I wanted to do with my life, as if I didn't already have plans on college and everything, they're just up my ass all the time about this shit, it stresses me out," He says.
"Must be nice," I mumble under my breath, confusing him.
"Must be nice of them to stress me out?"
"No, I mean it must be nice to have them even be around to ask you all that, even if it is stressful and shit. My parents haven't gotten back from a work trip in months, at this point I'm seriously considering emancipating," I laugh, and he reciprocates it.
"Well, cheers to that I guess," He says, clicking our cigarettes together.
"Cheers to our parental issues?" I say.
"Fuck yeah," he says, making me smile. "The ground isn't that comfortable," he points out after a beat, and I hum in agreement.
"So why the fuck are we still sitting down?" He laughs, getting up. "My cars parked over there, wanna get out of here?" He asks, and I debate on agreeing as I stare at the black car parked at the far end of the parking lot.
"I just met you, how do I know that you aren't going to kidnap me or sell me to some weird middle aged man half across the world?" I say, half jokingly and half in seriousness.
He pauses for a second, scrunching his lip up in a thought before answering me. "Nah, that's too much work, I was just thinking that maybe we could go to fucking In N Out or something then I could drive you home," He says, making me laugh.
"That... that doesn't sound so bad," I say. "I could use some food right now,"
"Great, because I'm fucking starving too,"
"What are you waiting for then? Black car, right?" I say, picking myself up and walking straight to the car that he pointed at earlier.
He chuckles for a second, standing up and following suit as he grabs his keys, clicking the car to unlock and I climb into the passengers side.
"Seatbelt," He says, making me roll my eyes as I reach for the buckle and have myself strapped in place as he starts the car, turning the radio on and I suddenly hear quiet hums of "Back to the Old House" by The Smiths starts playing. He starts to hum along.
"Are you listening to The Smiths?" I ask, laughing lightly.
"Yes I am, and what about it?" He smiles at me, cocking his head to the side and I laugh even harder.
"You pretentious motherfucker," I chuckle, staring out the window as he turns the music up.
"Hey smartass, keep that up and I'm not paying for your food," He says, making me laugh as we drive off.
