lLfe as we know it •

#6

I was rather rudely interrupted from a song I had been grossly invested in by a very obvious pair of footsteps.

"Hey!" I jumped, glanced up from my music, startled, searching for where the loud voice had come from. "Lady, I don't know if you're aware, but I kinda claimed this hill coming over..."

I tried to think of a clever retort, not even taking in to account that she hadn't finished her sentence, but then I took one look at her and my mind turned to mush. Oh, my, she was attractive. How did you speak to attractive girls again? I must have missed the seminar on that one.

I was briefly annoyed by her hair; who has blue hair,

blue?! But then I saw her face and realised I didn't

care. Attractive girls are the bane of my existence

and this one could probably show up Megan Fox on

her best day, light brown eyes narrowed and hip

jutted and curves in all the right places, long hair and

a round face with pale skin. Oh dear.

"Uhh...sorry, I can go-"

"Oh! Um, no, i-it's fine." She said, stuttering. Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no she's cute. "Sorry. I didn't mean to- I mean, you were obviously here first so, I..."

I swallowed. Now or never, Andy. Here was where I took the dive. The plunge even. The perpetual- "Um... did you maybe wanna... you could sit with me?"

She looked shocked, her eyes comically wide. "I... sure."

She came over and sat next to me, so close that I could smell but not touch her. Well that was cruel. She smelled nice, like a faint, fruity shampoo and a florally perfume.

"So what are you listening to?" she asked me quietly. With the way she looked, she really didn't seem like the shy type, yet here she was, close to speechless. I wondered if maybe she had crawled from the depths of Tumblr and television shows like I had. No, people like that didn't exist. I was deluded. A deluded, lonesome blogger. Sob, hiss, claw. "Violent Soho," I mumbled, then cleared my voice, because wow, that was dumb and really, really cliched of me. She raised an eyebrow. "Really? You're in to that kind of music? No offense, but you, uh, don't really seem like the type to like that kind of..."

I shrugged. "None taken." There was a little taken. Was it my hair? "It's not like they're super unheard of or anything. I take it you like the band?"

She was blushing. "Oh- yes, I do. That and basically anything with a lot of drums... have you heard of Manchester Orchestra?"

My mouth opened in to a little O shape, which I promptly got rid of. "I have, actually. Wow, I don't, uh, really know many people with that kind of taste in music..." Now for the compliment. Swoop in like a bald eagle, you are the greatest flirt, here it comes. "You seem cool." And all of the fucking awards go to Andy Hills for her verbose, poetic mouth. Huzzah.

She smiled. "Thanks."

And the transaction is complete. Why were we not making out.

As inconspicuously as I could manage, I scooted closer to her, until our knees were almost touching. She glanced up, shock framing that beautiful face of hers. Cue rose petals, cue heart beat sound effects. And we were still wasting time with our lips not touching. That was really annoying and I was definitely going to beat myself up over this for weeks, I could feel it.

"If you don't mind my asking... why is... um... your hair..."

She chuckled. "Why is it blue? I dunno, I guess 'cus I like beating the system of normal hair colour... and blue is my favourite colour."

I could help it. I gagged. She gave me a questioning look, and I shook my head. "Sorry. I hate the colour blue; mine's red."

She turned her nose up to me. "Well, I hate the colour red."

We sort of glared at each other for a while, not knowing what to do or say, until I broke the glare to look down shyly. "It... looks really good on you, though."

She was almost blushing, cheeks tainting as she looked down, a slight smile playing at her lips. "Thanks... red looks good on you."

I refused to look up, cheeks even darker than my

aforementioned hair. "Thanks."

She turned out to be more than a fair conversationalist partner. We sat there talking for what felt like ages, waiting for an act to come on; hadn't I wanted to wait at the stage? That seemed unimportant once she opened her mouth; every word that came out seemed important, even when she was explaining, in vivid detail, her love for red velvet cupcakes at some point. It didn't matter; she was interesting, and everything she said was much the same.

It felt like hours that we sat there, talking about nothing and everything, but something about it felt different. It wasn't small-talk; even the meaningless bits of conversation, they were vast. We talked about school, we talked about the future; we talked about stars and she told me, lying on her back, that she had always wanted to be one.

"If I was going to fall in love," Emily said at one point, "I would want someone to quote 'The 1975' lyrics at me."

"Nuh-uh," I said, shaking my head, "The Avett Brothers all the way. Heart break is way more romantic. I want somebody to hurt over me."

My hair started to disagree with the weather, the last humidity of summer that fall seemed to cling to like a lifeline. I raked my hands over my head as I listened to her talk about constellations and thought that she was maybe the most interesting person I'd ever spoken to.

Suddenly, from beyond our private little hill, music started playing, and we both glanced up, sharing a look. Then we both grinned wickedly.

She took my hand, and I looked down at it, shocked. "Shall we dance?" she asked.

Shocked at first, I swallowed... then nodded.

****