Reverie [Bruno Mars - Editing]

Chapter one

Chapter one

When the last bell rung I sprung up from my seat and quickly left the old rotten building, as if the faster I left, the more I would feel better about school ending for the day. But still, it was solely a Tuesday. Three more days until two liberating ones that felt more or less like two seconds.

I walked the few blocks to the bus stop, joining a few other high school kids who didn't own a car or lived too far to ride the school bus.

I made sure to keep a good distance away from the cool kids, (I didn't like the smoke) who weren't really cool at all, in my book. As I see it, they were stoner teenagers, who stay leant against the building behind the bus stop, dressed in leather jackets (except those. Those are cool), slowly smoking their drug filled sticks while staring intensely across the street at absolutely nothing.

I watched the cars in front of me speed by as I waited. They were slowly turning into speeding blurs of silver as I felt myself drifting. . .

The bus stopped in front of me. I blinked, looking at the glass doors sliding open in front of me in puzzlement before climbing inside. I payed the student's fee, which was merely only 75 cents, and sat in the farthest seat available. I already started to feel anxious, ready to daydream through my ride home.

I leaned my head against the window and closed my eyes.

A very few moments later, the bus made a jerky stop, pulling me out of my reverie. A small line of people were filing in the entrance, paying, and heading down the aisle to find seats. The conversational noise level rose as more people came in.

I was about to close my eyes again when my gaze landed on a familiar brown fedora and if I squinted, I thought I saw with it a yellow feather.

My breath caught.

The man was very familiar. He was shorter than average, dressed in a leather jacket with a yellow shirt underneath. His eyes were hidden behind dark shades. Ray Bans?

My eyes followed him as he paid the bus driver, strode down the aisle, and, to my astonishment, sat next to me. I immediately looked away and out the window, not wanting to stare.

I let my thoughts wander to situations of unlikeliness. What if it wasn't him, but a look alike? Surely, if it was in fact him, girls would be shrieking and boys would be rolling their eyes, shooting glares but nothing was happening.

Everyone was still minding their own.

I decided to look stupid, for the sake of the turmoil in my mind. "Excuse me." I shifted my body a little more to face him. I could see the familiar darks of his eyes side glance me. It's him, it has to be. "But, um, you look like that singer? Bruno Mars?" It felt weird saying his whole name aloud.

He took off his glasses and sighed, looking down at them in his hands. "You recognize me."

A small gasp escaped from my lips as I drew my hand over my mouth, stunned. "Oh, my God," I breathed low enough for only, hopefully, me to hear. "How?"

He looked sort of amused. I wasn't entirely sure. The corners of his lips were up a little, but his eyes were flashing around him, flickering with something I couldn't decipher. "It's me. In the flesh and in the blood," he replied. His voice was even rougher, deeper in person. "I cant tell you anything, all right? Not until we got off this bus."

"W-why not now?" I asked, silently cursing at myself for being so nervous.

"I have orders to follow."

I looked at him, my eyebrows raised. "But when do you ever follow one's demand or expectation?"

He laughed. "Man, who would've known?" He laughed again, shaking his head at the shades that were still in his hands. "God damn it."

I leaned back in my seat, now oddly calm about this whole ordeal. I wasn't sure that my mind believed of the reality that a celebrity was sitting next to me, a celebrity that I actually loved and adored. That didn't mean I didn't have billions of questions crowding my mind. "It's weird, seeing you, riding a city bus, I mean."

"What? A person with this much gold on," he referred to the chain around his neck, the watch on his wrist and the one gold ring on his index finger, which I noticed he'd toy with every minute or so. I wondered if he was nervous somehow behind his calm and casual facade. "Can't ride this shitty bus?"

"Right. I apologize for not remembering about your ego."

"Nah." He shook his head and smiled a little. "It's actually kind of comforting, you know? I feel. . . normal?"

"Normal," I echoed. "Yeah, about that, how are people not noticing you?"

"Patience." Was his only response, as he started to play with the ring on his finger.

Why are you sitting next to me? Is another question out of the galaxy of things that I wanted to ask, but figured I already knew the answer.

I decided against saying anything else. So I just stared at the back of an old guy's head. (Which consisted of gray hair and bald spots that shone.)

When Bruno spoke, I didn't look at him, wanting to somehow deter the awkward feeling that this situation was awarding. "So, how much time do we have left until you're home?"

I looked out the window, drawing out a long breath for effect. "A long time."

- - -

This is the revision of the previous chapter one. Same concept but to me is a whole lot better, lol. There's going to be about six or seven chapters of this short story. (Unfortunately my fan fiction is in a clutter right now. I mean I haven't even decided on or completed chapter one.)

I hope you enjoy!