Runaways [Alex Gaskarth]

New Beginnings

It's been just over two months since I moved from London to Nashville. I guess it's alright here, I'm just still trying to figure my way around a few things. The difference between "jam" and "jelly" for example, seriously I spent nearly an hour in the supermarket trying to find a jar of jam and getting extremely flustered in seeing everything labeled jelly, wondering why they had so much. I also haven't driven on the wrong side of the road in like two days so I guess that's progress, I mean not nearly running someone over is quite an achievement.

At least I'm getting there, I'm trying my best. I'm heading out again today, well at least I'm going to leave my house for maybe an hour, get really nervous and go home. I can feel that nervous excitement bubbling away as I clamber into the driver's seat of my old yet new 1967 Chevrolet Fleetside. I'd got it on my third day here for a ridiculously low price, I mean the check engine light never went off and there was an off putting ticking noise in the engine but I did love it.

I pulled away from the curb in front of my flat and set out into Nashville, I had the windows all the way down. I lived in a blistering hot state and the AC in this piece of shit was bust. Great, I know. The satnav on my phone leads me down a small back street, and I got nervous in trying to natigate my truck into a small space. I eventually managed it and calmebered out of my truck, slaming the door shut with a hard push because sometimes it didn't close right.

I crossed the street, pulling my red hair into a hair tye because the weather was so humid and sticky that it felt gross having it down. I looked breifly at the store sign, "Gruhn Guitars" I was going to try to attempt to buy my brother a good birthday present as I was making half decent money in the job I had, no matter how much I hated answering calls for my pervy boss. I looked over a couple shelves, I'd been playing guitar since I could walk, my dad owned a second hand music store and played himself, he'd taught both me, my twin sister and my older brother to play when we were old enough to manage to.

"The Gibson Les Paul is a safe move" someone said behind me said, I turned around, a little startled as the store was completely empty when I walked in. I see a guy who couldnt be much older than me, nodding towards a guitar the colour of sun catching in a whiskey glass. He was a lot taller than me and was standing in skin tight jeans and a very loose tank top, his eyes were shielded by sunglasses and his hair pushed under a snapback. I tried not to blush as I stumbled out a reply. Nice one Taylor.

"You think?" I said, pretending I didn't already know that and pretending I didn't just stutter over my words. I pushed my glasses up my nose, really wishing I'd bothered with contact lenses now.

"Yeah, you can't go wrong" he smiled, looking a little embarassed himself. I nodded and returned his smile as I crouch down to look at the price tag. I let of an involuntary whistle at the amount of numbers on the paper.

"It's also pretty expensive" I sigh and stand up

"I guess there's that" he chuckled. I look down at it and sighed, I knew Max would like it, he loved guitars with a really glossy finish.

"Well, I don't want my brother to have a shitty guitar" I said, mostly to myself "and I guess I have enough"

"It's for your brother?" he asked, I nodded, biting the skin around my thumb like I tended to do when I was thinking.

"Yeah, I'm sending it back to London for his birthday" I replied, he nods in attempt to mask how awkward it was right now "I'm Alex, by the way"

"Taylor" I smile, pushing a strand of my hair behind my ear that had fallen out of my bun.

"So do you play?" he asked me

"Since before I could walk" I overexaggerated "You?"

"Well not that long" he laughed "but yeah, I do"

I giggle a little shyly as a shop assistant finally bustles over to help me out, he packs up the guitar and I splash out for bubble wrap and extra packaging just so it won't get dented when I have to mail it over to England. I struggle with trying to get it off the counter.

"Do you want me to help you to your car?" Alex offered and I shot him a thankful look as he grabbed the other side of the case and he helped me out the store and towards my truck. He helped me strap it into the back and made polite conversation as I tried down the guitar.

"So how long have you been living here?" he asked

"Just a couple months" I reply, sweat starting to bead on my forehead "I moved over from London"

"I love it there" he smiled

"You've been?" I queeried

"Yeah, a few times" Alex nodded

"Listen, thanks for the help" I nodded at the guitar

"No problem" he nodded "I hope your brother likes it"

"Thanks" I grinned, not really wanting to say goodbye. This is the first conversation I've had with anyone here that I don't work with. It might be nice to have a friend. I bid him goodbye and step into my truck. I look at him in my mirror with a sigh as I pull away from the curb. He smiled and waves, which makes me blush and I drive away.