𝐈 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐀 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 [𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲]

Chapter 2

Rain Rain, Don't Go Away

After a lovely and frankly drunken evening with Rosé, we spent the next day mooching around the Barcelona architecture, being total geeks and taking various selfies next to the most beautiful places you'll ever see. Rosé mostly sticking her two fingers up behind my head whenever she had the chance too. Rosé the Joker.

From 2pm to 7pm I was waitressing and so Rosé said she would go back to the apartment and make some tea before the concert. Her challenge was to produce something magnificent with a... microwave.

Rosé had texted me about the concert tickets and quite frankly I could not wait for my shift to be over. Serving coffee to miserable old Spanish men or jumping up and down in a seriously sweaty bubble of dancing people - I have to say I was more swayed towards the latter. A night out was a rare occasion for me who usually was in bed for 11pm to catch a rerun of Apartment 404

At 7pm I clocked off work and practically sprinted like Mo Farah back to the apartment. Rosé had cooked up an absolute storm. Chickpea burgers with a barbecue dressing and an avocado side salad. It screamed EAT ME, not literally though.

I was surprised; Rosé had never been able to cook, she was more of a basic baked beans on toast kinda gal. I stared at her in shock and inquired "WOW! When did you become Chef?", and then she chuckled.

"What? What is it? Do I have something on my face?" I asked smiling.

"No no you don't, it's just, well..." Rosé began guiltily, "I ordered it all from the Mexican café down the road and then put in onto your plates to make it look like I can cook. I'm happy to take credit for it though!" she said laughing.

I laughed out loud, "Who do you think you are Gordon Ramsay?".

Rosé then creased over absolutely wetting her knickers after singing 'Dude Looks Like a Lady' in reply to me, with the hoover movement included. We are as nutty as they come.

We enjoyed our feast and then began getting ready for the concert. Rosé begged to do my makeup as she'd seen a picture of Jessica Alba in Cosmopolitan on her flight over and she said her look would just look 'fucking fabulous' on me.

Though in reality, I knew she'd make me look like an A-Class hooker.

After yanking my ripped jeans on and "and "I Really Like The Stones" tee and throwing on a pair of pink Converse, we were ready to go out of the door.

"So who's concert are we going too?" I asked as we climbed aboard the local shuttle which was bustling with the locals on their way to their own destinations.

Rosé scrunches up her fists with obvious excitement, "Their so called We Lloud", and guess what? I just so happen to be selling their band manager a huge estate here in Barcelona sooooo that means we get to go to the AFTER PARTAYYYY!".

I squealed with excitement; like a new Mom on her first night out in months. I deserved a night out. Who knows, maybe I'd even meet someone super nice and the opposite of what I usually go for - AKA the knob type.

We queued up outside the venue which was Gatsby's, a little vintage, quirky bar nearby to me, for a good hour, and from where I was stood I could see the backstage door.

A girl with golden blonde hair, sharp saintly brown eyes framed with brown oversized glasses, and a well-trimmed bangs caught my eye. She had a red blazer on contrasting her black jeans and OCD white converse. I got a little flutter inside. I quite liked her, even from that distance.