Human Connect To Human

{Concert 1} Chapter 2: Ride Home

Concert 1

Chapter 2: Ride Home

     After saying goodbye to the others, he waved at them and walked me out. The night had turned cold by the time we stepped out. As we step out, I shivered and pulled my sweater close to me. He looked at me side ways, his hair falling over his eyes before taking off his jackets and putting it around my shoulders. I smile at him, not trusting my voice and hug it close. Breathing in his aroma, I see Bill smile out of the corner of my eyes.

"Thanks for walking me out," I say to him, stopping outside the gates. "I'll take a taxi from here."

"Nein," he tells me stubbornly before smirking. "I have Tom's keys."

     I laugh and follow him to the parking lot. He opens the door for me. The car, an Audi R8, shines in the approaching moonlight. I get in and put on my seat belt as he enters the cars and turns it on. Pushing down on the gas, he beeps as he reverses near the back door. He drives on when Tom comes out running with a shocked look on his face. I laugh along with him as he drives away one handed.

     I give him the general direction to my house, a good 20 minutes away, and look out the window. I want to look at him so badly. His flawless face reflects itself on my window every time we pass a street light. Finally, I turn and look at him. Out of the corner of his eye he sees me, but says nothing. His brown eyes look at the road but I see his chest rise forcefully, trying to control his breathing. His pouty lips, so deliciously pouty, pucker as he turns the car around the corner. I inhale to keep from fainting as he smiles at me.

“What?” He asks turning.

“Your beautiful,” I say in awe. “You truly are.”

     He chuckles and says, “Thank you.” I see his cheeks redden a bit in the dark light. He must get this so much, I think. Yet he continues to blush under my gaze. I look away, ashamed about putting him on the spot.

“Sorry,” I say. “For staring and for the question.”

“I'm sorry for my response,” he says stopping for a red light. “It was inappropriate.”

“Its alright.” He clutches the steering wheel hard, then releases it over and over again. I refrain from asking what is wrong, afraid of getting too personal. I'm only here to report, nothing else. Yet, my heart slumps as he drives on without a look to me.

     Minutes pass, I clasp my hand on my lap and blush. I am in a car with the androgynous lead singer of Tokio Hotel and I have nothing to say to him? My father would be jelly if he were here, the gigantic fan that he is.

“Whats your name?” He asks, suddenly. “Miss Alice?”

“Its Mikah,” I says blushing. “M-i-k-a-h. I hate it.”

“Why?” He asks. “It's unique.”

"That's why," I tell him. "Everyone always fusses over my name. They either can't spell it, pronounce it or they love it."

"Oh, I see."

"And," I continue. "Mikah Alice? Two first names!"

"Sore spot for you?" he asks smirking.

"Yes, just a bit," I reply smiling. "Take a left."

"Here?" he signals when I nod. "Are we near?"

I ignore the slight distress I hear in his voice and say, "Another couple of street, yeah."

“Alright,” He replies. “So Mikah, you are not a fan.”

     A statement rather than a question but I reply, “Not until tonight, no.” I turn in my seat to look at him, my pants making an annoying fart like noise on the leather seat.