Seven Days With You

Chapter One: The Prank

After a four-hour trip from Seattle to New York, Monica and I decided to visit the rehearsal venue and the festival in general, where we will perform next week.

Everyone seemed thrilled and super excited, and I looked like I was about to kill someone. I mean, I didn't get enough sleep, and I almost threw up on the plane. Then, the girls told me they had something planned for me. Don't get me wrong, I love surprises, but the smirk on Monica's lips and Isa's grin... I knew this wasn't good.

I walked into the venue. It wasn't something cool or new, but it definitely was filled with talented musicians and fabulous music. Except that guy, Kurt Cobain, that asshole who has no respect towards me... I decided not to come close to him; I knew he would immediately insult me, then I would insult him, and boom! A fight.

Sitting on the chair with a cigarette between his fingers, his band members, Dave and Kris, ran up to us. I realised something was wrong, from the same look in Daves's and Kris's eyes that the girls had before, and the way Kurt looked at me from a distance... why was he looking at me anyway? Oh right! I look like an old mop after a flight... wow, what a fantastic start!

I looked at those people I knew they were about to ruin my whole festival spirit.

"Is anyone going to tell me what's going on?" I said, finally breaking the damn uncomfortable silence.

Monica and Dave grinned. "Here you go", Dave said, handing me a key.

"This is the key to your hotel room," Isa said. I nodded slowly, completely confused.

Monica said, "You will be sharing a room with Kurt." She looked happier than when we won the MTV 'Best New Band' award.

"Excuse me. What!" I said a little bit louder than I expected. I heard a small, distant laugh from Kurt, which made me feel my blood drain from my face. However, I just took a quick breath and smiled politely.

"Does the room have a balcony?" I said, yeah, I know it was a random question, but I had to know if I could smoke... because I just fucking know I would need to smoke since it's the only thing that makes me calmer.

"Yes?..." Isa said, "Obviously."

Now I looked stupid, fuck. "Good," I said.. back to the silent glares among everyone, and I just noticed that Kurt wasn't sitting where he was... oh shit, he was probably going to the hotel room.

I smiled politely back at Dave, Monica, Kris and Isa. "I should get going", I said, trying my best not to throw something at them.

"Lala, think of it as team-building," Kris laughed as I walked away.

"More like torture", I mumbled to myself as I walked out of the venue.

•••

Thankfully, the hotel was about five minutes from the venue, meaning that if I ran on a busy day, the paparazzi wouldn't notice me.

I held onto the key; it was small and easy to lose. I walked inside the hotel. It was like a dream: old paintings everywhere and a beautiful flower garden in the distance.

That made me happy.. at least happier.

I walked towards the elevator, pushing the button as I leaned against the wall. I looked down at the key. It was metal, painted with gold paint, and had '1304' craved into it...

When the elevator doors opened, I stepped in, hoping no one else would come in. I pushed the thirteen button and waited for the doors to close. As soon as the elevator started going up, elevator music was softly playing. Some old jazz, the sound of piano mixed with a saxophone, echoed in my mind as I tried to blur out what I had to face this week.

I had to stop daydreaming since the elevator doors opened, and I stepped out. A long hallway was in front of me, decorated with more old paintings. I walked, looking around for room 1304.

I already saw my bags on the floor, leaning against the door. I walked closer. 'Huh, what a gentleman Kurt is. He couldn't even take the luggage inside,' I thought, rolling my eyes.

I opened the door and pulled the bags inside. There he was, sitting on the bed, watching something on a TV with his stupid acoustic guitar lying next to him. It looks like a guitar is the only thing willing to lie next to him.

I walked in further, opening the closet to put the bags in, and I heard a frustrating sigh. "Here, Stella, let me take those," Kurt said, standing up.

I rolled my eyes. "Those are just bags, plus those are my bags anyway," I said, obviously not moving. My stubborn self could never move.

"Right, but you're wearing five-inch heels and almost threw up on the plane," he said, looking over at me. "The last thing I want to happen is to have the overly famous Stella Summer barf in a bed that we are sharing," he said with his usual frustrated voice, which, for some reason, sounded caring this time.

I stepped back. I didn't want to argue, but the parasites in me wished to, "Oh, what happened? You don't want to call me a bitch on national television anymore?" I said, taking off my silver rings; they were so tight.

"Please, Stella, just shut up and stop arguing", he said, rolling his eyes as he leaned down to put my bags in place.

"The problem is that you haven't apologised yet," I said.

"I did," Kurt said

"Because I made you," I said

Silence took over the room. Kurts gazed down at the bags and then back at me. His haunting blue eyes pierced holes in my brain each time.

"Let's not make it worse.. we already have room to share," he said.

I went quiet. This was weird, the silence. It's like something was unspoken here. However, I turned around and didn't let that take over my whole head, even though it eventually did.

As I looked at myself in the mirror, I walked into the bathroom, slamming the doors behind me and looking at my dark green eyes and box-dyed blonde hair. 'Why do I always end up in these situations? This is worse than my childhood nightmares,' I thought. Hopefully, the night wouldn't go as badly as I imagined.