Dear Delilah

Chapter 6: The Letter

Dear Delilah,

            What’s it like in New York City? Just kidding, I know you know that song. It just reminds me of you know that you’re so far away. That crazy manager of yours told me that you lost your phone, of course, and she refuses to give me your new number. She said something to the effect of, “it will distract her from her work.” Bullshit.

She refuses to give him my number? Damn it. I know she is trying to help me and is making it possible for me to get my book published, but I'm pretty sure my best friend would be helpful?

I figure she can’t monitor your mail, right? Anyway, these letters are going to be slightly one sided, considering I can write to you, but seeing as I'm on tour, there is no real way for you to write back to me. I’d never get the letter.

So Delilah, this tour is horribly dull without you. Brittany is a horrible stage manager. I have to be the responsible one, and I don’t know how you did it. It’s horrible, getting to places on time without you. Thank you, by the way, for that alarm clock, it wakes me up rather well. After I wake up, I have to wake Brittany up. She sucks. A lot. I hate her. I kind of want to beg you to come back, but this is your time to shine, not mine.

I hope you are having fun Delilah, lord knows I'm not. I hope you’re making all types of friends, I'm sure you will, people love you.

Funny story! I was doing a meet and greet last night and people were asking where you were! It made me sad to tell them that you were away, and they seemed upset too.

I miss you.

I miss you too, you have no idea.

Delilah, you have no IDEA how much I miss you. It sucks that you’re not around, but you’re probably having the time of your life. Please don’t let this get you down.

Cheers, love,

Ed xxx

P.S. I have something huge to tell you when we next meet.

Shit.

Edward Sheeran, I already missed you enough, did this have to happen? I lean against the wall next to the mail boxes and let out a deep sigh. I lean my elbow on the boxes and pinch the bridge of my nose, my meds do nothing for stress headaches.

“Umm… Are you ok?” A voice asks. I un-pinch my nose and look up. In front of my is an overly tall guy. He looks no more than 19 because of the way his shaggy brown hair falls into his eyes. Because of my height, or lack thereof, he looks down at me with green eyes so light they don’t look real.

            “Oh, yes. I'm fine, really. Thank you.” I say.

“Ooo, you’re British. That’s cool.” He says, looking amazed.

“Yep. Seems to be.” I say ,”Well, I'm going to go now.” I say, and turn towards the stairs, shoving the letter in my coat pocket.

“Hey, I’ll walk you up.” He says, taking literally two steps and catching up with me. “You look really familiar, did you go to school here?” He asks, looking at me with a smile.

“No.”

“Oh, are you in college right now?”

“No, I never went to university. Why? Do you attend schools here?”

            “Yes, I'm going to NYU right now. But then how do I know you?”

“Well, there could be three places. Are you a fan of poetry?” I ask him, starting up a new set of stairs.

“No. I don’t really like it much.” He says with a nervous grin.

“Do you like Ed Sheeran?” I ask, and he looks at me like I am completely off topic, but he continues.

“Well, I’ve never actually heard his music, but I see pictures of him on Tumblr sometimes.” He says.

“Well that was my third option. You know me from Tumblr.” I say with confidence.

“Well, you say that with sure certainty.” He says, grinning down at me.

“If you’ve seen pictures of Ed, you’ve more than likely seen pictures of me.” I say.

“Why? Are you his manager or something like that?” He asks.

“No, that’s Stuart.” I say, stopping to take a seat on the stair case. I wipe out my phone and pull up my Tumblr, quickly searching the Tags for Ed Sheeran. Pulling up a fan taking photo, I hand my phone to this boy.

“Ok, him and a fan?” he asks me, passing me my phone back.

“Look closer.” I say, double tapping and zooming in on right above Ed’s shoulder where you can clearly see me getting on the bus.

“Shit.” He says, going through more of those pictures in the tag and finding me in almost all of them. It’s like an electronic version of Where’s Wally?

“Shit. So what? Are you his girlfriend?” He asks me, and I laugh, causing shock to cross his face.

“Hardly. He’s my best friend, and I was his stage manager, until I got a publishing deal and my book of poems and nonsense is going to be published by the summer.” I say, stand up, brushing myself off and shoving my phone back into my pocket.

“Well that’s cool.” He says as we continue to make our way up the stairs, and finally we get to my level. I start to leave the stairwell, and I look back to him.

“It was a pleasure to meet you.” I tell him.

“Jesus, you’re so British you shit The Queen.” He says with a laugh, and I laugh along with him and his ridiculous statement. I turn to walk away before remembering something.

“Oh, wait. I never got your name.” I tell him, and he stops from walking up the next flight of stairs and turns to me.

“Justin.” He says with a smile.

“Delilah.” I tell him and he nods, and begins to walk back up the staircase, humming a familiar tune that I can’t place. I smile, and exit the stairwell.

I get back into my room and sit in my favorite nook, the hanging chair, when I realize why that tune sounded so familiar.

He was humming Hey There Delilah.