"I thought the gig was outside? I mean the rain and stuff..."
Billie grinned at me, excitement electrifying his eyes.
"Change of plans."
It was one of those occurrences. One in which the magnitude of the situation was relative to the participant, which is my obnoxious way of saying that while my fairly new acquaintance was completely at ease with spontaneously rocking up at a bizarre, dingy-looking club in the middle of Berkeley, the other was definitely not.
"What?" I tried not to let my voice rise into a shrill octave as Billie clambered out of the car, waiting expectantly for a moment, before noticing my distress and coming around to open the door for me. I didn't move, only regarded him with frantic eyes.
"You look like I kidnapped you or something."
"Well I wouldn't say that's entirely unreasonable."
He chuckled and I felt my anxiety melt slightly amongst a crooked smile and warm emerald eyes.
"Come on. It'll be fun."
"You said it was outside." Was my final protest as I unclicked the seatbelt and got out.
"I knew any rain would mean it would be called off, and I promised a gig. So a gig you'll get."
I followed him into the mob of people hanging around the front of the club. Strange people, but beautiful people, too skinny or too fat with weird-looking clothes and energised faces and piercings and long hair. Or shaved hair. Or bright green hair, I recalled in a terrifying moment as two boys I recognised as Mike Dirnt and Tré Cool came lumbering over to us.
I pushed myself behind Billie in a desperate attempt to hide myself but instead a surprisingly strong arm for such a slight build pulled me tight against the front of his chest, making me squeal and turn red and scowl at his obvious amusement.
The boys stopped in their tracks, surprise evident all over their faces.
"May I introduce Annabel, your Dream Girl." Trilled the smug voice from behind me.
I fumed; what an ass.
"ANNA BANANA!"
And suddenly I was ripped from Billie's grasp and crushed by Tré, then Mike, who were both apparently over the moon to see the girl that had practically run away from them earlier that day and who obviously were used to the dickhead-like tendencies of their friend.
They pulled away, I suppose suggesting that I be given a moment to explain (my actions, my existence, etc.) before we were suddenly shoved inside by the mass of bodies pressing against us, herding us all into darkness and the pungent aroma of cigarettes and beer.
I could only see Mike, who's blue eyes were concerned with the (constant) panic in mine, and all I managed to squeak out was:
"I've still got your shirt!"
And then all I could feel were calloused fingers wrapping firmly around my wrist before everything dissolved into limbs and silhouettes and the sound of tuning guitars.
A/N Hellllooo! It's been a while. Sorry I haven't updated in SO LONG (insert multiple excuses here). I'm going to try to be better I promise.
Anyhow sorry that was short but more to come!
Also let it be known that I'm making this all up as I go so beware the meandering plot.
