Long Distance Call | tayley ✓

8 | Night Out

[Taylor]

My day flies by for the most part. I lease a car and buy some groceries. And by the time that's all done with, it's almost time to meet up with Kat and her friends. I return home and dress myself up in a black button-down top and a pair of black jeans. When I look in the mirror, I find my appearance a bit too...formal. I undo a few of the buttons of my shirt, exposing some more skin. I look stupid but it'll do.

I check my phone to see it's exactly 8:47 PM, and Kat told me to meet them around 9 or so. And when I checked earlier, I discovered that the bar is located exactly fifteen minutes away from me, but that's without traffic. Then again, I don't want to be too early and look like this is the only thing I had to do...even though this is the only thing I have to do.

I stop overthinking it and decide to head out after fixing my curls some. I drive to the bar where I'll be introduced to Kat and her friends. I wonder what they'll be like and if they will like me. They probably won't. I don't find myself to be very likeable.

When I pull into the parking lot of the crowded bar, the first thing I happen to take note of is a car that's already been parked. It's the same vehicle that I was picked up from the airport in. I won't be alone while waiting for her to show up. I pull into an open parking space and exit my car.

I walk over towards the entrance of the bar and notice two people that appear to be teenagers, the two of them sitting close to each other. The female, with a tint of green in her hair, is leaning against the male. A cigarette is between his middle and index finger as smoke is emitted from his mouth. I smile over their interaction. Weird how even though I don't know these two people, their relationship is enough to make me smile. Maybe it's their innocence, even though they're sitting in front of a bar and smoking.

I shrug my weird emotions off and head into the place. I stuff my hands into the deep pockets of my jeans, my hand grasping my phone. But just as I am about to remove it from my pocket, I hear my name being exclaimed.

"Taylor!" Kat exclaims. When I turn in the direction that I had heard the voice coming from, I see that she's smiling, arm raised as she waves in my direction. I head over to her and notice the others that are crowding around the round table she had chosen.

"Everybody. This is Taylor, the guy I had told you about. The one that plays football and all that," she brings an arm around me, which takes me by some surprise. I shift a little bit, more involuntarily than anything.

"I'm Josh," the brunet that is standing across from me speaks, his accent obvious. Kat removes her arm from around my shoulder, as I extend my hand forward. Josh and I shake hands. Another brunet stands beside him, a beer in his hand.

Kat nudges his shoulder, causing him to look back over to me. "Oh, uh, hey. I'm Dan Smith," he says simply. Him and I shake hands, and Kat emits a small laugh.

"Have to give him your full name, yeah?" she gives Dan a smile and he rolls his eyes in what seems to be a playful manner. I fake a smile, trying to pretend that I feel as though I belong here. One final person stands on the other side of Josh. He has light brown hair, and he looks skinny. He gives me a smile.

"I'm David," he speaks up, smiling as we shake hands. His smile seems very genuine. One of the first things I take note of is that he does not sound as though he has any sort of British accent or anything similar. But there's something about his voice, where he just sounds a little different.

"So, tell us about yourself, York," Dan says, his accent really showing as he says my last name. Initially, I'm confused and concerned over how he knows my last name. But I assume that Kat told them all about me already.

"You guys better tell me about yourselves too then. But, I'm from America, obviously. Uh, I lived in Tennessee. I don't really have some great story. I got a full-ride scholarship to Stanford, so I went there. I played soccer, or uh, football for y'all, all my life. I played it in college, which is why I got a scholarship. That's about it," I explain. Seconds after I finish my brief summary of the last few years, a bartender appears with a tray filled with shot glasses of a liquid I would definitely not be able to name.

"About time," says David. He takes a shot glass the second the tray is set down, downing the glass. Everyone looks to him in disappointment.

"We were gonna take them together, asshole," Josh says. He gives him a slight nudge, and though he tries to maintain a serious expression, he fails terribly. He cracks a smile.

Everyone else takes a filled glass as I stand there awkwardly.

"You better take that," Dan says, acting like if I refuse to, there will be hell to pay. I give in after a bit more of their persuasion. After a countdown from three, I down the alcohol. Still have no idea what that is, but it burns.

"What the hell was that?"

"Don't worry 'bout it, hillbilly. Go on about yourself," Dan speaks in his rather charming accent.

"I've got nothing else, man. Now tell me about you," I say almost daringly, probably fueled by the small amount of alcohol that is now in my system. What can I say? I'm a lightweight.

"Alright, well I'm Dan Smith, as mentioned, I'm livin' here with these two losers. We live across the hall from Kat and her roommate. Her roommate who promised to come but didn't, lives with her. I'm from London, and I'm a producer. Been loving music since I was fifteen."

"It's not my fault Jenna refused to come along!" Kat defends herself, but Dan simply rolls his eyes and takes another sip from his beer.

I glance over to Josh. "I'm Josh Franceschi. I'm an artist, yeah, not the greatest lifestyle when it comes to making money. I used to live in Surrey. But I moved here because I bloody hated living with my family. Far move, but it's alright. I knew Dan beforehand and he told me I could stay with him until I found a place. And we've been living together ever since. True love." Another eye roll comes from Dan. I nod, pretending to have heard of Josh's former home.

Without any sort of sign to speak, David starts. "I'm from Copenhagen. I got into music a few years ago, somehow met Josh and Dan at some shitty gig. This was all maybe a year ago or so, I'm not sure when. But I understand the whole homesick feeling. While they can return home in a matter of hours, my trip home would be closer to taking an entire day if I were to drive. Even though I'm not nearly as far from home as you are, I understand the homesick feeling. And also, it was more of a choice for me, but yours was for your career. I'm rambling, I do that. These losers know that all too well." I nod a little bit, giving him a smile.

Even though I mentally vowed to myself that I would resist drinking so much that I would barely be able to walk straight, that plan goes to shambles before 10 o'clock rolls around. Do I stop drinking at that point? No. Once I've got enough alcohol in my body, I'm comfortable. In the moment, I'm dancing, making jokes, feeling happy. But come tomorrow, I'm sure that I'll be told of my actions and regret each and every thing I'm doing.

It's 11 o'clock when I'm being dragged out of the place by Kat. I'm in a taxi cab after a few minutes and am told that I should just go to pick up my car tomorrow instead of drunk driving. We're all too intoxicated to drive, though, so I am not the only one.

Kat assists me in making my way up to my apartment and I collapse onto my bed. She leaves, leaving me to myself.

With tired eyes that still refuse to close, I go onto my phone. The first thing I do is go onto twitter, and then go onto the Direct Messages section of the application. I enter the username of the person I plan on speaking to. Hayley Williams.

@itstayloryall: hayleyy!!!!!!! its taylor. how are u doing?? im in engkand. i miss america andnn i miss u. it is allll ur fault 4 being so HOT hahah my head hurts i hope ur having a goodnoght its like 10 here or soemthing im not event tired.

And with that, I rest my head. Not to fall asleep, but instead to wait for a response.