Garrix & Me (Martin Garrix Fanfiction)

Chapter 3

"Martin! Welcome to America! Not that it's your first time but anywho, come on in so you can make yourself at home!" My mother says brightly, her hands moving wildly in the air as she speaks.

I stifle a giggle as I take note of the expression on Martin's face. He's staring at my mother like she's an alien.

He's dressed in black skinny jeans, a black tshirt with some white letters on it, a black leather jacket and white sneakers. I've never seen any guy around here dress that way and if they did they'd probably be labelled as gothic or scary. But Martin looks flawless.

I watch him as he pulls his suitcase over the small doorstep and steps into the house.

My mum immediately opens her arms in a wide gesture and grabs him for a hug. I notice him stiffen and he doesn't move his arms at all to return the hug. He clenches his jaw and my mother pulls away, smiling widely despite the awkwardness.

He doesn't look happy at all. His expression has switched from freaked out, to uninterested, to shock and now to annoyance. He even looks a little angry.

My dad appears out of nowhere and slaps him on the back with a big old smile and a booming, "Welcome to our home!"

Martin now looks uncomfortable. I watch him shove his hands into his jeans which I think should be really difficult considering how tight they are.

My dad grabs his too large suitcase and attempts making conversation.

"Want to see your new room, son?"

"I guess." is the short and low response my father receives.

It takes me a second to realize they're coming up the stairs and I jerk away from my hiding place, knocking my left knee right against the wooden door of the closet.

"Owww.." I murmur, holding my knee.

I'm so clumsy sometimes, it's actually just become stupid.

As I clutch my aching knee, my dad reaches the top of the stairs and chuckles.

"Why are you hiding in your own house?"

"I.. I wasn't hiding." I stammer as Martin steps into view and stops behind my dad.

He's staring at me with a blank look on his face and it would be creepy if he wasn't so good looking.

"Sure you weren't." My dad winks.

"Spying on our new house guest isn't weird at all." Dad laughs and my cheeks burn as a blush creeps in. I can feel Martin's eyes still on me and that certainly isn't helping the situation.

I look up and Martin's eyes bore into mine, but this time I catch a tiny hint of a smirk and I want nothing more than to curl into a ball and die.

"Well.. since you're here.." my dad drags out the words dramatically and I would really like to hit him. "You can show Martin to his bedroom." He finishes and my stomach drops to the floor.

I ask myself why I'm so nervous in the first place and then I remember what Martin looks like.

"Uhm yeah, sure okay. I.. yeah. Okay." I ramble.

I sound like a stuttering idiot.

My dad gives me a half smile and a confused look before patting Martin on the back and returning downstairs.

"Uh.. This way." I gesture down the hall, keeping my head bowed.

I hear him fiddle with his suitcase until finally I feel him following behind me. He smells like sweet cinnamon and it smells amazing. I breathe deeper, just to calm myself down. And to catch his scent again.

I stop at the end of the hallway and open the door to my brother's old room. Everything's been cleaned and tidied since he left for college. I'm surprised by its neatness after being so used to seeing the room look a bomb had hit it.

I shuffle on my feet and start fidgeting with my fingers, rubbing my palm with my thumb. I've never been able to shake the habit from the few times I've ever felt nervous.

"Well.. Uhm. This is it." I say, gesturing to the room. I sneak a glance up at him and now that he's standing so close, I get a sense of how tall he really is, towering over my petite frame. He's looking inside the room and I tell myself to look away before he catches me.

His head turns to the side and it's too late.

I blush and look at the floor. Suddenly, the white carpet becomes extremely interesting.

"Uhm, I'll go now." I say, looking up at him. "My room is right there," I point towards the room directly adjacent to his, "so if you need anything, just knock." I say the last part quickly.

Martin nods and pulls the suitcase into the room, leaving it just inside the door. I watch as he looks up at the ceiling and then toward the windows. I can't quite read the expression on his face but he looks irritated and once again, the muscles in his jaw start moving.

All of a sudden Martin turns around and looks at me, raising an eyebrow.

"Can you get out now?" he snaps, walking to the door and slamming it shut in my face.

Staring at the door with my mouth hanging open, I huff in irritation. Who does he think he is? That's why he needs help. He's so damn rude.

As I walk away, I decide that I don't like Martin Garrix very much at all.