Rose’s POV:
I have never found a need to stay put. I have not stayed in the same town for over a year since I left home. I found a job, I got an apartment, and then I would pack up and leave. I have never felt the need to stay. No one I loved kept me there; it was as if gravity didn't have an effect on me. I could go anywhere I could. I saved money as best I could, no internet, no television, I of course, needed my cellphone, and I could buy loads more art supply. Someday, I hoped to find a place I truly loved and wanted to stay. Where I could have friends and maybe even a family. I hoped to open my own studio and sell my works to the rich and famous.
I was so wrapped up in my thoughts as I walked down the streets of London to my new job as a secretary at an illustration company that I did not see a group of people walking towards me. Evidently, they didn't see me either, as one of the men bumped into me and I spilled my coffee that I was carrying down his shirt. I was taken aback in surprise partly because of how much it hurt having your arm thrust out of its initial position and another part of the sudden surprise of the knowledge that there were other people on the street. I had been so wrapped up in giving a synopsis of my own life to myself that I hadn’t even realized where I was.
“Oh God! I'm so sorry! I didn't see,”—a sharp, posh, British accent cut me off before I could finish my humiliating speech of shame and regret as I immediately started trying to get the coffee out of his shirt.
“You fans are RELENTLESS! I just bought this shirt; you didn't have to spill your coffee down it!” He growled. I looked up from my attempts to get the nearly invisible stains out of his black shirt by rubbing my fore arm up and down his chest, when all this way really doing was making it worse and getting coffee on my clothes, with a confused look. When I saw who I was rubbing, I was taken aback. His dark brown hair and tanned skin looked as if he were made from caramel and his brown, shiny eyes stared into mine. He was one of the most handsome men I had ever seen. For a second I was glad that I spilled my coffee down his shirt.
“Wha—what?” I stuttered. “I'm sorry, did you say fans? Should I know you from somewhere?” I asked, by the look on his face, I had hurt his pride. His friends, a pale man with black hair, a tall man with curly hair and a long nose, and a man with straight, light brown hair and a slight mustache stood beside him, not saying anything but looking at him and then at me.
“Wait, you actually don’t know who I am?” asked the man I had spilled coffee on, “DanIsNotOnFire? I have over three million subscribers on YouTube…” he gave a short embarrassed chuckle as he did a short shrug and looked at his friends as if they would help me know who this man was. They all shared the same blank expression. The tall man with the curly hair looked at the short man with a look of confusion but the tall, pale man furrowed his brow and his lips twitched into a puckered frown.
“I don’t have internet, can I buy you a different shirt?” I looked down at my watch, “I'm going to be late for work, perfect!” I said. I put my hand on my forehead to try to cover up my shame. I tried to hide the red that had washed over my cheeks like Kool-Aid spilled over a white table cloth during a summer picnic.
“You know, how about this,” said DanIsNotOnFire, his voice going soft, “you give me your number and I will call you, sound like a deal?” His voice took on a sort of sympathetic note as he said this. He tucked his chin close to his chest and stuck his hands in his pocket. He gave a sort of half smile that made me knees wobble.
The people who were walking down the street starting giving us dirty looks because of how much of the sidewalk we were taking up. I shuffled back and forth as he gave me the offer with a mix of awkwardness and worry for the time. I thought I was getting off easy but I couldn’t afford to be late on my first day so I took the offer, “OH! Thank you…DanIsNotOnFire…”
“Just Dan is fine, Dan Howell,” he said and reached in his pocket for a pen, the end had been chewed on but I accepted it and took his hand. His hands were warm and dry but shaky as I wrote. I messed up several times in the process and had to cross out five of the ten numbers. I wrote down my phone number and gave him back his pen. He looked at his hand and smirked.
“You have nice hand writing…” he said sarcastically, I couldn’t help but laugh, “do you have a name?” he looked up and I felt my internal organs melt under the gaze of his eyes.
“Oh, duh, ha-ha, it’s Rose, Rose Sandler,” I said and felt color in my cheeks.
****
Dan’s POV:
Phil, PJ, and Chris looked at me strange as Rose left. I stared after her. Everywhere I went, I was always being bombarded with autographs and hugs and fan girls, and all of a sudden, a beautiful girl comes along and doesn’t know who I am? Her long, dyed blue-black hair flew past her shoulders as she walked away shamefully. She turned her head back long enough to see me staring and for me to see her face flush bright red which made me smile. Then she was swallowed up whole by the streets of down town London. Even though I knew that was not the last time I would see her, I was sad that she had to go. Rose, what I beautiful name.
I looked down at my hand to see where she had written her phone number only to have a hand waved in front of my face. I looked up to see Phil staring at me. “You fancy her, don’t you?” He said with a smirk.
“She has to be one of the most beautiful girls I have ever seen…” I said in a daze.
Phil, PJ and Chris all laughed when I said that and Peej slapped me on the back and sent one of his crooked smiles my way. He looked at Chris and whispered something to him that I couldn’t hear and didn't care enough to hear. I was too busy thinking about Rose. I thought I saw Chris’s eyes widen and his cheeks redden.
