The Truth About Always

o n e

It was 8AM on the morning before my birthday when I saw him for the first time. I was turning seventeen. He'd walked into Starbucks all tall, dark and handsome with a guitar slung over his shoulder and I couldn't stop staring; he was the most attractive thing I'd ever laid my eyes upon.

He didn't stay very long, just long enough to get his latté and leave. I'd hidden my face behind Coding for Dummies every time I thought he was looking my direction, though I doubt he even saw me. As he was leaving I'd peeked over the pages to see him enter a large black band Chevy that drove away before his door closed completely.

At the time I had no idea how big a part of my life he would become. At the time, he was just a gentle breeze that came and went before I could comprehend its whispers.

***

The second time I saw him was on my birthday. That night had been both one of the best and one of the worst nights of my life. My Aunt Hilda, an energetic and enthusiastic woman who forever worried about the fact that I didn't have any friends my age, dropped me off at the nightclub around the corner with a wad of money, a fake ID and a forced promise that I'd have fun.

I had argued with her profusely prior to that night. Despite my protests that what she was doing was illegal and as my guardian should not permit me to be doing such things anyway, she'd simply waved me off and told me she did things much worse at my age. It was about time I started learning how to have fun.

And so I'd stood there, with a dress that was too short and heels that were too high and a feeling in my stomach that made me sick, wondering what could be worse. The club was in full swing behind me. I could never forget the music that was blaring so loud that the ground vibrated in time with the bass.

The very air around the area intimidated me. I had been so nervous I thought my blood pressure was finally gonna give in and I'd die on the spot. So, instead of going straight home, as I should've, and instead of entering the club, as I'd promised...

I walked the other way.

I didn't really know where. I just walked. My breaths were coming in short gasps and my fingers were shaking so much I thought I was hyperventilating. But I kept walking. I was so focused on breathing that I didn't notice the strange looks I'm sure I was getting.

By the time I got my breathing under control, I had walked a fair distance. I couldn't even hear the music, just my ragged breaths and the cool breeze. The street was dark; most of the shops around the area had already closed for the night.

The cold wind bit at my naked limbs and exposed neck that night. But I'd forgotten about that when I saw a figure stumbling towards me from the other end of the street. I couldn't tell who it was at first, but my heart nearly stopped when I saw the familiar shape of a guitar slung over his back. My suspicions were confirmed when he stumbled under a streetlight, drunk as hell and probably barely even conscious.

Without even thinking, I'd staggered over to him as fast as I possibly could in my high heels and what remained of my pride, standing beside where he stood before I even knew what was happening.

"Hey are you al-" I'd reached my arms out to steady him as I voiced my concerns, but was interrupted by a rough shove against my chest. I fell flat on my almost exposed bottom on the cold street.

"Get away from me," he'd said, well slurred really, as he leaned heavily on the street lamp before collapsing against it completely.

So we sat there, two strangers on a dark street in the middle of the night, my pride and dignity completely in shreds. He didn't even look at me as he sat almost unconscious with his back against the lamp. His guitar was tilted at an uncomfortable angle from his shoulder, but he hadn't seemed to notice.

"I was only trying to help," I retorted, humiliation clear in my voice. I stood up shakily, taking my heels in my hands. The cool ground on my aching feet had been a welcoming sensation. Faint voices began echoing from the other side of the street.

"Yeah, that's what they all say, honey," he snorted at my remark. The voices had grown louder, high-pitched and excited chatter giving away the overall gender of the group. They were heading our direction.

I stalked towards him, my voice indignant. "Look, I don't know who you are nor do I care. All I wanted for my birthday was..." my voice cracked as the tears pricked the back of my eyes. "I never asked to be stranded in the middle of nowhere with some drunk because I was forced to have fun on someone else's behalf, alright?"

At this point my tears were running down my face in rivets. I was hastily wiping them away, but he'd already noticed. He stared, wide-eyed, as I ranted and kept staring as I tried to gather my wits about me.

He'd opened his mouth to say something, but before I realized it I was shoved roughly aside for the second time that night. I hadn't noticed the girls approach, and they had been loud...and fast. They'd gathered around him like a bunch of wild bats attacking their prey before I knew what was happening.

Thankfully, without my heels I'd found my balance before I could topple over completely. I had watched the squealing girls for a full three seconds before the shock finally wore off. Loud, giggly girls in short skirts and dresses. Girls dressed like me. No wonder he hated me.

Sniffling, I wiped the stray tears from my face until I was sure my cheeks were dry and sticky-free. Then, for the second time that night

Iwalked the other way.