Memories

“Taxi! Taxi!” I yelled and frantically waved my hand in the air.

Yet another taxi passed me by without stopping. I was soaking wet and the rain was beginning to pick up. My perfectly straightened brunette-blonde ombre colored hair was now soaked and super curly, my trench coat did absolutely nothing to protect my new red skater dress.

I knew that I should have left a little bit early from the Valentine’s Day party because of the flood warnings consistently popping up on my phone, but I was having way too much fun dancing my butt off with my besties. And now it is February 14, at 1:38 am in the pouring rain, in New York, where taxis were a plenty yet their availability is scarce. Crappy system if you ask me. New York, the place where the inhabitants couldn't give a rat’s ass about you, which pretty much explains to you how my taxi flagging is going on right now. It is now 1:53 am and my butt is not planted in a taxi yet.

I was just about ready to give up and just walk 28 blocks home but then this random guy coming out of a my favorite gourmet chocolate place, waved his hand and a taxi finally stopped. I felt a little angry that he had way superior taxi flagging skills than I do until he looked at me squinting so the rain didn’t block his eye sight and did a "come here" gesture.

He had a white t-shirt on and red fitted jeans, probably dressed for the V-Day season. I could tell he had a remarkable body. The rain drenched his shirt outlining his 6 pack. His hair was wet and perfectly messy and he was a solid 13.5 in the looks department. 

“Are you coming? It’s pouring out!” the hot stranger called to me.

“Um, me?” I asked confused to meet a nice, hot stranger, slowly walking towards him.

“Yes! Please get in. I’m getting soaked holding this door open for you.” He tried to yell over the annoying taxi driver’s beeping.

“I don’t have all day!” the impatient taxi driver yelled.

I walked as fast as I could in slippery heels to the taxi. He closed the door behind me and ran to the other side to get in.

“Addresses?” the driver asked

“Uh, the Chester Hotel in Manhattan.” I spoke up hoping that I didn’t sound too pretentious living in the most expensive hotel in all of New York. I know guys don’t like rich snobs and I get judged automatically for living there.

“Really? I live there too.” He said in a ‘what-a-cowinky-dinky’ tone.

The taxi driver started to pull off.

“Hey." he broke the ice. "You look cold. Here take this.” He pulled a ‘Pierce the Veil’ hoodie out of his bag that I hadn't seen before.

Now, I am not the most confident with guys, especially hot, nice ones who gave me a hoodie to one of the many bands I idolize. I wasn't sure if I should say 'hi' or a casual 'hey' back to him or a more formal 'hello'. And then what about the thank you? Should I not bother with the greeting and just said 'thanks' or 'thank you' and should I mention that I love PTV? I have never met a guy of such a high caliber.

“Thanks.” I said in a shaky voice.

I slightly sighed thankful for that. I slipped the hoodie on over my soaking wet hair. I decide to look at him without rain in his eyes. We simultaneously looked at each other. There was something familiar about him. He had brown hair, a perfect white teeth smile, but there is something about those green eye reminded me of some one.

“Is your name Jason?" I wondered. "Jason Caleb?”