A/N: Total word count: 11140 :)
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Every year when July sixth rolls around, it's like all of America is celebrating my birthday with me.
The anniversary of the independence of the United States is always two days before, but with it being the huge affair it is, people celebrate practically the entire week. I've always had the privilege of feeling as though every grand fireworks display is for me, and tonight is no exception. It marks the eighteenth one, and it feels just as sweet as all the others.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Off on the other end of the house, I hear my mother's muffled exclamations of her being startled, but for me, it makes a rush go through my center.
Eighteen! Eighteen! Eighteen!
I'm eighteen now.
"Are you ready?" My hands grip onto the white wooden banister at the top of the stairs, waiting to hear their reply from below.
Duff and Axl have been here for five minutes, and I haven't come down to see them yet. I also wouldn't let them up the stairs.
"I don't even know what I'm about to see, honey!" Duff calls back up to me gruffly, and I look beside me at Michelle, who rolls her eyes.
The hot pink, neon glittery sash and tiara were her idea. Both say "EIGHTEEN!" in bold letters, and the crown has fluffy pink feathers on it. Fitting. Perfect.
Michelle paid a visit to the local party store this morning, and I woke up to her spraying silly string in my face. A pint of strawberry ice cream was also waiting for me on the kitchen table, and my mother didn't even yell at me as I trailed blue and green foam all over the house while having sugar for breakfast.
Because I'm eighteen!
"Well are you ready?!" I holler, leaning forward as Michelle laughs beside me.
"Yes!"
Both Duff and Axl answer now, their impatience clear in their mutual tone.
I try not to let it put a damper on the festivities, but it does. Just a little.
I grab Michelle's arm as I begin to descend down the stairs, my black Converse slapping loudly against the wood as I adjust the tiara resting on my hair, hoping it's not getting tangled in my waves and curls.
And Axl's about to see me!
I let my nails drag along the railing as I continue down, Michelle right behind me.
Just as I'm about to do what I practiced, lift my arms up in the air in praise the second I'm visible to any eyes from down in the living room, I'm met with near screaming.
"What are you wearing?!"
"Go right back up there, both of you, or so help me God-"
I know there's a look of horror on my face as I stare from Duff, to Axl, to Michelle.
I can't help it as I pause on Axl, seeing past the look on his face that no-doubt mimics my own. At the red cascading down his shoulders, ripped band t-shirt missing sleeves, leather pants, cowboy boots, and what appears to be new ink on his lower forearm.
I don't even get a chance to ask if that's really a new tattoo, because Duff is yelling again.
"For the love of God," Duff leaves a hand on his hip over his black jeans as he gestures up towards us while looking to Axl, who appears tiny next to him.
