Idol (An Ed Sheeran Fanfic)

13

"I knew you were trouble when you walked in, so shame on me now-ow. Flew me to places I've never been, now I'm lying on the cold hard ground," I sang at the top of my lungs. Taylor was blasting from my phone and I was dancing around my room having a dance party. "Ohhhhh," I screeched and jumped on my bed. "Ohhhh ooh! Trou-"

Then the music cut off. I jumped off of my bed and jogged over to where my phone was sitting on my desk. My feet sank into the rug that laid under my bed and nightstand; what's going on?

My phone has been acting really weird ever since I got home; always vibrating randomly and the volume would change itself. Hopefully this isn't the last straw of the device I've had for the past two years.

Then I stopped in my tracks. The phone was just fine, but I had an incoming call. Who would be calling me now? It's almost ten at night! When I went a little closer, I saw it.

"Ed Sheeran USA" the screen read, with the two little red and green buttons at the bottom. He couldn't have talked to her yet and had time to come back-it's too soon. Wearily I grabbed the vibrating device and looked at it, weighing my options. I really do want to see what he says, but I'm afraid I'll get hurt.

"H-hello," I stammered into the phone. I was breathing heavily.

"Hi Cassidy, how have you been?" He asked.

"It's only been like five days, not much can change," I mumbled. "Where are you? I would think you would be in the U.K."

"My mates... I was just sick of everything over there. Are you doing anything right now?"

"Nothing important."

"Can you come out? I'm at this place called The Hamlin Pub."

"Wait, you're in Michigan?"

"Apparently I'm in Hamlin."

I chuckled. "Hamlin is a road, Ed."

He said nothing, but there was a big crash in the background on the other line.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"Yeah, someone just dropped a plate or something. You wouldn't believe how clumsy people are at ten o'clock. So are you coming out?"

"I don't know where you are! There are like four Hamlin Pubs in the area."

"Give me a minute," he replied. All I could hear now was the buzz of the people around, and Ed talking to someone in the distance. Then there was shuffling, then Ed's voice pronounced on the other line, "I'm in Troy."

"I'll be there in ten minutes."

-

I pushed open the large, wooden doors that led to the pub. As soon as I was inside, all the memories started flooding back. When I was really little, my parents used to come here almost every Saturday and listen to the live music that they had. Even though the guy that was singing probably sucked, and that my parents really didn't like music, it was one of the only times that we were all together. Those shows--because I saw that music can bring even my broken family together--is what made me want to do music in the first place.

Every week, I knew I could play at least one gig, and it was here. You can imagine what most people would say when a sixteen year old kid comes up and signs up for an open-mic: where are your parents?; you probably shouldn't be here; this isn't a place for kids. Most promoters would look at me and turn me away--but not here.

Everything was exactly the same: the same smell, the same food, the same decor. The room still smelled like burger grease and beer, with the faint smell of cigarettes-even though you weren't allowed to smoke in restaurants anymore.