Stick To the Script // Danny O'Donoghue

Chapter 16-Where I First Saw You

Danny

When I wake up that morning there is a camera in my face and girl with a squeaky voice is pointing a microphone at me and asking questions.

"Why are you doing this? Who are you waiting for? Aren't you freezing?"

I don't answer the questions. I couldn't if I wanted to.

No one needs to know about her. No one needs to know our shared history. And because she's so special to me. I don't want to share her with the world.

So I don't answer the questions. I just think of the first time I saw her.

It was windy on that cloudy, December morning and it looked as though it was about to snow. I was picking up some wine for the party my dad was throwing for the new year.

He had all the family and friends over and the house was a mess already. There were kids running around everywhere and the adults were starting to get antsy.

"We'll just have to drink it off." I told everyone as I headed out to get more wine at the market.

I quickly turned the corner and I bumped right into someone else heading the opposite direction. I spilled a hot cup of tea all over myself and swore as she desperately tried to apologize.

"Goddammit you tourists and yer fucking fast walking." I shouted and she bent down to pick up a grocery bag that I had dropped when my tea catapulted all over my jacket.

The broken bottle of red wine sat in the bag and the glass was shattered all over.

She nicked her hand and pressed a finger to the spot to slow the blood.
"You know what forget that..." she said, slowly standing up right again.

She was American.

"Fucking blood thirsty mongrels at home are going to be ticked." I sighed.

"I'm so, so sorry." she said.

She hurriedly whipped the tea off of my front, which was strange. Why was she touching me?

"It's fine, just maybe you should get your hands off of me." I spat and I slowly looked up at her as she did the same.

"On second thought..." I said when I saw her. My expression softened and the corner of my mouth turned up the slightest bit.

She stuttered for something to say.

She looked offended.

"I'm really sorry." she muttered again. Her thin lips seemed to tremble.

She had hair of a raven black color, similar to mine, and blue eyes so penetrating, shooting right through me like ice.

Her facial features were round and soft and her completion beautifully fair, her cheeks were tinged with a lovely pink.

She was wearing this long winter parka and some skinny jeans that were tight in all of the right places. She was good-girl-bad-girl-look-good-in-anything all kinds of flawless.

She wasn't hot. The stripper at The club on 5th street was hot. She was an entirely different kind of beautiful. She was a kind of beautiful that couldn't so easily be put into words.

I cracked my knuckles, only realizing after I did it how it must have come across.

"In my defense I'm not used to waking on the wrong side of the road." she said.

"Who says our side is the wrong side?" I asked. "You're in our country, you play by our rules."

She sighed, "You're right. I'm sorry I spilled your tea on you...and broke your wine bottle. I'll buy you a new one."