Dead Boys // Sam Fender

6

On my way back to my friends, a large hand reaches out and grabs my shoulder. I pause in fear, this is why girls travel in packs.

"Hey, it's kind of rude to walk up to a person, start a conversation, and not give them a chance to respond," I hear in a deep, English accent. It's Sam.

"Oh, well um," I painfully stumble over my words. I wasn't mentally prepared for this interaction. "Sorry, I guess."

"You don't need to apologize, I'm not actually mad. I'm just glad I get to talk to you again, even though I didn't do much talking the first time."

"Yeah, telling someone about one of the saddest events in my life doesn't tend to be a great conversation starter, does it?" I try to joke.

"Perhaps not for your average person, but I'm not average and I can tell that your not either," he smiles at me. While it's sweet, I can't help but think about how insanely average I am. "Want to go for a walk?"

"I'd love to," I say on impulse. It's not everyday that an attractive, British, musician asks you to go for a walk.

Shit. Anna and Ben must be worried about me.

I look over to where my friends are in the crowd, to see them already looking at me. They have wide eyes, wide smiles, and are making inappropriately suggestive hand gestures towards Sam and I. I guess they won't mind if I go for a walk...

"Great because I have no idea where I am and could use a tour guide. I've just been wandering around hoping to find you for three days," he smiles at me. "Thanks for the bright color today. Really helped."

I try to ignore the fact that he admitted that he was looking for me, but it's really hard not to break out into one of those smiles that's so wide and toothy that I squint and my forehead crinkles excessively to the point that it's super unattractive.

"It would be my pleasure to guide you around my wonderful city, right this way."