Post by american09mutt on Jul 7, 2009 18:16:20 GMT -5
I went back and wrote the beginning
The desk in front of you is solid maple. An antique, polished by years of hard use. You lean forward in your chair, trying to get a good look at the library’s front doors. There are supposedly a large number of fans waiting outside, hoping to get your autograph. You have trouble believing it. You can’t help thinking back to that very first day, sitting in front of the computer, pouring out your heart and soul.
This story ate at you for months, begging to be written down. Once the 411 pages were all on your desktop, glaring at you from the screen, you knew you couldn’t keep it to yourself. You went to a publisher, to see if it was even a possibility. But even then, you never dreamed that your story would one day sit on the shelves in a real store, as an honest to goodness BOOK. Let alone being a good enough story that a library would actually own it. And now, so many people have bought your book that your agent wants you to do a book signing!
In front of you is a mug full of fresh pens, full of ink, ready for you. You know the door has been opened when the air is suddenly filled with the pounding of many feet. You glance up from your ruminations, to see a long line of people in front of you. They begin at your desk and trail away toward the front of the library.
With the first fan standing right in front of you, you have no choice but to accept the cold hard truth. You are now a celebrity author, as famous as the characters you’ve created. The fan is a teenage girl with a blue streak in her corn-blonde hair. Her pants are covered in chains, and she has on dark makeup; far too much makeup at that. Despite her angsty appearance, she smiles shyly, handing you a well-worn copy of your book.
You sign it with a flourish and hand it back to her, smiling hesitantly. She practically skips away, hugging the book to her chest. The next person in line is an older woman, perhaps in her early sixties, wearing a very practical outfit and smart shoes. You sign her book as well, giving her a slightly more confidant smile. She steps away and a dark haired young man steps up to the desk.
He has on converse and skinny jeans, carrying a skateboard in his off-hand. His dark brown eyes challenge you to say something about his presence here. You smile, holding out your hand for his book. When you hand it back, you hold on for a second longer than necessary, and wink at him. You’re secretly pleased with yourself, and amazed that your book has caught such a diverse audience.
You sit and sign copies of your book for over three hours, stopping only to un-cramp your hand and visit the restroom. When the line finally dwindles in the late afternoon, you breathe a heavy sigh of relief. The library closes up shop for the day, and you can relax and talk to the head librarian. Turns out she’s a fan as well, and you’re more than happy to sign several copies; one for her and two for her daughters.
The door to the library opens quietly, taking you both by surprise. The librarian speaks up as a brown haired man walks in. “Sir, I’m afraid we’re closed. You’ll have to come back tomorrow.” Looking a bit embarrassed he replies, “I’m sorry, but I just got out of work for the day, and I really wanted to get my favorite book signed by the author!” His accent is Irish, but very clear. You find yourself mesmerized by his lovely voice.
You study the man more closely, taking in his immaculate appearance. His short, shiny brown hair spikes up slightly from his scalp, catching the light. His strong jaw and pouty mouth intrigue you. Waiting to examine his eyes last, you find them to be a clear, expressive blue. They remind you of a swift stream, urgent but beautiful. He looks at you pleadingly, and you grin at him in response. He lets out a breath, holding out his copy of your book.
The worn cover and water spots tell a tale all their own. Opening to the front page, you see that the edges of the page are worn thin. This man has obviously read your book many times; a true fan after all. Struck by his appearance, you ask him who to make it out to. “Paul, Paul Byrom.” You hand back the signed book, and say “It’s nice to meet you Paul.”
You reach out to shake his hand. Instead of shaking, he lifts hour hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles softly. A bit surprised, but rather pleased with his greeting, you smile shyly at him. His eyes widen ever so slightly, and he smiles winningly back at you. He looks hesitantly at you, about to speak, then glances at the clock. He apologizes, but claims that he must be off at once. The door shuts behind the tall figure; his departure as sudden as his entrance.
You get in your car ten minutes later, still dazed from meeting such a handsome man. You drive home in a trance, thinking about the day you’ve had. Upon entering your house, you find a message on your answering machine. It’s from your agent. He’d like you to do another book-signing in about a week, at a bookstore across town. You leave a message for your agent, take a hot shower, and sit down to a hot meal. After watching TV for a bit, you go to bed and dream of the Beautiful stranger you met today.
The man from the library fades from your mind over the next week. Busy with plans for book-signings and TV appearances, you don’t have time to think about him at all. The day of your second book-signing, you spend hours taking pictures with fans and signing book after book. Your hands cramped and aching after a long day, you browse the new books section, eager to occupy your mind over the weekend.
Walking down the aisle, you hear a strong tenor voice from the front of the store. Peering through the shelves, you spot a tall brunette talking to the clerk. He turns around to follow the clerk’s pointing finger, and you can’t help but gasp. The man from last week is here again! Is he stalking you? Perhaps… but do you really mind? He walks around the store peeking around the bookcases. Upon finding you, he walks up to say hello, kissing your hand once again.
You talk with him about your book, and he speaks at length, detailing his favorite parts of the story. You spend half an hour with him, just standing in the aisle, deaf to the world. You talk like old friends, happily discussing deep and meaningful plotlines and undertones. After an hour, he asks if he could take you out to dinner. When you appear hesitant, he apologizes for moving so quickly. “I just feel like you understand me. Your book is so deep and intellectual. I feel like we have so much more to talk about. And I think you’re beautiful…” he stumbles over the last part, letting his words dwindle off into silence.
With a bit of lingering apprehension, you agree to go out to dinner with him the next day. He gives you his number, and tells you that he’ll meet you in front of the library where you first met at 8pm sharp. You return home, and pick out a lovely green evening dress for the next day. Nothing too sexy, but it’s both comfortable and attractive.
At 8pm the next night you are sitting primly upon a stone bench in front of the library. A dark car pulls up to the curb, and Paul hops out. As he steps into the light cast by the streetlamp, you can’t help but smile. His polished shoes and crisp tan suit make him look even more handsome, and even more put together. He greets you with a kiss on the cheeks, and holds the car door open for you. He drives to local restaurant that you love, a place called Molly Malone’s.
With fair prices and good portions, Molly Malone’s is a local hotspot. People come here for anniversaries and proms, or dinner dates with friends. The attire is classy, but nobody seems to mind dressing up to come here. It has all the class of a 5-star restaurant, with the comfortable feel of a mom-n-pop diner. The waiter leads you to a table on the balcony, a secluded but beautiful location. Over the railing you can see a forest of trees marching off into the distance. The stars are just beginning to appear over the tall oaks and pines.
You butter rolls to eat, animatedly talking about books and sports. You stray frequently onto other subjects, finding more and more in common with Paul. By the time dinner arrives, you are blissfully at ease in Paul’s company. You eat the filling meal, glad to be sharing the night with such an amazing man.
When you’ve both finished eating, a violinist comes to your table to play for you. Paul takes your hand in his, and requests a song you’ve never heard of before. You like music, generally, but aren’t well versed in classical music. After the violinist leaves, you question Paul about his musical knowledge. He’s happy to discuss his work, and his operatic training. You listen to him intently, impressed with his passionate descriptions, and entranced by the way he speaks.
As the evening comes to an end, he walks you to the car, your hand on his arm. He drops you off at the library, knowing that you’d like to keep your address a secret, at least for now. He pulls away from the curb, and you head off toward home, humming the song from dinner. You fall into bed that night happier than you’ve been in awhile. Happy to have a friend like Paul, so understanding, so intensely passionate!
You call Paul that week, asking if he’d like to meet you at a café after one of your TV appearances. He agrees happily, saying that he needs to get away from work for a little while. At the café, you continue as if you’d never left off. You chat about how your book is doing, and about his music. He tells you all about Celtic Thunder, the group he’s part of. You ask if you could hear their music, and he gives you a CD he had sitting in his car.
When Paul goes up to pay, you notice a dark haired man sitting across the street, peeking at you from behind a magazine. You cast your gaze all around you, suddenly a bit scared. Next to the trashcan is a young man with pretty blue eyes, staring openly at you. Sitting across the table from him a tall blonde is looking at you over his shoulder. You don’t mention it to Paul as you say goodbye, hugging him before you leave.
You wonder why the men were staring at you, but brush it off as you get in your car. You’re quite certain that you were being silly and paranoid. Over the next few weeks, you and Paul see each other many times, slowly moving from casual friends to hesitantly dating. Paul invites you to a romantic dinner at his house, and you bashfully accept. You truly adore this man, and are thinking that he may be the one for you.
The night of June 23rd, 2009 - Ryan and Keith already got stories thanks to ccone and SLK, but nobody wanted to do Paul (someone’s unfortunate choice of words) I opted in favor of creating this scenario, because I think he deserved one!
Let’s see, how about an evening with Paul? You walk out onto a terrace overlooking a heather-covered hillside. He has prepared a candle-lit dinner of the finest quality. Paul pulls out the chair for you. He smiles as he takes his seat, looking up at you through his dark lashes. Those puppy-dog eyes seem to warm your heart as you gaze into them with not a small amount of longing...
You chat casually over dinner, and somehow he manages to slip in little compliments all the time. You’re slowly getting more and more flushed, but the candle's dim light covers your growing blush, for which you are mightily grateful. After dinner, he asks if you'd like to walk that moon-caressed hillside, and you can barely manage to stammer out an affirmative answer.
Paul helps you by pulling out your chair, and then guides you to the stairs by placing his hand gently on the small of your back. The slight pressure is enough to quicken your heartbeat, and guide you down the stair and out the door.
He lets go just long enough to open the door for you both, then offers his arm to you as you make your way outside. The second the door opens a gentle but pungent breeze crosses your face, and you can smell the heather. It's like a heady perfume, and almost, but not quite, masks a more musky scent underneath.
You can't quite catch it, but you are certain that it could belong only to Paul himself.
Eager to close the distance between you, you take his offered arm. The two of you stroll out onto the hillside, soaking in the cool breeze. The moonlight shimmers over the heather, making it appear as waves on the ocean, rippling and undulating with the wind.
You are having a hard time catching your breath. The night is so perfect, and you glance sideways through your lashes at Paul, only to find him gazing steadily back at you with sleepy, half-closed eyes. Just as he is about to speak, a stronger breeze pushes against you, making you shiver. Paul stops, lets go of your arm, and takes off his jacket. He places it around your shoulders. He then takes your hand, twining your fingers together carefully, and continues walking in his entirely unruffled way.
As you reach the top of the hill the wind picks up even more, *forcing* you to snuggle even closer to Paul's side to keep warm. He pauses, catching you a bit off-guard, so you take another step before you realize it. He uses your momentum to swing you gently around, into his arms. Paul's arms are wrapped squarely around you, and his torso is blocking out most of the wind. You can just barely hear him whisper, "you look so lovely" then he sighs, and tucks your head into the hollow of his neck. He then kisses the top of your head, and rests his chin there gently. You feel like the spot where his lips touched you is on fire, and you can feel the blood rushing to your face again. You hope he can't feel the sudden extra warmth of his shoulder, as your face slowly heats up.
You tilt your head up to see if he's noticed, and he is staring down at you with a deep, intense look in his eyes. You can't breathe. Your palms, as they sit on his chest, are starting to itch, and they just feel awkward. So you slowly slide them up his chest and over his shoulders. With your left hand you grasp his right shoulder, as you twine your right hand in the hair on the nape of his neck.
With your arms out of the way, he pulls you closer. You can now tell that his breath is shaky too, which makes you feel minutely better. You tilt your head back ever so slightly, and he gently lowers his lips toward yours. Your eyes close. You swoon a bit, and relax yourself completely into his embrace. He tightens his arms around your back and you can feel the sinews in his arms.
His hand slides gently up your spine, then back down to grip your waist. You shudder with delight, and you can feel him smile, as his lips pull up the edges of your kiss. He slowly pulls away, steadying you on your feet. He smiles down at you, and you gaze up at him timidly. He takes your hand again, and walks you back toward the house.
He asks you to stay put, standing in the driveway, and runs in to grab your coat (which you left upon your spontaneous exit). He returns, and replaces his jacket with your own. He then walks you to your car, and opens the driver's side door for you. He asks, "Are you sure you can drive home, you seem a bit tipsy!" Paul smiles that charming smile of his, and you chuckle.
Paul steps out of the way so you can close the door. You pull it shut, with a tinge of regret at the thought of leaving him right now. He leans through the already rolled-down window, and gives you one last lingering kiss good night. He then walks into the house, and waves at you as you back down the driveway. All you can help thinking is, "Good thing we have another date next Friday."
TO BE CONTINUED! Dah-Nah-Nah!
Paul calls your phone 4 times that week, but you miss him every time. He leaves funny messages on your phone, and you can't help laughing at them when you check your voicemail. The last one is him asking you if you're free again this Friday, and in the background you can hear Ryan and Keith asking who he's talking to. Then near the end Paul's voice cuts out and you hear some static-y noises. "Hello? Paul’s mystery woman? Can the rest of us meet you at some point? We'd like to finally meet the woman who's been keeping him all distracted the last few weeks! Alright anyway, Bye!" and the voicemail ends. You crack up laughing, as you recognize The Voice as Damian's.
You call Paul back and leave a message on his voicemail saying that Friday was fine, and that there's a park near your house that would be great for a picnic. You tell him to bring the sandwiches, and that you will bring everything else, since he's working so hard lately. On Wednesday he calls back and asks what kind of sandwiches, and you just tell him to surprise you! Then you hang up, and get back to work before your boss notices
you making a personal call at work...
The day for the picnic dawns bright and early, and you shower and dress while humming "you raise me up" to yourself. You can't help loving the man's voice along with the rest of him. You've always loved music, and he and the other guys sing so beautifully!
As you drive to work you pop in the second CD, and sing along with Ryan and George for the 15 minutes it takes to get there. Your back seat is filled by the large cooler that you plan to fill right after work lets out at 5. You spend the day smiling and humming as you go about your tasks, eager for the day to end.
You set your watch to go off at 5pm on the dot, so you can make the best time possible. You work all day in a daze and get all your work done by 3. You spend the next 2 hours watching interviews of Paul and the boys on YouTube. You can't help thinking about him, the man you're pretty sure you're falling for. As you watch, you can't help smiling at the way he talks, and the grin he uses right after he tells a joke. You notice the little things about him, and the way his eyes light up as he talks about his music.
You realize that you're acting like a fan girl, and shut the computer off. You decide to copy the work you got done and leave it on your boss’s desk while he's in a meeting, so he can get working on the proposal he has to give the next day. Just as you drop the stack of files on his desk, your watch goes off loudly.
You run past your desk, grabbing your purse with one hand and your cell phone with the other, you dash to the elevator and press the down button. The doors open immediately and you thank the elevator for being prompt, then laugh at yourself for talking to an inanimate object. As the elevator goes down, you realize that your watch is still beeping, so you shut it off.
You race to the grocery store to pick up the potato salad and soda for the picnic, and put them in the cooler with the grapes and homemade muffins that you put in that morning... You then drive to the little state park near your house, and pull in the lot to park. You change your shoes from work flats to sneakers, and smile as you see Paul pull in driving a sleek but modest economy car.
You finish putting on your left shoe as Paul parks the car and gets out. Your breath catches in your throat a little as you see what he's wearing. He has on a pair of tan shorts and a red and yellow striped polo. On his feet are a pair of sneakers, and he's got some aviators on. He comes over to your car just as you slam the front door. You try to get the cooler out, and he just grabs the other end to help you carry it. Over his left shoulder he's got a canvas sack with a grocery store logo on it, which looks weighed down with food.
You set everything on the ground, and he whips out a green and blue plaid blanket to spread on the grass. You each grab an end to lay it out, but he starts flapping it up and down, making it quite impossible for you to lay it flat. You let go and fall on the ground laughing. He straightens the blanket, then walks over to give you a hand up.
You smile as he pulls you into a tight hug and laughs along with you. You wipe at your eyes as he lets go, and you sit on the blanket. He sits facing you, close enough for your knees to touch.
You break out the snacks and drinks, and he pulls out two handfuls of sandwiches. "I made roast beef, turkey, bologna, and ham. I wasn't sure which ones you'd like, I hope that's okay! And I brought condiments on the side for you to put on what you like." he says and smiles at you uncertainly.
You just laugh as you take a turkey sandwich from him and put some mayo on it. You carefully cut it into triangles and raise the first to your mouth to eat it. He's slathering some mustard on a ham sandwich, and can't help watching you cut up your sandwich. "What?" you giggle. "Why are you looking at me like that?" he smiles and bites into his sandwich, slyly refusing to answer. You bite yours too, chewing slowly to keep from laughing at him again.
You finish one sandwich, and grab a roast beef next; Paul's still only halfway through his first. "You gonna eat all the food or you savin' some for me, love?" You just look at him with puppy-dog eyes and say "But, I'm just so hungry!" he smiles back indulgently and reaches for a soda from the cooler. You jump a bit as cold water trickles down your back, and smack Paul's arm away. "Hey that's freezing!" you shout. He laughs and pops the soda can open, sipping slowly and staring at you with those twinkling eyes.
You stare back at him, wondering what could possibly be going through his head. He finishes his sandwich and lies down on the blanket next to you. His head rests on your knee and he smiles up at you lazily, watching you eat. You feel kinda awkward eating over him, but you're awful hungry after a long day at work. Paul picks up a bunch of grapes and plops them one by one into his mouth, chewing slowly and deliberately.
You finish your second sandwich and move onto a third, liberally mixing in 'tato chips between bites of ham and cheese on wheat. Paul finishes his grapes and dozes next to you in the warm sunshine. You wipe off your right hand and gently run your fingers through his silky brown mane.
Paul snuggles closer, turns over on his side, and places his hand beneath his chin. You can tell that he is dead asleep, and you continue to stroke his hair softly. He looks so peaceful that you don't dare to wake him, and his hair is so very fun to play with. The sun is sinking lower in the sky, but all you care about is watching this man sleep, and examining the colors that reflect off his hair where the light touches it.
With your other hand you carefully trace the lines on his face. The edges of your mouth curl up in an adoring smile. You stop playing with his hair for a moment, and he stirs a bit, frowning just a little. You immediately place your hand back in his hair, and he smiles. He mumbles something incoherent. You lean closer, hoping to hear what he is saying. He is sighing your name in his sleep.
As you gaze down at Paul, his eyes flutter open. He sits up slowly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. You look up to see that the sun has gotten very low in the sky. It's time to get going, so you start packing everything up, with Paul's help of course. He helps you carry everything back to the cars and load them up.
Once everything is stashed away, he closes his trunk and walks over to where you are leaning against your car. He takes your hand, and puts something into it. He closes your fingers over the cylindrical object, and raises it in front of you, releasing your hand. You look at him suspiciously, but open your hand anyway.
In your open palm sits a small flashlight. You look at Paul with a small crease forming between your eyebrows. He just grins and points toward the paths that criss-cross through the nearby woods. "Care for a night hike?" You grin back and take his hand, strolling toward the nearest trail. You both click your flashlights on at the exact same time, which causes you to pause and giggle quietly. He squeezes your hand and urges you into the trees. You walk down the trail as it winds between the oaks and pines.
About 10 minutes into the hike you realize that the trail is gradually going downhill, and the trees are getting older. You've never walked this exact path before, and certainly never at night. The night sounds seem slightly spookier when you are out here with them in the dark. Paul notices you getting nervous, and squeezes your hand again. You smile back, assuring him that you're okay. You can barely hear your own footsteps. The trail is covered in pine needles and leaves that muffle all sound. Water glistens on the bark of passing trees, still wet from yesterday's rain.
You step on a patch of wet leaves and stumble into Paul, taking him down with you. You land on his lap on the damp ground, knocking the air out of your lungs. You look down embarrassed, afraid of his reaction, and he's looking down at the ground. You can't see his eyes or the expression on his face, but his shoulders are shaking slightly.
You place your hand on his shoulder, not sure if he's okay... and he just looks up at you with tears streaming down his face. He gasps for air, and starts guffawing! He grabs you around the waist and puts his head on your shoulder as he laughs uncontrollably.
Relieved that neither of you are hurt, you laugh along with him. At length he is able to gain control of himself (after several failed attempts). You stand up and offer him your hand, but he just pulls you down to sit in his lap once more. He cuddles you close to his chest and gazes down into your eyes.
His hair seems to be outlined in a halo of starlight. The only part of his face that you can see is his eyes, twinkling back at you from the darkness of his face. He leans in slowly, and softly kisses you. After a minute or so, he silently pulls back and pulls you both to your feet.
Paul checks his watch and frowns. "I have to record in the mornin', I should be gettin' back for some sleep." You tell him you should get some sleep tonight too, and so you both turn around and head back the way you came. You can see the entrance about 20 feet before you reach it, and you break from the trees into the bright starlight. The night is clear, the sky full of stars. Paul walks you back to your car in a brooding silence.
You want to say something, to talk about what happened between you back there, but can't think of the right thing to say. Paul seems to have shut off something inside him, a part of him that you only caught a brief glimpse of. You watch him, and suddenly the strangest thought enters your head. "I love this man" you think, "So this is how it feels to be head over heels in love. I never thought it could be like this."
Paul says goodnight, and kisses you goodbye, then gets in his car and drives off. You still aren't sure exactly what happened, but you can't help but feel that you must have done something wrong. You drive home on the brink of tears. On the on hand you are elated by the picnic, and on the other you are confused and hurt by his retreat from you in the woods.
You determine that he'll be the one that mentions it first, if at all. You cry yourself to sleep that night, hoping he'll call you over the weekend. "He may be recording, but surely he'll find time to call me." You comfort yourself with that thought as you drift off to sleep.
Saturday morning dawns dark and rainy. You spend the day cleaning your house from top to bottom, and the only calls you get are from your mother and your best friend. You mum wants you to meet the nice young man that came to fix her furnace. Your best friend is calling to see if you'd like to get lunch with her on Monday. You gently but firmly brush off your mother, and agree to meet up with your friend.
You drop into bed that night forlorn and exhausted. You can't help wondering what was going on with Paul. Your 'Mister Wonderful' hadn't called even once, home phone or cell. You can feel yourself sinking ever so slightly into a pit of despair. Problem is you can't even bring yourself to care. You can't care enough to make any ATTEMPT at getting out of it.
Sunday morning you wake to find the rain gone, but the day is still overcast and gloomy. You smile grimly, as the day seems to reflect your mood all too well. You shower and dress, and get in the car to drive the half hour to church. Everything turns into a kind of fog in your head, and church ends without you really catching anything. You drive home, and pull into your drive just as the heavens open. The rain comes down in sheets, and you barely make it into the house and shut the door.
Lightning flashes and thunder booms outside. The opening lines of 'Heartland' echo through your head, but you shove them away angrily. You decide to make a treat to cheer yourself up. You make a batch of pumpkin chocolate chip muffins, but frown as they remind you of Paul.
You whip up some hot cocoa, and turn on the television. PBS is airing Celtic Thunder. Normally you'd sit down and gaze happily at your sweet Mr. Byrom, but tonight you just switch the channel. You lazily change channels, unable to find anything interesting. Finally you settle on 'Ghost Hunters International'. You are scared by this show, but aren't planning on going to bed anytime soon anyway. Sadly, one of the investigators is Irish, and his accent keeps pulling you back.
You think of Paul's face as he dozed, the feel of your fingers running through his hair. You wish he would call you. "If he doesn't call by tomorrow at lunch, I’ll have to tell Rachel(picked random name) at lunch. She'll know what to do." you think, as you shut off the TV. You brush your teeth, take a hot shower, and go to bed early, hoping tomorrow will be sunny.
A sharp metallic ring wakes you. You sit up abruptly, and nearly fall out of bed. You sit still for a few minutes, letting your body orient itself. You jump up to get the phone, but the machine kicks on. Your chipper voice starts: "Hey, I’m not answering the phone right now. Leave a message and I’ll try to get back to you!" *beep* "Hey it's me. Sorry I haven't been able to call the last couple days! I hope you're not angry with me for it. I'd like to see you again later this week. Actually we'd all like to see you. That is the lads were hoping they could finally meet you-" voice cuts off. "Hey, it's Damian again, can we come meet you? Pretty please?" call ends.
You look at the clock and realize that you're going to be late for work. You rush off to shower and dress, humming gaily to yourself. "Nothing could make this day any better!" you think. You get in your car and open the garage door. The sun glares down at you accusingly. You smile at yourself for assuming that things couldn't get any better. You breeze through the first half of your day, humming Celtic Thunder songs to yourself all morning.
At 11:30 you clock out for lunch. You meet Rachel at a local sub shop, and spend the next hour talking about Paul. You detail the chance meeting at your book signing, and the whirlwind romance that followed. All this happened in the five weeks since you last saw her, and she's amazed at how much you have to share. After you finish she gives you a huge hug and a beaming smile, exclaiming just how happy she is for you. You then ask her how the wedding plans are coming, and she spends the second hour of your lunch talking about floral arrangements and caterers. She asks your opinion on your Maid of Honor dress, and you help her pick out a color for the bridesmaid gowns. At the end of lunch you hug goodbye and promise to call her in a couple of days.
After work you call Paul and tell him that 'of course you aren't upset with him' and 'I’d love to meet the lads!'. You set the next date for Tuesday night, at an arcade. A place big enough for all of you to go to, but a place where you'd all have fun. Tuesday whirls by fast, and you clock out early. You head home, take a shower, and get dressed. Jeans, a t-shirt with a very geek-ish saying on it, and a pair of sneakers; practical, but attractive and comfortable. The arcade is just 7 minutes away by car, and you arrive before any of the lads. You buy yourself a hotdog and get settled in the food court to wait.
The bell on the door tinkles loudly as the door is shoved open. In walks Paul in jeans and a polo, smiling broadly at you. Behind him is a handsome young man with dark hair and lively eyes. He's wearing a Hollister shirt and khaki shorts. Next is a distinguished looking man, obviously older then Paul, but with a boyish charm and a warm smile. Bald as a cue-ball, but warm as a summer's day.
The fourth man through the door is tall and blonde. He carries himself with a comfortable ease that leaves you a bit stunned. His long green shorts and orange shirt hug lean muscles. His lazy smile and graceful stride are enough to stop your breath for a second. You tear your eyes away as the fifth and final man walks through the door. He is a shocking contrast to the blonde beauty in front of him. His dark hair and pale icy eyes stop your heart. Then he grins and your heart, breath, and mind start racing. His black shirt and jeans seem out of sorts with his sharp features.
Just as you're about to smile back, Paul reaches you. You jump up and give him a huge hug. He fakes a gasp, as if you're hugging him too tight, so you squeeze him tighter, laughing. He then picks you up and kisses you warmly, making your bones feel jiggly. When he finally sets you down you are blushing, and the lads are all grinning at you. Paul introduces them in the order they came in. "This 'ere is Damian." Damian shakes your hand. "The bald one here is George." He smiles and shakes your hand, grasping one of your hands in both of his large ones. "Ere is Keith, the tan one!" You go to shake Keith's hand as well, but he pulls you into a tight embrace. "It's nice to meet yeh, finally."
After Keith releases you the dark-haired lovely steps up. "This one" Paul says, looking between the two of you "is Ryan." Ryan takes your hand casually in his and plants a kiss firmly on your knuckles. "Very nice to meet you." His voice is soft, practically a purr. You smile and greet all of them warmly. You suggest they start things off by going outside on the go-karts. You want to get all the outside things done first, before it gets dark. You have everything planned out, and can't wait to see if the lads approve of you.
The desk in front of you is solid maple. An antique, polished by years of hard use. You lean forward in your chair, trying to get a good look at the library’s front doors. There are supposedly a large number of fans waiting outside, hoping to get your autograph. You have trouble believing it. You can’t help thinking back to that very first day, sitting in front of the computer, pouring out your heart and soul.
This story ate at you for months, begging to be written down. Once the 411 pages were all on your desktop, glaring at you from the screen, you knew you couldn’t keep it to yourself. You went to a publisher, to see if it was even a possibility. But even then, you never dreamed that your story would one day sit on the shelves in a real store, as an honest to goodness BOOK. Let alone being a good enough story that a library would actually own it. And now, so many people have bought your book that your agent wants you to do a book signing!
In front of you is a mug full of fresh pens, full of ink, ready for you. You know the door has been opened when the air is suddenly filled with the pounding of many feet. You glance up from your ruminations, to see a long line of people in front of you. They begin at your desk and trail away toward the front of the library.
With the first fan standing right in front of you, you have no choice but to accept the cold hard truth. You are now a celebrity author, as famous as the characters you’ve created. The fan is a teenage girl with a blue streak in her corn-blonde hair. Her pants are covered in chains, and she has on dark makeup; far too much makeup at that. Despite her angsty appearance, she smiles shyly, handing you a well-worn copy of your book.
You sign it with a flourish and hand it back to her, smiling hesitantly. She practically skips away, hugging the book to her chest. The next person in line is an older woman, perhaps in her early sixties, wearing a very practical outfit and smart shoes. You sign her book as well, giving her a slightly more confidant smile. She steps away and a dark haired young man steps up to the desk.
He has on converse and skinny jeans, carrying a skateboard in his off-hand. His dark brown eyes challenge you to say something about his presence here. You smile, holding out your hand for his book. When you hand it back, you hold on for a second longer than necessary, and wink at him. You’re secretly pleased with yourself, and amazed that your book has caught such a diverse audience.
You sit and sign copies of your book for over three hours, stopping only to un-cramp your hand and visit the restroom. When the line finally dwindles in the late afternoon, you breathe a heavy sigh of relief. The library closes up shop for the day, and you can relax and talk to the head librarian. Turns out she’s a fan as well, and you’re more than happy to sign several copies; one for her and two for her daughters.
The door to the library opens quietly, taking you both by surprise. The librarian speaks up as a brown haired man walks in. “Sir, I’m afraid we’re closed. You’ll have to come back tomorrow.” Looking a bit embarrassed he replies, “I’m sorry, but I just got out of work for the day, and I really wanted to get my favorite book signed by the author!” His accent is Irish, but very clear. You find yourself mesmerized by his lovely voice.
You study the man more closely, taking in his immaculate appearance. His short, shiny brown hair spikes up slightly from his scalp, catching the light. His strong jaw and pouty mouth intrigue you. Waiting to examine his eyes last, you find them to be a clear, expressive blue. They remind you of a swift stream, urgent but beautiful. He looks at you pleadingly, and you grin at him in response. He lets out a breath, holding out his copy of your book.
The worn cover and water spots tell a tale all their own. Opening to the front page, you see that the edges of the page are worn thin. This man has obviously read your book many times; a true fan after all. Struck by his appearance, you ask him who to make it out to. “Paul, Paul Byrom.” You hand back the signed book, and say “It’s nice to meet you Paul.”
You reach out to shake his hand. Instead of shaking, he lifts hour hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles softly. A bit surprised, but rather pleased with his greeting, you smile shyly at him. His eyes widen ever so slightly, and he smiles winningly back at you. He looks hesitantly at you, about to speak, then glances at the clock. He apologizes, but claims that he must be off at once. The door shuts behind the tall figure; his departure as sudden as his entrance.
You get in your car ten minutes later, still dazed from meeting such a handsome man. You drive home in a trance, thinking about the day you’ve had. Upon entering your house, you find a message on your answering machine. It’s from your agent. He’d like you to do another book-signing in about a week, at a bookstore across town. You leave a message for your agent, take a hot shower, and sit down to a hot meal. After watching TV for a bit, you go to bed and dream of the Beautiful stranger you met today.
The man from the library fades from your mind over the next week. Busy with plans for book-signings and TV appearances, you don’t have time to think about him at all. The day of your second book-signing, you spend hours taking pictures with fans and signing book after book. Your hands cramped and aching after a long day, you browse the new books section, eager to occupy your mind over the weekend.
Walking down the aisle, you hear a strong tenor voice from the front of the store. Peering through the shelves, you spot a tall brunette talking to the clerk. He turns around to follow the clerk’s pointing finger, and you can’t help but gasp. The man from last week is here again! Is he stalking you? Perhaps… but do you really mind? He walks around the store peeking around the bookcases. Upon finding you, he walks up to say hello, kissing your hand once again.
You talk with him about your book, and he speaks at length, detailing his favorite parts of the story. You spend half an hour with him, just standing in the aisle, deaf to the world. You talk like old friends, happily discussing deep and meaningful plotlines and undertones. After an hour, he asks if he could take you out to dinner. When you appear hesitant, he apologizes for moving so quickly. “I just feel like you understand me. Your book is so deep and intellectual. I feel like we have so much more to talk about. And I think you’re beautiful…” he stumbles over the last part, letting his words dwindle off into silence.
With a bit of lingering apprehension, you agree to go out to dinner with him the next day. He gives you his number, and tells you that he’ll meet you in front of the library where you first met at 8pm sharp. You return home, and pick out a lovely green evening dress for the next day. Nothing too sexy, but it’s both comfortable and attractive.
At 8pm the next night you are sitting primly upon a stone bench in front of the library. A dark car pulls up to the curb, and Paul hops out. As he steps into the light cast by the streetlamp, you can’t help but smile. His polished shoes and crisp tan suit make him look even more handsome, and even more put together. He greets you with a kiss on the cheeks, and holds the car door open for you. He drives to local restaurant that you love, a place called Molly Malone’s.
With fair prices and good portions, Molly Malone’s is a local hotspot. People come here for anniversaries and proms, or dinner dates with friends. The attire is classy, but nobody seems to mind dressing up to come here. It has all the class of a 5-star restaurant, with the comfortable feel of a mom-n-pop diner. The waiter leads you to a table on the balcony, a secluded but beautiful location. Over the railing you can see a forest of trees marching off into the distance. The stars are just beginning to appear over the tall oaks and pines.
You butter rolls to eat, animatedly talking about books and sports. You stray frequently onto other subjects, finding more and more in common with Paul. By the time dinner arrives, you are blissfully at ease in Paul’s company. You eat the filling meal, glad to be sharing the night with such an amazing man.
When you’ve both finished eating, a violinist comes to your table to play for you. Paul takes your hand in his, and requests a song you’ve never heard of before. You like music, generally, but aren’t well versed in classical music. After the violinist leaves, you question Paul about his musical knowledge. He’s happy to discuss his work, and his operatic training. You listen to him intently, impressed with his passionate descriptions, and entranced by the way he speaks.
As the evening comes to an end, he walks you to the car, your hand on his arm. He drops you off at the library, knowing that you’d like to keep your address a secret, at least for now. He pulls away from the curb, and you head off toward home, humming the song from dinner. You fall into bed that night happier than you’ve been in awhile. Happy to have a friend like Paul, so understanding, so intensely passionate!
You call Paul that week, asking if he’d like to meet you at a café after one of your TV appearances. He agrees happily, saying that he needs to get away from work for a little while. At the café, you continue as if you’d never left off. You chat about how your book is doing, and about his music. He tells you all about Celtic Thunder, the group he’s part of. You ask if you could hear their music, and he gives you a CD he had sitting in his car.
When Paul goes up to pay, you notice a dark haired man sitting across the street, peeking at you from behind a magazine. You cast your gaze all around you, suddenly a bit scared. Next to the trashcan is a young man with pretty blue eyes, staring openly at you. Sitting across the table from him a tall blonde is looking at you over his shoulder. You don’t mention it to Paul as you say goodbye, hugging him before you leave.
You wonder why the men were staring at you, but brush it off as you get in your car. You’re quite certain that you were being silly and paranoid. Over the next few weeks, you and Paul see each other many times, slowly moving from casual friends to hesitantly dating. Paul invites you to a romantic dinner at his house, and you bashfully accept. You truly adore this man, and are thinking that he may be the one for you.
The night of June 23rd, 2009 - Ryan and Keith already got stories thanks to ccone and SLK, but nobody wanted to do Paul (someone’s unfortunate choice of words) I opted in favor of creating this scenario, because I think he deserved one!
Let’s see, how about an evening with Paul? You walk out onto a terrace overlooking a heather-covered hillside. He has prepared a candle-lit dinner of the finest quality. Paul pulls out the chair for you. He smiles as he takes his seat, looking up at you through his dark lashes. Those puppy-dog eyes seem to warm your heart as you gaze into them with not a small amount of longing...
You chat casually over dinner, and somehow he manages to slip in little compliments all the time. You’re slowly getting more and more flushed, but the candle's dim light covers your growing blush, for which you are mightily grateful. After dinner, he asks if you'd like to walk that moon-caressed hillside, and you can barely manage to stammer out an affirmative answer.
Paul helps you by pulling out your chair, and then guides you to the stairs by placing his hand gently on the small of your back. The slight pressure is enough to quicken your heartbeat, and guide you down the stair and out the door.
He lets go just long enough to open the door for you both, then offers his arm to you as you make your way outside. The second the door opens a gentle but pungent breeze crosses your face, and you can smell the heather. It's like a heady perfume, and almost, but not quite, masks a more musky scent underneath.
You can't quite catch it, but you are certain that it could belong only to Paul himself.
Eager to close the distance between you, you take his offered arm. The two of you stroll out onto the hillside, soaking in the cool breeze. The moonlight shimmers over the heather, making it appear as waves on the ocean, rippling and undulating with the wind.
You are having a hard time catching your breath. The night is so perfect, and you glance sideways through your lashes at Paul, only to find him gazing steadily back at you with sleepy, half-closed eyes. Just as he is about to speak, a stronger breeze pushes against you, making you shiver. Paul stops, lets go of your arm, and takes off his jacket. He places it around your shoulders. He then takes your hand, twining your fingers together carefully, and continues walking in his entirely unruffled way.
As you reach the top of the hill the wind picks up even more, *forcing* you to snuggle even closer to Paul's side to keep warm. He pauses, catching you a bit off-guard, so you take another step before you realize it. He uses your momentum to swing you gently around, into his arms. Paul's arms are wrapped squarely around you, and his torso is blocking out most of the wind. You can just barely hear him whisper, "you look so lovely" then he sighs, and tucks your head into the hollow of his neck. He then kisses the top of your head, and rests his chin there gently. You feel like the spot where his lips touched you is on fire, and you can feel the blood rushing to your face again. You hope he can't feel the sudden extra warmth of his shoulder, as your face slowly heats up.
You tilt your head up to see if he's noticed, and he is staring down at you with a deep, intense look in his eyes. You can't breathe. Your palms, as they sit on his chest, are starting to itch, and they just feel awkward. So you slowly slide them up his chest and over his shoulders. With your left hand you grasp his right shoulder, as you twine your right hand in the hair on the nape of his neck.
With your arms out of the way, he pulls you closer. You can now tell that his breath is shaky too, which makes you feel minutely better. You tilt your head back ever so slightly, and he gently lowers his lips toward yours. Your eyes close. You swoon a bit, and relax yourself completely into his embrace. He tightens his arms around your back and you can feel the sinews in his arms.
His hand slides gently up your spine, then back down to grip your waist. You shudder with delight, and you can feel him smile, as his lips pull up the edges of your kiss. He slowly pulls away, steadying you on your feet. He smiles down at you, and you gaze up at him timidly. He takes your hand again, and walks you back toward the house.
He asks you to stay put, standing in the driveway, and runs in to grab your coat (which you left upon your spontaneous exit). He returns, and replaces his jacket with your own. He then walks you to your car, and opens the driver's side door for you. He asks, "Are you sure you can drive home, you seem a bit tipsy!" Paul smiles that charming smile of his, and you chuckle.
Paul steps out of the way so you can close the door. You pull it shut, with a tinge of regret at the thought of leaving him right now. He leans through the already rolled-down window, and gives you one last lingering kiss good night. He then walks into the house, and waves at you as you back down the driveway. All you can help thinking is, "Good thing we have another date next Friday."
TO BE CONTINUED! Dah-Nah-Nah!
Paul calls your phone 4 times that week, but you miss him every time. He leaves funny messages on your phone, and you can't help laughing at them when you check your voicemail. The last one is him asking you if you're free again this Friday, and in the background you can hear Ryan and Keith asking who he's talking to. Then near the end Paul's voice cuts out and you hear some static-y noises. "Hello? Paul’s mystery woman? Can the rest of us meet you at some point? We'd like to finally meet the woman who's been keeping him all distracted the last few weeks! Alright anyway, Bye!" and the voicemail ends. You crack up laughing, as you recognize The Voice as Damian's.
You call Paul back and leave a message on his voicemail saying that Friday was fine, and that there's a park near your house that would be great for a picnic. You tell him to bring the sandwiches, and that you will bring everything else, since he's working so hard lately. On Wednesday he calls back and asks what kind of sandwiches, and you just tell him to surprise you! Then you hang up, and get back to work before your boss notices
you making a personal call at work...
The day for the picnic dawns bright and early, and you shower and dress while humming "you raise me up" to yourself. You can't help loving the man's voice along with the rest of him. You've always loved music, and he and the other guys sing so beautifully!
As you drive to work you pop in the second CD, and sing along with Ryan and George for the 15 minutes it takes to get there. Your back seat is filled by the large cooler that you plan to fill right after work lets out at 5. You spend the day smiling and humming as you go about your tasks, eager for the day to end.
You set your watch to go off at 5pm on the dot, so you can make the best time possible. You work all day in a daze and get all your work done by 3. You spend the next 2 hours watching interviews of Paul and the boys on YouTube. You can't help thinking about him, the man you're pretty sure you're falling for. As you watch, you can't help smiling at the way he talks, and the grin he uses right after he tells a joke. You notice the little things about him, and the way his eyes light up as he talks about his music.
You realize that you're acting like a fan girl, and shut the computer off. You decide to copy the work you got done and leave it on your boss’s desk while he's in a meeting, so he can get working on the proposal he has to give the next day. Just as you drop the stack of files on his desk, your watch goes off loudly.
You run past your desk, grabbing your purse with one hand and your cell phone with the other, you dash to the elevator and press the down button. The doors open immediately and you thank the elevator for being prompt, then laugh at yourself for talking to an inanimate object. As the elevator goes down, you realize that your watch is still beeping, so you shut it off.
You race to the grocery store to pick up the potato salad and soda for the picnic, and put them in the cooler with the grapes and homemade muffins that you put in that morning... You then drive to the little state park near your house, and pull in the lot to park. You change your shoes from work flats to sneakers, and smile as you see Paul pull in driving a sleek but modest economy car.
You finish putting on your left shoe as Paul parks the car and gets out. Your breath catches in your throat a little as you see what he's wearing. He has on a pair of tan shorts and a red and yellow striped polo. On his feet are a pair of sneakers, and he's got some aviators on. He comes over to your car just as you slam the front door. You try to get the cooler out, and he just grabs the other end to help you carry it. Over his left shoulder he's got a canvas sack with a grocery store logo on it, which looks weighed down with food.
You set everything on the ground, and he whips out a green and blue plaid blanket to spread on the grass. You each grab an end to lay it out, but he starts flapping it up and down, making it quite impossible for you to lay it flat. You let go and fall on the ground laughing. He straightens the blanket, then walks over to give you a hand up.
You smile as he pulls you into a tight hug and laughs along with you. You wipe at your eyes as he lets go, and you sit on the blanket. He sits facing you, close enough for your knees to touch.
You break out the snacks and drinks, and he pulls out two handfuls of sandwiches. "I made roast beef, turkey, bologna, and ham. I wasn't sure which ones you'd like, I hope that's okay! And I brought condiments on the side for you to put on what you like." he says and smiles at you uncertainly.
You just laugh as you take a turkey sandwich from him and put some mayo on it. You carefully cut it into triangles and raise the first to your mouth to eat it. He's slathering some mustard on a ham sandwich, and can't help watching you cut up your sandwich. "What?" you giggle. "Why are you looking at me like that?" he smiles and bites into his sandwich, slyly refusing to answer. You bite yours too, chewing slowly to keep from laughing at him again.
You finish one sandwich, and grab a roast beef next; Paul's still only halfway through his first. "You gonna eat all the food or you savin' some for me, love?" You just look at him with puppy-dog eyes and say "But, I'm just so hungry!" he smiles back indulgently and reaches for a soda from the cooler. You jump a bit as cold water trickles down your back, and smack Paul's arm away. "Hey that's freezing!" you shout. He laughs and pops the soda can open, sipping slowly and staring at you with those twinkling eyes.
You stare back at him, wondering what could possibly be going through his head. He finishes his sandwich and lies down on the blanket next to you. His head rests on your knee and he smiles up at you lazily, watching you eat. You feel kinda awkward eating over him, but you're awful hungry after a long day at work. Paul picks up a bunch of grapes and plops them one by one into his mouth, chewing slowly and deliberately.
You finish your second sandwich and move onto a third, liberally mixing in 'tato chips between bites of ham and cheese on wheat. Paul finishes his grapes and dozes next to you in the warm sunshine. You wipe off your right hand and gently run your fingers through his silky brown mane.
Paul snuggles closer, turns over on his side, and places his hand beneath his chin. You can tell that he is dead asleep, and you continue to stroke his hair softly. He looks so peaceful that you don't dare to wake him, and his hair is so very fun to play with. The sun is sinking lower in the sky, but all you care about is watching this man sleep, and examining the colors that reflect off his hair where the light touches it.
With your other hand you carefully trace the lines on his face. The edges of your mouth curl up in an adoring smile. You stop playing with his hair for a moment, and he stirs a bit, frowning just a little. You immediately place your hand back in his hair, and he smiles. He mumbles something incoherent. You lean closer, hoping to hear what he is saying. He is sighing your name in his sleep.
As you gaze down at Paul, his eyes flutter open. He sits up slowly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. You look up to see that the sun has gotten very low in the sky. It's time to get going, so you start packing everything up, with Paul's help of course. He helps you carry everything back to the cars and load them up.
Once everything is stashed away, he closes his trunk and walks over to where you are leaning against your car. He takes your hand, and puts something into it. He closes your fingers over the cylindrical object, and raises it in front of you, releasing your hand. You look at him suspiciously, but open your hand anyway.
In your open palm sits a small flashlight. You look at Paul with a small crease forming between your eyebrows. He just grins and points toward the paths that criss-cross through the nearby woods. "Care for a night hike?" You grin back and take his hand, strolling toward the nearest trail. You both click your flashlights on at the exact same time, which causes you to pause and giggle quietly. He squeezes your hand and urges you into the trees. You walk down the trail as it winds between the oaks and pines.
About 10 minutes into the hike you realize that the trail is gradually going downhill, and the trees are getting older. You've never walked this exact path before, and certainly never at night. The night sounds seem slightly spookier when you are out here with them in the dark. Paul notices you getting nervous, and squeezes your hand again. You smile back, assuring him that you're okay. You can barely hear your own footsteps. The trail is covered in pine needles and leaves that muffle all sound. Water glistens on the bark of passing trees, still wet from yesterday's rain.
You step on a patch of wet leaves and stumble into Paul, taking him down with you. You land on his lap on the damp ground, knocking the air out of your lungs. You look down embarrassed, afraid of his reaction, and he's looking down at the ground. You can't see his eyes or the expression on his face, but his shoulders are shaking slightly.
You place your hand on his shoulder, not sure if he's okay... and he just looks up at you with tears streaming down his face. He gasps for air, and starts guffawing! He grabs you around the waist and puts his head on your shoulder as he laughs uncontrollably.
Relieved that neither of you are hurt, you laugh along with him. At length he is able to gain control of himself (after several failed attempts). You stand up and offer him your hand, but he just pulls you down to sit in his lap once more. He cuddles you close to his chest and gazes down into your eyes.
His hair seems to be outlined in a halo of starlight. The only part of his face that you can see is his eyes, twinkling back at you from the darkness of his face. He leans in slowly, and softly kisses you. After a minute or so, he silently pulls back and pulls you both to your feet.
Paul checks his watch and frowns. "I have to record in the mornin', I should be gettin' back for some sleep." You tell him you should get some sleep tonight too, and so you both turn around and head back the way you came. You can see the entrance about 20 feet before you reach it, and you break from the trees into the bright starlight. The night is clear, the sky full of stars. Paul walks you back to your car in a brooding silence.
You want to say something, to talk about what happened between you back there, but can't think of the right thing to say. Paul seems to have shut off something inside him, a part of him that you only caught a brief glimpse of. You watch him, and suddenly the strangest thought enters your head. "I love this man" you think, "So this is how it feels to be head over heels in love. I never thought it could be like this."
Paul says goodnight, and kisses you goodbye, then gets in his car and drives off. You still aren't sure exactly what happened, but you can't help but feel that you must have done something wrong. You drive home on the brink of tears. On the on hand you are elated by the picnic, and on the other you are confused and hurt by his retreat from you in the woods.
You determine that he'll be the one that mentions it first, if at all. You cry yourself to sleep that night, hoping he'll call you over the weekend. "He may be recording, but surely he'll find time to call me." You comfort yourself with that thought as you drift off to sleep.
Saturday morning dawns dark and rainy. You spend the day cleaning your house from top to bottom, and the only calls you get are from your mother and your best friend. You mum wants you to meet the nice young man that came to fix her furnace. Your best friend is calling to see if you'd like to get lunch with her on Monday. You gently but firmly brush off your mother, and agree to meet up with your friend.
You drop into bed that night forlorn and exhausted. You can't help wondering what was going on with Paul. Your 'Mister Wonderful' hadn't called even once, home phone or cell. You can feel yourself sinking ever so slightly into a pit of despair. Problem is you can't even bring yourself to care. You can't care enough to make any ATTEMPT at getting out of it.
Sunday morning you wake to find the rain gone, but the day is still overcast and gloomy. You smile grimly, as the day seems to reflect your mood all too well. You shower and dress, and get in the car to drive the half hour to church. Everything turns into a kind of fog in your head, and church ends without you really catching anything. You drive home, and pull into your drive just as the heavens open. The rain comes down in sheets, and you barely make it into the house and shut the door.
Lightning flashes and thunder booms outside. The opening lines of 'Heartland' echo through your head, but you shove them away angrily. You decide to make a treat to cheer yourself up. You make a batch of pumpkin chocolate chip muffins, but frown as they remind you of Paul.
You whip up some hot cocoa, and turn on the television. PBS is airing Celtic Thunder. Normally you'd sit down and gaze happily at your sweet Mr. Byrom, but tonight you just switch the channel. You lazily change channels, unable to find anything interesting. Finally you settle on 'Ghost Hunters International'. You are scared by this show, but aren't planning on going to bed anytime soon anyway. Sadly, one of the investigators is Irish, and his accent keeps pulling you back.
You think of Paul's face as he dozed, the feel of your fingers running through his hair. You wish he would call you. "If he doesn't call by tomorrow at lunch, I’ll have to tell Rachel(picked random name) at lunch. She'll know what to do." you think, as you shut off the TV. You brush your teeth, take a hot shower, and go to bed early, hoping tomorrow will be sunny.
A sharp metallic ring wakes you. You sit up abruptly, and nearly fall out of bed. You sit still for a few minutes, letting your body orient itself. You jump up to get the phone, but the machine kicks on. Your chipper voice starts: "Hey, I’m not answering the phone right now. Leave a message and I’ll try to get back to you!" *beep* "Hey it's me. Sorry I haven't been able to call the last couple days! I hope you're not angry with me for it. I'd like to see you again later this week. Actually we'd all like to see you. That is the lads were hoping they could finally meet you-" voice cuts off. "Hey, it's Damian again, can we come meet you? Pretty please?" call ends.
You look at the clock and realize that you're going to be late for work. You rush off to shower and dress, humming gaily to yourself. "Nothing could make this day any better!" you think. You get in your car and open the garage door. The sun glares down at you accusingly. You smile at yourself for assuming that things couldn't get any better. You breeze through the first half of your day, humming Celtic Thunder songs to yourself all morning.
At 11:30 you clock out for lunch. You meet Rachel at a local sub shop, and spend the next hour talking about Paul. You detail the chance meeting at your book signing, and the whirlwind romance that followed. All this happened in the five weeks since you last saw her, and she's amazed at how much you have to share. After you finish she gives you a huge hug and a beaming smile, exclaiming just how happy she is for you. You then ask her how the wedding plans are coming, and she spends the second hour of your lunch talking about floral arrangements and caterers. She asks your opinion on your Maid of Honor dress, and you help her pick out a color for the bridesmaid gowns. At the end of lunch you hug goodbye and promise to call her in a couple of days.
After work you call Paul and tell him that 'of course you aren't upset with him' and 'I’d love to meet the lads!'. You set the next date for Tuesday night, at an arcade. A place big enough for all of you to go to, but a place where you'd all have fun. Tuesday whirls by fast, and you clock out early. You head home, take a shower, and get dressed. Jeans, a t-shirt with a very geek-ish saying on it, and a pair of sneakers; practical, but attractive and comfortable. The arcade is just 7 minutes away by car, and you arrive before any of the lads. You buy yourself a hotdog and get settled in the food court to wait.
The bell on the door tinkles loudly as the door is shoved open. In walks Paul in jeans and a polo, smiling broadly at you. Behind him is a handsome young man with dark hair and lively eyes. He's wearing a Hollister shirt and khaki shorts. Next is a distinguished looking man, obviously older then Paul, but with a boyish charm and a warm smile. Bald as a cue-ball, but warm as a summer's day.
The fourth man through the door is tall and blonde. He carries himself with a comfortable ease that leaves you a bit stunned. His long green shorts and orange shirt hug lean muscles. His lazy smile and graceful stride are enough to stop your breath for a second. You tear your eyes away as the fifth and final man walks through the door. He is a shocking contrast to the blonde beauty in front of him. His dark hair and pale icy eyes stop your heart. Then he grins and your heart, breath, and mind start racing. His black shirt and jeans seem out of sorts with his sharp features.
Just as you're about to smile back, Paul reaches you. You jump up and give him a huge hug. He fakes a gasp, as if you're hugging him too tight, so you squeeze him tighter, laughing. He then picks you up and kisses you warmly, making your bones feel jiggly. When he finally sets you down you are blushing, and the lads are all grinning at you. Paul introduces them in the order they came in. "This 'ere is Damian." Damian shakes your hand. "The bald one here is George." He smiles and shakes your hand, grasping one of your hands in both of his large ones. "Ere is Keith, the tan one!" You go to shake Keith's hand as well, but he pulls you into a tight embrace. "It's nice to meet yeh, finally."
After Keith releases you the dark-haired lovely steps up. "This one" Paul says, looking between the two of you "is Ryan." Ryan takes your hand casually in his and plants a kiss firmly on your knuckles. "Very nice to meet you." His voice is soft, practically a purr. You smile and greet all of them warmly. You suggest they start things off by going outside on the go-karts. You want to get all the outside things done first, before it gets dark. You have everything planned out, and can't wait to see if the lads approve of you.