Post by damianrocks on Jan 24, 2010 19:37:36 GMT -5
This is what I want to happen this year.
--
It was my nineteenth birthday and I was spending it in school, three hours away from home, without any of my family. And I hadn’t figured out the webcam on my laptop yet, so I couldn’t see them. They wouldn’t be able to call me, because I would be in class all day, and then when I was out of class, they were at church or work. All I got were measly facebook comments full of promises to give me my gifts when I came home. I didn’t come home for another two weeks. My sister was particularly insistent that I would love her present best, though I doubted it. My favorite presents were Celtic Thunder related. My sister hated Celtic Thunder. She got me things from her store because she gets a thirty-five percent discount. Then again, I never got her anything for her birthday besides something I happened to already own. I should probably start buying her things, now that I’m almost out of my teenage years. When I woke up on the morning of my birthday, I could tell it was just as lousy as any other weekday.
I woke up a half hour before my alarm went off because my room mate, Ashley, forgot to close the blinds before she went to bed and it got bright. Ashley has insomnia, so she goes to bed at around four every morning and gets up for eight o’clock classes. I honestly don’t know how she functions. I need at least eight hours of sleep. And today, I only got seven and a half. That actually makes a huge difference to me. I dozed on and off until my phone vibrated underneath my pillow, and I trudged off to the bathroom to shower. In the shower, my contact came out and I lost it, I cut my ankle shaving, and I got lots of shampoo on said cut. Not to mention, I had apparently rolled onto my face during the night. Again. I had to stop doing that because I got braces in January and I would have sores every morning from burying my face in my pillow. I guess I just like to be cozy. But my mouth was aching more so than usual today.
Back in the room, I took Ibuprofen for my mouth, and proceeded to put new pieces of wax on the teeth that jutted out enough to rip through my lips. I quickly started up my laptop and put my iTunes on shuffle while I got ready. The outfit I really wanted to wear was dirty, so I had to wear uncomfortable jeans that needed a belt to be kept up and an itchy T-shirt. This reminded me that I needed to get cash so I could do laundry on the weekend. I put on makeup and brushed my hair, which was exceptionally poofy today. Chapstick on my lips and I was ready to go. I quickly went through my email and checked messages. Two facebook comments from my dad and sister saying happy birthday and my sister bragging on how amazing her present was going to be. Truthfully, hers never really were anything to get overly excited for. She got little knick knacks: things I wouldn’t buy for myself if I saw, but can be cute to look at. Nothing from Mom yet. I closed Internet and grabbed my purse and books for my morning classes.
I fell asleep in the first class, which is not a good idea, and I got yelled at. I ate lunch alone because my usual lunch buddies were either in meetings, rehearsals, sick, or working excruciatingly hard on projects and essays. Back in my room, I got an email from Mom saying happy birthday and she loves me and misses me. I closed the Internet and brushed my teeth and flossed. Again. This was getting tiring, but I couldn’t make myself skip a flossing. Three times a day, like the orthodontist said. I had one more class to go to, and then I was free for the rest of the week. Well, I still had classes, but nothing was due any time soon, so it was basically just show up and talk about what we’ve learned.
As I was walking back to my dorm from my last class, I saw two big vans parked right in front of the building. They were plain black, so I had no idea what they were for, though I was reminded of TAPS a little bit. I smiled at the thought of our dorm being infested with ghosts, and proceeded up the stairs. I got into my room and slumped into my chair. No emails. And no room mate. That was odd. Ashley must be hanging out with a bunch of buddies in the lounge or something. I got up and propped the door open with a brick before heading to the restroom.
On my way back, I stopped in front of my door. Hadn’t I just propped it open? Maybe Ashley had come back. But I hadn’t been gone that long. Slowly, I twisted the handle and pushed the door open.
What I saw made me freeze with wide eyes. My sister jumped on me and squealed a happy birthday.
“What on Earth are you doing here?” I asked.
“I’m giving you your birthday present,” she said.
“You could have just mailed it to me,” I said. She shook her head.
“Nope,” she said. “I have to see your face when you see it.” I sighed.
“Fine,” I said. “Where is it?”
“In the lounge.”
“In the lounge?” I said. “Why in the lounge?” But she just grabbed my hand and led me down the hall to the lounge.
“Happy Birthday!” nearly all of the girls on my floor (and some guys from third floor) shouted as we turned the corner. I smiled wide.
“Oh my gosh, you guys!” I said, coming in closer to see that they were crowded around a very large birthday cake. I laughed when I saw that it had photos of me and Damian McGinty on it—edible, of course—and nineteen candles shaped like a heart between the two photos. “You know me too well,” I said. I turned to my sister. “This is a good present.”
“This isn’t my present,” she said. “It’s theirs. I just helped scheme.” I laughed.
“Yeah, you’re good at that,” I said. “Then what is your present?”
“Candles first!” I heard someone say from the back of the room. People nodded in agreement. I leaned in to blow out the candles but my sister pulled me back.
“Someone has to sing first,” she said. I blushed, not really wanting all these people to sing to me. I was watching everyone nervously, waiting for them to start. But none of them were singing, and I thought they might have just been waiting for the elevator to pass, because I heard it ding behind me. After a few seconds though, they were still looking behind me with smiles on their faces. I turned to follow their gazes.
And stopped breathing.
There stood five men. In the very middle stood none other than Damian McGinty, the love of my life (though he didn’t know that), and he was wearing a very nice tuxedo casually (jacket unbuttoned, shirt untucked, tie untied) with a pair of Converse. I smiled at that. On his left were Keith and Ryan, and on his right, Paul and George. They all wore tuxes as well, though they were very tidy and wore dress shoes.
My sister slid a chair behind me and pushed me down in it as the guys hummed a starting note. They got a lovely view of my braces because I was smiling so big. I don’t think I’d smiled that big since getting them because it hurt. But I didn’t notice the pain right now. They began singing. Well… Damian began singing. The others were Ooohing underneath his melody.
“Happy birthday to you.”
It was slow and had many moves in the harmony. But I had my eyes glued on Damian’s. He was walking closer to me slowly.
“Happy birthday to you.”
He held out his hand to me. I blushed deep red and took it, standing in front of him.
“Happy birthday, dear—“ ooooh jazz chord. I smiled wider—“sweet, lovely, infectious, exciting, ohh dear Bekah.”
I heard girls behind me giggle and a guy wolf whistled. I ducked my head down in a laugh, then brought my eyes back up to Damian’s smiling face.
“Happy birthday…” He put my hand on his shoulder and took my other one, putting his hand on my waist. I was about ready to hyperventilate. “…to you…” I saw someone hit play on a boom box on the floor. I recognized Michael Bublé’s “Hold On” begin playing as Damian took the first step. [Play Hold On while you read. It helps with imagery.]
I think my breath caught in my chest. The dance was very simple. Basically just swaying in a circle to the beat, taking small steps around the room. Even so, I was glad that we learned how to dance in high school Performance Theater. Damian’s college must have been paying off immensely well. He wasn’t even looking at his feet and he had perfect posture. However, that put his face very far above my head. So I took to resting my forehead on his collar bone and smelling him. I chuckled when I recognized the scent. He wore Axe. I’d always loved the smell of Axe when all the girls in my class loathed it. On the second chorus, he started singing along with Michael. [Wait for the second chorus, then read at a slightly fast pace, keeping Damian’s dialogue in sync with the song.]
“So hold on to me tight.” This song suited his voice perfectly. Even though he was singing only loud enough for me to hear, I heard it very clearly. I moved my hand from his shoulder around to play with the hair on the base of his neck. I was so glad he didn’t spike it today. “Hold on. I promise it’ll be all right.” I felt him lean his head down to rest his cheek against my head. “‘Cause it’s you and me together. And, baby, all we’ve got is time. So hold on to me. Hold on to me tonight.”
As the music swelled into the bridge, he grabbed my hand tighter and spun me around. A warning would have helped, but I liked his impulsiveness, even if it did make me trip over my own feet and lose all balance. If it was with anyone else I would have fallen on my behind, but he kept a tight grip on my hand and used the momentum to bring me right back into his arms. I laughed joyfully and looked up into his smiling face. He’d stopped singing, and was chuckling at me.
“Close one,” I said. I took the time to glance across the room. Everyone was dancing with someone. It was all silly, with over exaggerated gestures and goofy grins. The most entertaining was that my sister was dancing with Keith. Their dancing was not goofy in the slightest.
When the bridge transitioned into the chorus in an anthem-like key change, Damian said my name. [If you must, wait until the key change, it’s pretty neat to picture it.]
“Bekah. Jump.”
Confused, I obeyed, and squealed when he brought his arm under my legs and spun me around in his arms. I kept my arms around his neck. I did not do well with being off the ground (for instance, roller coasters kill me), but this thrill was one I’d be willing to repeat. Our eyes locked and we both smiled widely. Sadly, we couldn’t go more than half the chorus because I could tell he was getting dizzy and so was I. He set me down and we spun around like drunks, laughing at each other, until the song ended. We stood there holding each other’s arms for balance still. It was only then that I noticed everyone staring at us and applauding. I blushed again.
“Oh, my goodness, that was awesome,” I said to Damian.
“It really was fun,” he said. “I’m Damian, by the way.” He extended his hand in a proper salutation. I laughed and took it, shaking vigorously.
“Bekah. It’s the greatest pleasure.”
“Pleasure’s all mine,” he said. My sister came up and stood in front of Damian, making us drop hands.
“Candles!” I quickly blew out the candles and let everyone else dig into the cake. If I ate any, I’d have to brush my teeth again. My sister walked over with a slice of cake.
“I so told you that my present was the best,” she said. I stared at her.
“YOU did this?” I asked in awe. I looked at Damian. “SHE did this?” He nodded, smiling. I looked back at her. “But you hate Celtic Thunder,” I hissed quietly to her. She smirked.
“It ain’t my birthday, is it?” she said. “A friend at work travels between here and Dublin and he knew Sharon Browne. I got him to pull some strings and get the guys to come down for your birthday. As soon as Sharon got in contact with me, I informed her of your obsession with Damian and she got Phil Coulter to arrange that version of Happy Birthday. I don’t know whose idea it was to play Michael Bublé, but I liked it.” She glanced at Keith, who was smiling at her. I smirked, prepared to tease her later. She’d always had a thing for blonde guys.
“That was actually me.” My sister and I turned to look at Damian. “Sharon told us everything she’d heard from your sister and even looked at your facebook once.” He laughed. “I noticed you liked Michael Bublé, so I… kinda… borrowed your CD.” I laughed.
“I’m not complaining,” I said, feeling my face blush again. “It was nice. That’s actually my favorite song of his.” He quirked his head a little.
“Mine too,” he said. I laughed.
“You’ve got good taste,” I said. He laughed. I loved his laugh. “You should do a cover of it.”
“Hmm,” he said. “I never thought of it. It’s probably too new to cover yet. Maybe in the future.” He winked. My heart sped up tremendously.
We spent the rest of the party talking about random nonsense. It was amazing. This was officially the best birthday present ever.
“To Coffee D!” someone shouted. There was excited chatter as everyone filed out of the room down the stairs. Damian and I followed last, still talking. Everyone squeezed into the vans that I now realized had brought the guys. I wanted to walk, so they shut the door and Damian followed me.
“So what’s Coffee D?” he said.
“I don’t know the technical term for it,” I said. “It’s almost like a café, but I just get smoothies. Piña colada or strawberry banana. Depends on what I’m in the mood for.” He looked confused.
“Piña colada?”
“There’s no alcohol,” I said, laughing. “It’s just coconut and pineapple.” He chuckled. “Turn right here.” As we were walking in, everyone else was filing out of the building.
“We’re taking it back to the lounge,” Ashley said. “See you guys later!” She gave me a goofy grin. Only her close friends would know that that grin meant that she was having perverted thoughts. I blushed, but rolled my eyes at her as she rode off with the others. Damian held the door open for me and followed me in. I ordered a small strawberry banana smoothie with whipped cream. He ordered the same. He wouldn’t let me pay, insisting that it was my birthday, but it was only two dollars. I could let that slip. We decided to sit in the café to at least start our smoothies.
We kept chatting about random things. He could have been talking gibberish and I would have paid attention. His accent was overwhelming.
“So why did you wait to get braces?” he asked, pausing to actually drink some of his smoothie. I shrugged.
“Waiting until we had enough money, I suppose,” I said. “Plus, my wisdom teeth were coming in and I didn’t have room for them. Braces just went right a long with that, I guess. Also have to get it in before my mom’s insurance doesn’t include me anymore.” I sighed. “I need to get a job.”
“What do you want to do?” he asked.
“For a job? I dunno… be a singer/songwriter,” I said smiling.
“I didn’t know you sing,” he said. I nodded.
“I can sing anything from tenor to high soprano.” His eyes got wide.
“Wow.” I laughed.
“Yeah. I’m stronger in my chest voice though,” I said. “And clearer in my head voice.” He chuckled. “I play piano, guitar, flute, clarinet, and the Irish tin whistle.”
“I’m only learning guitar still,” he said.
“Yeah, but you’ve written ‘Faith’,” I pointed out. He nodded.
“Yeah, but I had help, and it is nowhere near being finished,” he said. I got an idea.
“Would you like some input?” I asked. “Opinion from new ears?” He paused.
“I don’t have my guitar.”
“You can use Soña,” I said.
“Soña?” he asked.
“My acoustic,” I said. “It’s short for Soñador, which is Spanish for Dreamer. It’s the best guitar I’ve ever had, so I felt like I should name it. I got the name from a movie.” I shrugged. He smiled.
“That’s perfectly understandable,” he said. “If you’d let me, I’ll play ‘Faith’ for you.” He stood. “Ready to go?”
He held the door open for me again. He was a perfect gentleman.
When we got back to the dorm, it was open dorms, so he was allowed into my room if I kept the door open. I wasn’t complaining. Damian McGinty was in my room! I pulled my guitar case out of the closet and opened it on my bed. I quickly wiped off the dust. I hadn’t played Soña in months. I lifted her out of the case and sat on the keyboard stool to tune her. Damian sat in my desk chair.
“Just be careful if you lean back,” I warned. “It leans and stops like a rocking chair, but you feel like you’re falling for a moment before it stops.” I laughed at him as he tested this out. He looked like a little kid, playing with the chair. I gave a final strum on a G chord to make sure she was in tune.
“Your guitar looks awesome,” he said. I laughed.
“Yeah, she’s purple,” I said. “I like the strap. Lightning.” I watched him settle the acoustic on his knee and test out the sound. I noticed he was playing it softly, and I saw that he didn’t have long nails like I did. I went to my guitar case, but I didn’t have any picks in there. I frowned. “Hmm.”
“What are you looking for?” he asked.
“Hold on,” I said, rummaging through drawers and I even checked my pants pockets. It’s been known to happen. Finally, I found a few picks in my jewelry box, amongst all my earrings. “Here.”
“Oh,” he said, taking the pick. “Thanks. Yeah, I don’t really have the hands of a guitar player.” He laughed.
“Sure you do,” I said. “Who says you need long nails? Keith doesn’t have long nails.”
“Yeah, but Keith manages to still get the thing to make music,” he said, strumming louder with the pick. “I have to really work at it. Okay here we go.” I settled in my seat to hear the song. I don’t know what he was so worried about. He played guitar beautifully. Keith was a good teacher.
I listened intently as he sang his song. He pause a few times, when he missed a chord, and towards the end, he dropped the pick into the guitar.
“Ahh, I’m banjaxed,” he said, not knowing what to do to retrieve the pick. I laughed and took the guitar. I turned it upside down, over my head and shook it. We could hear the pick clanking around inside. When it fell out, it landed on the strings, and didn’t fall through.
“Oh, jeez,” I said, carefully tilting the guitar until the pick slid to the floor. He picked up the pick, and I handed him the guitar back.
“I forget where I was,” he said, laughing.
“Just start over,” I suggested.
“Nah, I think I remember,” he said, and picked up a little before he had been interrupted. I have to say, the song is genius. When he was done, he just kept quietly strumming the chord progression of the song while we talked.
“That is beautiful,” I said. “It really is. There’s not much you need to work on. Just… keeping a firm hold on your pick.” He chuckled.
“Yeah, I’m a butterfingers,” he said.
“There were moments where I felt that bagpipes would actually be gorgeous in the background,” I said. “And strings would be beautiful to give it a full sound. And flute of course, to compliment the bagpipes.” He smiled.
“I was actually contemplating that myself,” he said. “I haven’t suggested it to Phil and Sharon yet.”
“You should,” I said. “I would love to have that on my iPod. I think that’s my new favorite song. I got goosebumps listening to you. Look.” I held out my arm and he ran his fingers down it. That made me get even more goosebumps. He noticed.
“Sorry,” he said, blushing.
“No,” I said quietly, blushing even darker than him. “It’s okay.” I stood, needing to do something to distract myself. He handed me Soña, so I put her away and back in the closet. When I turned around, he was standing and holding out my pick. There was no way to take it without touching. I swallowed hard, and took it from him. His hands were so soft and warm, I was surprised. So surprised, that I kept his hand in mine a moment, rubbing his fingers between mine.
“Your hands are soft,” he noted. I giggled.
“I was just thinking the same about you,” I said, dropping the pick on my desk and putting both of my hands in his. “Yours are really warm, too.” He chuckled. I very stupidly looked up into his eyes.
This was stupid, because I couldn’t look away. I wouldn’t have believed that our personalities would click like they did. It was overwhelming how well we got on. I wanted him to stay. I don’t know how long we stood there staring at each other, or how many people walked by and gave us weird looks.
Eventually, Ashley walked in.
“Woops! Sorry!” She grabbed her bag and left again. But we broke eye contact. After she left, he dropped my hands and cleared his throat.
“When do you leave?” I asked. He looked at the clock on my laptop screen.
“Half hour or so,” he said. “We have to record in Dublin tomorrow, so we’re catching an earlier flight.” I nodded.
“Recording the Christmas album?” I said. He nodded.
“Yeah.”
I walked over to the bed and plopped down, lowering my head to almost between my knees, taking a deep breath and closing my eyes. I flinched slightly when I felt his hand on my back. I looked up at him, biting my tongue to try not to cry.
“I’ll never see you again,” I said. He pulled me close and stroked my hair as I started to cry.
“That’s not true,” he said. “Next time we’re around, I’ll look you up.” I gave a small laugh. “Or I could get you a backstage pass to a concert.” I froze.
“Would you do that? For me?” I asked, sitting up straight and looking him in the eye.
“Yeah,” he said with a smirk. “For a small fee.” My shoulders fell.
“What fee?” I didn’t have enough money to get good seats anyways. He brought his face close to mine, and looked me dead in the eye.
“Kiss me,” he whispered.
I stopped breathing. Again.
“Is that all?” I said, pretending that is was nothing.
“That’s all.”
“I kiss you, then you get me a backstage pass?”
“That sounds about right.”
“What’s the catch?” He chuckled.
“Just the fact that I might up the price to two kisses.” I smiled. “Or three kisses. Or fo—“
I cut him off with a kiss, letting my lips linger on his. When I pulled back, my breathing was uneven. I felt him slip something into my hand.
“Your backstage pass,” he said. I looked down at it. It was indeed a backstage pass for the Storm tour. It also came with tickets for front row seats at the concert closest to my school. And it was a Friday night. I looked up at him, speechless. “Happy birthday.”
“I love you,” I whispered. I hoped he could tell the intensity behind those words. I really meant it. I loved this boy with all my heart.
“I think I’m beginning to love you too,” he said. My heart was flying around the room up by the ceiling. “Not bad for the first day, huh?” I laughed.
“I’ll say,” I said. “You’ll write?” He nodded. “Call?”
“If you give me your number, yeah,” he said laughing.
“More demands,” I said with a smile. “And email?”
“Yes,” he said. “And even pictures if you want.” I heard something beep and looked at his hip. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and read the text he’d received. “I’ve got five minutes.” I quickly grabbed a pen and the pad of paper from my desk. I scribbled down my cell phone number, my email, and both my home and school address, and handed it to him. He folded it and put it in his pocket, then proceeded to write down his info on the pad of paper.
“I don’t want you to leave,” I admitted. “I feel like we’ve known each other for years.”
“Me too,” he said. “On both comments.” I smiled.
“I miss you already.” He leaned his forehead against mine and put a hand on my neck.
“I know,” he said. “I miss you too. I swear I’ll keep in touch. I have unlimited texting, so—“
“Me too,” I said smiling.
“Cool,” he said. “We’ve just found our main form of communication.” I laughed.
“You silly boy,” I said, closing my eyes.
“I’m not a boy,” he said defensively. “I’m a man.” I laughed.
“Would that make you my manfriend?” I asked. He snickered.
“If you want to call me that, I can’t stop you,” he said.
“I prefer sweetie anyways,” I said.
“I’m candy?” he asked.
“No, I meant—“
I couldn’t finish because he kissed me. Oh it was so wonderful. I’d never kissed anyone like this and actually wanted to keep kissing them. He was gentle, yet forceful in a way. But when he turned a little, he accidentally smushed my lip against my braces and I winced in pain and backed away impulsively.
“Ah!”
“Sorry!”
“No, it’s okay,” I said, gently massaging my lip.
“Damo! Time to go!” It was Paul.
“Be right there!” Damian called back. He brushed my bangs out of my eyes. “One last kiss? I’ll be gentle and try not to rip your lip open this time.” I chuckled and brought my own lips up to his. He was gentler this time, and I noticed his smell this time. Underneath the scent of Axe, I could smell him. I got the impression that he would taste tangy, but I did not have the idiocy to lick him. That would be weird.
“Damian! Don’t make me come and get you!”
We reluctantly pulled apart.
“I’ll walk you down to the vans,” I said. We walked down the stairs hand in hand and out to the steps. The guys got into the vans, and let us say goodbye.
Damian pulled me into a tight hug.
“I miss you,” I said, clutching his sweater in my hands.
“It’s not like we’ll never see each other again,” he said.
“I know.” I stepped back and tried to flatten out the wrinkles I’d put in his sweater. He chuckled and grabbed my hands.
“It’s okay.” I looked into his eyes. “I don’t mind.” Paul honked the horn of the van twice, signaling that it was time to go.
“Bye,” I whispered.
“Bye,” he said and gave me a swift kiss before running his fingers through my hair and getting into the van. I watched them drive off until they were out of sight. I turned around and saw my sister watching the vans leave too.
“Best birthday present ever,” I said and hugged her close. I love my big sister.
--
It was my nineteenth birthday and I was spending it in school, three hours away from home, without any of my family. And I hadn’t figured out the webcam on my laptop yet, so I couldn’t see them. They wouldn’t be able to call me, because I would be in class all day, and then when I was out of class, they were at church or work. All I got were measly facebook comments full of promises to give me my gifts when I came home. I didn’t come home for another two weeks. My sister was particularly insistent that I would love her present best, though I doubted it. My favorite presents were Celtic Thunder related. My sister hated Celtic Thunder. She got me things from her store because she gets a thirty-five percent discount. Then again, I never got her anything for her birthday besides something I happened to already own. I should probably start buying her things, now that I’m almost out of my teenage years. When I woke up on the morning of my birthday, I could tell it was just as lousy as any other weekday.
I woke up a half hour before my alarm went off because my room mate, Ashley, forgot to close the blinds before she went to bed and it got bright. Ashley has insomnia, so she goes to bed at around four every morning and gets up for eight o’clock classes. I honestly don’t know how she functions. I need at least eight hours of sleep. And today, I only got seven and a half. That actually makes a huge difference to me. I dozed on and off until my phone vibrated underneath my pillow, and I trudged off to the bathroom to shower. In the shower, my contact came out and I lost it, I cut my ankle shaving, and I got lots of shampoo on said cut. Not to mention, I had apparently rolled onto my face during the night. Again. I had to stop doing that because I got braces in January and I would have sores every morning from burying my face in my pillow. I guess I just like to be cozy. But my mouth was aching more so than usual today.
Back in the room, I took Ibuprofen for my mouth, and proceeded to put new pieces of wax on the teeth that jutted out enough to rip through my lips. I quickly started up my laptop and put my iTunes on shuffle while I got ready. The outfit I really wanted to wear was dirty, so I had to wear uncomfortable jeans that needed a belt to be kept up and an itchy T-shirt. This reminded me that I needed to get cash so I could do laundry on the weekend. I put on makeup and brushed my hair, which was exceptionally poofy today. Chapstick on my lips and I was ready to go. I quickly went through my email and checked messages. Two facebook comments from my dad and sister saying happy birthday and my sister bragging on how amazing her present was going to be. Truthfully, hers never really were anything to get overly excited for. She got little knick knacks: things I wouldn’t buy for myself if I saw, but can be cute to look at. Nothing from Mom yet. I closed Internet and grabbed my purse and books for my morning classes.
I fell asleep in the first class, which is not a good idea, and I got yelled at. I ate lunch alone because my usual lunch buddies were either in meetings, rehearsals, sick, or working excruciatingly hard on projects and essays. Back in my room, I got an email from Mom saying happy birthday and she loves me and misses me. I closed the Internet and brushed my teeth and flossed. Again. This was getting tiring, but I couldn’t make myself skip a flossing. Three times a day, like the orthodontist said. I had one more class to go to, and then I was free for the rest of the week. Well, I still had classes, but nothing was due any time soon, so it was basically just show up and talk about what we’ve learned.
As I was walking back to my dorm from my last class, I saw two big vans parked right in front of the building. They were plain black, so I had no idea what they were for, though I was reminded of TAPS a little bit. I smiled at the thought of our dorm being infested with ghosts, and proceeded up the stairs. I got into my room and slumped into my chair. No emails. And no room mate. That was odd. Ashley must be hanging out with a bunch of buddies in the lounge or something. I got up and propped the door open with a brick before heading to the restroom.
On my way back, I stopped in front of my door. Hadn’t I just propped it open? Maybe Ashley had come back. But I hadn’t been gone that long. Slowly, I twisted the handle and pushed the door open.
What I saw made me freeze with wide eyes. My sister jumped on me and squealed a happy birthday.
“What on Earth are you doing here?” I asked.
“I’m giving you your birthday present,” she said.
“You could have just mailed it to me,” I said. She shook her head.
“Nope,” she said. “I have to see your face when you see it.” I sighed.
“Fine,” I said. “Where is it?”
“In the lounge.”
“In the lounge?” I said. “Why in the lounge?” But she just grabbed my hand and led me down the hall to the lounge.
“Happy Birthday!” nearly all of the girls on my floor (and some guys from third floor) shouted as we turned the corner. I smiled wide.
“Oh my gosh, you guys!” I said, coming in closer to see that they were crowded around a very large birthday cake. I laughed when I saw that it had photos of me and Damian McGinty on it—edible, of course—and nineteen candles shaped like a heart between the two photos. “You know me too well,” I said. I turned to my sister. “This is a good present.”
“This isn’t my present,” she said. “It’s theirs. I just helped scheme.” I laughed.
“Yeah, you’re good at that,” I said. “Then what is your present?”
“Candles first!” I heard someone say from the back of the room. People nodded in agreement. I leaned in to blow out the candles but my sister pulled me back.
“Someone has to sing first,” she said. I blushed, not really wanting all these people to sing to me. I was watching everyone nervously, waiting for them to start. But none of them were singing, and I thought they might have just been waiting for the elevator to pass, because I heard it ding behind me. After a few seconds though, they were still looking behind me with smiles on their faces. I turned to follow their gazes.
And stopped breathing.
There stood five men. In the very middle stood none other than Damian McGinty, the love of my life (though he didn’t know that), and he was wearing a very nice tuxedo casually (jacket unbuttoned, shirt untucked, tie untied) with a pair of Converse. I smiled at that. On his left were Keith and Ryan, and on his right, Paul and George. They all wore tuxes as well, though they were very tidy and wore dress shoes.
My sister slid a chair behind me and pushed me down in it as the guys hummed a starting note. They got a lovely view of my braces because I was smiling so big. I don’t think I’d smiled that big since getting them because it hurt. But I didn’t notice the pain right now. They began singing. Well… Damian began singing. The others were Ooohing underneath his melody.
“Happy birthday to you.”
It was slow and had many moves in the harmony. But I had my eyes glued on Damian’s. He was walking closer to me slowly.
“Happy birthday to you.”
He held out his hand to me. I blushed deep red and took it, standing in front of him.
“Happy birthday, dear—“ ooooh jazz chord. I smiled wider—“sweet, lovely, infectious, exciting, ohh dear Bekah.”
I heard girls behind me giggle and a guy wolf whistled. I ducked my head down in a laugh, then brought my eyes back up to Damian’s smiling face.
“Happy birthday…” He put my hand on his shoulder and took my other one, putting his hand on my waist. I was about ready to hyperventilate. “…to you…” I saw someone hit play on a boom box on the floor. I recognized Michael Bublé’s “Hold On” begin playing as Damian took the first step. [Play Hold On while you read. It helps with imagery.]
I think my breath caught in my chest. The dance was very simple. Basically just swaying in a circle to the beat, taking small steps around the room. Even so, I was glad that we learned how to dance in high school Performance Theater. Damian’s college must have been paying off immensely well. He wasn’t even looking at his feet and he had perfect posture. However, that put his face very far above my head. So I took to resting my forehead on his collar bone and smelling him. I chuckled when I recognized the scent. He wore Axe. I’d always loved the smell of Axe when all the girls in my class loathed it. On the second chorus, he started singing along with Michael. [Wait for the second chorus, then read at a slightly fast pace, keeping Damian’s dialogue in sync with the song.]
“So hold on to me tight.” This song suited his voice perfectly. Even though he was singing only loud enough for me to hear, I heard it very clearly. I moved my hand from his shoulder around to play with the hair on the base of his neck. I was so glad he didn’t spike it today. “Hold on. I promise it’ll be all right.” I felt him lean his head down to rest his cheek against my head. “‘Cause it’s you and me together. And, baby, all we’ve got is time. So hold on to me. Hold on to me tonight.”
As the music swelled into the bridge, he grabbed my hand tighter and spun me around. A warning would have helped, but I liked his impulsiveness, even if it did make me trip over my own feet and lose all balance. If it was with anyone else I would have fallen on my behind, but he kept a tight grip on my hand and used the momentum to bring me right back into his arms. I laughed joyfully and looked up into his smiling face. He’d stopped singing, and was chuckling at me.
“Close one,” I said. I took the time to glance across the room. Everyone was dancing with someone. It was all silly, with over exaggerated gestures and goofy grins. The most entertaining was that my sister was dancing with Keith. Their dancing was not goofy in the slightest.
When the bridge transitioned into the chorus in an anthem-like key change, Damian said my name. [If you must, wait until the key change, it’s pretty neat to picture it.]
“Bekah. Jump.”
Confused, I obeyed, and squealed when he brought his arm under my legs and spun me around in his arms. I kept my arms around his neck. I did not do well with being off the ground (for instance, roller coasters kill me), but this thrill was one I’d be willing to repeat. Our eyes locked and we both smiled widely. Sadly, we couldn’t go more than half the chorus because I could tell he was getting dizzy and so was I. He set me down and we spun around like drunks, laughing at each other, until the song ended. We stood there holding each other’s arms for balance still. It was only then that I noticed everyone staring at us and applauding. I blushed again.
“Oh, my goodness, that was awesome,” I said to Damian.
“It really was fun,” he said. “I’m Damian, by the way.” He extended his hand in a proper salutation. I laughed and took it, shaking vigorously.
“Bekah. It’s the greatest pleasure.”
“Pleasure’s all mine,” he said. My sister came up and stood in front of Damian, making us drop hands.
“Candles!” I quickly blew out the candles and let everyone else dig into the cake. If I ate any, I’d have to brush my teeth again. My sister walked over with a slice of cake.
“I so told you that my present was the best,” she said. I stared at her.
“YOU did this?” I asked in awe. I looked at Damian. “SHE did this?” He nodded, smiling. I looked back at her. “But you hate Celtic Thunder,” I hissed quietly to her. She smirked.
“It ain’t my birthday, is it?” she said. “A friend at work travels between here and Dublin and he knew Sharon Browne. I got him to pull some strings and get the guys to come down for your birthday. As soon as Sharon got in contact with me, I informed her of your obsession with Damian and she got Phil Coulter to arrange that version of Happy Birthday. I don’t know whose idea it was to play Michael Bublé, but I liked it.” She glanced at Keith, who was smiling at her. I smirked, prepared to tease her later. She’d always had a thing for blonde guys.
“That was actually me.” My sister and I turned to look at Damian. “Sharon told us everything she’d heard from your sister and even looked at your facebook once.” He laughed. “I noticed you liked Michael Bublé, so I… kinda… borrowed your CD.” I laughed.
“I’m not complaining,” I said, feeling my face blush again. “It was nice. That’s actually my favorite song of his.” He quirked his head a little.
“Mine too,” he said. I laughed.
“You’ve got good taste,” I said. He laughed. I loved his laugh. “You should do a cover of it.”
“Hmm,” he said. “I never thought of it. It’s probably too new to cover yet. Maybe in the future.” He winked. My heart sped up tremendously.
We spent the rest of the party talking about random nonsense. It was amazing. This was officially the best birthday present ever.
“To Coffee D!” someone shouted. There was excited chatter as everyone filed out of the room down the stairs. Damian and I followed last, still talking. Everyone squeezed into the vans that I now realized had brought the guys. I wanted to walk, so they shut the door and Damian followed me.
“So what’s Coffee D?” he said.
“I don’t know the technical term for it,” I said. “It’s almost like a café, but I just get smoothies. Piña colada or strawberry banana. Depends on what I’m in the mood for.” He looked confused.
“Piña colada?”
“There’s no alcohol,” I said, laughing. “It’s just coconut and pineapple.” He chuckled. “Turn right here.” As we were walking in, everyone else was filing out of the building.
“We’re taking it back to the lounge,” Ashley said. “See you guys later!” She gave me a goofy grin. Only her close friends would know that that grin meant that she was having perverted thoughts. I blushed, but rolled my eyes at her as she rode off with the others. Damian held the door open for me and followed me in. I ordered a small strawberry banana smoothie with whipped cream. He ordered the same. He wouldn’t let me pay, insisting that it was my birthday, but it was only two dollars. I could let that slip. We decided to sit in the café to at least start our smoothies.
We kept chatting about random things. He could have been talking gibberish and I would have paid attention. His accent was overwhelming.
“So why did you wait to get braces?” he asked, pausing to actually drink some of his smoothie. I shrugged.
“Waiting until we had enough money, I suppose,” I said. “Plus, my wisdom teeth were coming in and I didn’t have room for them. Braces just went right a long with that, I guess. Also have to get it in before my mom’s insurance doesn’t include me anymore.” I sighed. “I need to get a job.”
“What do you want to do?” he asked.
“For a job? I dunno… be a singer/songwriter,” I said smiling.
“I didn’t know you sing,” he said. I nodded.
“I can sing anything from tenor to high soprano.” His eyes got wide.
“Wow.” I laughed.
“Yeah. I’m stronger in my chest voice though,” I said. “And clearer in my head voice.” He chuckled. “I play piano, guitar, flute, clarinet, and the Irish tin whistle.”
“I’m only learning guitar still,” he said.
“Yeah, but you’ve written ‘Faith’,” I pointed out. He nodded.
“Yeah, but I had help, and it is nowhere near being finished,” he said. I got an idea.
“Would you like some input?” I asked. “Opinion from new ears?” He paused.
“I don’t have my guitar.”
“You can use Soña,” I said.
“Soña?” he asked.
“My acoustic,” I said. “It’s short for Soñador, which is Spanish for Dreamer. It’s the best guitar I’ve ever had, so I felt like I should name it. I got the name from a movie.” I shrugged. He smiled.
“That’s perfectly understandable,” he said. “If you’d let me, I’ll play ‘Faith’ for you.” He stood. “Ready to go?”
He held the door open for me again. He was a perfect gentleman.
When we got back to the dorm, it was open dorms, so he was allowed into my room if I kept the door open. I wasn’t complaining. Damian McGinty was in my room! I pulled my guitar case out of the closet and opened it on my bed. I quickly wiped off the dust. I hadn’t played Soña in months. I lifted her out of the case and sat on the keyboard stool to tune her. Damian sat in my desk chair.
“Just be careful if you lean back,” I warned. “It leans and stops like a rocking chair, but you feel like you’re falling for a moment before it stops.” I laughed at him as he tested this out. He looked like a little kid, playing with the chair. I gave a final strum on a G chord to make sure she was in tune.
“Your guitar looks awesome,” he said. I laughed.
“Yeah, she’s purple,” I said. “I like the strap. Lightning.” I watched him settle the acoustic on his knee and test out the sound. I noticed he was playing it softly, and I saw that he didn’t have long nails like I did. I went to my guitar case, but I didn’t have any picks in there. I frowned. “Hmm.”
“What are you looking for?” he asked.
“Hold on,” I said, rummaging through drawers and I even checked my pants pockets. It’s been known to happen. Finally, I found a few picks in my jewelry box, amongst all my earrings. “Here.”
“Oh,” he said, taking the pick. “Thanks. Yeah, I don’t really have the hands of a guitar player.” He laughed.
“Sure you do,” I said. “Who says you need long nails? Keith doesn’t have long nails.”
“Yeah, but Keith manages to still get the thing to make music,” he said, strumming louder with the pick. “I have to really work at it. Okay here we go.” I settled in my seat to hear the song. I don’t know what he was so worried about. He played guitar beautifully. Keith was a good teacher.
I listened intently as he sang his song. He pause a few times, when he missed a chord, and towards the end, he dropped the pick into the guitar.
“Ahh, I’m banjaxed,” he said, not knowing what to do to retrieve the pick. I laughed and took the guitar. I turned it upside down, over my head and shook it. We could hear the pick clanking around inside. When it fell out, it landed on the strings, and didn’t fall through.
“Oh, jeez,” I said, carefully tilting the guitar until the pick slid to the floor. He picked up the pick, and I handed him the guitar back.
“I forget where I was,” he said, laughing.
“Just start over,” I suggested.
“Nah, I think I remember,” he said, and picked up a little before he had been interrupted. I have to say, the song is genius. When he was done, he just kept quietly strumming the chord progression of the song while we talked.
“That is beautiful,” I said. “It really is. There’s not much you need to work on. Just… keeping a firm hold on your pick.” He chuckled.
“Yeah, I’m a butterfingers,” he said.
“There were moments where I felt that bagpipes would actually be gorgeous in the background,” I said. “And strings would be beautiful to give it a full sound. And flute of course, to compliment the bagpipes.” He smiled.
“I was actually contemplating that myself,” he said. “I haven’t suggested it to Phil and Sharon yet.”
“You should,” I said. “I would love to have that on my iPod. I think that’s my new favorite song. I got goosebumps listening to you. Look.” I held out my arm and he ran his fingers down it. That made me get even more goosebumps. He noticed.
“Sorry,” he said, blushing.
“No,” I said quietly, blushing even darker than him. “It’s okay.” I stood, needing to do something to distract myself. He handed me Soña, so I put her away and back in the closet. When I turned around, he was standing and holding out my pick. There was no way to take it without touching. I swallowed hard, and took it from him. His hands were so soft and warm, I was surprised. So surprised, that I kept his hand in mine a moment, rubbing his fingers between mine.
“Your hands are soft,” he noted. I giggled.
“I was just thinking the same about you,” I said, dropping the pick on my desk and putting both of my hands in his. “Yours are really warm, too.” He chuckled. I very stupidly looked up into his eyes.
This was stupid, because I couldn’t look away. I wouldn’t have believed that our personalities would click like they did. It was overwhelming how well we got on. I wanted him to stay. I don’t know how long we stood there staring at each other, or how many people walked by and gave us weird looks.
Eventually, Ashley walked in.
“Woops! Sorry!” She grabbed her bag and left again. But we broke eye contact. After she left, he dropped my hands and cleared his throat.
“When do you leave?” I asked. He looked at the clock on my laptop screen.
“Half hour or so,” he said. “We have to record in Dublin tomorrow, so we’re catching an earlier flight.” I nodded.
“Recording the Christmas album?” I said. He nodded.
“Yeah.”
I walked over to the bed and plopped down, lowering my head to almost between my knees, taking a deep breath and closing my eyes. I flinched slightly when I felt his hand on my back. I looked up at him, biting my tongue to try not to cry.
“I’ll never see you again,” I said. He pulled me close and stroked my hair as I started to cry.
“That’s not true,” he said. “Next time we’re around, I’ll look you up.” I gave a small laugh. “Or I could get you a backstage pass to a concert.” I froze.
“Would you do that? For me?” I asked, sitting up straight and looking him in the eye.
“Yeah,” he said with a smirk. “For a small fee.” My shoulders fell.
“What fee?” I didn’t have enough money to get good seats anyways. He brought his face close to mine, and looked me dead in the eye.
“Kiss me,” he whispered.
I stopped breathing. Again.
“Is that all?” I said, pretending that is was nothing.
“That’s all.”
“I kiss you, then you get me a backstage pass?”
“That sounds about right.”
“What’s the catch?” He chuckled.
“Just the fact that I might up the price to two kisses.” I smiled. “Or three kisses. Or fo—“
I cut him off with a kiss, letting my lips linger on his. When I pulled back, my breathing was uneven. I felt him slip something into my hand.
“Your backstage pass,” he said. I looked down at it. It was indeed a backstage pass for the Storm tour. It also came with tickets for front row seats at the concert closest to my school. And it was a Friday night. I looked up at him, speechless. “Happy birthday.”
“I love you,” I whispered. I hoped he could tell the intensity behind those words. I really meant it. I loved this boy with all my heart.
“I think I’m beginning to love you too,” he said. My heart was flying around the room up by the ceiling. “Not bad for the first day, huh?” I laughed.
“I’ll say,” I said. “You’ll write?” He nodded. “Call?”
“If you give me your number, yeah,” he said laughing.
“More demands,” I said with a smile. “And email?”
“Yes,” he said. “And even pictures if you want.” I heard something beep and looked at his hip. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and read the text he’d received. “I’ve got five minutes.” I quickly grabbed a pen and the pad of paper from my desk. I scribbled down my cell phone number, my email, and both my home and school address, and handed it to him. He folded it and put it in his pocket, then proceeded to write down his info on the pad of paper.
“I don’t want you to leave,” I admitted. “I feel like we’ve known each other for years.”
“Me too,” he said. “On both comments.” I smiled.
“I miss you already.” He leaned his forehead against mine and put a hand on my neck.
“I know,” he said. “I miss you too. I swear I’ll keep in touch. I have unlimited texting, so—“
“Me too,” I said smiling.
“Cool,” he said. “We’ve just found our main form of communication.” I laughed.
“You silly boy,” I said, closing my eyes.
“I’m not a boy,” he said defensively. “I’m a man.” I laughed.
“Would that make you my manfriend?” I asked. He snickered.
“If you want to call me that, I can’t stop you,” he said.
“I prefer sweetie anyways,” I said.
“I’m candy?” he asked.
“No, I meant—“
I couldn’t finish because he kissed me. Oh it was so wonderful. I’d never kissed anyone like this and actually wanted to keep kissing them. He was gentle, yet forceful in a way. But when he turned a little, he accidentally smushed my lip against my braces and I winced in pain and backed away impulsively.
“Ah!”
“Sorry!”
“No, it’s okay,” I said, gently massaging my lip.
“Damo! Time to go!” It was Paul.
“Be right there!” Damian called back. He brushed my bangs out of my eyes. “One last kiss? I’ll be gentle and try not to rip your lip open this time.” I chuckled and brought my own lips up to his. He was gentler this time, and I noticed his smell this time. Underneath the scent of Axe, I could smell him. I got the impression that he would taste tangy, but I did not have the idiocy to lick him. That would be weird.
“Damian! Don’t make me come and get you!”
We reluctantly pulled apart.
“I’ll walk you down to the vans,” I said. We walked down the stairs hand in hand and out to the steps. The guys got into the vans, and let us say goodbye.
Damian pulled me into a tight hug.
“I miss you,” I said, clutching his sweater in my hands.
“It’s not like we’ll never see each other again,” he said.
“I know.” I stepped back and tried to flatten out the wrinkles I’d put in his sweater. He chuckled and grabbed my hands.
“It’s okay.” I looked into his eyes. “I don’t mind.” Paul honked the horn of the van twice, signaling that it was time to go.
“Bye,” I whispered.
“Bye,” he said and gave me a swift kiss before running his fingers through my hair and getting into the van. I watched them drive off until they were out of sight. I turned around and saw my sister watching the vans leave too.
“Best birthday present ever,” I said and hugged her close. I love my big sister.