Bed of Roses

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The only sound y/n could hear was the clicking of her boots in the cement. The streets were oddly quiet for a Saturday night, but you were not scared. You were still trying to figure London out, and incessant walking around whenever you were nervous would help. Because you have been nervous for most of the time since you moved here, even though now you were mostly disappointed.

You had just left a date with a guy you met at orientation. He was plain: freckly skin, brown hair, medium height. You would usually say that sorry, but your grandma asked you to go to a book club meeting in that same night and yeah, definitely let's try to go out some other day, but your grandma was an ocean away, just like the rest of your family and everyone you knew. So you accepted his offer and went on a date with the guy.

Only to regret it immediately. He was trying to impress you with his money, talking about his family's private chateau in France, where he just spent the summer, and tales of his fancy private school days. You said you had to go to the restroom, but actually made your way to the kitchen and begged them to show you their back door.

And after coming out of the fancy neighbourhood the restaurant was in, you were walking through streets with tall business buildings that were completely dark and empty. You came from New York, one of the most violent cities in the world in 1971, so nothing London could offer would scare you.

You could, of course, go into the underground and figure out a way to your flat, or even get in a cab. But you liked the freedom of walking around aimlessly, trying to relieve your frustration with your terrible date, trying not to regret your recent life choices.

But the scenario soon changed. The streets were now filled with young people, and your outfit was now disappearing more easily in the crowd. Your new yorker style wasn't really fitting with the preppy restaurant you were in, but that didn't bother you as much. You didn't belong to places like that. You knew that about yourself.

Now the streets are crowded with pubs, and music floats through the air, just like the cigarette smoke and the alcohol in the breath of the people around you. Someone tried to get your attention, but you didn't really bother to look. You had already given up on finding someone you liked this evening.

And then, one of the songs in the air caught your attention. Even through the heavy pub door, you liked the way the music hummed through you. It made you feel warm in the cold September weather. You opened the door and found a crowded pub, the sound filling the place even more. You liked it.

You went to the bar and ordered a beer, feeling sort of embarrassed; brits were very fond of their beer, and you were still getting used to it's taste. You used to drink back home, but usually cocktails or wine. But you crossed the ocean to find out more about yourself, and you were still trying to figure out if you actually enjoyed beer.

With your pint glass in hands, you started moving closer to the band, and paying more attention to the lyrics. They had just started performing another song.

Yesterday my life was in ruin

Now today I know what I'm doing

Gotta feeling I should be doing all right

Doing all right

But the band didn't really looked alright. The singer was tense, just like the guitarist and the drummer. It could be their first show, but they sounded more experienced than that.

Where will I be this time tomorrow

Jump in joy or sinking in sorrow

Anyway I should be doing all right

Doing all right

You realised the drummer and the guitarist were exchanging looks, and the vocalist was visibly doing his best not to look at them. Then you realised the drummer and the guitarist were angry at the vocalist.

Should be waiting for the sun

Looking round to find the words to say

Should be waiting for the skies to clear

There a time in all the world

Should be waiting for the sun

And anyway I've got hide away

You were still curious at the band dynamic, but then you started to really look at the band members. The vocalist had a plain face and medium length hair, and he didn't impress you at all. The guitarist was tall, and had long, luscious black curls. He looked very focused on his solo. And then he and the drummer started singing the harmony and you payed attention to the drummer.

He looked a bit paradoxical at first; his long, golden hair and his big blue eyes made him look angelical, but his aggressive posture towards the frontman, his strong arms and his frown while hitting the drums made you feel like he was not so innocent. He looked like the kind of guy who could make bad jokes and be a little late to your date, but you wouldn't mind because he would make it worth it later. Far from boring.

Ah ah ah ah

Yesterday my life was in ruin

Now today God knows what I'm doing

Anyway I should be doing all right

Doing all right

You've decided you'd try to talk to him after the show when he looked straight into your eyes, and his frown softened a bit. You raised your glass to your mouth and took a sip to hide the fact that you were blushing. "Dear God, he just looked at you. Relax. You're looking like an insecure schoolgirl", you thought to yourself.

Doing all right

He was still looking at you when you lowered your pint and adjusted your posture to look more confident. Appreciating the effort you put in for your failed date, you hoped your low cut dress was making you look interesting. Maybe it was the alcohol kicking in, but you felt good about having his look on you for so long - even though it was only a few seconds, that's still a lot of staring. So you raised your glass a bit in his direction, and smiled slightly at him. He gave you a quick smirk before looking back at the vocalist and frowning again. His posture tensed up. He was angry again.

That was their last song. They thanked the audience - apparently the band was called Smile, with Tim on the vocals and bass, Brian on the guitar and Roger on the drums. Roger. You liked the sound of his name. You went to order another beer as the band was setting their equipment, but they were taking too long. You were anxious, and you felt silly. First you go to a bad date trying to feel less lonely, and now you're about to hit on a drummer - who probably has a bunch of groupies already waiting for him - for the same reason. You went to take another sip of your drink and realized it was empty.

You weren't going to drink a third beer on an empty stomach, so you decided to go outside for a smoke. The cold weather would calm you down. And the band would eventually have to leave the pub. So you went in the direction of the front door when someone cursed loudly at the stage. It was the vocalist, Tim. He was arguing with the rest of the band, and then grabbed his coat and his bass - already in its case - and left. He almost bumped into you, and the drummer noticed that. He barely looked at you, an apologizing look in his eyes, and started to walk fast in your direction, his apologizing look losing its place to an angrier one. Still, he was walking in your direction, and that was your chance.

"I really liked your music and-" you were interrupted by his shoulder bumping into yours while he walked out of the pub, not even looking back and apologizing. You looked back at the guitarist, but he was already back at packing the rest of the instruments. You understood that he wasn't going to wait for the drummer. For Roger.

You went outside, and looked around briefly to see if you could talk to him outside. Maybe he would apologize for bumping into you. Maybe you could actually talk to him. But he was nowhere to be seen.

You lit up your cigarette and started to smoke it, breathing it in, trying to calm yourself down. You felt pathetic. You were completely mesmerized by a guy who bumped into you and ignored you. He was gone.