My One and Only {An Ed Sheeran Fan Fiction}

My One And Only {An Ed Sheeran Fan Fiction}

I dropped my bag into the backseat of my car, and went around to the other side to hop into the front. I turned the key in the ignition and frowned when there was no roar of the engine, no vroom, vroom. Oh, great, I thought, just another thing to add to this day.

"Start, God damned it!" I shout, then realize there's a woman and children outside staring at me. I roll my eyes, and resist the urge to flip them off.

After a few more tries and curse words, I think of what to do.

No, I couldn't call Ali. She doesn't speak to me anymore. I could call a tow truck, but how would I get home from the auto shop then? I ran through different options in my head, but eventually just decided to call a cab and leave my car there for the night and figure it out tomorrow.

I waited impatiently for the taxi to come, and, as I waited, it started to downpour.

"Really?!" I yell, looking to the sky.

By the time the cab pulled up, I was sopping wet.

"Where to?" The driver asks.

"Greenwell Pub," I tell him, leaning against the seat, shivering. The Greenwell was close enough to my flat to walk, and I've become friends with the bartender over the past year, so he often gives me drinks for half price.

When we pulled up, I tossed a crumpled bill to the driver, and got out. I went into the pub, to find it nearly empty.

I sat down at the bar, next to a man in a sweatshirt. He had his hood up, so I couldn't see him. I ignored him. I looked to the bartender, Barry, and smiled for the first time all day.

"Let me guess," he cut me off. "Scotch?"

"You got it," I nod.

He quickly pours it, and I take a large gulp.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the boy beside me peek at me from behind his hood. I smile to myself slightly, and quickly looked away from him. He seemed to be a couple years younger than me, but probably not by much. I was only twenty five, after all, and he had to be in his twenties. I could see just a bit of ginger hair peeking out from his hoodie. I smile again. I thought red hair was adorable.

Before I could stop myself, I said, "Hi."

He turns to me, smiles, and then blushes. "Hey."

I recognized his slightly rounded face, pointed jaw, and long nose. "Do I know you from somewhere?"

"Who knows," He shrugged, and then grinned. The pulled his hood down, and took a sip of his beer.

"So are you from around here?" I asked.

"Nah, I'm from out in Halifax. But I live in a flat not too far from here," He replied. "And yourself?"

"Enfield," I nod, taking a drink.

"Ahh," He said.

"So, why are you here, drinking alone?" I asked.

"Nothing better to do, and no one to do it with," He takes a swig.

"Hmm, I see," I said.

"So what about you? Why are you here alone?" He asks, gesturing to me.

"Well," I begin. "I've had a terrible day, and didn't feel like going home and having a terrible night, so I'm here."

"Why was your day terrible?" He asks. I feel like when other guys ask questions, they're either just asking so you'll ask them, or they just want in your pants. But when this ginger haired boy asks, I feel like he genuinly cares and wants to know.

"Well, first off, I got fired from my job this morning." I said. I was a nurse at St. Joseph's London Memorial Hospital. "Then, I went to see my mom, and she doesn't even remember who I am. Then I went to see my dad, which was just plain stupid, because he disowned me years ago!" I laugh a bit. "And then, I went to get a Caeser Salad from McDonalds, and they put chicken on it. I specifically asked for no chicken. I'm a vegitarian, for Pete's sake! And then, when I went to leave, but then my car won't start. So, I had to call a cab, and I'm waiting twenty freaking minutes IN THE RAIN!" I realized that I was now shouting, and that he was still gladly listening, and I continued, but at a lower volume. "So I'm here."

"Wow," was all he said. "I'm sorry for your bad day." He smiled sweetly.

"Thanks, I guess," Strangely, I was happy that I had a bad day. If I hadn't, I would never be talking to a sweet guy who actually cared.

"I'm Ed, by the way," He said, probably realizing that we hadn't known each other's names the entire time we'd been talking.

"Paige," I grinned.

"So, what do you do?" He asked.

"Well, I was a nurse," I chuckled slightly. "But, now I guess I'm unemployed. And I write a bit, but not much." I shrugged. "And you?"

"Eh, I sing some," he shrugged.

I nodded, then turned to the bartender. "Another scotch please," I grin as he hands me another glass.

"And a whiskey," Ed said, raising his beer bottle slightly.

We continued to talk, and laugh, and I continued to pour my guts out, and Ed continued to listen.

When it was around two in the morning, and the pub was closing, we were both comepletely pissed.

I was giggling like mad, and he had to hold me upright.

"We're closing up, lovebirds," Barry said, wiping the countertops with a rag.

"Uh," I faintly remembered looking up at Ed and hoping he'd ask me to his place.

Luckily, Ed bent down to my level and whispered seductively in my ear, "Your place or mine?"