I didn't want to go; I really didn't. But now here I was, driving alone down the interstate on my way to my grandma's house at 9 o'clock at night. For the past month my parents had insisted we make this two hour drive to her house, assuring me that I would be glad I'd gone once I got older, for her years were numbered. Don't get me wrong, I loved my grandma. What I did not love was giving up every weekend to drive down here to nowhere when I could have been partying at college or at least visiting my friends I had left behind in my hometown the year before.
When I graduated, I decided to go to a college about two hours north of my hometown, so I would have my space but still be able to visit my friends and parents on the weekends. This wasn't exactly working out though, because now every weekend I received a call saying "We're going to head on down to grandma's sweetie, just meet us there tonight. She can't wait to see you!" I'm sure you're thinking, "You're in college! You don't have to listen to your parents anymore," but let me tell you, it is not that easy. I love my parents, and they are paying for every single cent of my college. Therefore, if they thought I needed to spend time with my grandmother, I was going to do it.
But it wasn't even like we really spent time together. My mother and grandma visited and shopped and cooked together, while my cousin and I did whatever we could to entertain ourselves for the whole weekend. Being around my cousin was the only part of the trip I really looked forward to, for she was one of the most amazing people I knew. She lived in the same city, only about a mile from my grandmother, and was a senior in high school.
Sara and I were polar opposites if such a thing ever existed. She was a stereotypical rebel, with shoulder-length hair that was black as night and accented with a bright red strip of bangs. She had gauges in her ears and wore the occasional punk outfit, but was by no means extreme. She was undeniably beautiful, with deep brown eyes and full lips. She had a wide variety of friends, but held very few of them dear, however those that she held close she was loyal to with every breath. I admired her greatly, but I would never tell her that, that just wasn't how our relationship worked. She was extremely skinny and petite, and rarely spoke up around those she wasn't entirely comfortable with.
I, on the other hand, was practically none of these things. I had long, thick blonde hair that nearly reached the middle of my back and dark green eyes. I was an athlete all of my life, an all-state softball player. I was by no means fat, my stomach was tight and flat, but I was thicker than her, with slightly muscled legs and a round ass that got me more than my fair share of looks. I wish I could tell you my style, but I really don't have one. My dress differs greatly from day-to-day, from a sweat suit one day to a slinky dress the next, and anything in between. Maybe that is a style, but I don't know the name for it.
Personality wise, I was a charmer. I was extremely open, and had more friends than I could count. The problem was I had trouble getting really close to people, and I never really had the close friends that I envied Sara so much for. I had a knack for getting my way that she did not, however, and I was always proud of that. So anyways, it was the start of another trip to my grandmother's, and I started to prepare myself for another dull weekend.
I spent about an hour at my grandmother's, visiting and sitting there in awkward silence before I couldn't take it anymore. Their conversation had drifted away from me, and I knew that I was safe to make an exit. "Hey, I'm going to go call Sara, and then we're going to do something, okay? I'll probably be back later," I told them then left the room before they had a chance to respond. Sara told me she was at her boyfriend's house, watching his band practice and that I should just come over there and hang out. I had never met her boyfriend or any of his band mates, but she had told me they were pretty good and it had to be better than where I was, so I went.
When I pulled up at her boyfriend's house, I had already been able to hear the music for a few minutes; it was so loud. But as I got closer, and the meaningless noise turned into a rhythm, I realized they really were good. I pulled my 2008 black mustang up to the curb and go out of the car, dressed in a black v-neck and dark skinny jeans tucked into tall black boots. I'm not sure it was possible for me to look any more plain, but it's too late to worry about that, I thought as I started walking toward the garage where they were playing.
The first thing I noticed was a gorgeous man, who I assumed was the lead singer, enraptured in the music, singing in the sexiest voice I had ever heard. It was deep, but somehow managed to sound smooth and even, creating a stunning effect. As I took in his voice, I studied him. He was tall; I could tell that even from a distance, dressed in snug, denim jeans and an extremely well-fitting plain white t-shirt. The definition of his well-muscled pecks and shoulders was visible through the shirt, as was his trim, washboard stomach.
I was absolutely blown away before I had even made it to his face. However, when I got to his face, my breathing came to an absolute halt. He was beautiful, ruggedly handsome with messy, raven-black hair and a strong, square jaw with just the right amount of stubble around the line. His eyes were closed, so I couldn't see their color, but this also allowed me to study him without having to be subtle. Soon I had reached Sara, and I smiled at her in greeting, still awe-struck by the man in front of us.
