We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl (MIW one-shots)

To Ugly Duckling Girls Like Me (Ricky)

I'm not sure how I ended up sitting across from Ricky Horror as he played guitar for me. It seemed so odd when someone would look at us, like we had nothing in common and really we didn't. Sure we both loved music, but it was different kinds, I didn't like horror movies, I had no piercings or tattoos, I hadn't even heard of his band until he played one of their songs for me on the car stereo and I couldn't understand why anyone would like it.

And yet here I sat, in my flat wearing a long dark green cotton skirt, with my cardigan wrapped warmly around me. My mousy brown hair was pulled back in a bun, and my purple eyeglasses sat on the bridge of my nose. Ricky stood out in my flat greatly, his black skinny jeans and a shirt that said Slipknot on it; his black beanie pierced lip and tattoos with his guitar in his lap. Piles and piles of books were stacked up around him which is mostly what my home housed.

You see I work as a librarian most days, and when I'm not doing that I work for a publishing company as an editor. When school is in session, I offer tutoring services in English and writing courses. I love my books more than anything; there have been so many times I forget to eat or sleep because I am so wrapped up in a story that I just can't bare to put it down.

I never really saw myself with anyone before, I learned at a young age that most men just looked past me unless they had one of those odd fetishes for girls in glasses or they got the idea that the quite ones were kinky. Although I'm not quite sure if I am or not, I've never gotten that far before. After getting my Masters in English, I was content with the idea of getting a few cats and just enjoying my nights with my books.

Then a few weeks ago I ran into Ricky at Starbucks.

I smiled at the barista behind the counter as she took my money. I looked back down at my book, opening it to the page I had left it on. Elizabeth had just met the stunning and slightly aloof Mr. Darcy. I turned and started to make my way to the far wall where I could wait until my drink was up. I could sort of see over the top of my book, but I was caught up in the language that I didn't see the person in front of me until I ran into a chest.

"Oh, sorry!" I looked up startled to see a pair of pale blue eyes. "Darcy?"

"Excuse me?"

I flush as I shake my head, "Sorry. I didn't mean to run into you." I trembled slightly, I was never good at talking to people, more so attractive ones. I went to move when I realized that the man's hands were still on my waist. I shyly looked back up into confused blue eyes.

"Ricky man, might want to let the girl go." A laughing voice called out.

I watched as Blue Eyes-er-Ricky flush lightly as his hands dropped. I smiled slightly as I stepped to the side and headed over to the wall opening my book once more.

"That book looks well read."

"Oh, it's my favorite!" I gushed before looking up to see the guy that I had ran in too. He was chewing on his lip ring as he leaned against the wall next to me.

"Why is that?"

I place my ribbon between the pages and look thoughtful. "Elizabeth isn't fooled. She doesn't bend to the social structure of what is required of her. She is supposed to find a husband and marry as it required of all women of the period. However, she doesn't just fall for any person; she is picky. She knows what she wants, which is a man that will challenge her, tease her, and not try to force her to be the silent childbearing wife that most men of the age wanted. And even when Darcy confesses his love for her, she still doesn't bend to will, not because she doesn't love him, she clearly does. But he hurt her sister by forcing Mr. Bingly and Jane apart, and that to her is unforgivable; regardless of the fact that marriage to him would mean she would be secured for life." I bite my bottom lip realizing that I went off on a tirade. I glance back up to see the boy smiling at me.

"You really love that book." He chuckles softly.

"Do you read?"

"Not really. I paint, draw, and play music."

I nodded my head, "What kind of music?"

"Uh, metal."

"Oh." I felt my nose scrunch up a bit causing him to laugh.

"Not a fan?"

I shake my head, and he just smiles more. "Maybe we can get together and help expand each other music and book tastes." He sounded a bit uncertain of what he was asking, and it caused me to tilt my head to the side slightly. I think he was asking me out, but I've never been asked out before, I've read about it but never actually been on the end of the question. So I nodded my head as he reached over and grabbed my phone from my pocket and plugged in his number before using my phone to call his.

"Do I get a name?"

"Janis."

"Janis?"

"My father went to Woodstock and was a huge fan of Joplin." I shrugged my shoulders as he chewed on his lip ring again and smiled a bit. "That's kind of cool. I'm Ricky."

"Pleasure." I held out my hand to him as he gently took it and shook it rather awkwardly.

"You're kind of strange and different. I like that." He glanced over to a group of guys dressed like him and nodded before he looked back at me, "I'll let you get back to your Elizabeth and Darcy. And they called your name by the way." He smiled and turned to head back to his friends. 

I shake my head to focus on the now as Ricky still softly played. "Do you want to learn?" He questioned softly, and I smiled. 

"I tried when I was younger; I can't play. My hands are too small." 

Ricky arched an eyebrow before sitting the guitar to the side and grabbing my hand to hold it for a moment, "Yeah, they are small. But then again you are quite tiny, so I suppose that makes sense. But still come here." He tugged on my hand until I was sitting between his legs. 

I felt the heat creep up my neck as he grabbed his guitar and placed it on my lap. He put my hands where they were supposed to go, laughing when my left hand didn't reach around the neck of the guitar to touch the cords. 

"Now I see what you mean." His hand took the place of mine as his chin rested on my shoulder. "You sing for me then." 

"What song?"

"That one you were singing the other day, I went home and looked it up and learned how to play it." 

I smiled at him playing one of the songs I liked. I leaned back against his chest as I started to sing softly. 

 "I learned the truth at seventeen
That love was meant for beauty queens
And high school girls with clear skinned smiles
Who married young and then retired
The valentines I never knew
The Friday night charades of youth
Were spent on one more beautiful
At seventeen I learned the truth
And those of us with ravaged faces
Lacking in the social graces
Desperately remained at home
Inventing lovers on the phone"