Out of Tune

2

There was something fascinating about people-watching. You could almost paint an entire story of their lives just by paying attention to the delicate details of their actions, their expressions, their aura, and the way they carry themselves. I found it fascinating how you could find out more than you bargain for just by remaining silent and paying close attention. I always played a little people-watching game to myself and tried to guess what their current frustrations were. I especially participate in these games when locals pass around the area or during school whenever I'm bored. In fact, this way of living became rooted to my core and now, I would always ponder what other stranger's stories are. I became knowledgeable of things my friends preferred were kept secrets. Examples being that Travis slept with my ex-girlfriend, Amity Fletcher last month (and he still hadn't muster the courage to confess to me). Or Denis having a crush on Paige Quinn, a quiet girl in our Chem class.

Exhaling a stream of smoke, my head tilted up and my thoughts drifted to her.  The girl whom I saved before the gig. I wondered what her life story was. My thoughts flashed back to the glossy green eyes of surprise that was meshed with strains of sadness. Alhough our eye contact was not long, it was hard not to mistake those pings of sadness held in her eyes.

A small part of me pondered if she wanted to pass on. Her eyes were closed. She had seemed so peaceful.

I looked down at my outfit: an oversized nude hoodie, a black bomber jacket, and dark ripped jeans. I was overanalyzing everything again. As always. I took another inhale of my cigarette.

"Are you the bus stop?" A loud giggle.

"Where's the bus stop?!"

"HEY!" I looked up. Across the street, was a drunken girl trailing after locals leaving Floors & Mayhem, a local bar many Williamsburg residents go to. Her sentences were loud, unstable, and slurred.. and her footsteps mirrored it. The drunken girl continued to trail after a couple. "Where's the bus stop?!"

She turned around and I immediately recognized her. It was the girl who I saved either. Expect she was pissed drunk.

I throw my cigarette to the ground and stepped on it. Without a thought, I jogged across the street. Standing a couple of yards away from her, I deterred myself.

Stop, Judas.

I don't know her. She's a stranger.

I should get back to the bar while my friends lie.

I watched as she hiccuped and slumped to the ground. "TAKE ME TO THE BUS STOP PLEASE!" She yelled to a street light pole. She smiled and giggled, "you're kinda cute," and started stroking the pole like a cat lady who carcasses her fifty cats.

I frowned.

What the fuck?

I shoke my head. Maybe I'm just seeing things. I blinked a couple times. Nope, she's still there, drooling over a pole.

A fucking pole.

I looked around and noticed others were too busy to notice. Yet.

I should just leave before someone thinks I know her.

And I should've.

I told myself to back off.. but for some reason, my two feet stood rooted to the spot, refusing to turn around. Cursing at myself, I walked up to her before my self conscious could react.  "Hey," I nudged her. "Where's the bus stop? I take you."

Slowly, she looked up. Then she gave me a drunk, wide-mouthed grin and squinted. "h-heyyyy, do I know you?"

"No. But I'll help you get to your destination because I'm a nice person." I half-lied. Technically, it was the truth. Until a few hours prior, I didn't know her.

I offered my hand to help her get up but she swatted it away. "Noooo, mommy says I can't talk to strangers!" she slurred.

I rolled my eyes.

..As if she weren't begging strangers to take her to the bus stop a few minutes ago.

Slowly, she staggered to raise herself up. However, because she was still borderline passed out drunk, she failed to stabilize her weight. Fast to react, I reach my hands out to catch her from her fall. Before I could react my body trips on itself and slams to the ground next to her.

"Fuck," I cursed under my breath. Pain shot up my right arm. I lift up my hand to see an unsightly scratch on the balms of my hand. Great.

"C'mon," I gritted my teeth. I pulled myself and the girl up. All the while, she continues to giggle. Which way is the bus stop?" I asked.

She pointed north. "Thanks, I guess sometimes cute guys are nice after all." She slurs, before turning around and flashing me a close-eyed, breath-taking dimply smile. I froze.

Suddenly, chunky oatmeal-coloured liquid fly towards me and I'm pulled out of my gaze.

I close my eyes just as the chucks hit my face.

Oh. My. Fucking. Shit.

Praying that it's not what I think it is, I slowly wipe my face.

I look down at the foul glob on my hand. My heart dropped.

It's vomit.

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