The taxi pulled up to my new home sweet home - Jackson Street Apartments. It was a simple, four story building in the Capitol Hill neighborhood. It had green window shades on the bottom and an old rug shop on the first floor. Nothing fancy, but I'm not fancy, so it would do fine.
I paid the driver, who wished me well on my new adventure in Seattle, (why was everyone here so nosy?) collected my bags, and crossed the street to the apartment complex. I was told that my room was at the end of the long hallway on the 3rd floor. As the elevator came to a stop on my floor, I bent down to get a good grip on my bags. When I stood back up to walk out, I suddenly crashed into someone. "I'm sorry!" I blurted out quietly. "Oh no, it's okay! My fault." I looked up into the blue eyes of a guy with light brown hair. He smiled at me nonchalantly. I couldn't help but grin back. The elevator door slid shut, breaking our eye contact. I continued down the hall and found my room, #30. I paused and took a deep breath before turning the key and stepping inside. Well, I was really here. It was bigger than the owner had described over the phone, which was a nice surprise. The window along the back wall looked out over what I thought to be Lake Washington- another nice surprise.
After I had finished un packing, I brushed my teeth and washed my face. That felt good. It had been a long day. I slipped on my favorite blue and yellow plaid over my white shirt. Much better.
My hair was dirty blonde and went down my back about halfway. I'd always had full, wavy hair but I never ever paid for a perm - which was exactly the opposite of what everyone else seemed to have done the past few years. I reached in my makeup bag and pulled out mascara. I applied just a few coats; my green eyes looked a little less tired this way.
Powder, some blush, and cherry flavored Chapstick. That was good enough for now. I grabbed my purse and key, and headed out the door. As I entered the elevator, I thought of the boy I'd bumped into earlier. He was kinda cute.
I probably should've talked to him more, gotten his name. It would soon become painfully obvious that I had no friends here.
When I stepped outside the apartment, the air was so crisp and cool. I loved it.
I pulled a cigarette out of my pocket and lit it. Where to go now? It occurred to me then that I hadn't really eaten all day. My stomach growled a little.
I ended up at a little hole in the wall place called Linda's Tavern. It was within walking distance from my apartment, which was good because I already liked it a lot. And I didn't have a car. About halfway through my veggie burger, it started to rain outside. It was a steady downpour which I enjoyed watching from my little window booth.
Just then the doors swung open and 2 guys stepped inside. They each removed dark colored rain coats and hung them on the coat rack against the wall. When they turned around, I was shocked to recognize one of them. The brown hair, the guy from the elevator!
He mumbled to his friend, "I guess we'll just have to stand at the bar."
The friend nodded. "They're packed."
A random burst of courage came over me and I said "I'm about to leave, you guys can have this booth."
They froze and looked back at me. The one I knew must remember me, too. His eyes lit up. "You're from the elevator?" It was more a statement than a question, but I could tell he wasn't 100% sure.
"Yes," I confirmed with a small laugh. "Sorry again about bumping into you," I added.
He laughed, too. "Like I said it was more my fault! So I'm sorry too."
The other guy looked totally confused, just standing there.
I changed the subject. "Please, sit down," I said, as I rose from the booth.
The elevator guy put his hands out to stop me. "No, no. How about we just join you?"
I hesitated for just a second, then decided, what the heck. "Okay," I complied, sitting back down.
The two guys slid in to the other side of the booth, so I was across from them both. The brown haired guy offered his hand over the table. "Thanks for letting us sit here. I'm Jeff, by the way."
I smiled and shook his hand. "Okay nice to meet you, my name's Heather."
"Heather," he repeated thoughtfully, as if it were a new, strange word he'd never heard before.
आप पढ़ रहे हैं
The Golden Boys
फैनफिक्शनWhen a mid western girl moves to Seattle, Washington looking for a fresh start, she has no idea she's placed herself at the forefront of a new movement called grunge. The year is 1989.
