Before this story reach its birthday, I would like to share it as a piece of my post-Thank You.
This is posted as it is: manuscript-thingy. Haha!
Oh yeah, to the place where my imagination lives: Fully Booked
And lastly: Stranded by Jennifer Paige and Stephanie Perkins
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“Without you, I’m stranded…”
A five-level bookstore, though it also has a basement where the quirky stuffs, comics and mangas were located. First level: best-sellers, classical books, fictions A-Z, magazines, customer service and the counter. Second level: children, teens, young adults, cooking, pregnancy, health, filipiniana, grammar-dictionary, travel book section. Third level: Starbucks, White Hat, health and management books. Fifth level: events gathering. My sanctuary, the Fourth level, architecture, design, DVDs, discs, CDs, and my favorite: Music. I was a captive of my own sanctuary; but I’m happy, ever since I went to the fourth level.
How ironic, I am not musically-inclined but I had this fond of listening to music, especially the classic ones, though sometimes I familiarize myself with new ones. I have ‘this’ particular favorite. This bookstore will always be my second home; I’m there when I’m sad or happy. My run-away sanctuary: the second and fourth levels were my favorites. The second level was where I want to hear children noises, reading teen novels but I usually gather some books there and go up to fourth level and get a CD and play it on the CD player attached to the wall – then I will be sitting on the floor, reading a book and listening to some music.
I remember the most memorable time I went to the second floor: it was raining so hard, but I ran all the way from my ex-boyfriend’s flat. I broke up with my boyfriend that day. His flat was just across the bookstore. I was crying when I arrived: eyes bulged and swollen from crying; can’t breathe properly and people were staring at me. I didn’t care though. I just went straight to the second level, sat near the cook books. I wasn’t reading as usual, and I never stop at that section, it was not like I did not like cooking, it was just that cooking did not like me, if you know what I mean, I just burn foods (honestly I always follow the procedures, but it always doesn’t come out right). But there I was, sitting, crying, fiddling the edges of the books. I calmed down and just sobbed. I was stuck at the bookstore; rain was pouring harder. That was when a group of guys, 4 if I remembered correctly, passing by carrying their duffel bags; I didn’t mind them, though they did mind me:
“Miss, are you quite all right?” the guy with a light-brown hair, pale skin and wearing a white v-neck asked. Even in my blurry vision, I can still see he’s cute.
Flirty? I don’t think so. But he really is ‘cute!’ though I didn’t tell him.
I just stared at him, maybe because I was in awe with his accent? IT WAS FREAKING BRITISH. BRITISH! HELLO, HARRY POTTER CHARACTERS! But I snapped back to reality when the guy with the platinum-blond hair, lightly punched the light-brown haired guy and said, “Bonkers, mate. She’s crying and you asks her if she’s all right?” the platinum-blond haired guy shakes his head in disappointment.
I agree though. I wasn’t all right, couldn’t the light-brown haired guy notice? I shifted my look to the guy with the platinum-blond hair. He looks like Draco Malfoy. He looks like a model though. He looked at me when he caught me staring.
He gave me a comforting smile and said, “My fair lady, would you want some company or you want to be with your lonesome?”
Okaaaaaaaaay. I was completely lost with words. His looks already caught me off guard, then his accent, now, his choice of words. Honestly, doesn’t this man know he can melt hearts with those words?
I only managed to say, “Pardon? Casual English, please?”
The 2 guys at the back both with chocolate-brown hair and based on their obvious looks, they are identical twins, they smiled and said in unison to the platinum-blond haired guy, “Too formal, mate.”
“My apologies. I meant, sorry, fai---, Miss,” he corrected himself.
I smiled at him and replied, slightly imitating him with my fail British accent, “Thank you, fine Sir. I humbly appreciate your kindness. I have my card full but I will make an exception for you, Sir.”
He arched his eyebrow. And the 3 guys are covering their mouths to avoid laughing out loud.
This is so not right. I felt the flutters on my stomach.
Oops. They weren’t flutters.
The 3 guys couldn’t control it and they burst out laughing, echoing inside the bookstore. The platinum-blond haired guy “shushed” them, though he kept his laughter to himself. I was completely and utterly embarrassed. I almost curse my stomach for crying out loud! How perfect can this day be?! I mean, I was already having a bad day broking up with my “ex” then I found these hot male specimens then my stomach came full effect grumbling?! Can the ground swallow me whole right this instance?!
“Aside from mocking me, Miss. I sense you need some company for a while? On behalf of my mates, I would invite you for lunch, though it is past 2 o’clock.” The platinum-blond haired guy asked or stated? I’m not quite sure though. But I nodded. He helped me stand up, that was when I realized that I was soaking wet. My hair was disheveled but it wasn’t dripping anymore, though my clothes were heavy from the rain-water. The platinum-blond haired guy took off the duffel bag that was slung on his shoulder: opened it and took out a shirt and khaki. It was big though, but he said, “It’s better than be soaked in rain-water. You might catch a cold.”
We went to the third level, where the wash rooms were; they went to the Starbucks part and ordered some foods. 5 Chicken sandwich, 1 toffee nut bread, 2 chocolate doughnut, 3 oreo cheesecake, 1 banoffie pie; 3 praline chocolate mocha with 2 shots of espresso, 1 chocolate cream chip and 1 extra hot signature chocolate—non-fat, no whip, just the way I like it.
I emerged from the wash room and went to the side of the cute light-brown haired guy and the twins. I was across the platinum-blond haired guy.
“Thank you.” I muttered.
They all looked at me, well, that was a shocker. They look handsome, shocked. Okay. I giggled in my head. They were confused so I clearly re-stated what I said, “Thank you for like, joining me or accompanying me and haven’t left with will all my lonesome, as what you said earlier.” And I unintentionally looked at the platinum-blond haired guy, and he smiled.
They released a comforting laugh and the twins patted me and the light-brown haired guy said, “No worries, Miss. The pleasure is ours.”
“I hope it wouldn’t be much of a trouble, but can we ask why were you crying?” the twin with a blue shirt asked.
“If it’s too much to ask, we would understand; you don’t need to tell, especially, if you’re uncomfortable.” The other twin added. This one wears a red polo shirt.
All of them are smooth-talkers and with proper etiquette. They have the hottest accent, for me, I must say. But then, I thought, “Uncomfortable.” Honestly, it really never strikes me, until now, for the record, that I never felt uncomfortable when they arrived, I mean, I really felt, “Comfortable” with them, which was ‘weird’. But I told them what happened: I BROKE UP WITH MY BOYFRIEND BECAUSE HE CHEATED ON ME. WITH A FRIGGIN’ SLUT!
Yes, honey. I didn’t know that it also occurred in the Philippines though. I thought it only happen in the Western world, well, too much of a generalization I had there. The slut I was talking about was my former-friend. User. She befriended me because she wants to hook-up with my boyfriend. WOW. And recently, my boyfriend wants to like, take my chastity away, virginity is the most abused word though. This was what happened: Any guess what I replied? I was happy! Ecstatic! I even shifted my voice to a flirty-type and said fiercely:
He (my ex) looked disappointed. I shrugged it off, I thought he would understand. That’s when the next day, which was today, I went to his flat, and I saw him sucking this…
“WHAT A HARLOT!” The platinum-blond haired guy practically announced.
Okay. Shut up. What time am I living? 16th century? Who still use harlot, nowadays? But I liked the word, aside from using SLUT, WHORE, HOEBAG, I’ll restate what I was saying, ‘I saw him, my ex-boyfriend, sucking that harlot.’ Well, doesn’t that somehow sounded intellectual?
These Britons comforted me for about 2-hours, “Don’t worry, Miss. You deserve better. It’s a good thing; you are one of the fine ladies who would not succumb to a BOY’s demand.” And they smiled.
“What’s with the emphasis on ‘BOY’?” I asked; I surely wish I wasn’t looking dumb.
“And we thought you’re 18, legal age, knowing these stuffs.” The light-brown haired guy said, shaking his head in mock-disappointment.
“I am. And I can guess you are too, or 19 or 20. Okay. I don’t know. Hey, just explain!” I said.
“Boy’s demand. Dating you and giving you a good-‘love making’. Childish, I must say. A man wouldn’t take his love’s chastity because he wants one or he feels like he deserves one.” The twins said.
“Ahh…” that’s what I managed to say. Pathetic. ‘Chastity,’ I got that from them. It’s better, right?
They ended that conversation, immediately after explaining how narrow-minded and perverted some guys are. We shifted the conversation by finishing our desserts and coffees. Then we went to the fourth level:
“Miss, quickly now, quickly!” The platinum-blond haired guy said.
I followed him, he reached my hand and I grabbed his, he led me to this rack of CDs: he slipped a CD at the CD player on the wall, and he gently put the headphones at my ears.
I grinned. He laughed. He reached his pocket and pulled a cotton handkerchief, he handed it to me. And I was confused, “What?” I removed the headphones and asked him. He pointed at my front tooth; there was a toffee stuck. I blushed in embarrassment, this was strike two or three, I mean who was counting, right?
I took the hanky and cleaned my tooth and kept the hanky in my pocket, “Thanks. I’ll return it when we meet again.”
“No need, Miss. You can keep it. Not that I feel disgusted with it, it’s just that, so you can have a hanky in your pocket at times” and again he flashed his smile. He sounded casual though. It was much more foreign to my ears.
The 3 other guys offered me different CDs and I just played and listened to it. It was calming.
Then, it was already 5 o’clock. It stopped raining. Time to leave. Not me though, them.
“Bye, love. Next time!” the cute light-brown haired guy said, smile flashing.
“Darling, be safe. I hope we can meet again!” the twins said, again, in unison.
They left and they kissed my cheeks. Again, I was alone. But I wasn’t crying anymore. Moments ago, I was broken-hearted. But now, I’m smiling. I was pretty satisfied. I met new friends. I sat on the floor, listening to the song by Jennifer Paige. And this song has been my favorite, ever since.
I remembered the platinum-blond haired guy the most, “I bid my farewell, my fair lady. May time permit us to meet again?” he paused and kissed my left-hand, I blushed, it was so sweet! Okay, he smiled when he saw me blushed, and I blushed more, he continued, “Take care of yourself. Don’t cry anymore, in public, of course.”
I asked their names before leaving but they said its better not to know, yet. I just shrugged.
I never let anyone kiss me, honestly. I find it rude. But for them, I found that sweet, and because I saw this article before that it was normal to kiss in the cheeks and hands, especially in the Western hemisphere. So I didn’t bother about it anymore. I’m just overjoyed.
It had been 5 months; I saw them in sweet Christmas, and now, it was summer. I had not seen them ever since.
It was so hot; I kept on reminding myself that I live in the tropical country named, Philippines. I went to the bookstore: every Friday and Sundays. If you were somehow thinking if I see my ex, yes, he still lived across the bookstore. The ‘harlot’ is 4 months pregnant and was abandoned by her parents; I pity her in that case though. The ‘ex’ was now working, since his parents disinherited him, too. Really, disinherit and abandoning, how traditional? Well, I saw them together a couple of times, but they were always bantering. I hope their child will be safe. I’m not a stalker; I know these because my best friend’s boyfriend is the best friend of my ‘ex’. I think I just sounded defensive there, but moving on…
It was the first Sunday of the summer. I do what I usually do: get a book from the second level; I got ‘Lola and the Boy Next Door.’ I read the first book, ‘Anna and the French Kiss,’ before, ironic how I always thought of the platinum-blond haired guy when I think of ‘Étienne St. Clair.’ Oh well, he’s handsome, so as Étienne especially with his French accent. I was listening to the same music for months. I don’t know I just love the song, ‘Stranded by Jennifer Paige.’
‘If it's coming over you, Like it's coming over me, I'm crashing like a tidal wave, That drags me out to sea; I wanna be with you, If you wanna be with me, Crashing like a tidal wave, I don't wanna be…’
I did not feel like going out, I just stayed for a couple more hours at the bookstore. It was not the heat that was causing me distress, I just felt like the song. I’m stranded on that same spot.
I continued listening to the song, over and over again, while reading the book. I was so hooked! I was near the ending! A couple more minutes, I was satisfied, it ended with:
‘And I hold my head toward my big entrance, hand in hand with the boy who gave me the moon and the stars.’
I felt butterflies in my stomach, full force! I was so giddy, so sweet! I love ‘Cricket Graham Bell’!
It was on the chorus part of the song that I closed my eyes, smiling and uttered a bit louder than a whisper, “I miss you…”
“Without you, I’m stranded.” I froze mid-chorus.
It was a melodious voice. Jennifer Paige is a girl. I may be slightly paranoid, but I swear, I heard a man’s voice, with a quirky-accent. My headphones wasn’t on my ears anymore, it was at lying on my shoulders. I looked sideways, a guy with a dark shade of brown hair is sitting beside me; he was holding my hand and gently squeezed it, he tilted his head then he smiled, “I missed you, my fair lady.”
I smiled and I hugged him. I was shocked but I think it was with the spur of the moment.
STRANDED. The song continued playing. Yeah, I missed him, all right.
It was the song that he let me listen the first time we met.
Maybe, my Etienne St. Clair or Cricket Graham Bell is this handsome ‘former’ platinum-blond haired guy. But I wouldn’t expect. I was just at bliss that he was back. A boy friend, a boyfriend, I wouldn’t mind.
So, it wasn’t just the song that left me stranded. Maybe I was waiting for him all along.
Author’s Note (A/N): *As influenced by LiveJournal and FanFiction.net
January 14, 2012 1:11AM-2:59AM
The story is fictional. Any story similar to this is purely coincidental.
An on-the-spot story; this just lingered in my head when I was thinking of a song, I was looking for a perfect song, but I didn’t find any so, I got stuck with, Stranded. It wasn’t that lovey-dovey. And it’s my first time to include, “slut, whore and making-love” in a story. I just want to remind girls out there that, making-love can wait, and making boys understand that their hormones should not overpower them. Well, that’s pretty much the story. I don’t know if it went well. Tell me. I didn’t reread or edit it. So mostly, typos; I had my hands type, imaginations to fulfill its duty to create a story and just pushing the Retorika assignment in mind. I need to write something in English, Voila!
And look, my Stephanie Perkins' fangirling was sooooo obvious :>
I’m really sleepy; I just can’t sleep a while ago so I wrote a story. So my eyes are slowly shutting now. So I’ll be off to bed. I hope you somehow like the story, even though I don’t usually write this kind of stuff. The place in the story is FULLY BOOKED at Bonifacio High Street. It’s my safe haven, so I dedicated this mostly to the second home of mine.
Oh well, I’m frantically light-headed. Good night! Oh it’s Dawn already, time check: 3:22AM.
P.S. Constructive criticisms are very much welcome! :)
P.S. Constructive criticisms are very much welcome! :)
Stay safe and with lots of love,
©Stranded by Jassie ™