I haven't written in a long while, so forgive me if this has mistakes. I wanted to try out writing my own OC/Country fic, and I'm still not exactly sure where to go with it, but I'm just going along as I write. I guess this is AU, but its set in the present or near future. Please enjoy!
New York was the bustling city I had always imagined it would be. Loud. With its buildings extending beyond the sky, boisterous cars packed onto the streets, cracked pavements, and busy stores, I constantly lost myself in the crowds of people moving nonstop.
It was difficult adapting to this kind of life, as if it weren't hard enough to deal with the freedom (and pressure) of being away from home on my own for the first time! I had been told many times that I was too sheltered and I never realized how small my tranquil neighborhood in Portland, Maine really was until I came here. It was exhilarating! And at the same time, daunting. I loved the sights of the city at night, the great Statue of Liberty, and the contrast of pavement against nature in Central Park. But I often felt sick from the odd smells that crept out of the alleyways and the noise that never ceased when I tried to sleep.
I took deep breaths in the chilly, early January air as I hustled along with the busy New Yorkers, my mind set on the errands I set out to do that morning. I abruptly steadied my gait to a halt when a mouth-watering smell wafted in the air causing my stomach to growl in protest. I hadn't had lunch yet, and I suppose now would be a better time than any for lunch. I followed the entrancing scent to a nifty burger joint with the words etched onto its windows in a fancy font, "Burgers, Chicken, and Steaks: Welcome Your Taste Buds to New York City!"
It didn't take much deliberation to enter the restaurant, the scent of spices and frying meat growing stronger with each step. The place was surprising tidy and humble decorated in deep green wood paneled walls and light and dark brown checkered tiles and booths that completed the ensemble. I took a seat at one of the barstools lined up under a long counter to the right, taking in hand one of the menus laid out on the countertops and scoffing at the prices of some items.
"A burger for fifteen bucks! The nerve of this place!" I grumbled, resting my chin in my hand and compromising on water to drink instead. It wasn't long until the second seat over from me was occupied by a peppy customer—a regular, I had assumed as he was immediately greeted once he entered the store. He was a handsome, tall blonde man with an odd tuft of hair that stuck out from the part in his hair, a wide grin, and glistening blue eyes hidden behind silver frames. The man wore a brown jacket with a fur collar unzipped to show a white t-shirt with some popular brand's insignia on it; his jeans were fitting, also of a popular brand, and his shoes were a bright red. He chatted easily with the employees at the counter who seemed more than eager to serve him.
"Four hamburgers please!" He chirped excitedly, "Oooh! And three milkshakes as well!"
That explains why.
I glanced over the menu, and quietly placed my order.
He wolfed down each sandwich in nearly three gulps and proceeded to go through the milkshakes in the same manner, slurping loudly. I gazed pitifully at my half eaten burger, poking at it with a fork.
"Mmey!"
I slowly turned to the man sitting next to me staring at me with peculiar blue eyes, a straw still jabbed in his mouth as he sucked down the shake. He looked to me then the uneaten burger cut neatly the plate in front of me. He pointed at it.
"You gonna eat that?"
"N-No," I spoke nervously, shaking my head. "You can have it, if you'd like." I gently pushed the plate toward him.
"Dude! Awesome! Thanks!" He picked it up and within a fraction of a second, my poor uneaten burger vanished. The man patted his stomach with a relieved sigh. "Man! That was great!" He stood and reached down in his pants pockets, unable to find what he was looking for, then checking his jacket pockets before pulling out two crisp one-hundred dollar bills.
"It covers hers, too! Keep the change!" He waved and exited the store, the employees each bidding him farewell. And with that, he was gone. I stared dumbfounded and flustered at the unoccupied seat and placidly took a sip of water. As the employees gathered the plates and the money, the cashier turned to me and let out a low chuckle.
"How cute," he shuffled through the money in the register and re-organizing it, "You were as stiff as a board when he was next to you,"
I laughed nervously and hid my blushed face with my sleeve, "I didn't get a chance to say thanks."
"Tell him tomorrow, then." The cashier responded flatly. "He comes in here every day." He closed the register and tended to the next customer than handed him money.
I contemplated the cashier's suggestion, shaking my head at the ridiculousness of it all. Why on earth would he have an interest in a girl like me? Ah, wishful thinking, I sighed. I gathered my things and exited, feeling several eyes on me as I headed through the door. The icky self-consciousness dissipated with the swarm of the people as I, once again, headed along the way.
The bookstore was a compact room with shelves on each wall cluttered with books from floor to ceiling.
"Hello?" I called out through the store receiving no response. I wandered around aimlessly squinting at the titles of the various books, hoping to find some order within them. A sudden, loud thump sounded from the far corner of the room, startling me. Several books tumbled down off the shelf, scattering across the floor and a low audible groan crept wearily through the store.
I hurried over and quickly began moving the books, revealing an older man with gray thinning hair and thick glasses.
"Thank you, thank you!" the man clamored, exasperated as he got to his feet. He dusted off his slacks and immediately took my hands in his, shaking them vigorously. I smiled timidly at the man's gratefulness.
"Welcome to my bookstore, please! Let me help you! What is it that you need?" He held my hands still, eyes fixed intently on me.
"Just a few textbooks, please," I responded modestly, forcing myself to make eye contact, "Uh, American History and Government, Writing the Practical Argument for English, and College Algebra, please." I recited the mental list.
"Ah, wonderful, you are a college student!" He wiped around and leaned over one of the shelves, muttering to himself as he inspected it and pulled down a thick book, quickly thumbing through its pages. "American history," he headed around to the opposite end of the store and pulled down two other books on different shelves.
"I take it that you're from the college nearby. Here are all the books you need right here, in mint condition!" He smiled, handing me the books. I nodded, reaching for my bag until he stopped me, placing the books in my hands.
"You seem like a keen girl. For helping me out, it's all free of charge, please."
I blinked; my mouth agape and shock coloring my face. I pressed the books against my chest, bowing respectfully to the man.
"Thank you so much! Uh," I paused, unsure of how to address the man.
"Maurice," he responded, "Please, call me Maurice."
I nodded, clumsily holding my hand out to shake, "I'm Emily! Nice to meet you, er, Maurice."
The man chuckled, adjusting him glasses. "Don't forget to come back again, Emily!" he called as I headed to the door.
"I won't! Thanks again!"
I sat in my quaint dorm, staring at the pages of text of American History and Government lit by the dim glow of my laptop screen. So dull, so difficult to read. What's the point? I enjoyed history, European history to be exact, but maybe a lack of patriotism made it more difficult to enjoy just plain American History. Maybe I should take up foreign languages and move to Paris or Madrid? The economy is bad enough right now. Ugh. Closing the cover of the book, I glanced back at the digital clock planted on my nightstand.
11:42 PM
I stretched and yawned, plopping down on the bed and closing my eyes.
Patriotism (noun): love for or devotion to one's country