AN~ WOO! This is my first WOWP fic! Hope you guys enjoy it! Oh, and just to let you know I'll be alternating between the P.O.V.s of Maira and Max. Let me know if you will find this tiring. I dont want to annoy anyone. :P
Disclaimer: I don't own Wizards of Waverly Place or America's Got Talent. Just saying. :/
Yours Truly,
Elyon
Maira
Ugh, I would kill for a Red Bull right now. I have an unnerving migraine and my eyelids feel as if they're being weighed down with solid gold. But I don't dare shut an eyelid. I promised myself that I'd keep awake all through this morning, since of course I hadn't seen a quarter as many days as I had nights. It was queer having the unyielding courage to sing in front of thousands but a bitter stage fright to perform in front of…maybe a hundred. I guess it's because I'm going solo with Malachi, not roaming with a herd of talented people, four celebrities, and a camera crew. Sometimes I miss the sky…just slightly, not enough to be homesick or anything...
A firm hand rattles my shoulder. "We're here Maira, hun."
I jerk myself awake and groan as I glance out the window. The sun appears to have been up for at least an hour. Not only had I fallen asleep but I missed the beauty of my first sunrise in New York!
"Something wrong?" Mal asks.
I shake my head. At least Malachi was there for me. Even when he was first assigned as my manager/guardian he treated me as if I were of his own blood. Usually in these kinds of situations that takes a little while. To settle down, set boundaries, and establish a parent-child relationship. I knew in an instant he was different. He is down-to-earth, has a stunning fashion sense; yet masculine and protective all at once. He isn't gay per say, just a little more in touch with the girl in him.
Over the loudspeaker the pilot is heard: "Buckle up. We will now be making our descent in New York City."
Everyone fastens their seatbelts, which for some reason reminds me of the fact that Malachi and I had gotten first-class seats. I now take this as the moment to shove my face into the window and stare out at the formal and informal buildings alike with cars dancing around the roads and all the graffiti standing out as clear as day. A minute later the plane bumps once on the runway then lands; gliding smoothly 300 more feet before halting. The walkway is mildly crowded as Mal and I make a beeline for the door. A single camera shot is taken of me as I make my way down the stairs. Mal gives a minuscule growl. While meandering through a small throng in front of the baggage claim Mal stands in front of me; but no one is hostile or freaking out due to my presence. But I do notice a few grins and wide-eyes. I'm almost thankful I have no stalkers as far as I'm aware. Mal fishes out our bags and I take my share to carry from him. Now laden with suitcases we inch towards the door(me so more than him) through which I can already see a limp with our driver holding up a sign with my name written in sharpie. When we're out the door, the driver relieves me of my luggage and crams it into the trunk. Mal manages to do this himself. I hop into the seat behind the driver and Mal rides shotgun. As out driver starts up the engine with a crank of the ignition and heads toward the flat Mal had bought a little over a year ago, my previously ignored hunger finds me out. I hadn't eaten since lunch the day before.
"Hey Mal?" I ask.
"Uh huh?"
"Can you get me a spare key so I can walk over someplace to eat? I'm starving."
"You mean by yourself?"
"Yeah. I mean this may be New York, but I could even tell by the people at the airport; there are no evident crazies…so far." (I squeeze in the last part under my breath.)
"…I guess, but call me if anything goes wrong."
"You got it." I assure him.
He continues. "There's an odd little sandwich shop on Waverly Place just two blocks from the apartment which I discovered a year ago while first looking at the flat. Everything's pretty decent there."
Seconds later we're pulling up to the apartment building and Mal get out all our bags. After trudging up the stairs, Mal lifts of the board of the final stair and hands me the spare key. I'm slightly bewildered that no one had stolen it.
"I'll take your things to your room," he tells me. "Be back by noon alright?"
I nod with all the sincerity I can muster.
I then slip the key into my jean pocket along with my wallet and I'm off! It seems every New York block was mundane. The same large throngs of bustling people, the same types of stores, the same homeless people hangout on every corner. All this appears to be so until I arrive at Waverly Place. It seems more…lively. With the oddest names: The Late Night Bite, Clown Supplies, Suburban Outfitters, and finally the Waverly Substation. The colors of the Place aren't mundane or too whimsical, they all just clicked. I smile cheerily as I enter. The individual tables and chairs are metallic with a simple set of condiments. To the left appears to be a subway car built into the wall which explains the "substation" piece. When I'm done being insane and finish absorbing the surroundings I come to realize that I'm the first customer of the morning and that a guy my age-who is running the register-had been observing me as I'd sauntered through the restaurant. He's cute too. With semi-wavy hair, exquisite chocolate eyes, and a winning smile. I silently curse myself for acting like such an idiot. There's something else though. I feel as if I know this person. That "that's-an-old-friend-I-haven't-seen-in-forever" feeling swept through me. Gah! Damn the partial amnesia I acquired while passing through the atmosphere! As our eyes meet it occurs to me that we're both wearing the same familiarized yet unsure expression.
Our shared uncertainty is highlighted as he asks: "Um, Have we met before?"
Another AN~ So tell me how I did why don'tcha! :D I'm thinking about changing the title of the story. Any suggestions? Also, if there was any confusion...just let my story build geez! :P I shall most likely upload the second chapter this weekend if my schedule permits. Thanks for reading!
