I tried to focus on the stage, looking through the endless sea of moving bodies, but I couldn't make out the so called band. Why, oh, why did I let my friends drag me to this god-forsaken night club? Not only did they say that the band was supposed to be good, (it wasn't, it sounded like a cover band of Air Supply, and we all know how much they suck), but they had all left me at the first sight of cute boys. Why they wanted to throw themselves at college boys they were too young for, I would never know. Another reason I should not be here was the fact that I was using a fake ID to get in; according to it I was Lane Chung of Indiana. Two things were very wrong with this picture: this was Washington, not Indiana; and I wasn't Chinese, I was American.
I attempted to push past a gawky chess-club type who then proceeded to spill his drink all down my black tank, it even dripped down to my skirt and flip flops. Just great! I assured him it was ok, even though it wasn't, and tried again to move past him. But he wasn't having that, he pushed me backwards, (we were conveniently located close to a dark and secluded alcove), and soon I was up against the wall. I had a couple of options; one: I could scream, but it was unlikely that anyone would hear me over the pounding techno music, or two: I could kick him in the groin. Neither looked promising, I would probably end up tripping over myself trying either one of them. I was extremely clumsy, something I inherited from my dad. This thing was now nuzzling my neck, he smelled like beer and cigarettes, hardly as good smelling as Axe. I was trying not to vomit, but maybe if I did he would leave me alone. Just as the thought entered my mind, something sent the sick excuse for a boy backwards into the crowd, scaring several gyrating couples. The sudden force knocked me to the ground, and I huddled further back into the wall. I tried to calm my erratic heart, and just when I finally had, I heard a voice that sounded to me like the voice of an angel.
"Are you alright?" I looked up, eyes slowly taking in a pair of checkered vans, then a faded and patched pair of jeans, then a battered Senses Fail t-shirt that was standing in the exact same spot as my creepy admirer had been. His face was made up of perfect features, his nose straight and in the exact middle of his face, he had a pair of perfectly kissable lips, and his messy brown hair was touched with natural highlights of gold. I meant to answer him, but my eyes found his and the words I had thought to say all slipped away. His eyes were the most perfect of all of him, more perfect than the rest of his face put together, and that was saying something. After several seconds he gently pulled me to my feet and, when I stumbled, he grinned.
"Guess not, huh? Do you mind if we go sit over there?" HE pointed to the same little alcove and a tiny table that was meant for two. Some of my common sense had returned and I quickly nodded my head yes. My instincts told me if I said no he would leave, and that would be bad. He pulled me out a chair and carefully set me in it, staying close to me for a second to make sure I had my balance. He probably thought I was drunk, but the only thing I was drunk off of was his presence. A few seconds passed and he apparently thought I was capable of sitting on my own, so he stepped back.
"I'm going to go get us some Cokes, I'll be right back. Don't leave or let another potential stalker find you while I'm gone." He grinned again and I managed to laugh, glad that some of my coherency was flooding back to me. He then swiftly turned his back to me and made his way gracefully to the bar. I took another couple of deep breaths and prepared for his return. A few short minutes later he was back, holding two Cokes and some crackers. He put them on the table and pulled his chair closer to me, so our knees were touching. This did not have the same effect on him that it did on me, (the effect being a faint blush on my cheeks), or if it did, he didn't show it. I reached for my pop and downed half of it quickly.
"So, mystery boy, what's your name so I can call the local paper and declare you a city wide hero." I smiled at him, and he looked happily surprised at my sudden recovery of words.
"Well, most people call me Superman, but I prefer Edward." I laughed at him.
"Edward it is." He smirked at my remark.
"So, mystery damsel in distress, what is your name?" He pushed the crackers towards me and I grabbed one, munching it before I answered.
"Most people call me Isabella, but I prefer Bella." He reached in to grab a cracker just as I snatched another, our hands touched. A strange what seemed like an electric shock went through me when we touched. It was good strange though.
"Bella it is." We smiled at each other and I thought to myself that maybe my friends were on to something with this night club deal.