A cup of peppermint mocha frappe and a nice view of the city in front of me were all I needed to start my day writing. Since it was only a little over dawn, the usual hustle and bustle of the city in broad daylight hadn’t woken up yet. My friend and I were supposed to meet up here in the afternoon, but since I had trouble sleeping I thought I might as well be productive rather than forcing myself to sleep, which can be so exhausting sometimes. Besides, I’d been stuck at home writing for days now, it was nice to have a little change of scenery.
I took a sip of the iced frappuccino and resumed typing where I’d left off last night. Word by word formed right in front of me with a couple gentle taps on the keyboard, then sentences slowly turned into a paragraph. That’s what I find magical about filling up a blank page, it held endless possibilities and the only thing that’s stopping you from creating something great is your own imagination…and a guy wearing a cap and suspicious sunglasses?
“Who are you?” I asked in a knee-jerk reaction when a guy suddenly sat on the chair beside me, half convinced he was some sort of convict. Who else would wear sunglasses indoors?
“Shut up, keep your voice down,” he said.
Okay, that was rude. What a way to greet a stranger. “Excuse me?” I shot back.
“Just keep quiet and don’t move, okay?” he demanded, though his eyes were looking elsewhere. I turned to the direction he was facing and saw a man around his forties walking around with a DSLR camera hanging around his neck, looking like he was searching for someone. He was practically walking in circles until he realized he had lost the person he was after. Cursing softly under his breath, he stomped off towards the nearest escalator.
“Who was that?” I asked after the guy beside me heaved a sigh–of relief I assumed–and took off his sunglasses. Right that second, it was all starting to make sense. “No way,” I exclaimed.
“So you recognize me,” he said with a sly grin, confirming my guess of his identity.
“You’re Zac Adams, the singer?”
“About asking you to shut up just now, sorry I didn’t mean it,” he said instead. The fact he didn’t bother answering my question clarified it–I was sitting with a celebrity. Up close, I could see his green eyes and curly brown locks perfectly. It felt so surreal and terribly exciting at the same time.
“This is so cool,” I said, still taking in the moment.
“Please don’t start screaming.”
I laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m not some crazed fan of yours, though I must say I think your music is really good.”
“You’ve got good taste.” He smiled, “and thank you.”
I didn’t know what to say. His devoted fans would literally do anything to be in my place right now, but there I was, speechless, when I should be telling him how his music moved me, how good looking he was, how great his voice sounded, if he could give me an autograph, something, anything, but no, nothing. I was at a loss for words. We just looked at each other, making eye contact, and as much as I loved looking at his gorgeous eyes, it got really awkward really fast.
Both of us turned away at the same time, and our sheepish laughter ensued. “Well, I have to get going. Got a heck of a schedule to get to. It was nice meeting you though.” He stood up.
“Wait,” I said, and he sat back down. “Could I possibly get a picture with you?”
“And you said you weren’t a crazed fan,” he teased. “Come on.”
We moved closer to each other and he placed his hand on my shoulder. I held my phone in front of us, taking the best selfie I’d ever taken to date. “That looks really nice,” he said when I showed him the picture.
“Yeah,” I said. “You can go now, don’t want to be holding you back or anything.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.” He smiled. “And I know you want a hug. Every fan wants a hug,” he said and pulled me in without hesitation. “Alright, I’m really off now.”
“Bye.” I gave a wave.
Truth was, I had always been a fan of his. I pretended I wasn’t just so I wouldn’t scare him off. Not like an obsessed fan who knew every single detail about him, but a fan nonetheless. Two hours later, my friend arrived. Wait ’till she hears about this.