Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco > An Unexpected Birthday Present
The Verdict
0 reviewsA fan's golden birthday turns out to be more than she ever imagined when she attends a concert for Panic! At the Disco.
0Unrated
Amanda's POV
I shouldn't have been sad in that moment. I knew it, too. He had been more than kind to me with the now awkward situation that had happened, and given me, as far as I could tell, an honest answer. Still, I couldn't help but keep the sad feelings that dwelled inside of me.
"I can understand that," I trailed off, making the sadness evident in my voice as I slowly slid the guitar strap off my neck. My palms were sweaty as I held the guitar in them, giving myself even more reason to get nervous. Really, I didn't have the slightest clue what he was going to say next, or where we stood at that point. As I walked over to the guitar stand and placed the guitar in it once again, I kept replaying the same thought in my head: We might as well be perfect strangers...
Some part of me wished that it wasn't so, but it shrunk and shrunk as the thought circulated in my mind. I should have listened to it, I knew, but I didn't want to get too caught up in my thoughts again. Even if the thoughts had made me believe that he was almost like a close friend to me because I wasn't treating him like some big start that I was unworthy to be in the same room with. No, that thought was beyond me. I knew that we were both just on the same level, but the reality was still there, a barrier that kept the wonderful thoughts just barely lingering.
There was still something remaining that forced me to make contact with Ryan: the pick. I still closed it tightly in my hand, wishing to give it to him somehow without having to go near him. Unless I wanted to be a jerk and leave it on the desk that was now quite a ways across the room from the both of us, I would have to. For just one more moment while I still could, I kept my eyes on the floor. My legs tensed up, getting ready to approach him. After drawing in a long, deep sigh and letting it out, I walked, looking up only slightly, so that I would know if I was close enough to him, but not closer than I had to be. Once I reached that distance, I stared down at my feet once again, holding the pick in my hand out in front of me for him to take.
Gradually, my eyes drifted up to my hand, staring at the pick that I held out to him. Inside, I was getting more nervous, wondering why he wouldn't take it back. Then, I noticed his hand slowly making its way closer to mine, eyes following it closely. At the last second, I looked back down, surprised when his skin made contact with mine again, more so than I had anticipated. His hand curled my fingers inward followed by his hand closing around my own. I could just tell what he meant to say by it: I want you to have it. It's yours now.
Ryan's POV
Back and forth, back and forth. My thoughts kept tugging one way, then hastily pulling them back. Just the tension there was starting a headache for me until I would glance up at Amanda. At the image of her reprinted in my head, the thoughts settled a bit, but were still fighting mercilessly, sending me the message that I had to decide right then and there: did I admire her, or didn't I?
As I watched her move to put the guitar back, each choice put out its good and its bad points out for me to think over: First off, if I didn't admire her. The good to come out of that would be that I wouldn't have to worry about hurting her again. That was the main thing that stood out to me, but I couldn't find much else to debate with. If I ended up with that choice, I would still be lonely as Ryan Ross. There wouldn't be that indescribable feeling that she had given me just by talking to me for a few minutes as if I wasn't famous and instead was just a regular guy. Then, the other side had its turn. If I was to tell her that I was feeling a bit more than friendship between the two of us, and she accepted, I could finally say that I had found someone. Someone who seemed to fit the description of what I was looking for in a person who would be more important to me than all the rest: she was kind, shy, and, from what I could tell, had other good qualities about her that just made her the slightest bit appealing to me. Sure, that came with the negative things, too, like being apart for who knew how long and all of that stuff, but I figured that everything came with its ups and its downs, and if I was going to confess, I would have to be willing to take that risk.
I stared up at her, finding nerves in myself as she was headed straight toward me, soon after searching for ideas of what she was doing. It rang out loud and clear in my head as she opened her delicate fingers and revealed the picked that was in her hand. My eyes averted to her face once, then back down to the pick, getting the hint of what she wanted me to do as she just stood there with it, avoiding my gaze. I wouldn't accept it, however. I had plenty of picks. She deserved to get something out of this as a memento and what better than the pick? She had already used it, anyway. It couldn't possibly do any harm. So I showed her without a word, slowly using my hand to close her fingers around it, looking up at her again.
There was that entrancing feeling that came over me again when our eyes locked together. I gave a small, shy smile to her while still holding my gaze and her eyes twinkled in return. My hand was still closed over hers. We were both practically returning to the scene we had been in before, only this time I wasn't holding back. I wanted to get closer. All signals in my head were go, so I did, my arm slowly wrapping around her waist, my face automatically getting closer to hers. There it was again, her soft breath easing its way onto my face each time she exhaled. Mine did the same, but our faces weren't close enough for them to mix yet. I only moved my face closer still once I detected her eyes beginning to close. Again, I followed, and before I knew it, I was finally kissing her.
I shouldn't have been sad in that moment. I knew it, too. He had been more than kind to me with the now awkward situation that had happened, and given me, as far as I could tell, an honest answer. Still, I couldn't help but keep the sad feelings that dwelled inside of me.
"I can understand that," I trailed off, making the sadness evident in my voice as I slowly slid the guitar strap off my neck. My palms were sweaty as I held the guitar in them, giving myself even more reason to get nervous. Really, I didn't have the slightest clue what he was going to say next, or where we stood at that point. As I walked over to the guitar stand and placed the guitar in it once again, I kept replaying the same thought in my head: We might as well be perfect strangers...
Some part of me wished that it wasn't so, but it shrunk and shrunk as the thought circulated in my mind. I should have listened to it, I knew, but I didn't want to get too caught up in my thoughts again. Even if the thoughts had made me believe that he was almost like a close friend to me because I wasn't treating him like some big start that I was unworthy to be in the same room with. No, that thought was beyond me. I knew that we were both just on the same level, but the reality was still there, a barrier that kept the wonderful thoughts just barely lingering.
There was still something remaining that forced me to make contact with Ryan: the pick. I still closed it tightly in my hand, wishing to give it to him somehow without having to go near him. Unless I wanted to be a jerk and leave it on the desk that was now quite a ways across the room from the both of us, I would have to. For just one more moment while I still could, I kept my eyes on the floor. My legs tensed up, getting ready to approach him. After drawing in a long, deep sigh and letting it out, I walked, looking up only slightly, so that I would know if I was close enough to him, but not closer than I had to be. Once I reached that distance, I stared down at my feet once again, holding the pick in my hand out in front of me for him to take.
Gradually, my eyes drifted up to my hand, staring at the pick that I held out to him. Inside, I was getting more nervous, wondering why he wouldn't take it back. Then, I noticed his hand slowly making its way closer to mine, eyes following it closely. At the last second, I looked back down, surprised when his skin made contact with mine again, more so than I had anticipated. His hand curled my fingers inward followed by his hand closing around my own. I could just tell what he meant to say by it: I want you to have it. It's yours now.
Ryan's POV
Back and forth, back and forth. My thoughts kept tugging one way, then hastily pulling them back. Just the tension there was starting a headache for me until I would glance up at Amanda. At the image of her reprinted in my head, the thoughts settled a bit, but were still fighting mercilessly, sending me the message that I had to decide right then and there: did I admire her, or didn't I?
As I watched her move to put the guitar back, each choice put out its good and its bad points out for me to think over: First off, if I didn't admire her. The good to come out of that would be that I wouldn't have to worry about hurting her again. That was the main thing that stood out to me, but I couldn't find much else to debate with. If I ended up with that choice, I would still be lonely as Ryan Ross. There wouldn't be that indescribable feeling that she had given me just by talking to me for a few minutes as if I wasn't famous and instead was just a regular guy. Then, the other side had its turn. If I was to tell her that I was feeling a bit more than friendship between the two of us, and she accepted, I could finally say that I had found someone. Someone who seemed to fit the description of what I was looking for in a person who would be more important to me than all the rest: she was kind, shy, and, from what I could tell, had other good qualities about her that just made her the slightest bit appealing to me. Sure, that came with the negative things, too, like being apart for who knew how long and all of that stuff, but I figured that everything came with its ups and its downs, and if I was going to confess, I would have to be willing to take that risk.
I stared up at her, finding nerves in myself as she was headed straight toward me, soon after searching for ideas of what she was doing. It rang out loud and clear in my head as she opened her delicate fingers and revealed the picked that was in her hand. My eyes averted to her face once, then back down to the pick, getting the hint of what she wanted me to do as she just stood there with it, avoiding my gaze. I wouldn't accept it, however. I had plenty of picks. She deserved to get something out of this as a memento and what better than the pick? She had already used it, anyway. It couldn't possibly do any harm. So I showed her without a word, slowly using my hand to close her fingers around it, looking up at her again.
There was that entrancing feeling that came over me again when our eyes locked together. I gave a small, shy smile to her while still holding my gaze and her eyes twinkled in return. My hand was still closed over hers. We were both practically returning to the scene we had been in before, only this time I wasn't holding back. I wanted to get closer. All signals in my head were go, so I did, my arm slowly wrapping around her waist, my face automatically getting closer to hers. There it was again, her soft breath easing its way onto my face each time she exhaled. Mine did the same, but our faces weren't close enough for them to mix yet. I only moved my face closer still once I detected her eyes beginning to close. Again, I followed, and before I knew it, I was finally kissing her.
Sign up to rate and review this story