The rain.
The great pacific northwest.
It always rained here, didn't it?
Maybe he should have visited in the summer. Gone back home in the summer with her. It could have been evergreen trees and blue skies, not downpours and petrichor. But there was nothing to be done about that now, not anymore.
He paused with Josh just inside the hotel, both of them bracing themselves to be soaked through before they made it to the car idling on the sidewalk in front of them. They shouldn't have worried, however, as the driver quickly got out and provided an umbrella for them to huddle under.
They were off, windshield wipers going full speed. Tyler and Josh sat in the backseat, Josh's hand resting softly atop Tyler's. He was glad, once more, that he was here with him. They were a long way from Ohio, and further still from Massachusetts.
Massachusetts.
He still remembered that night. It was raining then, too. Tyler hadn't been able to sleep. He'd consider waking Josh, but seeing his best friend lying in the bunk next to his... He hadn't been able to wake him from his peaceful slumber.
And so, in the middle of night with a hoodie pulled tightly around him he'd left their tour bus, wandering through the city. He didn't remember how he had found his way down to the subway. Didn't remember where his destination was or when he'd go back. All he could remember was the sound of the empty train, making it's way to Brooklyn.
It was stupid, taking a three hour ride out of state when they would have to be up the next morning and moving on to their next tour stop. And yet, the flashes of light punctuating the darkness of the empty train was memorizing, in a way. Captivating. It kept him in his seat as the hours passed. And then he was in Brooklyn. Tentative steps led him off the train, cold air biting his face. It was winter, and it could be felt in the air. He had wished that he'd brought a coat.
He remembered wandering the streets. It had to be two or three in the morning now, but the city was alive in a way it could only be in the dead of night. Neon signs advertised anything and everything imaginable. Store fronts were plastered with flyers, and he could hear some punk rock band's music coming from a venue to his left. He glanced down at his phone. No texts yet. No one knew he was gone. Good.
But maybe he should-
Before the thought had been able to finish flitting across his brain, he was on his backside. Wet ice seeped into the bottom of his jeans, causing a flush of red to cross over his face. A woman stared wide-eyed down at him, an apologetic smile on her face. He could tell by the way her mouth curved that she was holding back laughter.
"I'm sorry," she apologized. "I didn't see you. I swear, I am the clumsiest!"
She held out her hand, still smiling. He was struck by two things as he grabbed it and stood up. Her hair was a brilliant blond, and her accent wasn't that of a native New Yorker.
He smiled back. "It's fine, I should have been watching where I was going." He glanced around quickly, his eyes landing on a bar to the right. A neon sign flashed above, like some sort of beckoning sin.
"Let me buy you a drink," he offered. She glanced at him, perplexed.
"At three in the morning?" She questioned.
"Well, we're both out wandering the streets," he offered.
"I hardly know you."
"Which is exactly why you should let me buy you a drink. Come on, I owe you."
She smirked at him, and he began to wonder if he'd pushed too hard. But then she slowly nodded, following him into the bar. "What's your name?"
"Tyler, and yours?"
"Jenna."
She was from Ohio, like him. She was studying at a local university, but wouldn't tell him for what. He told her he was visiting on business, but was vague on the specifics. He figured it wasn't the best idea to explain he was in a famous band on the first date.
They talked for hours in that crowded bar. About life, music, cooking, how terrible their drinks were, and much, much more. They drank more than they should have, egged on by each other's company. And suddenly, there were heading outside the city, wandering some bridge. Their faces flushed in the moonlight, shadows carving strange shapes on both their faces.
He remembered pausing at the center of the bridge, looking up towards the stars.
He remembered how she closed the distance between them.
He remembered her kissing him. Softly, tentatively, and then with more confidence.
And then it was over.
"I... I should get back," Tyler said. They were still close, and he could just barely make out her flushed cheeks, her sparkling eyes.
She smiled softly, sadly almost. "Of course," she whispered. "Do you think we'll ever meet again, Tyler with-no-last-name?"
He chuckled softly, pulling off a piece of red tape he'd fashioned into a makeshift ring. It had been a lot easier than wrapping his finger with red tape every night. "Here," he whispered, just as softly.
He carefully placed the ring on her finger. "A reminder of tonight. Someday we'll meet again, I'm sure."
He remembered leaving her there, standing in the moonlight, a makeshift ring of red tape on her hand.
ns 15.158.61.20da2
