You're So Pretty When You Cry

It was just supposed to be a stupid night out at the bar, with a stupid British kid performing, to get my mind off a stupid boy. My mind was racing from sex, to Him, to the music, to my friend inside, to the pain in my chest, to the alcohol in my other hand; everything but the cigarette trembling in my hand. I stayed standing there behind the bar like a crack whore for another ten minutes, at least, before I noticed the music had stopped playing. It was then that I noticed a male standing next to me with a dopey smile on his face and holding a lighter towards me, his bright orange hair looking like a mess. "It's not lit, sweetheart."

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1. "Really?"

That was the first word to come out of my mouth as my eyes narrowed in the direction of the ginger. He continued to look at me with his dopey smile before he gave a shrug and replied innocently, "Well, yes. Don't you see that it's not lit?" I think that was the first time I actually though about punching a ginger in the face when he actually deserved it.

"I'm just practicing." I hissed at the male as I snatched the lighter and mumbled a quick thanks as I shakily lit the cigarette and threw the lighter back at my new companion. For a bar in Tennessee, I figured there would be more cowboys and smokers out in the back instead of just me and Gingy over here. I didn't question it though, as something else caught my eye about this guy that I hadn't before, somehow. He had a guitar around himself, a rather common one with a large orange paw print on the bottom of it, near the hole in the guitar. A realization hit me.

"Are you the kid playing inside?" I asked, my cigarette moving with my mouth movements as I loosely held it within my lips. "I'd hardly consider myself a kid, but sure, love, whatever you want to call me." He replied, taking a drag of his own cigarette before glancing the other way, out at the open fields of Tennessee behind the bar, the silence almost refreshing for girls like me. "My name is Ed." He added as he turned to the side, to look at me as I leaned against the back of the Blue Bird. I looked at his light blue hues as they twinkled in the soft light of the moon mixing with the horrifying blue lights of the bar. "I'm Caylie." I replied curtly, taking one long drag of my cigarette before looking at it with disgust and throwing it to the ground, stamping it out with the heel of my converse slowly.

"Sadist, arentcha?" He chuckled as he pretended to look away from me, turning his body back to the fields but his eyes slipping to the corners to keep an eye on me. "Yup. That's what I'm into." I said with a quick roll of my eyes and taking a swig of my Smirnoff Ice.

"Oh my God, and a girl! Who the hell drinks Smirnoff Ice?! Whaddya, royalty?" He suddenly laughed as he coughed out the smokes in his blackening lungs. I arched a brow at his sudden outburst, looking at my drink for a moment before the alcohol seemed to take an effect on me, causing me to become a bit more sociable in this situation. "What's wrong with Smirnoff? It's not my fault beer tastes like asshole. ." I retorted with a pout, sticking my lower lip out slightly before Ed finally regained his composure, smirking at me like an idiot before putting his cigarette out in the ground and moving to walk past me, back towards the door. He opened it with ease, the sound of the Blue Bird's insides washing out and ruining the silence of the country side. "Nothing is wrong with Smirnoff, princess." Ed teased once more, winking at me as he held the door open with his foot and awaiting my presence to join him inside.

"I'm royalty, call me Queen Bee." I said with a smug smirk, returning the wink as I took another drink of my beer, looking at Ed as I did so, twirling inside like a drunken idiot while he shook his head and began to play his guitar once more, softly, as he made his way back up to the wooden platform of the country-themed bar that is the Blue Bird, the door closing behind him and the crowd cheering at his return. Maybe it was the fact that I was inebriated, but as I took another quick drink of my beer, my eyes were transfixed on this British lad singing. And maybe it was still the fact that I was inebriated, but I could've sworn he was looking at me an awful lot. . .

That was the first time I ever met Ed Sheeran. And he called me Princess. And made fun of my beer. And made me forget about Him for once. And had me falling for him, immediately.

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