Sweet Surrender

When you have the option between life and death, what would you choose? I would pick life. However, no matter what you choose, there will always be death in the end. If you have the option between fame and success, or the one you love, what would you choose? I wouldn't know which one, because if I chose fame and success, that would result in me losing the one I love, which is death in my eyes. However, if I chose the one I love over fame and success, and the person ending up not loving you, you have lost everything as well. How much do you trust the one you think your heart belongs to?


1. Ed Who?

        "Oh my god! It's Ed Sheeran!" A young teenage girl whailed. I looked up from my computer screen, turned my head, puzzled. I gazed out the glass doors of the coffee shop, and my eyes widened.

About 100 young girls, ages ranging from around 13-18 were bolting past the shop, screaming and crying. Worried, I stored my laptop back into my leather, studded bag, and put my grey sweatshirt on.

"I can't believe we saw him!" A girl yelled as she bursted through the transparent door with her friend. The other girl was tall. She had  shiny combat boots, a 'Dream On' sweatshirt, and black tattered leggings on. Her hair was light purple. The other girl had blonde hair, and combat boots and leggings. The difference between the two? She was wearing a plaid flannel.

"Uhm, excuse me, but what's going on out there?" I questioned the girls. The purple-haired one wiped her eyes and glared at me like I had several heads.

"You don't know?" She spat annoyed. I pulled my sleeves over my hands nervously, and shook my head.

"Ed Sheerans in the town square! He's performing!" I just stared at the emotional teen with a blank facial expression.

"You don't know who Ed Sheeran is?" The blonde asked.

"I'm sorry...but no." She sighed and shook her head.

"Then don't worry about what's going on!" She stated rudely. I just nodded and walked out the doors.

"What an ass..." I spat through gritted teeth.

"I love em' from the skin, to my bones." Sang the voice of an angel. I looked around urgently trying to navigate the sound.

"But I don't wanna live in this home, no."  Was that this Ted Sheeran, or however you say it, singing? It must be.

I pivoted around once more, surveying my surroundings. Finally I saw a large group of girls pressed against a wooden stage, whailing their arms and posters. Above them was a fairly tall, young man with orange hair singing. He was holding a clearly-overused guitar. It looked like a childs guitar from my experience with them. Weird.

I walked cautiously closer to the stage and examined the man a bit more. He was handsome, and had stubble. He sounded British, was extremely surprising.

"What was a British man doing in Florida? So far from home?" I mumbled to myself.

The song finished and he bowed his head, causing shrieks and squeals to erupt from the decently sized crowd.

"Thank you so much, St. Pete! I love all of you sexy people!" Girls screamed even louder.

With that he disappeared into the rear of the stage. I wasn't sure what to do, and there's something you should know about me. When I don't know what to do, I do the dumbest thing possible.

In this case, it was to go towards the crowd of screaming girls.

Bad idea. They all ran (of course) my way, and I fell to floor due to getting smashed into by several hormonal girls. The stomps of boots and converse surrounded me. I panicked and tried getting up, only to be knocked to the floor again, this time the impact was even harder.

I winced in pain as my leg was stepped on harshly. I closed my eyes tight and waited for the running pack of insane bulls to subside. Moments went by, and it ended.

I gathered myself to my feet, and limped to a nearby bench.

"Are you alright, Miss?" I directed my attention from my leg, to the bright, oceanic eyes gazing at me. It was the man on the stage.

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