Daisy

Estella was going to cry.

She had lost her best friend in the writhing mass of bodies at the Spring Music Festival.

I didn’t even want to come here, she thought. Georgia made me come.

She fought her through the crowd trying to spot her friend’s pastel purple hair, but it was no use.

Turning around, she dodged elbows and legs until she was finally at the edge of the crowd.

Estella walked to the tent that she and Georgia were supposed to share when she heard the noises coming from inside.

Unbelievable. Georgia had ditched her for a random stranger.

Without thinking, Estella dumped her drink over the top of the tent. It had no effect on the occupants of the tent.

She huffed and started running away.

Following one of the paths that lead into the botanical garden, she walked with her head down, not in the mood to talk to anyone.

Estella found a suitably hidden bench. It was surrounded by rosebushes and an ivy-covered arch. She sat down and unleashed the tears that had built up since Georgia had ditched her.

Already making peace with the fact that she might have to stay here the entire night, a voice startled her.

“Are you okay?”

“Do I look okay?” she snapped before she could help herself. She wiped her eyes, apologizing. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”

Estella looked up at the stranger who had intruded upon her pity-fest. She expected to find someone who would fit into the folk music scene, but the guy standing in the shadows was the complete opposite.

Black jeans, a Rise Against tank, and a leather jacket.

“Are you lost?” she blurted before she could help herself.

The stranger chuckled. “Physically, no.” He took a seat next to her. “Psychologically, yes.” He held out his hand for her to shake. “Thomas MacBentley.”

Estella shook his hand, silently.

He nudged her shoulder with his. “And what is the name you were blessed with?”

“Daisy,” she lied.

Thomas raised his eyebrow. “So, you’re Daisy? Attending the music festival Rocking the Daisies? Now, why don’t I believe you?”

“You can always pretend that it’s my name.”

Thomas scrutinized her for a while. “You want to be someone else for the night.”

Estella – ‘Daisy’ – nodded her head.

He stretched out his arm on the back of the bench. “Well, you’re in luck, Miss Daisy. I just so happen to be in the market for a sidekick who is desperate for an adventure.”

*

Thomas was pressed up against Estella as they hid behind the stairs that led to the VIP stage. They were failing terribly at suppressing their giggles.

After playing a drinking game – a shot for everyone with coloured hair – the pair decided to get some air. On the way to the botanical garden, Thomas had a lightbulb moment. “We should go to the VIP stage.”

Without waiting for a response from her, he took a hold of her hand and started dragging Estella to the VIP area.

Now, they were hiding from the bouncers. Still holding hands.

Throughout the night, Estella learned more about Thomas, first and foremost the fact that they both liked the same punk bands. She was confused as to why he came to a folk music spring festival and he was cagey when he finally said that he came with his friends.

There were a few moments were they accidentally brushed against one another. Estella hoped she wasn’t the only one feeling the sparks with each touch.

She looked up at him, noticing his eyes were focused on her lips. Thomas leaned in and she closed her eyes.

A wolf whistle interrupted the moment.

“Hey, Thomas, if you decide to ditch our pre-gig ritual to hook up, at least let us know.”

The voice belonged to a guy with blonde curls artistically styled to look disheveled. Behind him stood three more guys.

Then the words ‘pre-gig’ broke through the haze in Estella’s mind. “Gig? Are you performing tonight?” She couldn’t keep the accusatory tone from her voice.

Thomas had the decency to look embarrassed as he looked down at his feet.

She stepped out of his embrace and his friends responded with laughter.

“Trouble in paradise?” the blonde guy asked.

Thomas rubbed his hands over his face. “Can you give me a second, Eli?”

Estella stepped back, out of his reach. Thomas reached for her, but she dodged his hand.

“You’re in a band?” she asked. “A folk band? You’d said you want to be in a punk band. You even dissed folk music.”

“It’s complicated, okay?” he replied. “And you didn’t even give me your name, so you can’t lecture me on withholding information, Daisy.”

“Just forget it, Thomas,” Estella said, walking backward. She paused then turned back, look at him. “My name’s Estella,” she whispered.

*

“Isn’t this just an awesome night, Stel?” Georgia asked. She wasn’t looking for an answer from Estella as she continued dancing in sync with the rhythm.

Estella kept quiet as the band on stage stopped playing. Her heart skipped a beat as she saw who was playing next.

Thomas walked on stage with his guitar. Eli walked to the mic.

“So, I’ll apologize in advance, for tonight we’re going to start things off a little bit differently,” he paused looking at Thomas, “This is a cover of a song by KennyHoopla and Travis Barker.”

My heart galloped off as Thomas started strumming his guitar. Eli started singing.

“Estella, Estella, I'm comin' to life

Meltin' in my heart, gettin' high off your own supply”

*

Thomas prayed that his gesture hadn’t been too cliché.

He gave a sigh of relief as he reached the corner and saw Estella sitting on their bench.

He had come out here to take a breath, to clear his head after the fight with the band’s management. The guys, like him, wanted to play more punk, more rock songs. The label had determined that that wasn’t market-friendly.

They needed to make a living and accepted that folk music festivals and gigs were more common.

Still, it wasn’t what he wanted.

Thomas stepped towards Estella, sitting down next to her.

He met her gaze head-on. He might have only known her for a night, but he was prepared to grovel for a chance to get to know her better.

Estella stuck out her hand. “Estella Pierce, and you are?”

He cradled her face in his hands as he kissed her.

The pair were hidden by the rose bushes surrounding the bench.