Breakfast At Tiffany’s: An Ed Sheeran One Shot
this is about as FLUFFY as it’s going to get :)
Breakfast At Tiffany’s: An Ed Sheeran One Shot
Steps to folding the perfect pair of denim (A love story):
- Put the denim onto the folding cart
- Fold denim width wise, so that one pant leg lays on top of the other
- Fold the crotch of the pant inward, creating a straight line from waistband to leg.
- For the hem of the pants up to the edge of the pocket
- Fold the fold up to the waist of the pants
- Put the denim onto the neatly stacked pile
- Repeat X 25893895854
- Or until your hands fall off
- Or until your 4 hour shift is up
4 hours doesn’t feel as long when you’re doing something you love. In 4 hours you can prepare, bake, and ice a cake, you can travel across the state, you can take the GRE or the MCAT. You can learn the basics of a language. You can eat breakfast and lunch. You can watch 2 movies in their entirety. In 4 hours you can change your life.
But 4 hours of folding denim has left me with nothing more than an empty stomach from waking up too late to eat anything before my shift, Isolation from the outside world due to the “no cell phones on the sales floor” policy, and what I like to refer to as “denim hands.” You’ll probably never experience denim hands, unless you spend 4 hours folding denim, but I can tell you that it sort of resembles the feeling of having your hands covered in wax, mixed with that pins and needles feeling you get when your hand falls asleep.It’s pretty unpleasant, and the fabric of the jeans make my hands smell like 1969 denim from GAP, and all I can picture in my head is that scene from “Crazy, Stupid Love” where Ryan Gosling says, “be better than the GAP.” Most days I want to be better than the GAP, because no one wants to be tied down to a retail job for the rest of their lives, cleaning out fitting rooms and plastering a fake smile onto their faces while they help customers who claim to have no idea what size jeans they wear. But it pays the bills, and gives me some extra money to actually ENTER into society when I’m not going to grad school or working. (you know, because happy hour is a really important time of the day for us grad students)
I toss the last pair of jeans onto the neatly folded stack, surrender my handheld radio to the poor soul coming to take over for me on the sales floor, and I make my way towards the time clock. I punch out, grab my coat from the locker, stuffing all of my belongings into the pockets, from cigarettes to loose change. I grab my cell phone, and dial his number before I even cross the threshold to the outside world.
I only hear the phone ring once before I catch site of his ginger hair waiting for me outside of work. I hang up, not waiting for his answer and approach him. He gives me that crooked smile, and I can tell he’s up to something, just by the way it lingers on his face a second more than usual.
“You look good folding that denim” He chuckles, as he holds his arms open for me to walk into. I meet him halfway, his arms wrapping around my waist, as mine close around his neck. I take a brief mental note of Ed in this moment, and add it to the collection of mental notes I’ve already collected of him since the day we met. His hair is longer, there are more freckles on his cheeks, he smells less like cigarette smoke and more like that shampoo he uses. I take a step back from him, and try to read his face.
“Yeah, you really turned on by my denim hands and my struggling grad student persona?” I raise and eyebrow and shake my head. I see his mouth open, and I cover it with my hand before he has time to give me the same line he’s been giving me since I got accepted into NYU’s psych program, “And no, you cannot pay for me to go there.”
He rolls his eyes and I uncover his mouth, only to press my lips to the corner of his mouth, “but thank you for the offer, you’re sweet.”
“I don’t see why you won’t let me help you” He shrugs, narrowing his eyes, as his hand reaches into the pocket of my olive green jacket, pulling the pack of cigarettes out, “you know, this shit will kill you”
He gives me that sarcastic smile as he rolls a cigarette between his fingers. He clears his throat, and I roll my eyes at his nonverbal request, pulling the lighter from my back pocket, my thumb pressing down quickly to ignite the spark. I hold the flame to the end of the cigarette in his mouth.
“You know” I grumble, stuffing the lighter back into my pocket, “you’re the one with all of the money, maybe you could afford to smoke your own cigarettes.”
“This is me trying to get you to quit. Smoke all of yours so that you can’t buy anymore” he nods, wrapping his arm around my shoulder, pulling me into his side“ tough love, you know.”
“Did you walk here?” I look around for a car or taxi or some other form of automatic transportation, frowning when I don’t find anything.
“nah, you know, got my driver’s license yesterday, bought a ferarri, parked it on the street over” He jokes, “yeah I walked”
“My house is kind of far, Ed” I exhale, my free arm squeezing his waist, as we start walking down the street, “my mom probably could have driven you”
“Is your mom okay with me staying there?” he asks, “I know it’s only for a few days between shows but I can get a hotel if she’s not okay with it”
“My mom loves you, Ed” I reassure him, laughing at how concerned he is about it, “she told me that she’d have a go at you if I wasn’t with you.”
“I’ve always wondered what being with a cougar is like” he playfully jabs my side, laughing one of those whole body laughs he loves so much when he finds himself to be genuinely funny. It’s like he doesn’t expect himself to say something funny, “I’m kidding, love. But I’m serious, I can sleep on the couch or something”
“Ed” I groan, shaking my head at his persistence, “I’m 22 years old, I live at home because I can’t afford my own place. My mother is well aware that you and I are doing more than just holding hands”
“You told your mom we have sex?” he asks surprisingly, his eyes wide.
“Do you think the walls in my house are soundproof?” I chuckle at him, “Ed, you’re pretty loud”
“that’s cause it’s so damn good” he mumbles, his arm tightening around me, “We’re not talking about this anymore, because I have special plans for us tonight”
He lets go of me and walks ahead of me a few steps in a different direction, and against my better judgment, I follow him. Ed’s not the best at directions, but I think it’s cute when he takes charge of our plans. Most of the time we end up doing something completely ridiculous, like eating frozen yogurt at 2am, on the roof of my car. But it’s the thought that counts, and I just really like being with him when he’s not focused on music.
I catch up to him, and lace my fingers with his, smiling up at him.
“You’re pretty” He presses his lips to my forehead as we walk
“You’re so charming it’s almost sickening” I chuckle, as we continue to walk, “But can you at least tell me where we are going?”
“movies in the park” he says, “I was talking to someone the other day about you, well, they brought you up, and I acknowledged the fact that I am very fond of you. And I figured that since we don’t get to do proper dates often, I could take you somewhere that you’d actually like to go. You talk about this place all the time.”
“You’re taking me to watch a movie in the park” I repeat, my voice dripping with awe and excitement, “You’re the greatest. What are we seeing”
“Wait for it” that same crooked smile spreads across his face, and he’s literally jumping out of his skin to tell me, “Breakfast at Tiffany’s”
“Ed!” I practically scream, “come on, you know that’s my favorite movie”
“I know” He smiles, “I’m excited that you’re excited”
We make our way to the park, walking past groups of friends and couples spread out amongst the park. We find a small spot, towards the back where we have enough free space to be comfortable. It’s nice to be here with him, without people trying to get his autograph, without screaming fans.We sit down on the grass, Ed’s arm around me and my head on his shoulder.
“This is incredible, Ed” I tell him, “Thanks for bringing me here, especially after a day at work”
“You know what?” He speaks up, “I’m really proud of you for doing what you’re doing for grad school. I know it’s hard and a lot of money, but I’m proud of you. So you’re welcome for bringing you. You deserve a night off”
“Especially when it involves my long lost boyfriend” I add, nodding, and I can practically hear the smile spread across his face.
The movie starts, and the sun starts to set, and had I known that we were going to be sitting in the park in May, I probably would have brought a jacket, or something other than a short sleeved shirt. But by the first hour into the movie, I’m absolutely freezing, practically shivering.
“Here” He mumbles quietly, as he unzips his hoodie, pulling it off of his body and handing it to me.
“Thanks” I tell him, wrapping myself into the warm fabric. The smell of Ed makes my head swim, and his hoodies are always incredibly comfortable. But after another 15 minutes I notice Ed shivering as well.
I try to take it off and he stops me, shaking his head, “I’m fine”
“you’re not fine” I protest, giving him his hoodie back, “here.”
He puts his hoodie back on, before extending his legs and patting the space between them, motioning for me to move. I crawl over him, and settle in front of him, his legs on either side of my body, his chest to my back, and he wraps his arms around me, keeping as much heat between us as possible, preventing me from freezing my ass off.
“better?” his lips are pressed to my ear, and I nod in agreement with his question.
He rests his chin on my shoulder, keeping his arms around my waist as the movie finishes, and when we stand up to leave, he grabs a hold of me, turning me around in his arms.
“You know what?” he asks, and I shake my head, “I thought that maybe I wouldn’t know how to say it, I thought maybe that it would be a decision, but it’s not”
“What?” I look at him like he’s crazy because I have no idea what the hell he’s talking about.
“I love you” he says, and as the words move from his mouth through the air, we both realize that he can’t take them back. I think I’ve always known, that he loved me. It was always different with him than everyone else, and I have just always assumed that we both knew it. But this was him saying it out loud. This was him, wanting me, picking me, choosing me to love.
“Good” I nod, smiling, leaning up on my tip toes to press my lips to his, “cause I love you too.”