Viva_La_Coldplay

Here's a little story I wrote, chapter 1. Please give feedback: I can take it! My Heart is Yours Chapter I: Jonny’s POV “C’mon, Guy. Hurry up.” I tapped my foot impatiently on the concrete path outside the hotel. Where the hell was Guy? He was an hour and 45 minutes late! Will’s gonna kill me, I thought to myself. To make matters worse it was absolutely freezing, as it was winter in New York. I shivered in my thick jacket. I had been waiting for ages out in the cold for Guy to pick me up, so we could go to the stadium together for the gig later that night. We were on tour across the world, and New York was just one of the many stops. We’d all booked our own hotels to get some time away from each other. Being with three other guys for a several months was not the best of times. Especially seeing that we had... How can I put it? “Clashes” of personalities on quite a regular basis. Chris and Guy in particular. Speaking of which, what could Guy be doing? I checked my watch for what felt like the millionth time. An hour and fifty minutes. Right. Well, I’d definitely missed the sound check, and probably most of the rehearsal. I rummaged about in my bag for my phone. The screen was black. No battery. Dammit! Tonight was a really important show! And I was missing the rehearsals. Yep, Will was gonna kill me. I felt a little splash on the tip of my nose, followed by several others around my feet. Oh great. It was raining. After a few minutes, it was absolutely pelting down. I thought perhaps my jacket would shield me from the majority of the water, but I was wrong. I felt it trickle down my neck and into my shirt. Within moments I was soaked through. And I couldn’t even call Guy to tell him to bloody hurry up. Shivering profusely, I glanced up and down the road for a telephone box. I could see the faint outline of one to my right, about 400 metres away. I ran towards it, desperate to get warm. My guitar clunked in its case with each of my steps. When I reached the phone box I threw the door open and stepped inside. My fingers were numb as I put the last of my money in and dialled Guy’s number. The glass was already fogging up; I looked at my reflection in the dial pad of the phone as I held the receiver to my ear. My face was white as a sheet: quite shocking really. It took about thirty seconds for a recorded voice to come through: “Hey, you’ve reached Guy. Can’t come to the phone, so leave a message. Thanks.” “Oh, for chrissake.” I slammed the receiver back down. What the hell was I going to do? I didn’t have a change of clothes, Guy was nowhere to be seen, I had no money and my phone was dead. This was going to be an interesting evening... The one thing that did come out of me sitting waiting for Guy was I started thinking about the few months that had passed. Chloe had left me just before we went on that leg of the tour. That had pretty much broken my heart, having to see her leave with my daughter Violet. She told me it was too hard to keep going with such a long distance relationship. To be honest, I slightly relieved. I had been feeling very strange for about six months, and it wasn’t about Chloe. I hated to admit it to myself, but it was about Chris. I hadn’t told anyone about us breaking up until a couple of weeks before that show. Chris was very supportive, always asking me if I was ok, taking me out to dinner, talking with me if I needed it. But if he was my best friend, why did I feel so strangely about him?