A few minutes before Andrew and company escape the horde and go grab a coffee.
"Are we almost there?" asked Rachel, adjusting her bag on her shoulder as the bus ca to a stop at a palm-lined corner.
"Next stop," replied Monica, standing up quickly, as if rushing would make the bus get there faster.
They’d been riding for just over an hour from San Diego, right in the middle of sumr, and although the bus’s air conditioning had helped, the heat outside still felt like a slap in the face.
At the next stop, the bus halted, the doors opened, and both of them got off. They walked briskly through the final blocks, well, Monica did. She had a nervous energy about her, like she was about to et a celebrity. Which... technically, wasn’t too far from the truth.
"Can’t you walk slower? I’m in sandals!" Rachel complained, panting.
"No! It’s already ti and we’re late!" Monica shouted without even turning her head.
"Ugh, just three minutes late! And you saw him last year, why are you so anxious?" asked Rachel, now clearly annoyed from the long ride under the blazing sun when she could’ve been relaxing at the beach in San Diego.
It wasn’t like Monica was eting him for the first ti.
Monica ignored her and kept speeding up. They finally entered the mall, and the mont they reached the fountain area, the noise hit them like a wave.
A crowd. A real crowd: hundreds of people.
"Oh. My. God," Rachel said, stopping in her tracks. "Is this guy Justin Bieber or what?"
"Justin Bieber?" repeated a brown-haired guy wearing a San Francisco 49ers t-shirt. He looked at Rachel with a frown, a mix of irritation and wounded pride. He didn’t seem to care, or be impressed by, her beauty.
"Please. Andrew is an elite athlete, not so muscleless Canadian singer whose fans are little girls," he added.
Rachel raised her eyebrows, surprised by his tone. "I was just saying..." she replied.
’And I’m also a fan of Justin Bieber, and I’m not a little girl...’ Rachel thought, wanting to say sothing else, but nothing ca to mind.
The guy didn’t say anything more. He just started pushing his way into the sea of fans.
Rachel watched him go, then turned to Monica. "Are they all this intense?"
"There are even worse ones in the comnts on his videos... but don’t mind them. Though yeah, your Justin Bieber comparison was a bit offensive. Co on," said Monica, beginning to weave through the crowd as best she could, gently, but determined.
Rachel reluctantly followed her, shielding her bag from elbows and shoves. There were signs, T-shirts, banners... and in the distance, near the tal stairs, she saw a figure surrounded by people.
Rachel saw Andrew in person. Even from far away and despite the crowd, his height made him visible. She had only seen him in the videos Monica had made her watch, and a few others she’d checked out of curiosity... or research. He was taller than he looked on screen.
"There he is!" Monica shouted, more to herself than to Rachel.
"And now what? Are you going to teleport to him or should we wait three hours before we can even move an inch?" snapped Rachel, half-suffocated. "Monica, this is insane."
They couldn’t move forward anymore. They were stuck in a dead zone. A compact mass. Like a giant wall of sweaty, excited, desperate bodies.
’My day at the beach...’ Rachel thought, growing more irritated by the second. It was rare for her to lose her cool, but this situation was definitely pushing her there.
After nearly an hour of barely moving forward, the unexpected happened. The second wave.
"What’s that?" Rachel asked, alard, seeing how the back of the crowd suddenly began shoving hard toward the front.
"Shit, we have to move!" Monica exclaid, trying to push deeper in.
"Andrew! Andrew!" people shouted all around them.
"We’re not going to make it!" yelled Rachel, grabbing Monica by the arm and pulling her back. "We have to get out of here before we get crushed to death!"
Monica resisted at first, but then a guy holding a child accidentally elbowed her, and she decided maybe Rachel had a point.
They managed to escape, slipping out through a side corridor. They walked through the mall’s quieter hallways until they reached an area with padded benches and vending machines, far from the chaos.
Rachel collapsed onto the bench like a war survivor. She dramatically pushed her hair off her face, tossed her bag beside her, and muttered sothing about "the most useless air conditioning on the planet."
"What kind of mall can’t fight off the collective stench of hundreds of sweaty teenagers?" Rachel huffed, pulling a scented handkerchief from her purse and delicately dabbing her forehead.
It wasn’t just the heat. It was the whole atmosphere. And to top it off, zero results. Over an hour of travel, and they hadn’t even gotten within ten ters of the golden boy everyone wanted to touch.
Beside her, Monica wasn’t saying anything. She wasn’t a wreck like Rachel, at least not physically. The sweat didn’t seem to bother her much. She sat with her elbows on her knees, hands clasped together, staring at the floor like she had just lost a competition.
"I saw him..." she murmured softly, almost to herself. "I saw him... but he was surrounded. He was trying to escape. It was impossible to reach him. It’s not like last year anymore."
Rachel frowned and turned slightly toward her. "So what? You saw him last year. You got so pictures with him, you talked to him... What more do you want?" she said, trying to sound reasonable.
"I don’t know..." Monica replied without looking up.
Rachel watched her silently for a few seconds. Despite her friend’s chronic dramatics, she understood the kind of obsession Monica had for this YouTuber. Her life had changed so much thanks to his diets, workouts, and motivational advice.
"Look on the bright side," Rachel said, trying to sound cheerful while running her fingers through her hair. "We wasted a few hours of our lives, sure, but we got so sightseeing in, got a sunburn walking under the blazing sun, almost died in a stampede... mories for life. Soday this will be a great story to tell our friends."
Monica looked up slightly, wearing a resigned expression. "You suck at cheering people up."
"Great! Then I’ll cheer you up the only sensible way I know that actually works: shopping," Rachel declared, standing up with fake determination.
Monica opened her mouth to protest, but Rachel didn’t give her a chance. She grabbed her by the arm and pulled her to her feet.
"Co on, I saw a clothing store not far from here while we were escaping. It was almost empty. Far from the fans, and hopefully with better air conditioning," said Rachel. Just the thought of shopping was already lifting her mood.
Monica sighed and mumbled, "Cheering up or yourself?"
They walked to a boutique with soft lighting, color-coordinated racks, and gentle music playing in the background, like sothing out of a fashion show.
In under five minutes, Rachel already had three hangers in her hand. Monica, on the other hand, was holding a plain white T-shirt with no enthusiasm, leaning in the corner and staring at the floor.
Rachel walked over with a dress slung over her arm and a strappy top hanging from her wrist. "Seriously? That T-shirt?" she asked, pointing at the dull garnt. "Monica, that’s not even good enough to sleep in."
"I’m not in the mood to shop right now," Monica sighed, placing the T-shirt on a chair.
Rachel narrowed her eyes at her. She dropped her own clothes in the nearest fitting room, put her hands on her hips, and let out a loud breath, losing her patience.
"Fine," she said, raising her voice a bit more than usual. "If you’re so desperate to see your sports-obsessed idol, why don’t you just call him? Co on. You’re probably the only fangirl on this planet who actually has his number."
Monica looked at her like she’d just suggested burning down a church. "Are you insane? No! That would be... crossing a line. I already took a big enough risk last year asking for his number for that food review. But calling him, without warning? That would take from respectful fan to full-on psycho. No way!"
Rachel clicked her tongue and, without a word, reached out and swiftly snatched Monica’s phone from her pocket.
"Rachel, no!"
"Relax, I’m not going to threaten him or sound like so crazy fan," Rachel replied, already unlocking the phone like it was her own. Of course she knew the PIN. "I’m just going to save your day. Don’t worry, this’ll work. Sohow."
"Rachel, give it back!" Monica insisted, lunging forward to grab it.
"Too late. It’s ringing..." Rachel paused, her eyebrows lifting in a triumphant smile. "Oh, he picked up."
Monica froze. She couldn’t take it back now. And deep down, a tiny part of her couldn’t help but hope her friend’s madness might actually work.
"Hi!" Rachel said cheerfully, phone to her ear. "No, I’m not Monica. I’m her best friend..."
"Look, Monica ca all the way from New York. First she stopped in San Diego for her vacation, and now she took over an hour of public transportation just to be here. In the middle of sumr. In over ninety-degree heat. All to bring you those protein snacks you said you couldn’t replicate the way she does. So, as her best friend, I was wondering if we could et up so she can bring you her snacks and you can talk to her for five minutes..."
Rachel paused, listening. She smiled and twirled a strand of hair. "Great, great. Perfect, thanks. Bye."
She ended the call.
Monica stared at her like she’d just seen soone walk on water, "What happened?"
"He’s at a café. Second floor, about fifteen minutes from here on foot... He’s sending the location."
And just like that, Rachel started walking as if nothing had happened, leaving Monica open-mouthed for a mont before she had to hurry to catch up.
"I can’t believe it..." she whispered, half in shock, half thrilled. "Thank you! I’m going to have coffee with Andrew! Thanks, Rachel!"
Rachel smiled smugly as she put on her sunglasses. "Yeah, yeah... don’t cry. I don’t want this turning into so embarrassing mont. Just consider it a small favor from ."
"How are you not nervous? You just called him! Him!" said Monica, still in shock.
"Because I’m not a fangirl," Rachel replied with a shrug. "Just a compassionate soul saving her best friend’s day... and, to be honest, he sounded really nice. Nothing like that 49ers guy who almost killed with his eyes just for ntioning Justin Bieber."
Monica nodded, more out of reflex than anything else. And so, with nervous laughter and a walk that felt shorter than expected, the two of them continued on their way to the café.
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