I Don't Belong Here

As I sped down the 405 to Huntington Beach, I couldn't help but think about the text message Brian sent me. It was like high school all over again; the guy would be too scared to face rejection, so instead of calling, he'd text. I mean, really. He's a rock star.

He gets girls in his pants all the time.

I sighed, and unconsciously kept looking at my bag in the passenger's seat, almost hoping that it would vibrate again.

However, theseventh last time I looked at it, it began playing the intro to "Sweet Child O' Mine" by Guns 'N Roses.

I yelped and breathed deeply, pressing the button on my Bluetooth. "Hello?"

"Addie?" It was Zacky.

"Zacky! Don't say Addie in front of the guys!" I hissed.

"Chill, I'm by myself," I heard him chuckle. Concern ran across my face; "Didn't you leave with the guys, though?"

"Well, I was going to, but I had forgotten that they were planning to go to Las Vegas, and well, after the break-up, I didn't really want to go anywhere."

"So, how are you getting home?"

"Well, since they had all our suitcases and shit ready, all I did was get my stuff and call a cab."

"Oh, man. Wait – do you live with your girlfriend or not?"

"Well…I don't anymore."

"Zack…," I started, seriousness lacing my voice, "did she move out, or did she kick you out?"

"Well,…she was home more than me…so even though we each paid for half of it…she claimed she had more 'reason' to keep it. So…I was kicked out."

"Fuckin' Zack. Where are you living now?" I asked, turning on the exit.

"Well, um, I haven't told any of the guys yet…So, technically, nowhere."

"Babe, come over to my house!" I urged him.

"No, Ads, that's really nice of you, but I can't accept."

"Zacky fucking Baker, I haven't seen you for six fucking years. Move in! Besides, I'm really lonely in my empty condo, anyways. Please?"

I heard him give a deep sigh; "Are you sure it's – "

"YES, it's fucking alright!"

"Alright, thanks, Addie," I could envision a weary, yet smiling, Zacky on the other end.

"Hey, Zack, come over now. I'm almost home, anyways."

"Okay, what's the address?"

I told him, and heard him talking to the cab driver.

"Just tell him to park outside the gate and I'll help you in."

He agreed, and we hung up. Once I reached the condos, I parked outside, and waited for Zacky. Finally, I saw a yellow cab, and got out of my car.

The driver got out of the cab and walked over to the trunk, grabbing a large, brown suitcase.

I asked him, "Can you bring the suitcase over to the Mercedes?" while I grabbed another one from the trunk.

He nodded, looking at me for a brief second. "Hey, Zack," I smiled as he got out of the car.

"Hello, again," he chuckled, grabbing two suitcases.

"Dang, you brought 4 suitcases to Las Vegas?" I asked, once we reached my car. "Well, this was all that I had brought on tour."

"Oh, well, then, dang, you only brought 4 suitcases on tour?"

"Ads," he looked at me skeptically as I opened up my trunk and lifted the suitcases inside, "We were on tour four like 5-and-a-half months, and we stopped by a Laundromat like every two weeks, okay? Clothes were not a big deal. Besides, this isn't all of my stuff. The rest is at, um, Gena's house."

I smiled sympathetically, and touched his shoulder, "It's alright, Zack."

He chuckled, trying to play off his emotions, "Yeah, it's cool."

"You…wanna go get your shit from her house now?"

"I'd really rather not go to that bitch's house," he looked a little upset at even mentioning her existence.

"Well, we gotta get your stuff sometime. Otherwise, you'd be running out of wearable clothes soon."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" he laughed, giving me a hug. I laughed along, and changed my tone into one of seriousness; "No. Let's go get your shit from the 'bitch's' house," I said, slapping his ass.

"Ow, alright! Lemme go pay the driver," he said, walking over to the yellow cab. I nodded, "Alright. Hurry up!"

Zacky's POV.

I strode over to the cab driver, and asked him how much.

"$24.75," was his reply. "Cool, hey, thanks for the ride, man."

"No problem," he grinned, "She your girlfriend?" He pointed at Addie.

"No, why?"

"Oh, man. She's hot. You should bang 'er. I would."

I nodded, just to get away from him. Creep. He's like, fucking 40 years old.

"Yo, Addie," I called out, walking back to her. She looked over at me, "What's up?"

"You won't believe what the taxi guy said. He asked if you were my girlfriend, and I said no, and he's like 'You should bang her.'"

"Oh, my God!" she looked alarmed; "Wasn't he like 50?!"

"Something like that."

"Fuckin'....Whatever, next time you see a cab that has the number 5437, just tell me so I can like hide or something."

He laughed, "Screw that. I'll punch him for you."

I laughed in return; this was just like the old days.