Playing Russian Roulette.

This is for you (this is for you).
You're the one worth waiting for.
You're all I ever needed in this life.

-A Day to Remember.

Buzznet’s newest sensation, Piper “Juliet” Oakes, girlfriend of former Escape the Fate front man, Ronnie Radke, may be involved in a scandal of her own, something her surprising fame cannot save her from. Our reliable sources say that she and Ronnie are still together, they haven’t called it quits, yet fans attending Warped Tour 2009 are shocked at the recent happenings between Oakes and Escape the Fate’s bassist and Radke’s ex-best friend, Max Green.

On July 3rd, 2009, at six AM, pictures of the two were taken outside the Houston Theater. They appear to be going for a morning jog, if Oakes’ scanty outfit says anything, and holding hands affectionately. Shortly after they are first photographed, a separate Warped attendee snaps a shot of them sitting together, apparently sharing in an intimate conversation.

The same day, Max himself got down on his knee and asked Oakes to marry him, in front of hundreds of witnesses, including Craig Mabbitt (Escape the Fate’s new front man) and Oakes’ touring buddies, Devin Reilly (fellow Buzznet employee) and Stefan Cubbins (Reilly‘s life partner).

But it doesn’t end there. At the punk metal band, A Day to Remember’s set, the couple were spotted slow dancing side stage, the ring Green gave Oakes visible on her left hand.

Is this the end of the four year strong relationship between Oakes and Radke, that withstood the pressures of Radke being thrown in jail eleven months ago? Or could it be that the twenty-one-year-old Los Angeles native - whom the song Not Good Enough For Truth In Cliché was written for - is devoid of attention and finding it in all the wrong places?

Whether it be the more innocent possibility or the latter, we know one thing is for sure. Ronnie Radke is no doubt writing a sad song on the wall of his jail cell dedicated to this lovely, heartbreaker of a girl.

The e-mail consisted of nothing but the straightforward, completely misinformed Buzznet article. Not a typed word of why Rachel sent it to me, why it had been so urgent that I wait hours upon hours for it… Nine, to be exact. She just as easily could have sent me the link, or told me to look on Leslie’s page.

Leslie Simon, ugh. She may have been the senior director of the internet company I was employed by, but that gave her no right to post ludicrous lies about me on the internet, about Max, when she knew better than all the employees…

Hold up. My eyes swept across the four pictures below the text, each of Max and myself on our escapades in Houston, only two days ago. From the outside looking in, to someone who didn’t know me personally, it did seem like what she wrote was true.

Hell, even I agreed the photo evidence was incriminating. We appeared a couple, an engaged one, and I couldn’t blame the fans or Leslie for being suspicious.

“Is… is that it? That’s all Rachel wanted to send you?” Devin sounded as surprised as I felt, and I shrugged my shoulders in the only response I thought was proper. “Who cares? Everyone knows you and Max aren’t really dating.”

I wasn’t so sure. If they knew with a positive, absolute, undeniable certainty that Max and I were not an item, why would they takes pictures of us together? Why would they - the fans - automatically assume Max was dating me?

Because they want a show. Every good fan girl loves drama, and the controversy between Max and Ronnie reeked of it. Of course they would see Max with a girl who just so happened to be dating his newest enemy and think the worst, for a good story.

And Leslie wrote it to give them that story, knowing that is what they wanted.

I dropped my head to my hands, leaning forward until my forehead rested against the rim of my laptop. The hard plastic bit into my skin. It would leave a mark, but I didn’t mind right now. Bigger things were brewing.

Max made a rude sound. “’Heartbreaker of a girl’? Do they know who they’re talking about?” He snorted unattractively. “Bullshit.”

I sighed and turned my head so my temple was pressed against the black object and my gaze was on Max. “Leslie Simon wrote that. She knows me pretty well, that’s the sad thing. We’ve worked four times together, and she knows I haven’t dumped Ronnie yet.”

Now that I thought about it, the day I went into the Buzznet studio in Los Angeles to get all my information for the Warped job, she asked how Ronnie and I were doing. I told her we weren’t doing very well, but we would work it out after I got home.

Yeah. Either she did it to give the fan girls a thrill or she was high.

“Leslie wrote that?” Devin gasped. “How can you tell?”

“It has her copyright watermark at the bottom.” I lifted my head, pushing back against the couch cushions, and tapped my finger on the tiny, black letters to the left of the screen. “I bet you anything it’s all over Buzznet by now.”

Devin didn’t say anything. He leaned his elbow on the arm of the couch, his head lolling backwards to stare up at the ceiling. His chest rose and fell as he heaved a heavy sigh.

I turned my attention back to Rachel’s message. Maybe I was having an off day, but I did not understand why it was so bad, or if Rachel even thought it was bad. She could have at least had the decency to tell why she forwarded it.

Surely she of all people knew Max and me were not really engaged and this was only for publicity or… something. She knew Ronnie and I were still together, and I wouldn’t cheat on him unless I knew it was with the perfect person.

An awkward silence hung thick among us. My iPod - still on the iHome on the counter - played a song I didn’t recognize, and the RV’s engine sounded louder and more garish in the dank silence.

I shifted, lifting my computer in the air and crossing my legs at the knees. Setting the warm device back on my lap, I looked at Devin and then to Max. Devin hadn’t moved from his collapsed position against the arm, while Max was staring at the bright screen of his cell phone.

Woo, boy. This is fun. Fun, fun, fun.

The silence was starting to get to me, so I tapped my thumb against the spacebar. “Dev, do you think I should call Rachel?” I asked softly.

Devin flopped his head to the right against the cushion. He shook his head, letting a hand drop down on my knee. “No, dear. I’ll do it.” He rose from the couch and strode to the hallway in three long strides, retrieving his cell from his back pocket as he disappeared from view.

I tugged the blonde streak in my hair. Rachel couldn’t fire me for bad press toward Buzznet, could she? Fuck, I hoped not! This was my dream job. This job was going to be one of my saviors, the basis for my getting better. Already it gave me something to leave the house for, to look forward to after so many disappointments.

I could not lose it. No, no, no. This was my entire life…

I pressed the palm of my hand flat against my forehead. Of course she couldn’t. That was not a viable raison d’être to kick me out of Buzznet. My mind was simply getting incoherent with worry and hunger and exhausted… And Max’s knee brushing against mine was not helping.

“Don’t take this too seriously.”

“Hmm?” I flicked my gaze at Max, raising an eyebrow. He looked pointedly at the computer screen. “Oh, you mean the article. No, no. I’m fine. That doesn’t bother me, it’s what might happen because of it.”

Max guided the computer off my lap and onto his. I left him take it without argument; it was doing me no good, after all. He could throw it out the window at this point and I would shrug my shoulders and look the other way.

His finger tapped the down arrow, and the screen scrolled to the pictures.

They were cute. They might end my free ride through Warped, but they were adorable, the one of Max on bended knee in particular. The proposal looked devastatingly real.

Max gave a single, short laugh. “We look really good together. No wonder people think we’re dating.” There was a hint of real laughter in his voice. He actually sounded happy about this rumor. Happy! And he felt confident enough to laugh.

Obviously my anxiety was one sided. But, despite my irrational fear of the impossible, a smile tugged at my lips. Max said we looked good together, as a couple. That had to mean something in this strange relationship of ours.

The worry dissipated, replaced by a sickeningly warm, fuzzy feeling. Ick. Is this what love feels like? Ew. I never experienced such a sensation with Ronnie. It was much less nauseating occurrence falling - if one could call it falling - for him.

Ah. Being head over heels happened to be kind of nice.

“You think so?” I moved to nudge him in the ribs with my elbow, but - remembering Devin and his so-called bruised ribcage - decided against it and poked his arm instead. I stole a glance back at the monitor. “We’re fucking adorable, actually.”

Max pointed to us sitting together on the cement, talking. I didn’t remember anyone being close enough to take a picture. “You should wear those shorts more often.”

“And why is that?” The assumption I held was more than likely right, but I would let him bury himself, just in case I was wrong.

“Because they’re - uh, they look… good on you,” he stuttered.

A full smile broke out on my face. I made Max stutter like a small child. He was a grown man, and something as simple as a pair of undersized, skimpy shorts threw him all in a tizzy. Who would have guessed.

“Why, thank you.” I breathed, leaning closer to him.

He averted his gaze to the screen, his hand balling into a fist against Ghost’s furry back as he slept peacefully beside Max’s leg.

I bit my cheek to keep from laughing. Just like the day when he hesitated from hugging me at Starbucks, I found it cute, endearing on him, and flattering on my part.

Questions zipped like pixies through my mind. Was I the only girl that did this to him? Why? What was so special about me? How come I was the only person that saw me as normal?

Enough! Shut up! I was beginning to annoy even myself with my constant complaining and mental bickering. I needed to close my thoughts for once.

A low, almost inaudible rumble erupted in the pit of my stomach, bubbling sickly, a slight hunger pain rearing up into my ribs. My body craved food before my abdominal organs started gnawing on my spine or eating themselves.

Groaning, I pushed myself up from the plush, faux leather couch and strode into the kitchenette. The cold, textured tiles felt nice on my bare feet. I gripped the edge of the counter once I was close enough, to steady myself. The corners of the room were spinning.

I needed to eat something, and immediately take a nap afterwards. Everything would be better, easier to deal with when we arrived in Indianapolis, at the Verizon Wireless Amphitheatre, if I filled my stomach and pushed my exhaustion aside.

Not that I even knew what my exact job was - what band I was suppose to interview, if any, or what sets I was due to watch.

I bowed forward until my forehead touched the marbled countertop beside my iPod. Why couldn’t Rachel send me a list of things to do instead of a stupid, pointless article filled with lies and ignorance?

The migraine threatening to pierce my skull a couple of hours ago flushed through my brain full force. Aspirin - no, Excedrin would be nice. Pills, food, sleep… and something to help nausea. I was going to throw up if Devin didn’t hurry and tell me if anything was wrong.

Something warm slipped around the back of my waist, and a hand slithered onto the front of my button-up, plaid shirt. The arm felt skinny, but still muscled to a slight degree, and the person, now leaning against me, smelled strongly of Axe and cigarettes…

I‘m fucking insane! I like the way he smells. The familiar thought intruded in on my pity party, replacing all other emotions with blatant, undefined shock.

Fuck. This was Max. He was…so close to me. His warmth, his body, and his arm was around me. He was within proximity to do anything he wanted.

I lifted my head to look at him. His elbow was resting on the counter, his chin in his hand, and eyes only on me. I smiled, ignoring the tug it caused on my Ghost induced scab. The damned thing still hurt, and I was positive there would be a bruise on my forehead from the brief encounter with the window.

On the outside, I probably looked like my abusive relationship was back on. I even acted like it, with all my paranoia and always looking over my shoulder and the restless nights. But that had nothing to do with those things; they were my problem only.

Max saw my flinch when I smiled. He removed his chin from his hand and touched the side of my bottom lip gingerly with his index and middle fingers. His touch was so gentle. It was a pleasant surprise.

“I hope the other guy got it worse,” he murmured, his perfect lips curving upward. “Because you are going to have one hell of a scar where that scratch is.”

“Oh, yeah, he got it worse alright.” I threw a glance at the couch where Ghost still lay sprawled out beside my closed laptop, sound asleep. “He’s passed out from the pain. Can’t you tell?”

Max laughed; my heart fluttered. His laugh of all things reduced me to a quivering ninny. My legs were barely keeping me standing anymore; their jelly-like state made it hard. If not for my grip on the counter edge, I would have crumpled to a heap on the floor.

His fingers left my mouth and wandered up to my forehead. He applied pressure to the developing window bruise. “Does that hurt?”

I forced myself to nod, wishing he would stop pressing it.

“What happened?” He swept my unkempt hair away from my eyes. Why haven’t I brushed it yet? “Ghost again?” he added, almost as an after thought.

“No, an epic battle with a window.”

He carefully put his other hand on my opposite cheek, his right one still in my hair. At first, I thought he was just inspecting my injury, but my guess quickly changed when he leaned closer, his breath ghosting over my skin.

And he kissed me -- well, in a way. He kissed my bruise, the soft brush of his lips sending tendrils of tingles through my body, making my toes curl against the hard floor. This was nothing compared to our real kiss, but it was pretty damn close.

Max removed his lips very slowly. He smirked down at me, sliding his hands down to my shoulders. His fingers were strong, heavy on my shaky figure.

My head swam. I sucked in a surprised breath, not realizing I had neglected breathing. When did I start holding it? I couldn’t remember.

Struggling to keep my composure, I draped my hands over his arms, another smile begging to spread across my mouth. “Thank you,” I whispered. “It’s all better now.” I wasn’t lying, either. The initial euphoria of his lips on my skin made the dull, throbbing pain disappear.

Max slid his gaze down to my lip. “And your lip?”

My busted lip only hurt when I smiled or spoke for a while, but what was the harm in stretching the truth a little bit? I had wanted him to take pity on me, after all, the day we went to the club… when Craig was shirtless and sexy.

I furrowed my brow, looking over his intense face. He remained the most beautiful person I had ever seen, and I highly doubted anyone would take his place in my mind. Never. The impossibility was matter-of-fact, from his piercings to his messy hair and glimmering eyes.

No one had anything on him. No one ever would.

“It hurts,” I finally fibbed. The sound of my voice surprised me; it didn’t come out as loud, strong, as I meant to. Instead, I sounded like a small, scared girl.

Maybe I was scared. Nervous, even. I convinced myself nothing like this would happen for a weeks at the least, and this… this was sooner than I anticipated.

My heart pounded against my ribs. Was he going to kiss me? Could this be the moment I had been waiting for since he stormed out of my house after kissing me the first time?

The rampant thoughts stalled as he kissed the corner of my mouth. His lips didn’t wander. They stayed on the spot where my scratch was located, but it was enough for me. For now, it was the perfect amount of love to pull my stomach into tight knots.

I wanted to thread my fingers through his hair and kiss him, actually kiss him, but I fought it as best I could. Why get greedy when this was fine between us, as a beginning. Not that this was a real kiss. Just a sympathetic peck.

But I couldn’t ignore how Max’s hands raised themselves into my hair, away from my shoulders, and wound themselves in my disheveled locks.

When he pulled away, the look on his face was something that - I imagined - rivaled the loving, dreamy expression that was no doubt on my own face with just a glimmer of that familiar, alluring hunger.

I bit my lip. Now or never. Now or never. My chance came now, and my arms obeyed the inner command to slither around his neck. I inclined my head, inching my way forward until our mouths were close. Like before, I felt his breath warm my already throbbing cheeks.

He caught on, leaning forward himself until only a tiny, minuscule gap separated our yearning lips. I wanted to kiss him. He was close enough for me to do so, but I wanted him to make the final move. I would feel like a harlot if I threw myself eagerly at him despite how badly I wanted to.

A squeal pierced the air behind me. Dammit!

The choice to wait for him to proceed with the last move seemed stupid now. Our kiss could have been over with! Feelings would be dealt out; all this waiting would have been put to rest.

But, no. I had to be a stuck in another century, where women were prudish and didn’t act on their desires. Of course. The one time I hesitated on acting on what I longed for, things crumbled. I didn’t falter while kissing a complete stranger, poor Gavin from Houston, so why did I do so when faced with Max?

I just had to start thinking.

“Breathe, Devin,” I called over my shoulder, reluctantly removing myself from Max’s grip. I pivoted on my heel and met my best friend’s excited gaze. The cell phone was in one hand, the other was hovering a few inches in front of his face.

His entire body remained perfectly still. He didn’t breathe, didn’t blink, only stared at Max and me, a thrilled and shocked look in his eyes.

“I’m -- I am breathing.,“ he stuttered, taking his first breath since stepping into the room. “But… yeah, um, am I interrupting? Because I can go back into the bedroom and pretend I didn’t see a thing. You two can continue doing things.”

I heard the hint of a questionable tone in his voice and shook my head quickly. The mood was dead. There was no point in trying to reconcile it. Well, what was left of it, anyway.

My hands gripped the counter again. That was actually quite interesting. Interesting and hot and annoying, but it only made me want him more because he loved me back. Now I had proof; something he couldn’t deny even if he wanted to.

And also a witness. Devin.

Max moved stiffly across the room and collapsed in the dinette booth. Laying his arms on the table, he dropped his head on top of them, making a strange, muffled noise.

Oops. Cheeks aflame, I looked back at Devin. It didn’t require much intelligence to see Max came out of our kissing ordeal hot, turned on, and bothered, while I was shaking from head to toe.

“I just got off the phone with Rachel, by the way.” Devin joined Max at the table. He interlaced his fingers and sat his chin on the bridge they created, turning the brunt of his glittering, chocolate colored eyes at me.

“What did she say?” I whispered, dreading it all.

I braced myself. Every fiber inside my body was prepared for the worst possible set of news. I didn’t want to hear those dreaded words come from his mouth, in Devin’s soft, caring voice. It would seem wrong, out of place.

My eyes flickered to the bathroom door, estimating how quickly I could get there before I threw up over the clean carpet and tiles. Chances were, when he said the news, I wouldn’t be able to make it.

So someone would be left cleaning up the Starbucks frappucino I drank about two and a half hours ago. Most certainly that person would not be me.

Despite my rolling stomach, Devin told relayed the message anyway. “She’s not mad about it.” He flipped his hair out of his eyes, a smile coming to his face as he continued, “she only wanted you to know what was floating around on the internet about you.”

Relief washed over me like a strong, ocean wave, almost taking me down with it. The hold I had on the counter saved my life again.

The realization of how truly scared I had been hit me in the face. I had not noticed how much it would have crushed me had I been fired, or something along the same lines. Now that my worries were dispelled, I slumped against the counter, burying my face in my hands.

Thank you, thank you, thank you. I couldn’t live without Warped. My survival and lack of contact with other humans would have been minimal had not Rachel offered Devin and me the job; the boys would have been visiting a grave, not sitting at bustling concert venues with me.

The money was amazing as well, but that was beside the point.

I dropped my arms back to my sides. Max was sitting up now, though he still appeared a little bothered. Both boys had their gazes pointed at me, and I turned my back on them.

Reaching down, I pulled open a bottom cabinet and snatched a bag from the half-full box of popcorn from the top shelf. I tossed it in the microwave, shut the door loudly behind it, and typed in five minutes. Popcorn happened to be the only thing I deemed capable of preparing, with my still shaking hands and legs and queasy stomach.

I retrieved a large, blue bowl with penguins rimming the outside from the cabinet above my head and sat it on the stove below the microwave. Everything laid out, I planted my hands palm down on the counter and closed my eyes.

The hum of the revolving glass plate and the firecracker-esque popping of my dinner were my only focus. Small attempts at blocking out the conversation between Devin and Max and also my iPod went unsuccessful.

My heart continued thrumming at an unhealthy pace. At this point, nothing was for sure in my mind. I couldn’t tell if exhaustion and hunger was causing my troubles. Or if Max was the entire reason, if he threw me into a fit of hormones with a laugh and a fake kiss.

Wow.

Suddenly, I found myself wishing there was beer in the fridge. There wasn’t, of course. Devin and Stefan would never allow it, even after I already went to a club with the boys and ruined my streak of perfect soberness. Their strict rules of only drinking on special occasions remained in operation.

Not to mention they had a particular opposition to beer of any kind.

Stefan’s Australian accent filled my head. “Beer is for the dregs, Juliet, and we are royalty. We deserve nothing but the best, even in something as mundane as alcohol”

The statement made no sense… and I was hallucinating, remembering random comments my friends made.

I glanced at the microwave. Four minutes left. Damn. Turning once again, I leaned my butt on the counter, turned the volume up on my iPod, and tilted my head back. The song was Valencia, the exact end of The Good Life. I listened to the final drum beats and guitar riffs.

Maybe I could sit in on their set tomorrow. Shane Henderson, who expressed he loved my web series after the first Valencia set I watched with Gabrielle and Devin, would happily allow to me to do so. Escape the Fate’s set was already on my list, since I had yet to miss one of their shows since Pomona.

I was making up for lost time, I decided, for the months I didn’t speak to them and ignored all the times ignored news of their new concerts.

The song ended, and an odd, familiar sound of a guitar filtered through the room. The identity of the new rhythm finally came to me, and my head snapped around to look at Devin. He already knew; the wild grin on his face told me that.

I fought not to laugh as he vaulted himself out of his sitting position and grabbed my waist, pulling me against his chest. He snatched one of my hands, lacing his fingers with mine and leveling them in the air beside us, and the usual ritual dance to the song began.

Devin was a far better dancer than I ever hoped to be. It showed, too, as he lead us in an offbeat tango of sorts along the carpet and tiles.

“Love, when you say your faith is falling fast, through your body, your mind, and the soul that you claim to have had. Well, I hoped to move you so and set you free, just be glad for these minds and these bodies to meet all your needs,” Devin belted out.

And I joined him, singing in the best way I could, which was belting it out loudly and not caring how horrible I sounded. I never claimed to be a good singer.

“Baby, won’t you spread your pretty little lips, make room for my fingertips--” I stopped as Devin spun me around and yanked me back, my chest colliding with his and a laugh burst from my throat. “--so I could get caught between your legs tonight.”

Devin laughed, sending me around in another turn. I came back and he moved us around in a circle, struggling to catch his breath as he guffawed.

Only one of my weird friends would find it fun to do the tango to the most perverted song on the face of the planet, completely off the rhythm of the song. Yet it worked all the same.

Devin patted his thigh. Somehow I caught on and hitched my leg up onto his waist, and he shimmied forward until I was leaning as far back as my body would allow. I gasped. I had no idea I was even capable of doing such a move.

Devin was no professional dancer, but he was damn good for someone who only danced for fun.

“Devin Cannin Reilly!” I squealed as we stood upright once more. “You are a tango master.”

Devin grinned like a mad man. “So go, find a new way of coping with being alive. When you find it don’t tell me, I don’t want to hear all your lies,” he continued, sounding a little more lyrical than I did. “Well. Well, I hope to move you so and set you free.”

As we took another jerky, circular jaunt around the room, my eyes caught a glimpse of Max. I nearly forgot about him in my dancing adventure… But he hadn’t me. He was looking directly at us, lounging back in the booth seat with his arms propped on the back.

In his expression, he appeared surprised at our dancing. There was something else as well, as it always seemed with Max. Couldn’t he just smile without being so utterly complex? No, of course not. It’s part of his charm.

The look on his face was not lusty, or dreamy, or hungry, or anything I would have been feeling at that moment. Instead, a look I could not identify lingered on his attractive features.

He was very good at hiding his emotions, and I envied him for it. If I could do the same, maybe people would stop asking me if I was alright. It became annoying after the first eighty times; now it was completely unnecessary.

I put my hands on Devin’s chest and pushed him away, smiling. “Enough dancing, Dev.” I swept my bangs from my face. “I’m tired enough as it is and I feel like fainting.”

He nodded, sliding back into his spot across from Max. “Then go to sleep after you eat your popcorn,” he suggested. “You look awful.”

I rolled my eyes and slumped against the stove. The handle bit into my back, ignored. “Thanks. Every girl wants to hear that… Ass,” I shot snidely. It was a good thing he was born gay and not straight; the guy did not know how to tiptoe around sensitive girl issues.

Devin flashed a toothy grin at me.

He knew it, too.

A comfortable silence fell up us. Other than The Urgency and the decreasing pop from the microwave, I heard Stefan having an argument with the GPS system, and car horns beeped outside. An ambulance - or a police car, it was too far away to separate the two - blared their sirens somewhere up the highway.

The GPS system said something in its female, computer generated, mellow voice. All I heard from it was ten miles. I turned the volume of my iPod down a few notches.

Stefan cackled shortly in the new quiet air. “That’s what you said ten miles ago, Lola!” he shouted. The clatter of him smacking the steering wheel followed his words. “I swear, how are we going to make it with a psycho bitch giving us directions?”

“In nine miles, turn left,” the dreaded Lola informed.

“Yes, I am talking about you!”

I pulled open the microwave, smiling to myself, and removed the hot bag of popcorn. Grabbing the ends carefully, I tugged, leaning away as a plume of white steam billowed from the bag. I tilted it upside down, dumping the fluffy white kernels into the penguin bowl.

“You have arrived at your destination.”

“No, we haven’t!” Stefan smacked the steering wheel again. “Devin, please come help with me with this damned thing! I don’t know what it’s doing, but it won’t work. Help!”

Devin rose with an exasperated sigh. “I’m going to go help him, Jay.” He patted my shoulder and craned his neck around to peck me on the cheek. “Have fun with Max.”

Without a second thought, I jabbed him purposely in the ribs I injured earlier. He got the message and shrunk away, heading off toward the front where Stefan was yelling curse words I had never even heard before, let alone uttered.

I sat the empty bag beside the sink, took the bowl in my hands, and turned around. I nodded my head toward the hallway. “Want to join me?” I questioned.

Max stood, not bothering to ask where we were going, and followed me to the master bedroom at the back of the RV, Devin and Stefan’s room. The king sized bed sat in the middle between two, wooden nightstands. The bedspread looked like an object ripped right from a cheesy, mock French movie.

The white, silk frills draping from the bottom, and the various pillows piled at the head of the huge mattress, each holding some sort of symbol of France, didn’t help.

It was cozy, if not a little cliché.

Max climbed onto the bed, sprawling himself out and making himself at home. I crawled up next to him and he slid an arm around my waist.

Grabbing the remote, I flipped on the TV against the wall in front of us, snuggled myself against his side, and popped a piece of popcorn into my mouth.

X X X X

I was vaguely aware that people were talking around me. I couldn’t make out what they were seeing or who exactly it was, but I could hear the soft voices as if they were standing inches from my ear.

I wanted to tell them to go away. After nights of barely sleeping, I was finally comfortable, cuddled close to something warm. I also felt safe, with what felt like an arm wrapped around my shoulders, clutching me to the warm body.

My cheek was pressed against fabric. Rough fabric, possibly that of a t-shirt, and one of my arms was numb beneath me. There was no feeling left in it whatsoever.

“Should we wake them up?” Stefan. His accent was unmistakable.

His words didn’t register in my mind for a few moments. No, no, no! my head cried. Go away and let me go back to sleep, please. I don’t need to woken up! And neither does Max. Just let us sleep.

I wished I could tell them to leave, but I couldn’t find my voice or open my eyes. Exhaustion obviously got the best of me, hindering my body from cooperating the simple commands my brain was trying to send to it.

“Why?” Bryan this time. “The concert isn’t until tomorrow. Look how cute they are.”

“So you just want to stare at them?” Stefan asked.

“Yes,” Devin and Bryan answered together.

No one said anything for a few minutes, and I reveled in it. My head started to wind down again, my muscles relaxed, and my breathing evened out.

Just as I was sure I was going to fall back into slumber, Devin spoke again.

“And take pictures for Buzznet. Ha, those asses who keep making rumors will get one hell of a surprise with this one.”

The flash of a camera jarred me enough to make me open my eyes. Devin, Stefan, and Bryan were in fact hovering above Max and myself beside the bed. Devin’s digital camera was suspended in his hand and Bryan smiled brightly down at me.

“Hi, Juliet,” he greeted.

“Hi,” I muttered, my voice quiet. “What’s going on?”

“You fell asleep,” Devin answered softly. “We’re in Indianapolis now.”

Oh.

I looked at Max lying beside me, his arm being the one around my shoulders. He was still on his back, the bowl of popcorn now sitting on one of the nightstands. My cheek was pressed against his chest and my body was curled around his.

Not wanting to wake him up, I removed myself gently from him and climbed off the opposite side of the bed, circling around to stand beside the boys.

“So, I was asleep for seven hours?” I rubbed the palm of my hands into my eyes, doing the math. Yes, seven full hours.

Damn. It had been a lengthy amount of time since I slept that long.

Bryan nodded. “We have food. Vegan. Want to come eat with us?”

“Yummy,” I breathed. I looked at Max again, his face looking angelic in his sleep. “Uh, yeah. Go on without me, I’ll be right there.” Lie, lie, lie. Excuse. Come up with an excuse. “I -- I need to brush my hair.”

They listened and filed out of the room, their chatter dying down as the RV door slammed shut. Once they were gone, I bent over Max and pressed my lips first to his cheek, then - after a moment of hesitation - to his lips.

It was nothing more than a peck, but it satiated me.

“Love you,” I whispered. “I hope you're having sweet dreams.”