Playing Russian Roulette.

If I can't hold you,
Can I give you a kiss?
Can I give you a kiss?
Can I? Can I?
Can I have a kiss?

-Kelly Clarkson.

Clouds the dullest color of gray hovered in the far off distance. Shafts of sunlight penetrated the gloomy, overcast sky to cast down on the windy, humid Pennsylvania day, and reflect off the glittering black stage of the Toyota Pavilion.

Raising a hand to shield my eyes, I scanned the heavens, then the gathering crowd beyond the platform where I stood, leaning my shoulder on an out-of-use woofer, and fully allowed my gaze to wander over those standing nearest me.

A small group -- three technicians and two venue workers -- were situated among the dimly lit, very familiar music equipment.

The technicians were setting up the final parts of the drum set. The venue workers stood at the edge of the stage, staring at the darkened sky, contemplating if the concerts-to-come would be safe. One of the men said the forecast only called for rain. No thunder, no dangerous lightning.

The rest of the Warped day would be fine during a little downpour as long as the huge, white tent stretched over the entirety of the venue. But, should things get too bad, the concerts would have to be shut down.

I prayed it didn’t for two reasons. The first being if Devin didn’t upload a new video for Buzznet, fans were going to revolt, find us while we were sleeping and smother us. Creepy, but true words from actual fans. Slacking off when diehard viewers were involved was apparently a death wish.

The second kind of intermingled with the Buzznet material reason. While discussing what we should do, we wanted to do something we had yet to record, and the only thing we could think of was during an Escape the Fate set. Sure, we had little snippets of videos and pictures, but we never recorded the entire concert, or all of my antics side stage.

Escape the Fate was to be the second performance in Scranton, Pennsylvania, the first having been Black Tide, much to my dismay for the passed lonely hour. So, the storm needed to hold off until that particular set was finished.

Then, it could rain cats and dogs for all I cared. By that point in time, I would be back in the safety of the RV. All it had to do was wait for an hour or so.

“How’s Craig doing, Juliet?”

“Hmm?” I glanced quizzically up at the form residing beside me, his camera lowered at his side. Since the overhead flood lights had yet to be turned on, his face was masked with shadows. A flicker of light from one of the technician’s flashlights was the only thing breaking the darkness.

He looked at me, frowning. Only then did his question register in my mind, and I groaned. From the moment we woke up that morning, Devin had been bombarding me with senseless questions about the passed few days’ events, demanding emphasis on every juicy detail.

If I didn’t know any better, I would have thought he was gathering information to use in some sleazy article for Buzznet. The way he wouldn’t let up simply put me in the mind set of a sneaky asshole internet reporter.

Still holding scars about the article, Piper? Why, yes, I was, in fact, because a countless amount of people kept approaching me about the damned thing. The hype and rumors and evil looks were eating away at my nerves.

I took a long deep breath. Letting it go was easier said than done, and thrashing out at Devin was most certainly not the way to make it any easier.

“He’s been doing fine, Devin.” I slid my gaze over to the backstage. “Why?”

Devin fidgeted with the tiny screen on his palm sized recording device, not saying anything for a few moments. After a while, he shrugged a shoulder and looked at me. “His ex-fiancé and the mother of his daughter ran off a few days ago. He’s not upset at all?”

In a menial answer, I shook my head. Gabrielle’s departure didn’t bother him in the least. He only spoke about the “incident”-- as Robert and I called it now -- a single time when cussing up a storm about her abandoning Leila without a hint of a guilty conscience.

But everyone near and dear to Craig felt that way, so it was no surprise he spoke about that particular issue. Leila, the poor girl. After Gabrielle flew home to Las Vegas the day after Toronto, she cried, wanting to know why her Mommy left her. Craig didn’t have the heart to tell her it was because her Mommy didn’t care about her.

Everyone danced around the issue, and she gave up wandering and went back to being the happy-go-lucky toddler we loved. Fawning over her father with her huge, shining blue eyes; demanding to play with her ‘Maxie’; wanting to be held by ‘Jay’ and hold childish conversations; getting the attention of everyone around her.

The bad influences and choices were gone; at least, in my opinion they were. I hadn’t asked Craig about what he thought. A voice in the back of my head kept telling me it was too soon and the issue was too fresh on his mind, and I did not want anyone else hating me for a while.

Devin linked his arm with mine, sighing. “What was that girl’s name again?” he questioned. “The one Craig slept with?”

“Mercy Fisher,” I answered without hesitation. Whew. How many times had that name been uttered in a week? A thousand. She was all Craig talked about to the point where the boys threatened retaliation if he didn’t talk of something else.

I thought it was adorable; he talked about her like she was a winged angel that fell in his lap. He described her in ways that reeked with love and affection, something I never heard him express when it involved Gabrielle.

“Do you know if Mercy is short for anything? Like Mercedes?” Devin raised an eyebrow high on his forehead. “Because if that is the case, then Craig has bragging rights now.”

The statement made my eyes dart back to my best friend. He was nodded, looking down at me as if I should have known what he was talking about.

But I didn’t.

Slowly, I furrowed my eyebrows. “I don’t know if that’s her full name or a nickname, but why would he have bragging rights for having sex with some girl?”

“Okay, remember the ballet Stefan took us to see after you were released from Spencers’ Recovery Center?”

Yes. It was Giselle Stefan and Devin dragged me out of my cozy home to see in the Las Vegas theater. Ballet wasn’t a big interest of mine, but it was fun to watch a flock of people run around with dated, tulle dresses and old fashioned tights and shirts.

I nodded, still confused.

“Well, at the ballet, I remember reading the cast, and the star of the entire thing, the girl who played Giselle, was named Mercedes Fisher.” He paused. “I don’t know if they’re the same person, but what are the odds of that?”

YES! That’s why her name sounded so familiar. I looked at the pamphlet displaying the names of the cast as well. And, even then, I remember thinking the name Mercedes Fisher was unique and pretty.

The odds of that were slim, to tell the truth. For a moment, I forced myself to remember he start of the ballet. First and foremost, I was able to recollect she was the best of all the ballerinas. Her movements were graceful, like her feet never touched the ground.

Mercy and the ballerina stood at the same height and they both had hair the color of amber. Maybe the odds were even less than I thought. Craig had sex with a professional ballerina. Oh, I could hear the boys perverted comments already.

“Do you know anything about her?”

Not a keen question to ask someone who sat and listened to every possible fact about the girl for a week straight. What didn’t I know about her?! “She’s twenty three, and she was born in, get this, north Las Vegas. That’s where she officially lives, but she was in Toronto on a job.”

Devin leaned forward, hanging on my every word. “And what does she do for a living?”

“Craig said she was a dancer of some kind.” I raised my hand before he could say anything like ‘I’m right!’ or ‘Told you!’, because there was no solid proof of anything. Granted, it was odd how similar they were, but there were such things as coincidences. “Dev, there are many kinds of dancers. I’m sure it’s just a fluke.”

Devin shot me a look like I had just burst his bubble. I smiled brightly and looked at the stage; technicians were walking out of sight behind the back. It was almost time for Escape the Fate, thank you! Perhaps their music would spare me from the merciless question game.

He gestured his hand to tell me to go on.

I continued. “She’s funny, sweet, beautiful.” Now I was quoting the cute things Craig said in the private conversations he had with me. “She loves children, especially Leila. She’s never heard of blessthefall or Escape the Fate--” Thankfully. “--She’s fl--” I stopped, my lips snapping shut.

Devin would not want to hear everything Craig said about her. Some of the little tidbits I even covered my ears for, while Max, Robert, and Bryan sat on the edge of their chairs and focused on every detail of Craig’s very own sex story.

I had yet to stick around for the whole tale. After five minutes of Max drooling like a desperate puppy, I usually came up with a reason to vacate swiftly, Leila being a foolproof alibi for most of the times.

Max was the only reason I didn’t want to listen to the story. It tortured me, made me feel sick, witnessing him salivate over an erotic anecdote. Honestly, it shouldn’t have bothered me -- I did not even know why it bothered me -- but it did, and I hated it.

Devin gently pinched the top of my hand with his thumb and index finger. “What were you saying?” he pressed pleadingly.

I cringed. “Do you really want to know?”

He nodded, sticking out his bottom lip. I laughed.

Fine. If he wanted to hear that much, I wouldn’t be the one to deny him that. “She’s very flexible,” I said slowly, lowering my voice so I sounded like I was in a cheesy porn movie. “She knows how make a guy happy, if you get what I’m saying. Oh, and the things she does with t--”

Devin squealed in protest, smacking his hands over his ears and shaking his head around in a blur of brown hair and pale skin. His tongue protruded from his mouth and he squeezed his eyes shut.

I patted his arm and leaned away from the woofer. Never said you wanted to hear it, Dev. I rested my head on his shoulder, a sigh slipping from my lips.

At last, Devin dropped his hands from his ears and peered cautiously down at me. He tilted my head, meeting his gaze with a small smile.

“Anyway,” I whispered, “it doesn’t matter who she is or if she’s famous or not. What does matter is that Craig is wild about her. He’s acting like you did when you met Stefan.”

A proud, impeccable smile spread across Devin’s face. I knew that smile, and the look that came with it, all too well. The expression often shadowed his features when he reflected or thought about the good days, the past, before things got bad and complicated, while we were still in high school.

Especially whenever it involved the first couple months of Stefan and his relationship, when Devin talked of nothing but the great Stefan Cubbins every minute of every day. His obsessive actions used to annoy me to the brink of insanity. There was a short stretch, even, when I stopped talking to Devin because of it.

Only when I saw the two together for the first time did I realize why Devin was acting so strangely. They were in love. Love, true and real love. The concept seemed so foreign, even now, after I had been in what I thought was love with Ronnie for four years.

But, that wasn’t love. Not what Stefan and Devin had, and still had, after six years together.

Snapping from his daydream, Devin exhaled deeply. “Have Craig and Mercy talked since then?”

I nodded. “They talk on the phone and text and keep contact through the computer. Max said Craig stays up into the hours of the morning talking to her.”

Something crossed Devin’s face at the mention of Max’s name. I tried to ignore it and looked away.

“Speaking of Max,” he said. “How is the puppy love going?”

My head snapped to the right to look at him. I felt my cheeks grow warm. Puppy love? No. We were not adolescents. We were both in our twenties, way passed adolescent age…

Devin grinned wickedly. “What? Are we pretending I didn’t walk in on you two almost kissing?”

Yes, we were. Considering how neither Max or I brought it up. We were ignoring the entire thing, like it never happened. I wasn’t going to say anything about it unless he did first, and since that was not going to happen, it was filed in the back of my mind as a painful memory.

Just another scar.

“Yeah, I never thanked you for that one, jackass.” I playfully smacked his stomach with the back of my hand. “If you had waited an extra second, just a single second, we would be having a much different conversation.”

Devin waved his hand about in front of his face, his grin shining brighter. “No need to thank me, sweet Juliet. It’s my job to ruin all the romantic moments in your life.”

“I thought that was a mother’s job,” I muttered.

“Exactly.” Devin tapped the top of my nose with his index finger. “You don’t have a mother, so I have taken the liberty to become your surrogate to ruin your romantic moments, and tell you when you’re being stupid, and rescue you from the bad things in life. And love you, of course.”

My shoulders sagged and a frown tugged at my lips. Devin made it so damn hard to stay mad at him. He knew I would forgive him if he pulled the best friend as surrogate mother card.

Caving in, I hugged my arms around Devin’s torso. “I love you, too, Mom.”

A crack of thunder broke the resounding air of excitement filtering around the pavilion Several people at the back of audience let out cries, and I twisted around, letting go of Devin, to peer at the army of concert-goers.

Rain was now shifting down in gentle sheets open the poor teenagers. But, they didn’t seem to mind. Instead, everyone started cheering, completely forgetting the storm, as the boys started filing into their respected spots on the stage.

Devin flipped on his camera and whipped it to face me. I threw my emphatic smile toward the lens, wiggling my fingers in a wave.

“Hello, Buzznet. Yes, it’s been a few days since we’ve had a tour update but there have been personal issues with some of my friends, and I wanted to be there for them.”

I stole a quick glance at Craig as he pulled his microphone from its stand. Quickly, I finished up my introduction.

“To make it up to everyone, Devin and I are recording the Escape the Fate set here in Scranton, Pennsylvania, during a storm, no less.”

A low, tiny crack of thunder backed up the final addition to my words. I snorted and jerked my head toward the stage. Devin turned the camera to the boy, my gaze following him.

Craig walked to the edge of the stage. “It’s storming!” he yelled, pointing out at the sky beyond the edge of the pavilion’s tent. “And does anyone know which of our songs fits with rain?”

“The Flood!” Max shouted into his microphone.

“Yeah, get it? The Flood, a flood of rain,” Craig laughed. “Funny, right? Yeah, took Maxwell ten minutes to think of that one backstage. Sharp guy he is.”

“You know I am, now shut up and sing!”

I giggled, covering my hand with my mouth. The boys already made this an excellent video to please the viewers. Perfect.

Rachel would be pleased as well, which meant a tad more than the viewers. And after all the questions and troubles she had gotten over Max and me and our rumors, I felt the need to give her something worthwhile for Buzznet.

As if Max’s words were a cue, Bryan started up the beginning, screeching riffs, Robert following with his drums, and Max tailed behind them, joining Bryan’s lead.

“I can’t believe the drama that I’m in. The flood is getting closer. I don’t think they know that I know how to swim. You‘re feeling numb, from all that has begun. It leaves your gums, slips down your tongue, and travels fast down toward your lungs. All because I‘m…

“Leaving you behind!” Max’s eyes landed on me as he turned in some kind of twisting movement away from his microphone. A smile broke his unreadable features. I returned it, my stomach screwing up at the sight of his beauty, at… him.

Devin snickered under his breath, leaning a little closer to me. “Someone has a crush,” he murmured.

“Yeah, me.” I pushed my hair from my eyes. “I love him, Devin, and it’s strange.”

I loved him. Him, Max. The only thing keeping me from him and his arms and his… beautiful, perfect lips… was that ignorant idea that I had to wait a month before I made a move. I almost scoffed. I agreed to that whole philosophy with Gabrielle, of all people.

Gabrielle, who had no soul. I took advice from her!

I tossed my head back, groaning. The loud music and large amount of people and the distinct stench of alcohol and god-only-knows-what-else clouded my field of judgment, and for some reason my body said it was a good piece of guidance.

I didn’t want to wait anymore. It was the sixteenth of July; the end of the month was in fifteen more days. Fifteen days, two weeks, was a short amount of time in any other situation, but when it came to something like this, an odd circumstance that needn’t follow the usual rules, it seemed like a span of a year, instead.

Why did Max have to make the first move? I had just enough reason to be the first person to admit that I loved him more as a good friend. Just because Gabrielle didn’t have to make the first step in her relationship with Craig did not mean I had that much luck.

I was, in the end, not a beautiful, perky, blonde like Gabrielle. People weren’t as eager to admit they had feelings for me as they would be toward her.

“I feel the pressure. It’s coming down on me. It’s turning me black and blue. O-o-oh you left me on the side of the road. And now I’ve got not place to go. You brought the flood!”

“Is it weird that this song makes me want to dance?”

I let my eyes leave Max just long enough to peek at Devin. “No, of course not.” I tried to interject a convincing amount of emotion into my words, but it didn’t work. I could hear the absent sound in my own head.

Devin rolled his eyes. “Are you with me, Jay?”

I shook my head.

“Sweet rainbow flags,” he scoffed. “You haven’t paid attention to me since Warped started. What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” I snapped. “I’ve been busy.” I swallowed my inclination to continue in a rant of mean words. Devin couldn’t expect me to pay all my attention to him! I had dire issues I had to concentrate on.

Since Warped started, my schedule was much more than busy. I was preoccupied with babysitting Leila when everyone else had things to do, and talking to Craig when he needed someone to listen, and juggling my job with my personal life, and fighting every craving for drugs and alcohol, and focusing on getting better, and Max was always there to throw off my deliberation.

“I cant believe, the troubles that you've caused. The pain is getting stronger, like an open wound without the gauze. It’s on my brain, driving me insane. It’s on my mind all of the time, and if it left, I would be fine. All because I’m--”

“Leaving you behind!”

Never had I claimed to be Super Woman, or anything of the like. Despite what Devin wished, Piper Oakes was still human and I could not please everyone all the time.

Silence grew between us. Devin watched the tiny screen on his camera, and I the boys… well, Max, as he looked at me again. He’s sure to keep up his reputation of sending me endearing glimpses during their concerts.

A tingling sensation coursed down my spine. That look…

His eyes glittered in the fluorescent lighting falling from the bulbs illuminating from the edges of the stage. His lips threatened to break out in a smile again, and what I believed to be adoration radiated off him.

No one ever looked at me like that before. Not Ronnie, not anybody, and I loved it. I desired to spend the ready to my life with someone who found me so attractive his expression turned hungry and idolization whenever he moved his gaze my way.

“I feel the pressure. It’s coming down on me. It’s turning me black and blue. O-o-oh, you left me on the side of the road, and now I’ve got not place to go. You’ve brought the flood.”

A strong wind blew through the venue, shaking the tent above our heads and whipping my hair about my ace. The currents carried rain with it; raindrops stung my face and dampened my clothing.

The rain remained a steady downpour with no thunder or lightning accompanying it. Gusts of wind splashed the increasing precipitation onto the audience and the occupants of the stage, until I was slicked with water, and Craig, Max, and Bryan’s shirts were clinging to their torsos.

Devin jumped behind the silent woofer, ducking onto the ground. I joined him, crouching onto my knees and leaned into his dry shirt, cowering away from the warm rain and breeze.

Now concealed in a safe place, I pushed my damp hair over my shoulder and glanced at Max. His small, gray tee shirt conformed itself to his upper body and his hair stuck to his neck and cheeks. The skin of his arms and face glistened wetly, his lips were slightly parted.

My heart threatened to stop. The entire image seemed to be ripped right from my erotic shower fantasy, save the naked bodies and shouts of curse words and names.

I darted a glance at the girls in the front row of the audience. They were into the music; none of them gave the impression of noticing just how gorgeous he appeared at the moment.

Devin let out a low whistle beside me, causing me to jump. “You did not tell me just how well built Craig is,” he breathed.

I shifted my stare from Max to Craig, just to give myself a moment to recuperate from the heart-stopping amount of hotness.

Craig’s soaking wet white shirt was not see through. His abs and chest and Believe tattoo were all visible from the soaked fabric. Yes, he was very well built and attractive. Perfectly, but I only had eyes for Max.

I giggled. “Do you have a crush, mister?” I nudged Devin’s shoulder with my own. “Stefan will be so pissed when I tell him.”

“Not a crush.” Devin shifted, folding his legs into an Indian style. “But he’s sexually appealing when he’s wet…”

Sexually appealing. My best friend was in love with my love interest’s best friend’s muscles. A strange web of attraction, not that I could blame him. Craig

“I’ll be watching this video a lot,” I whispered. “Max looks fucking amazing in the rain.”

“That reminds me.” Devin smiled. “My aunt once told me that you never know how beautiful someone is until you see them in the rain.”

“Poetic.” But Lonnie Reilly knew of which she spoke.

“I take it back, take it back. Leaving me, I take it back, take it back! Leaving me, leaving me, leaving me.”

A break in the music followed Craig’s screaming, and Max took a step closer to the side stage and gestured for me to join him.

I shook my head, raising my hands in front of me. “No, no,” I called. “I’ll stay right here.”

He bent forward so only I could hear him. “Until the end of the song,” he said, and turned his back on me.

I didn’t argue; I knew better. The boys would gang up on me and drag me out on stage whether I liked it or not. So, I waited through the last two choruses and the final screaming part, and, thankfully, the rain let up and the sun breached the bank of clouds by the end of the song.

Max rushed over to Craig and whispered something to him away from the microphone. When he was finished, he took his

Craig raked his hand through his hair, pushing it from his face. “This next one is Situations.” His voice echoed through the air. “And Max demands that Juliet and Devin get their asses on stage immediately.”

He pointed his index finger at me, then Devin, then moved it in a come-hither action. I glanced at Devin. He grinned and nodded quickly. Grabbing his hand, I scrambled to my feet, dragging him up with me, and inched out from behind our hiding place of the woofer and into the open view of every young adult at Warped.

We stopped just short of Max’s microphone, staying away from the main part of the stage, but still where everyone could see me.

Craig descended upon us, slinging an arm around my shoulder and pulling me into his soaking wet side. “Juliet and Devin work for Buzznet.” He waved at the camera Devin still held protectively in his hand. “And your viewers want a show, right?”

Not being able to find my voice, I nodded.

“We’ll give them a fucking show then!”

The audience exploded in an uproar of cheers and agreements, several even called out my and Devin’s full names. How they knew that, I couldn’t begin to fathom.

“You ready to hear your boyfriend’s song?” Craig asked.

Must he call Ronnie my boyfriend?! The word connected with his name nauseated my stomach, made my body threaten to rebel. I could only nod again.

Fans of Escape the Fate -- and Ronnie -- were in the audience, and I didn’t want to cause some kind of mutiny by saying, Don’t bring up that bastard.

Craig laughed, planted a kiss on my cheek, and jogged back to his spot in the center of the platform. He circled his hand around the top of his mic stand and threw the hand holding his microphone into the air.

Max slid behind his microphone and adjusted his bass strap. He was within reaching distance; all I had to do was outstretch my arm and my fingertips would brush his moist, inked skin. He was still dripping wet, still the beautiful picture of my fantasy.

I bit my bottom lip. Dammit, dammit, dammit.

My clothes suddenly itched to come off. A corner of my brain begged Max to rip my t-shirt and jeans from my body and take me right on the rain slicked stage, in front of everyone, with Devin recording every second of our heated, wet lovemaking session.

Guaranteed arrest aside, it sounded perfect.

“These situations are irrelevant now. She loves the way that I tease, I love the way that she breathes.”

The start of the loud music and Craig’s singing brought me back to the pleasant realms of reality, kept me from launching myself at Max like I craved, and inhibited my thoughts from wandering than they already had. Instead, I linked arms with Devin.

Bryan came across the black tiling and stopped beside Max, grinning. He didn’t say anything, only raked his eyes up and down my front, from my head to my feet, before jabbing Max in the back with the neck of his guitar and gesturing at me.

Max turned and copied Bryan’s scrutinizing motion with his eyes.

I bowed my head, the damp locks of my hair falling into my face. I stared down at my outfit; my blue jeans looked completely dry; only a few spots of water littered the denim. But my shirt was soaking clean through and the fabric conformed to my waist and chest, revealing the neon color of my bra.

“I touched her ooh, she touched my ahhh, it was the craziest thing. I love the girls who hate to love because they're just like me. A certain girl she took my hand and ran it up her thigh. She licked her lips and pulled my hair, I fall in love for a night.”

Great. Not only had the sight of Max soaked made me amorous -- for lack of a better word -- but now I was standing almost naked in front of hundreds of strange guys, and Bryan, and Robert, and Craig, and Max. Ha.

Groaning, I peered up at Devin. “I might as well just get naked,” I whispered, intending for Devin to be the sole listener, but my voice apparently carried.

This time, Bryan did speak over the guitar, bass, and drums. “Strip! Yes, you should strip and let us stare and take pictures. Please?”

Max shook his head. “She doesn’t need to get naked. She looks good enough--”

“To eat,” Bryan finished, cackling, and ran back to the other side of the stage, away from the fiery looks Max turned to throw at him.

Amazingly, their little scene didn’t interrupt the music. Something told me they had strange arguments on stage like that often, and they figured out how to make it so they still played the notes needed and argue at the same time.

“She can't behave and I'm just a slave, don’t worry I'll be gone when the morning comes.” Craig smiled over at me. “Darling what is going on? Honestly that never happened, lying is your favorite passion. Leave me, go where you belong.”

Devin started shifting from one foot to another beside me in his own dance, singing along with the boys. “Higher heels and lipstick napkins. Dying is your latest fashion.”

I giggled and joined in, figuring I already made a moron out of myself by standing with my bra and skin visible. What harm would dancing and singing completely out of tune do?

None, of course. Max was the closest person, and he had already been subjected to Devin and my weird habits when dancing and singing when good music was playing. He wouldn’t mind. In fact, if I remembered correctly, he thought it was kind of cute through his fog of surprise.

Just like him.

“The frustration, it’s a regular thing,” I started singing as well, matching pitch with Devin and wiggling in the weird gyration. “I hate the ones who love to hate because they’re just like me.”

“A certain girl, she took her hand and put it in my lap.” Devin’s voice quavered with a suppressed laugh, and he barely got the following lines out before bursting into quiet hysterics.

A break in bass notes came, and Max seized the opportunity to grab my hand and tug me into him. I leaned into him until we were touching, making sure not to get in the way of his bass.

He laughed, and I ran my hand through the back of his damp hair, giggling under my breath. The next chorus whooshed by before I knew it, and Craig began singing my favorite part of the song.

“I know you love to resist, and all it takes is a kiss--”

At that instance, something came over Max. I don’t know what it was or where it came from, but it made him smack his hand onto the back of my head and do something I had dreamed of for an entire year.

He kissed me.

He pressed his lips against mine so quickly I never saw it coming. He was slick from the rain, and his lips were cold, yet warm all at once. His lip rings felt strange as they slid against my mouth.

Realization struck him and he yanked away, his eyes wide. Shock wrote itself across his face at what he had just done…

I only hesitated for a second.

I pushed my hands into his hair, tilting my head and kissing him back with everything I had. Every emotion I felt on that night, since that night, and since the day in Pomona when I finally became part of this group of friends once more.

When I saw him after a year of no contact, and, wabam, it was obvious I still loved him, no matter how horrible that made me sound.

The music stopped, and all was silent. I could feel hundreds of eyes blaring into my back, but, for once, I didn’t care who thought what about me or who was staring at the prospect we were causing. All my attention and emotion were given to Max and I didn’t want it any other way.

Craig shattered the quiet by yelling, “Eat your heart out Ronnie Radke!” into his microphone.

I pulled away to take a quick breath before diving in for another kiss. Max put his hands on either side of my face and, just as things were changing from a simple first -- well, second -- kiss into something else, something hotter, a strange crescendo of chanting echoed through the venue.

Where the chanting started, I had no idea. Nor who started it, but it made me break the kiss and whip around to look at the audience, at all the horrible, judgmental faces of the people who thought this was funny, humorous.

My vision blurred, I jerked away from Max and ran off the stage, down the stairs of the Toyota Pavilion, and whipped around the back of the venue, ripping my way toward the bus parking lot.

I weaved my way through the buses, tears streaming down my cheeks, until I came to the beautiful safety of our RV. Grabbing the latch, I tore the door open, stumbled up the steps, and fled to the couch where Stefan was sitting with Leila in his lap.

I collapsed onto the white leather and, without a word, Stefan wrapped his arms around me as if I were a child and let me sob into his shirt.

“What’s wrong, Julie?” he whispered after a few moments of silence.

I shook my head.

“Okay, okay. Cry it out. Tell me when you’re ready.”

Leila climbed into my lap and wrapped her little arms around my neck. With the two of them clinging to me, I sobbed for several more minutes.

When I calmed down, I told him of the outburst after Max and my kiss…

All the while the sound of an uncountable amount of teenagers and young adults shouting “slut, slut, slut” echoing in my ears.