Playing Russian Roulette.

So I'll hang on, never let go.
I dug this pain into my chest.

-Escape the Fate.

A word in the natural human dictionary could not describe the feeling poking at the back of my skull. It favored guilt in several ways, nauseous stomach and all, but I knew it was impossible for it to be such. What did I have to be guilty about? Nothing.

The incident involving Max and our “alone time” yesterday on the bus lingered over my head, of course. Surely, though, it was no considered my fault and mine alone. None of it was -- at least, not all of it. I knew it was upon my shoulders I had yet to let my past with Ronnie go, but my therapist told me that was natural in an abuse victim. Even after the relationship ended, thoughts and feelings still existed, almost like the lasting effects of drugs.

The leader of my group therapy session, Dr. Milburn, explained there was no way to know how long those feelings would last, or if they would ever go away, it all depended on the degree of the abuse Ronnie forced upon me for four years, up until he was thrown in jail.

Considering there was hundreds, maybe thousands of women in the United States who had worse abuse than I did, Dr. Milburn believed my distress would eventually, gradually, decrease over time. She explained all of that to me, set it out in stone at her office, three days before Warped started, during a group session when I was congratulated for ‘making my own life’ and ‘taking myself back’ to follow my dreams.

At that time, neither of us realized how bad it was and the aversion to sex it caused me. And no one in the circular set of chairs within the *** guessed my past would come back to haunt me in the form of the band while on my new job.

Personally, I believed they were playing a huge role in my recovery, both from the abuse and the drugs, including Max and my new relationship. It brought up unwanted memories, but it was the best thing to happen to me to date.

He was going to be my cure.

A therapist might think otherwise. The boys returning on the scene was a setback; I wasn’t ready to throw myself into a territory much like that of when my life was spiraling downward, the exact opposite of what I needed, but they could shove their opinions up their asses for all I cared. I knew what Dr. Milburn would say, and she was wrong.

So what it drama and tears and depression when hand in hand with Max and the others. I loved Max, and Craig, Leila, Robert, and Bryan. My only hindrance any of them produced were excessive drinking and the sex issue.

But, eventually, I would be able to control my urge to drink -- because I refused to do something like the pub crawl incident to Devin again -- and the beautiful sexual tension between Max and myself would break all apprehensions and win in the end, and we would have the sex we both wanted.

Walking through the streets of Atlanta in the middle of the day, however, was not fixing anything, and pitying, wallowing myself with my problems was not making a difference or helping me in anyway at all.

Staring out the impeccably clean windshield of our RV, however, was not fixing anything, and pitying, wallowing myself with my problems was not making a difference or helping me in any way at all.

But, what could I do until we stopped at the venue? Nothing. For the passed -- hours, Devin refused to let me move from the front with him. I was supposed to help him work the GPS system -- affectionately nicknamed Lola the Bitch -- while Stefan lounged in the back bedroom.

I found quickly why Stefan was the designated driver during Warped. Devin was not only slower than most of the grandparents driving alongside us, but he got easily lost among unfamiliar winding roads and highways.

Thus the reason we were late for our arrival on the venue grounds, where, by now, we were supposed to be setting up our chairs and equipment for an interview with VersaEMERGE. However, that was not working out. It was already half passed noon; Versa was to come to the designated interviewing area by one.

I completely understood why Devin wanted to give Stefan a break from driving, but I found it slightly annoying. Had he been driving, we would be on time, and I may have been able to spend a few minutes with Max before Sierra Kusterbeck and Blake Harnage came.

Maybe giving Stefan a break would help their “issues”, which I continually guessed there were. Paranoia got the best of me, I was willing to admit that, but how could I not let it? If there was something wrong, then--

Hugging my knees to my chest, I slithered a glance toward the driver’s seat, where Devin, wearing sweat pants and a black t-shirt, gripped the steering wheel tightly. His face looked almost angry as he leaned toward the windshield, watching the road intently.

There’s nothing wrong with Devin and Stefan. Stop being so fucking suspicious. Yesterday, after Max and my issues -- and after he returned from the bathroom -- we laid in his bunk and I told him about my worries of their relationship. He said it was an impossibility for Devin and Stefan to break up; they were way too happy together.

And I forced myself to believe him… and Devin, whom had bit my head off when I asked if things were okay a few hours earlier. I needed to stave off my worries and forget about them; nothing was going to happen.

So, I swept my gaze around the scenery before us.

Beyond the front bumper, 5th Avenue of St. Petersburg, Florida spread out before us. Buildings, hotels, and signs displaying future events at Vinoy Park lined the cement stretch. At the end of the street, the shimmering ocean was visible passed a wide space of green grass and different species of trees. The sun glinted off the water, causing a sliver of blinding light to pierce through the trees.

At the entrance to the park sat a white, rectangular sign reading, "Vinoy Park, St. Petersburg, Florida" in bold, dark letters. Sculpted bushes and flowers of beautiful colors surrounded its circumference.

“In two hundred yards, turn left.” The monotone female voice made me look to the tiny GPS system stuck to the glass windshield. A slender, green arrow representing our RV roamed down the street at a slow, glitch pace.

“Okay, Lola.” Stefan had been the one to name her, having spent more time with her than Devin and myself, for her tendency to screw up and give directions just a moment too late.

Devin thrust a hand out over the steering wheel. “Of course turn left! There is nowhere else to turn! That’s the only street on either side.” With a shrill, whimpering whine, he twisted the steering wheel cautiously to the left, and the RV curved around the shallow bend, passing the entrance sign. A new road emerged before us, and it was easy to see this was the venue location.

The second part of Vinoy Park stretched for many, many yards. Lush green grass, bustling with people and vans and a large stage toward the furthest left side. Woofers and speakers were placed in their rightful spots against the edge, and clear on the opposite side of the park were the tents and merchandise.

And mere feet from the stage was the ocean.

I leaned closer to my window, pressing my palms to the warm glass. It had been so long since I last saw the ocean, a few months before our last visit to Los Angeles. Las Vegas happened to be void of ocean, after all.

Over Warped, some of the venues were close to the sea, but I never managed to visit it. Mostly I had been busy, or running away from drug dealers and my problems, or following after Max as if I was his desperate shadow. The ocean sadly came second.

But it was so close now. We could do that interview in front of it!

I pressed my lips together and clapped. “Devin, it’s the ocean!” I squealed. “How long has it been since we’ve seen it? So many fucking months!” I clutched at his sleeve, grinning widely. “This is awesome!”

Devin laughed, and turned the RV into the nearby parking lot. A sign displaying Warped stuck against the chain link fence enclosing it. Devin parked the RV into a space beside a bus reading “Rock-Buses-Rental” and cut the engine.

“You have reached your destination,” Lola said, and Devin snatched her from the hanging holder.

“Dev, I’ll be back in a few minutes!”

I jumped out of my seat and swiveled around, bursting through the curtain dividing the front and living area. My shoes smacked against the floor as I barreled down the staircase and burst out into the parking lot, closing the door behind me.

The friendly, vaguely familiar and unforgettable scent of sea water hit my senses full force. The air seemed a lower temperature as well, the quantity of the breeze wafting from the large body of water.

…Only then did I realize I had rushed outside in nothing but a sheer t-shirt and tight, very short, cloth shorts. I hadn’t even combed my hair since the night before, only a few minutes prior to falling asleep for two hours before I had to report for duty with Devin.

Oh, well. Who would I run into while on a quick jaunt to the ocean? Just for a visit; a few fast visit, at that.

I eyed the area around me. More people than I desired to walk through were crowding around the right, so I painted myself to the left corner of the parking lot and park. I started forward hurriedly.

By the time I stepped off the cement and onto the grass, no one had noticed me. There was no one with cameras either. No need for unnecessary photos of my ass hanging out.

Although that was only because the fans had yet to arrive. Before then, I needed to get fixed up and put proper clothes on… or go back to bed after the interview with VersaEMERGE. Or, better yet, spend the entire day in St. Petersburg on the boardwalk in front of the water.

I loved the latter. Devin would no doubt join me -- an Ghost! He never experienced the ocean before. Never, unlike Kit Kat, whom had accompanied me to the LA beach several times on visits to Buzznet, friends, or my father.

I dashed across the grass and through the trees. The cement path winding the length of the park emerged in my right, as well as what I had been waiting for. I slowed my pace and stepped onto the pathway and inched toward the edge.

The ocean stretched out to the horizon. It was so blue! Much bluer than that of the west coast. Sunrays sparkled like diamonds atop the water. The clouds and the beautiful blue sky reflected in it. Why didn’t I bring the fucking camera?

A girl on a jet ski whizzed by. My gaze followed it until the tiny dot disappeared behind a… building. A building, floating not that far away from where I stood. White paint covered the outside**

-Looking closer, inspecting, mhm -

Two hands seized my hips and yanked me violently backward. I toppled, my flip-flops getting caught on the pavement, and I fell against my captor’s chest. A moment passed where neither of us moved a muscle, until I breathed in the scent of Axe.

Axe! I twisted around in Max’s arms and placed my hands on his cheeks, pulling him toward me. I planted a quick, firm kiss on his lips. Quickly, I pushed the thought of the tiny amount of fabric covering my body from my mind.

Max slid his arms around my waist, pulling me closer to him, and kissed the top of my head. “What are you doing out here alone?” he questioned, eyes searching over my face. “Fucking Josh could be out here or something.”

I shook my head. I was willing to bet Josh wouldn’t be bothering me anymore now that Max always followed me wherever I went. Besides, after the day at the smoothie shop, he did not try to confront me in anyway -- apart from the interview.

I was pretty safe now.

“Okay, not Josh, but do you know how many creeps would kill to get their hands on you?” He scoffed. “A lot, Julie. You’re all over the internet, and that’s when the real psychos come out of hiding.”

Make me feel safe, why don’t you! I looked around us, from side to side, and over my shoulder, but saw nothing and no one. Thankfully. As if I wasn’t paranoid enough! Now I would be glancing over my shoulder with every chance.

I slumped against his chest, my arms winding around his torso. Devin wouldn’t be hearing of psychos obsessed with me. Stefan, maybe. “I have a question,” I mumbled against his shirt. “Err, I have a few questions actually.”

“What?”

“Are you the one stalking me? You always know where I am and where I’m going to be.” I raised my head to meet his gaze. “How did you just happen to know I was over here?” It was a good question! Not that I minded; he could break into my room in a weird, stalker-ish way anytime.

The fantasy, however, was short lived. I couldn’t even bring myself to dream about it. Fuck Ronnie! A part of me hoped he was getting the shit beat out of him in his prison wing… Where was fucking Dr. Milburn when I needed someone to vent to?

Though I wasn’t convinced she could help my murderous thoughts.

“I was looking out the window and saw you running over here. I am not stalking you, Juliet.” But I spotted the quick smile spreading across his mouth as he turned his head away. “Do you hate me following you?”

“No.” No, no, I do not. “The other question -- do you know what that is?” I turned and gestured out toward the floating building, now bobbing slightly from the waves formed by the back current of two identical speed boats rushing passed.

Max followed the length of my arm out to sea. “Craig said that’s The Floating Chapel. People have weddings on the water. Fun.”

Well, it sounded like fun. An extravagant wedding on the ocean, the best scenery on the face of the planet. How could that not be fun? With the thought of weddings, I glanced down at Max’s ring on my finger.

Would we get married? I wanted to ask him…

But he beat me to the chase. “Do you want to get married one day?”

“Do I want to get married one day?” I echoed.

I only had to think for a second, picturing Max living in my townhouse, waking up to him every morning, him being there whenever I came home… And no one could take him away from me. “Yes, I really want to get married.”

I eyed the chapel and its bobbing spire.

“What about kids?”

“Do you want kids?” I asked. “Because I’m not sure I can bring a child into my big mess of a fucking life.”

“Your big mess?” Max held me out at an arms length. “What the hell kind of a mess do you mean? You’re perfect.”

I deeply appreciated the compliment, but… “Max, you know better than anyone that that’s a lie.” I tucked my unkempt hair behind my ear, smiling. “Why bring a baby into an unsteady life and household? I would never live with myself if something happened.”

“You want to know something weird?”

“Hmm?”

“Before I dumped Saskia, she asked if I wanted to have a kid with her, and I said exactly what you just did.” Max gently cupped my face and kissed me again. “And not because I don’t want kids. I do, but… we’re not ready.”

We’re not ready. We’re not ready. That was the first time he addressed our relationship as ‘we’. It was us; we were an item. We had yet to have sex, and we were already discussing marriage and children.

Maxper!

Piper Acacia Green.

“Oh, and for the record, I only want to marry you, and no one else.” I detached myself from his protective warmth and pivoted, sauntering back across the grass and in the direction of the bus parking lot.

X X X X

“Actually, Sierra, Blake, that’s the end of our interview. My boss only gave me a few questions to ask you. I’m really sorry.” Balancing my microphone in the crook of my elbow, I flipped closed the notebook resting in my palm in a flurry of yellow pages and scrawled writing and smiled sheepishly at the two musicians standing before me.

Sierra Kusterbeck and Blake Harnage were the only members of VersaEMERGE standing on the cement pathway winding through the park. I wasn’t sure how we ended up with only two of the members, but they were better than nothing.

Sierra looked beautiful - Devin even said so earlier - with her multi-colored hair swept back in a trailing ponytail, wearing a tank top, jeans, and flip flops, our Buzznet labeled microphone dangling at her side.

Blake, however, looked more confident and flirtatious, his shaggy, charcoal black hair dangling in the line of his dark eyes, a white t-shirt and dark jeans covering his body. His mic swayed from between two of his fingers.

It didn’t surprise me Blake felt the need to flirt with me. Not only was he a guy, but he was the type of guy whom had flirted with me hundreds of times over Warped, whom sent me flowers and asked me to marry them.

Good thing the boys aren’t here. I tossed a glance to my left. The only other people with me besides Sierra and Blake were Devin and Stefan, Stefan having woken up from hours of sleep and rest a much happier person than yesterday. He found us just moments before the interview began.

I honestly felt very foolish for my previous paranoia regarding their relationship. They were still happy together, and their constant kisses and the familiar “look” they passed one another -- called the STD look, “Stefan to Devin look” - proved that.

There was no reason to worry now. They were happy and they were not going to break up anytime soon, if ever! Max had been right. Of course.

Speaking of him, he had fled, actually fled, once all the grunt work to get the interview started commenced. He obviously didn’t want to search through our giant canvas equipment bag for memory cards or bare Devin’s whines while fixing camera bugs or tune the microphones to the perfect wave according to the camera.

He claimed he needed to talk to Craig about something urgent. None of us believed him, but we also didn’t blame him. The grunt work was the worst part of the Warped gig. But, take the job, take the bad things as well.

“It’s fine!” Sierra laughed, waving her hand around in front of her. “That was the best interview we’ve had all tour, actually. You’re the best interviewer, too.” She cast a glance toward the stage, where a band I didn’t recognize played loudly.

“All the others are creepy or… odd.” What appeared to be a shudder coursed over her. I nearly laughed; only one interviewer could do that to a person.

“Let me guess--” I crouched down, pulling the equipment bag closer to me across the cement. “--Josh Torrent, Havoc music?”

Sierra raised her eyebrows in surprise. “How did you know?” she breathed.

“Um, I… I know him personally and he kind of sucks.” I dropped my microphone into the depths of the canvas bag. I quickly buried my notebook along with it. “I’m guessing he interviewed you, huh?”

“Yesterday,” Blake answered, and bent down on one knee in front of me. He handed me his microphone, and I put it inside the bag as well.

Sierra joined him, handing her mic across to me. I put it away and yanked the zipper closed, nudging it toward Stefan, who snatched up the strap and shouldered it. Devin lowered his camera to his side, making a distinct face at something.

“He had a little bit of a crush on Sierra,” Blake continued, looking amused. “He flirted with her through the whole thing.”

“It was nasty!” Sierra cried. “That guy is a creep, seriously. How do you stand him on a personal level? I barely made it through ten minutes with him.”

Bracing my hands against the cement, I pushed myself upward and stood, stretching my arms high above my head. “He… was a friend of my ex-boyfriend’s, so I had no choice. But, my current boyfriend won’t let me around him. I’m free of him.”

Sierra and Blake rose from the ground simultaneously.

I tugged the bottom of my purple top back down over my stomach. “And if he actually has a crush on you, he won’t let up. Trust me. Been there… done that.”

I felt Devin and Stefan’s eyes boring a hole in the back of my skull. They didn’t want to hear about Josh no more than Max would. Probably even less, all things considered. Time to change the subject. No need for Devin to get hives over nothing.

Thankfully, however, Devin’s phone began blaring a Framing Hanley song, full blast. Tucking his camera against one arm, he pulled his Blackberry from his back pocket, pressed a button, and put it to his ear. “Hello, Max.”

I frowned. Max calling Devin?

“Okay.” Devin held the phone away from his mouth. “Jay, Max wants to know if you want to go out on a date with him.”