We've Got This All Wrong

My eyes slowly scanned the area, taking in the barren Pomona Valley and the San Gabriel Mountains rising in the distance from the northern horizon. I breathed in the dry air and sighed: It was cleaner than back home, but it just wasn't Long Island, and I was already feeling homesick. To add to it, I had never been on an extended stay away from home, except for the time I stayed with my aunt in Akron for a month when I was fourteen, but that was nothing compared to this.

Warped Tour. Two months of nonstop touring in a van with six guys, along with countless other bands, all over the country and even some parts of Canada. And let's not forget the blistering summer heat and lack of proper showering facilities.

"Sal needs some help with the tent," a familiar voice broke through my sullen thoughts.

I slowly nodded my head in acknowledgement, not taking my eyes off of the distant cliffs. Sal was a big boy, he could handle himself for a minute while I tried to convince myself that this wasn't all just a huge mistake.

"Having second thoughts?"

I felt my eyebrows furrow and the corners of my lips pull down. I had forgotten how perceptive Ryan was. I cleared all traces of sadness from my face before forcing a smile and turning towards him. "No, not yet. I just miss home."

"Already? It's just the first day!" he teased, nudging my shoulder with his own. "It's only two months, and we'll be back in New York in a few weeks."

A few weeks was bound to feel like a few years. And if that was the case, then there was no way I could last two months on this godforsaken tour.

"Bailey?" he asked after a few minutes of silence.

"Sorry, I spaced out." I turned to face him, a sheepish smile on my face. "Where'd you say Sal was?"

Ryan stared at me quizzically for a long moment before pointing in the direction of the van. "Over there."

"Right." I nodded once before sauntering over to the van. I couldn't fight the smile forming on my face as I noticed a dark mess of afro-like curls and a scrawny boy struggling with a bag full of tent equipment. "What happened to 'Salvatorus-Rex?'"

"He partied too hard last night," Sal mumbled in response. "Now grab that end and help me carry this."

I complied, taking the opposite end of the heavy bag in my hands, and groaned. "Jesus Christ," I huffed. "Did you kill Brian and stuff him in here?"

"No," Sal grunted as we awkwardly made our way to the tent area. "And your brother wouldn't like it if he heard you say things like that."

"I do a lot of things Bri wouldn't like," I mumbled quietly to myself. "How much longer do we have to carry this?"

"Not much. We're almost there."

I nodded as we continued our uncoordinated walk in silence. Every now and then I'd stumble due to my lack of concentration; but Sal would alert me if I was about to walk into anything, or anybody. My thoughts were elsewhere, far away from sunny Pomona, California, and in a different time, too.

"Five, four, three, two, one! Happy New Year!" everyone shouted in unison. Glasses clanked in private toasts, confetti shimmered as handfuls were being thrown into the air, and lips locked in an old tradition.

I smiled as I watched the fifty or so teenagers around me celebrate the new year. Brian had invited his friends over for the celebration, and when the New Year's buzz would die down around four, thereal party would begin: Ryan's 21st birthday party.

"Standing by yourself isn't a good way to bring in the new year," a voice slurred slightly to my right.

"And being wasted isn't a good way to start off your twenty-first birthday." I turned to Ryan's familiar face with a smirk on my lips.

"Touché," he grinned, holding up his glass. "But I'm not drunk. At least, not completely."

I cocked an eyebrow before shaking my head and turning back to the party. Three boys had begun a confetti fight in one corner, tossing handfuls of the glittering paper at one another. A group of about eight people had started a game of 'Never Have I Ever' at the dining room table. A couple I didn't recognize were making out heatedly on the floral print sofa, their hands exploring one another's bodies. I cringed, turning away from the latter scene and hoping that they had the decency to take whatever was about to happen into more private quarters.

"I'm sorry this is a bit late," Ryan said slowly.

Confused, I turned to face him. Then his lips crashed onto my own.