Vogue

Alcohol was bad. Very bad. It made you horny, your actions seemingly autonomous from your thoughts and that all important filter between your brain and mouth, ’Yeah, rum will definitely make that redundant’. But the thing that Arabella really hated about alcohol was how it made you forget; and that wasn’t a good thing when you wakeup in the morning to find Alex Gaskarth past out with his head in your lap, a sharpie-dick on the side of his face and you’re wearing someone else’s shirt.

Last night had been a blur, and that certainly didn’t sit well with Arabella.

She thanked whatever deity that existed, for two things as she sneaked off of All Time Low’s bus that morning. One: that Justin was used to her crashing with the Baltimore boys and, two: that today was a transit day; meaning she could deal with her hangover and attempt to remember the night before, all in the comfort and privacy of her bunk. Walking across the littered parking lot to Rocket’s bus, Arabella was also thankful that bus call was this morning, had it been last night she would have woken up not only with a headache and no memory, but also the prospect of having to deal with it in front of Alex for an entire day’s drive to Indianapolis.

Sitting in her bunk with a cup of chamomile tea, Arabella attempted to piece together the fuzzy memories of the night before. Snippets of the escapades flickered to life in her head, and closing her eyes, bits and pieces played like a damaged black-and-white film on the back of her eyelids.

***

‘Does this remind you of anything?’ she asked after taking a warming swig of rum before passing it to the singer. Alex and Arabella were sitting in the back lounge ofATL’s bus; her feet resting in his lap, his hands running up and down her bare calves.

To Arabella, this reminded her of the night she had first gotten drunk. At seventeen, she had consumed alcohol previously - what high school student hadn’t? - But she had never gotten ‘pissed, shit-faced, totally gone’ drunk before; until she had met Alex Gaskarth.

It had been on theCute tour, about three weeks in; they had stopped at a hotel for the night but instead of heated rooms and fluffed pillows, Alex and Arabella had spent it in the hotels’ parking lot, in the back ofATL’s cold van, passing back and forth a bottle of vodka Alex had magically produced. She remembered him, as the bandana-wearing nineteen year old who had approached her in the lobby, smiling at her to meet him in the van at ten pm for a covert night of “Drunken Debauchery”. Whilst it had started as a group party, it ended with just Alex and Arabella, singing off key and spilling too many secrets. Jack had passed out before midnight and Rian had fallen asleep in the driver’s seat after his beer ran out, whilst Zack had preferred the downy comfort of a bed to their antics. On appearances, it wasn’t anything special but to Arabella that night had meant a lot, in her eyes cementing the blossoming friendship between the two. She hoped Alex remembered it like she did.

‘Three years later and our nights of “drunken debauchery” haven’t changed; still stuck in back seats and parking lots…’ Smiling, he took a swig. ‘…but I wouldn’t change it for the world Bells’.
***

Arabella’s voice interrupted the quite lull of the back lounge. ‘So, I think I want a tattoo’. It wasn’t the alcohol talking either, she really did want one – too long she had sat on the sidelines and watched as Justin slowly added to his collection, she wanted to join the club. Excluding her brothers, Arabella found that there was something incredibly sensuous about the appearance of tattoos; an artistic dark blemish upon soft and supple skin. It was damn sexy.

Instead of replying to her, Alex raised himself off of the couch and stumbled over to the cupboard where he picked something up from the shelf before turning around and rejoining her on the leather. He leant forward and grasped her right arm, pulling it towards him and resting it in his lap; elbow down, palm up. He unclenched his other hand to revel a black sharpie, which he proceeded to uncap and meet with the silky skin of Arabella’s forearm.

‘What are you doing?’

‘I think your crazy Italian agent would hack off anyone who permanently marked your skin, so temporary it is Sweetcheeks. My penis is a precious commodity.’ He looked adorable as he drew her ‘tattoo’; the tip of his tongue stuck out between his lips as he squinted his eyes; Arabella thought that concentrating made Alex look innocent, boyish – despite the filth that spewed from his lips - it was pretty damn endearing.

‘And….done! Shit that looks dope, Alex you have outdone yourself yet again’ he rambled as recapped the marker and let Arabella’s arm go.

‘What the fuck is that!’ Arabella really wasn’t too sure what her ‘tattoo’ was, it looked like a person but Alex’s unsteady drunk hand really didn’t capture reality very well.

‘It’s a naked girl in a naked girl costume. See, now we’re matching’ Alex laughed before thrusting his arm out to show Arabella the skeleton tattoo he had on his forearm. Contorting his arm around, he somehow managed to push his and Arabella’s tattoos together whilst making kissing noises. ‘And now they’ll have baby tats, either looking like you or Trace Cyrus – I’m down with whatever.’

‘You’re such a dickhead’.

‘Babycakes, my cock might be blue and curvy but no body has genitals on their head. I mean you’d think Jack would be the exception, but that’s just the way his face looks’.

Laughing, she leant over and plucked the sharpie from his fingers. Arabella grabbed his face in her hand, his day old stubble brushing against her palm. Tilting his head she held it still in her left hand before using her teeth to uncap the marker. Using all her artistic ability, Arabella drew the phallic shape on the side of Alex’s cheek as steady as she could.

‘There, now you really are a dickhead!’
***

‘Who would you turn gay for?’

Arabella laughed, Alex and Jack’s favourite questions always revolved around sexual exploits – she wasn’t surprised when this one popped out. ‘One-night only or long-term commitment?’

‘Girl please, ‘wham-and-bam’ style; Commitment is overrated.’ Arabella caught a flash of emotion on Alex’s face before he took a swig and turned to face her expectantly. The conflicted expression had been too brief for Arabella to define, but as Alex resumed smiling and drew shapes with his fingers on the skin of her legs, she pushed the thoughts aside.

‘Well, then definitely Megan Fox. The lips, hips…’ Her giggles stopped her words as she caught Alex’s actions; he had raised his hands from her legs to cup, then grope, a pair of imaginary breasts. ‘…those too.’

‘To Megan Fox: the only woman who makes lesbianism appealing’ He raised the bottle ofCaptain in a cheers motion.

‘Damn, that’s one hell of a threesome…’ He was looking off whimsically. ‘…You, me and Megan; fuck me dead’. Alex’s arm came around Arabella’s shoulder, his deliciously rough palm rubbing circles on her bare shoulder, his thumb grazing the tip of her collarbone; she had ended up in one of Zack’s wife beaters after Alex had spilled a cup of day-old tea on her top, and the newly exposed skin seemed to drive both of them crazy.

Fuck me dead was right.
***

They were fighting over something; Arabella couldn’t really remember the details. One minute they were talking, and the next they were hurling mock insults back and forth at each other.

‘Plumper Humper’ he threw at her.

‘Pudger Nudger.’

‘Chubby Chaser.’

‘Speaking of, is that the beginnings of a double chin Alex?’ Her smile showed that her comments where in jest – the boy was as slim as any male model, maybe not as buff but definitely just as good to look at.

His face crumpled in outrage. ‘Oh, that’s it!. Deuce is offended by your uncalled for remarks.’ At her at her quizzical look, he turned his check and elaborated ‘My other dick. Deuce meet Bella, Bella say ‘hello’ to the second best cock you’ll ever see.’

He was outrageous; it’s what Arabella found so appealing. She smiled towards the drawing and wiggled her fingers in a wave. ‘Pleasure to meet you Deuce’.

‘It’d be more pleasurable if you gave him a kiss, he’s a sucker for a little mouth action.’

Rolling her eyes, she leant forwards and brushed her lips against his stubbled, warm cheek, just beside ‘Deuce’. It had only been a second but before she could pull back, Alex’s head turned towards her, surprised she had gone along with his demand.

He wasn’t smiling. His eyes were looking straight into hers, lust bubbling beneath the surface. Their faces were close, noses already touching and lips a mere hairs length apart. Arabella could feel the warm puff’s of Alex’s breath on her chin. Her arms erupted in goose-bumps. She licked her lips absentmindedly and Alex’s brown orbs flew downwards. A soft groan emitted from him. Somehow the space between them shrunk until a simple breath would close the electric gap between their two parched lips.
***

And for the love of god, Arabella couldn’t remember what had happened next.

‘Yeah’ she thought, taking a sip of her tea. ‘Alcohol is very bad’.