But It's Better If You Swear to Shake It Up.

Ryan's P.O.V.

“I'm hungry,” I informed Brendon, leaning my head on his shoulder as we sat on the couch.

“Me too,” he agreed.

“I want a chalupa,” I said and he shook his head.

“I want ice cream.”

“Are we stopping anywhere soon?” I asked, looking out the bus window and seeing the scenery fly by.

“We should be. We've been driving for pretty much a day straight,” he said, messing with the television.

“I miss my boyfriend.”

“Why don't you call him?”

“Wouldn't he be sleeping? I don't even know what time it is,” I said, searching around for a clock I though had been on the wall.

“I doubt it. It's only like, six. And we're in Oregon, the time zone is the same here,” Brendon said and I furrowed my eyebrows.

“Really? I didn't know we were in Oregon,” I said and he nodded.

“Yeah. Do you not pay attention to our touring schedule?”

“Not really. I just make sure to know where we are so I don't yell out the wrong city during a concert. Aren't we supposed to be in Reno tomorrow?”

“No. We'll be in Reno on Thursday. And then Vegas on Friday,” Brendon responded and I laid my head back down.

“Okay. So where's our show tonight?”

“Portland. So we have, like, two hours before we stop.”

“But I'm hungry!” I exclaimed, sitting up and he stared at me.

“Why do you have to say it so dramatically? You already ate my cereal. Are you ever full, or are you just a hollow log?” he asked and I rolled my eyes.

“There wasn't very much of your cereal. And I'm hungry. So what? At least I'm not fat,” I stated.

“Neither am I. And I didn't call you fat. I think you have tapeworm,” he told me and I rolled my eyes.

“I do not have a tapeworm, I just want a fucking chalupa! And stop wishing me dead!” I yelled at him and he shook his head.

“I don't wish you dead. I think there's something wrong with you. Are you on drugs?” he asked, looking at me seriously.

“No. Are you?” I asked and he didn't answer. “Dead head.”

“I am not a fucking dead head!” he said, his eyes going wide.

“You are so on acid!” I yelled.

“I am not! Quit taking swallowing so many mushrooms!” he yelled back.

“Asshole!”

“Pothead!”

“We're not talking about Joe!” I insisted.

“You're such a junkie!” he told me.

“You're high!”

“You're tripping'!”

“We're not in the fucking sixties, Brendon!”

“Tell that to your mom!” he said, and suddenly the bus stopped, causing us to fall forward and land on the floor. We both started cracking up, and I found myself unable to stop laughing. I looked up with tears rolling down my cheeks to see Jon, Spencer, and Zach staring down at us.

“Are you guys okay?” they asked and I shook my head, finding it hard to breath, let alone talk. Brendon was red faced and staring up at them.

“Okay, what's so funny?” Spencer asked, looking confused.

“I don't know,” I wheezed. “But I can't stop laughing.”

“Seriously, guys, you're scaring me. It can't be that funny if you don't even know what you're laughing about,” Jon said and I struggled to regain my composure.

“I have to pee,” I stated, standing up and walking towards the back of the bus. I opened the bathroom door and got into the tiny space, did my business, and zipped back up. I washed my hands, then wet them down to mess with my hair, trying to get it how I liked, but gave up when it didn't want to cooperate. I walked back in the living area, and sat down on the couch, staring intently at Spencer. He looked back in my direction uneasily, and I raised my eyebrows. He furrowed his own and I smirked.

“What?” he asked and I shrugged.

“Nothing,” I answered, sitting back and watching whatever weird show Brendon has settled the TV on. I suddenly found myself very thirsty, but didn't want to get my lazy ass off the couch to walk to the kitchenette. I held the remote in my hands, looking at Jon.

“Hey, you with the face!” I said to him, but he didn't look in my direction. I lifted the remote and threw it at his head, hitting my target with perfect aim. He looked over at me, scared and confused, and I smiled. “Get me a bottle of water.”

“Why can't you get it?” he asked.

“Because I asked you. And I don't feel like it,” I told him.

“No, I'm not your slave,” he told me and I scrunched up my nose.

“Since when?”

“Since the day you were born.”

“Fine, whatever,” I sighed, getting up and walking toward the fridge. I opened it and found my water bottle, opening it up and downing half of it on the spot. As soon as I closed the door, my phone started ringing. The ring tone was a special one I picked out for Pete, so I frantically searched my pockets, trying to locate it. I couldn't, and I figured it was back in the bunks. I walked back to mine, but it quit ringing as soon as I got there. I picked it up, seeing a new voice mail sign flashing over the screen, but I ignored that and just picked up my side kick, searching for Pete's number. I hit the call button, and listened to it ring three times before his answering machine picked up. I ended the call, confused that he had just called, but wouldn't answer the phone. I went to my voice mail and found the message.

”Ryan, it's Gabe,” By now I was confused and scared, noting the worry and urgency in his voice. ”You need to get back home as fast as you can. Izey just went into labor. Pete's at the hospital with her. I'm on my way there right now. Call his phone as soon as you get this.

My breath hitched in my throat. Izey can't be in labor, she's only seven months pregnant! Fuck, I gotta get to the Vegas!