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

Gabe's P.O.V.

"No, that's dirty, I don't like that."

"What do you mean you don't like that? That has Gabe written all over it!"

"No, it has William written all over it. Literally," I said, holding up the hoodie and showing it to my best friend. The name William was written in five different places on the multi-colored hoodie as a joke he thought would be extremely funny while we were drunk.

"So? I still have that pair of jeans with 'Gabe' written on the ass!" William told me and I raised my eyebrows.

"And that, my friend, is awkward," I said, going back through my suitcase to try to find another one.

"No. It's love," he answered, plopping himself back down on my bed. He bent his knees up and stared at me from in between his legs as I dug through the bag. "You know, this looks a bit sexy from this angle."

"No, William, I don't know," I shook my head.

"And now you look like you're motor-boating," he continued, and I looked up at him like he was crazy.

"You're one of the only people I know who can make my searching for clothes in my suitcase sexual," I told him and he smiled.

"At least it's better than the spinney chair," he answered deviantly and I rolled my eyes.

"The spinney chair was just weird. I will never do that again, " I vowed, finally finding the hoodie I was looking for.

I yanked it on before I laid down on the bed next to him, staring up at the ceiling. "Where's my girlfriend?"

"I dunno," he answered. "Mindy's having a girl," he muttered lightly and I turned my head to look at him.

"Well that's good, right?" I responded, watching him bite his lip and avoid eye contact.

"I guess. It's just, I can't shake the feeling that this kid isn't even mine. And that I have no need to worry over this whole mess," he said, licking his lips and sighing.

"Or you just don't want this to be your kid?"

"Well, it wouldn't be exactly how I wanted to have my child. It was a one night stand. I don't even remember having sex with Mindy, I was so drunk. And then I get a call almost two months later from her crying over the phone that she's pregnant and it's mine. What am I supposed to think?"

"Well, is she sure it's your's?"

"Yeah. She's made it pretty damn clear she's not a whore and she's producing my child. She doesn't even want the baby, I don't know what the point of this whole mess is."

"Would you rather she have aborted it?"

"No. But I already know this is going to end in me somehow getting stuck raising this little girl by myself. And I honestly don't know if I can handle a daughter, right now," he told me.

"You think Mindy's just gonna cop out on how the whole parenthood thing?" I asked him and he nodded.

"She's definitely not the motherly type. She's a little party girl with no patience for a baby. And I'm afraid that if I don't take the kid, then she's going to get neglected from her mother and grow up screwed up or something. I don't want that happening to my kid, you know? I'm just stuck through this whole situation, and I don't know what I'm going to do," he told me and I nodded.

"You guys will get it figured out, though. And if you get stuck with the kid, at least you'll know you're a way better parent than Mindy would ever be," I told him and he smiled.

"Yeah. I guess so," he answered. "Is Izey gonna come out on Warped with you this year?"

"I don't know. I haven't talked to the band about it. And I'd need to ask her if she even wants to go first. I'd love her to come, of course," I said.

"I figured as much. It must be nice being with her while she's not pregnant anymore."

"It doesn't seem much different. I love her either way."

"Must be nice," he muttered.

"Well what about Carson? You guys seem pretty cool."

"Like she's gonna want to be with me after she finds out about Mindy. I'm not gonna start a good thing just to ruin it," he told me and I nodded.

"I think my girls home," I said, sitting up and thinking I heard the door open downstairs.

"Is she?" he asked and I shrugged, trying to get up but falling back down. I ended up half on him and he stared at me curiously. "Hi?"

"Sí, hola. ¡Izey, el bebé!" I yelled, giving up on trying to get up and just yelling when I heard footsteps on the stairs.

"Qué, Gabriel?" she asked, opening the door and I smiled.

"Glad to see you've inherited a word of my language," I told her and she rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, because you're the only person in America who speaks Spanish," she said.

"Don't be jealous because you can't speak it," I told her.

"It's only sexy when you talk dirty."

"How do you know it's dirty if you can't speak it?"

"Who said I couldn't understand you?"