She's With The Band
Chapter 18;
Imelda watched Jack carefully as they approached the booths of food being set up. Jack was rambling on about something insignificant, so Imelda just observed him and his way of being. Imelda loved the way whenever he’d laugh really hard, he’d snort just a little bit and look around to see if anyone noticed. She loved that his eyes would dance around enthusiastically when he talked about his family and his tyrannical teenage high school years.Most of all, she liked how Jack refused to let her hand go, as if she’d runaway. As if Imelda would ever run away from Jack.
When they found the steaming jugs filled with Starbucks, the couple immediately attacked, evidently the first two to discover the caffeine had arrived. Imelda poured herself a vent cup and dumped in about half of the shaker filled with vanilla powder. Jack drank his black and stared at her while she adjusted her drink specifically.
Imelda turned around and raised an eyebrow at him. “See something you like, Barakat?”
He rolled his eyes. “No, I was staring at this gorgeous girl who I just made out with against my van for no reason.”
Imelda sighed and reached up to gently peck him on the lips.“You are so perfect, Jack Attack.”
Jack shoved his cup onto the table to wrap his arms around her before the moment could end. Whoops and hollers and whistles could be heard all around them from various band and crew members. Jack ended the kiss with as oft nibble on her lower lip, eliciting a gasp from Imelda.
“Jack Barakat, I didn’t know you had such fun in public!”she giggled, sipping her drink slowly before adding in a few dumplings of chocolate powder.
“Imelda Quinton, when I’m around girls like you, I can’t help myself.”
“You’re such a cheeseball.”
“HEY! You love it,” Jack argued, pouting with his lower lip.This time, Imelda reached up, placing her hands on his flimsy biceps to bite it. She backed up and took her coffee, waltzing away toward the booths, leaving a stunned and very turned on guitarist with his cooling coffee behind.
As Imelda sauntered from booth to booth, talking to Merch people and scuffing her flip-flops against the hard gravel, she turned heads and caught eyes that were not nearly as alluring as her own. Jack watched her just as she had watched him when he was chatting her up incessantly. He watched her innocent, untouched hips swing to and fro as she danced around the area to Breathe In by Hit the Lights, bringing laughs and smiles out from all around her. She was belting out the lyrics as Jack stood by at the Cute merch booth.Shaant grabbed Jack’s shoulders, knocking him out of his trance.
“Who’s the girl?” he asked, sitting next to Jack on the counter. Jack rolled his eyes.
“Her name’s Imelda and she’s our merch girl.”
“I see. And when’d you have time to fuck her in the first two days of tour?”
Jack growled and shoved Shaant’s shoulder. “We aren’t sleeping together.”
Shaant rolled his eyes and jumped off the counter, leaving a goodbye with Jack before following a petite, busy-looking merch girl towards the We the Kings booth. Imelda suddenly stopped dancing and walked back over to Jack, placing her hands on his and yanking him off the booth.
“Dance with me!” she insisted. Jack obliged immediately flapping his arms around like an idiot and beginning a perverted version of the robot. Imelda mimicked him, causing the previously curious eyes to roll and turn back to what they were doing. When Jack and Imelda were both in hysterics,they ended their dancing and went to sit on their empty booth.
“I have to get set up soon. But, I need to change first. You gonna stay here?” Imelda asked, hopping off the counter after chugging back the rest of her drink. Jack shook his head and stood up.
“This shirt smells like urine, vomit and alcohol,” he sighed, picking at his two-day-old Mayday Parade t-shirt. Imelda sniffed the sleeve on his right arm and pretended to heave into a nearby trashcan. Jack laughed and rubbed her back softly as she continued to fake-chuck violently.
“Let’s go, pukeasaurus.”
The couple walked back to the van hand in hand to change into their new clothes, consisting of a pair of baggy black cargo shorts and a yellow Paramore tank top for Imelda and a pair of khaki shorts and a lime green Glamour Kills shirt for Jack.
“We look like a Sprite,” Imelda commented as the pair unloaded merch from boxes under their tent. When the shirts, hats, hoodies andother various items were spread out for display, Imelda sat down in her lawn chair and squeezed a dollop of 70 SPF sunscreen into her palm, rubbing it over her shoulders. Jack was fiddling with his Sidekick and jumped a little when it buzzed.
Jack looked up at her and grinned. “No we don’t. Sprite Has a darker green.”
“But it’s still green, so we’re Sprite,” Imelda argued.
“I don’t care. If it’s not dark green, we’re not Sprite. End of story,” Jack stated, sliding his phone back into his pocket. Imelda glared up at him before noticing Grieco stroll by with a guitar case.
“Grieco! What are the Sprite colors?” she called.
“Green and yellow?” he hollered back and walked toward the trailer.
“No fucking help…” Imelda muttered, crossing her arms over her chest.
“I’d be Sprite with you any day, babe,” Jack assured her,kissing her cheek.
Imelda looked up at his bright, rosy face and bit her lip at the sight of her favorite close-lipped smile. Jack kissed her forehead and satin her lap, tucking his arms around her neck and sighing in a girly fashion.
“To be loved… to be loved… what more could you ask for?”Jack sang loudly, quoting About a Girl by TAI…, the song he was listening to when he first dreamed about Imelda. The night it all began.
When they found the steaming jugs filled with Starbucks, the couple immediately attacked, evidently the first two to discover the caffeine had arrived. Imelda poured herself a vent cup and dumped in about half of the shaker filled with vanilla powder. Jack drank his black and stared at her while she adjusted her drink specifically.
Imelda turned around and raised an eyebrow at him. “See something you like, Barakat?”
He rolled his eyes. “No, I was staring at this gorgeous girl who I just made out with against my van for no reason.”
Imelda sighed and reached up to gently peck him on the lips.“You are so perfect, Jack Attack.”
Jack shoved his cup onto the table to wrap his arms around her before the moment could end. Whoops and hollers and whistles could be heard all around them from various band and crew members. Jack ended the kiss with as oft nibble on her lower lip, eliciting a gasp from Imelda.
“Jack Barakat, I didn’t know you had such fun in public!”she giggled, sipping her drink slowly before adding in a few dumplings of chocolate powder.
“Imelda Quinton, when I’m around girls like you, I can’t help myself.”
“You’re such a cheeseball.”
“HEY! You love it,” Jack argued, pouting with his lower lip.This time, Imelda reached up, placing her hands on his flimsy biceps to bite it. She backed up and took her coffee, waltzing away toward the booths, leaving a stunned and very turned on guitarist with his cooling coffee behind.
As Imelda sauntered from booth to booth, talking to Merch people and scuffing her flip-flops against the hard gravel, she turned heads and caught eyes that were not nearly as alluring as her own. Jack watched her just as she had watched him when he was chatting her up incessantly. He watched her innocent, untouched hips swing to and fro as she danced around the area to Breathe In by Hit the Lights, bringing laughs and smiles out from all around her. She was belting out the lyrics as Jack stood by at the Cute merch booth.Shaant grabbed Jack’s shoulders, knocking him out of his trance.
“Who’s the girl?” he asked, sitting next to Jack on the counter. Jack rolled his eyes.
“Her name’s Imelda and she’s our merch girl.”
“I see. And when’d you have time to fuck her in the first two days of tour?”
Jack growled and shoved Shaant’s shoulder. “We aren’t sleeping together.”
Shaant rolled his eyes and jumped off the counter, leaving a goodbye with Jack before following a petite, busy-looking merch girl towards the We the Kings booth. Imelda suddenly stopped dancing and walked back over to Jack, placing her hands on his and yanking him off the booth.
“Dance with me!” she insisted. Jack obliged immediately flapping his arms around like an idiot and beginning a perverted version of the robot. Imelda mimicked him, causing the previously curious eyes to roll and turn back to what they were doing. When Jack and Imelda were both in hysterics,they ended their dancing and went to sit on their empty booth.
“I have to get set up soon. But, I need to change first. You gonna stay here?” Imelda asked, hopping off the counter after chugging back the rest of her drink. Jack shook his head and stood up.
“This shirt smells like urine, vomit and alcohol,” he sighed, picking at his two-day-old Mayday Parade t-shirt. Imelda sniffed the sleeve on his right arm and pretended to heave into a nearby trashcan. Jack laughed and rubbed her back softly as she continued to fake-chuck violently.
“Let’s go, pukeasaurus.”
The couple walked back to the van hand in hand to change into their new clothes, consisting of a pair of baggy black cargo shorts and a yellow Paramore tank top for Imelda and a pair of khaki shorts and a lime green Glamour Kills shirt for Jack.
“We look like a Sprite,” Imelda commented as the pair unloaded merch from boxes under their tent. When the shirts, hats, hoodies andother various items were spread out for display, Imelda sat down in her lawn chair and squeezed a dollop of 70 SPF sunscreen into her palm, rubbing it over her shoulders. Jack was fiddling with his Sidekick and jumped a little when it buzzed.
Jack looked up at her and grinned. “No we don’t. Sprite Has a darker green.”
“But it’s still green, so we’re Sprite,” Imelda argued.
“I don’t care. If it’s not dark green, we’re not Sprite. End of story,” Jack stated, sliding his phone back into his pocket. Imelda glared up at him before noticing Grieco stroll by with a guitar case.
“Grieco! What are the Sprite colors?” she called.
“Green and yellow?” he hollered back and walked toward the trailer.
“No fucking help…” Imelda muttered, crossing her arms over her chest.
“I’d be Sprite with you any day, babe,” Jack assured her,kissing her cheek.
Imelda looked up at his bright, rosy face and bit her lip at the sight of her favorite close-lipped smile. Jack kissed her forehead and satin her lap, tucking his arms around her neck and sighing in a girly fashion.
“To be loved… to be loved… what more could you ask for?”Jack sang loudly, quoting About a Girl by TAI…, the song he was listening to when he first dreamed about Imelda. The night it all began.