Learn From Cigarette Burns

Waiting impatiently for the crosswalk signal to light up and allow for us to cross the street, I grasped John's hand tightly and swung our arms back and forth, much like one would do to entertain a little kid. After I started these sudden motions, John watched me out of the corner of his eye, looking as if he were trying to determine what exactly it was that I was doing. After a while, a smile slowly began pulling at the corners of his lips, and then he looked away, most likely to hide his boyish grin.
 
"Johno, are you nervous about this lunch with our parents?" I blurted out.
 
Turning his gaze back to me, he tilted his head to the side, giving me a questioning look. "No. Should I be?"
 
"Well, I don't know. Today's going to be the first time we're going to be sitting down and really discussing wedding plans with our parents." I said. "Today, we'll actually be making the decisions. I don't know about you, but the thought makes me kind of nervous."
 
"Oh," he said offhandedly, "well, we're not really going to be making the decisions today, right? I mean, we're just sort of ... brainstorming, yeah?"
 
"Brainstorming that would set us off in the right direction," I said, nodding my head. "Today, we'll figure out what we want, but then we'll have to wait until later to actually get it. It's ... oh, I don't know how to explain it babe."
 
"No, I understand." He said, tugging on my hand as the signal indicated that it was okay for us to cross. "Today we narrow down the decisions." He stated. "I get it."
 
I nodded my head, though John wasn't really paying attention to me, and then squinted in the bright sunlight. Although I had my sunglasses on, the Arizona sun is persistent, and my eyes strained to adjust to the light.
 
"Are you working tonight?" John asked once we were safely on the other side of the street.
 
"Yeah, just for a few hours though." I replied. I licked my lips slightly before I continued, "I think I might start looking for another place to work." I informed him.
 
"Why? Is someone giving you shit at work?" He demanded to know. "If they are, I'll go and straighten them out."
 
"Relax, John," I insisted, "no one's giving me problems. Its just ... I don't really get too many hours there. The crowd is great when I'm signed on to work, but the problem is that I don't get signed on that often. I'm supposed to be full time, but lately I've barely even been part time."
 
"Well, that just means you get to spend more time with me." John smirked. "So why on earth would you want to complain about that?" He teased.
 
"Johno, you can't be the only one bringing in the money." I said. "I mean, it's nice when you get the sudden urge to go on a spending craze for me, but I like the thought of buying something for myself. You know, sort of keeping my sense of independency."
 
John laughed softly, and then squeezed my hand tightly. "You used to insist that I buy you everything." He reminded me.
 
"That was before you got me to fall in love with you," I pointed out with a smile, "and back then, it was only things like chocolate milk shakes and movie tickets. I've grown up since then, babe."
 
Beside me, my fiancé giggled cutely and then leaned over, bumping his hip into mine.
 
"Well if you're not happy with your hours there, then you should talk to your boss." He told me.
 
"I would, but I don't really think it's my place to go up to him and ask for more hours. I mean, other people who work there have been there a lot longer than I have."
 
"If you're hired for full time, but only get to work part time, then there's something wrong there." John said. "Talk to your boss, or get another job." He told me. "Or," he added as an afterthought, "you can just quit working altogether and let me buy you everything." He grinned.
 
"John, would you seriously rather me just quit working so that you could pamper me with money and gifts?" I asked with a smile, though a part of me really was curious as to the answer.
 
"Well, I don't know if I would rather you do that, but, it'd be kinda cool to know that you wouldn't have to worry about anything, because I already got it taken care of. I ...  I don't know." He mumbled.
 
"Johno, you're sounding a bit delusional over there," I laughed softly. "Maybe we should hurry up and get you of this heat."
 
"I'm not getting delusional," he retorted, "I was just having a hard time getting what's in here," at this time, he pointed to his head with his index finger, "to come out in words."
 
Shaking my head, I tried my hardest to keep my smile from getting any bigger. "Come on, the restaurant is at the end of this block. I think you just need some raspberry iced tea." I told him.
 
"I'm telling you, I'm not delusional, I'm just ... " John trailed off when a female voice called his name.
 
With both of us gazing around, I caught sight of a girl who looked to be the same age as us, give or take a year, waving to John. Sheepishly, John waved back, and then tugged on my hand, encouraging me to keep walking. We had barely taken two steps though, when the girl caught up to us, placing a hand on John's shoulder to stop him.
 
John stared at me dumbly before looking at the girl, and forcing a smile. "Hey," he said awkwardly.
 
"Hi John," she said, smiling brightly, "what are you up to?"
 
"Um ... I'm on my way to lunch with my fiancé." He told her.
 
"Oh, cool," she said, without bothering to look at, or acknowledge me, "do you think you can do me a favor?"
 
"A favor?"
 
"Can you sign something for me?" she asked.
 
"Oh, um, sure, I can sign something real fast." He replied.
 
The girl flashed him another smile, and then reached into her purse to pull out a pen and what looked to be a receipt. John looked over the small piece of paper momentarily, before he flipped it over and quickly scribbled his name on the back of it. When he was done, he handed both the receipt and the pen back to her.
 
"Thank you," she said, waving to him one more time before she turned around, and continued on her way.
 
As I watched her walk away, I felt my eyes narrow in dislike, and then snatched John's hand up, pulling him toward the restaurant.
 
"Babe?" John asked hesitantly. "What's wrong?"
 
"Nothing," I mumbled.
 
"Something's wrong," he pushed.
 
"Well, first, she doesn't even acknowledge me, and then she had to make me remember that stupid bitch from the other day, you know, the one who wanted in your pants." I growled.
 
"Babe, please don't get worked up about girls like her," John said softly, "they're just fans."
 
"I know, it's just ... I don't know." I muttered.
 
"You do too know," John called me out, "you just don't want to say it out load."
 
"Fine," I growled, "I don't like the thought of those bitches looking at you, making up plans to steal you after the show or get into your pants. I know that they're not all like that, but shit, I'm jealous as fuck that they're out there with you, getting to watch you do what you love, while I'm here at home, working." I admitted, my voice softening at the end.
 
"Oh, sweetheart," he started, and then stopped, most likely unsure of what to say.
 
"Just forget about it, Johno, I'm just being lame." I sighed. "We're here, and it looks like the rentals are already waiting for us."
 
Without waiting for him to reply, I tugged on his hand and led him into the restaurant, trying my best to leave behind the thought of girls throwing themselves at my fiancé while he was on tour, and trying to focus on our wedding.
 
*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *
 
Despite the fact that it was my own wedding that we had been discussing around the table, I had hardly any input. I had already discussed with Dee what I wanted for our wedding, and so far she had mentioned everything that we had talked about. The truth is that I didn't really care too much about what we had there, as long as my fiancé got what she wanted, and she was happy, then I would be happy too. The only thing that mattered to me was that by the end of that day, she'd go to bed with my last name.
 
"Okay, last thing," Mrs. Thompson spoke up, "your wedding dress. Do you want it custom made? Because I know this designer up in Flagstaff who makes really gorgeous gowns. If you want, I can talk to her for you and see what she can do."
 
"I don't want a custom gown, mom." Dee sighed. "I don't even want a big, extravagant gown. It's a backyard wedding; a cute summer dress would probably even work for me."
 
"A summer dress?" Mrs. Thompson repeated.
 
"I'm not saying that that's what I want, mom," my fiancé sighed, "I'm just saying, I don't want anything too big or extravagant."
 
"Oh," her mom replied, looking slightly crestfallen, "well, okay then."
 
I looked across the table and caught Mr. Thompson's eyes. In that moment we reached a sort of unspoken comprehension, and either one of us smiled slowly before looking away.
 
"I think that's it," my own mom announced, "for now, at least."
 
With that, I got up and held my hand out to Dee, helping her up as well. She quietly thanked me before going around to the other side of the table, and exchanging a few more words with her parents, leaving me to speak to mine.
 
"John, did you do something earlier to upset your fiancé?" My dad questioned quietly.
 
When I simply stared at him blankly, he shook his head slightly. "I might not be able to read her as well as you, Johno, but I can tell when she's upset."
 
"Well, I didn't do anything, but ... the other day we had a run in with a girl who claimed that something happened between me and her while I was on tour, and then just before we got here we were stopped by a fan who asked me to sign something for her." I said. "I think that she's just not used to the attention I'm getting, and the more she thinks about it, the more it upsets her." I sighed quietly.
 
"Hmm," was the only response I got from my dad.
 
My mom, on the other hand, gave me a stern look, "well, you'd better do something about it, John, before you leave for tour again."
 
"I know mom." I mumbled.
 
She didn't say anything else, but rather reached up, giving me a hug and a kiss on the cheek before she pulled my dad over to have a few more words with Dee's parents. Dee was back at my side in a couple of seconds, and gave me a look that told me she was ready to get out of here. Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, we said our goodbyes, and then I led her from the table, and to the exit. Once outside, she wrapped her arm around my middle, and hugged me close as if she were afraid that someone would come along and take me away from her.
 
Frowning to myself, I reached over and brushed her hair aside, causing her to look up at me.
 
"Come on this next tour with us." I blurted out.
 
She gazed at me, her eyes searching my own before she shook her head. "I have to work." She said sadly.
 
"You said yourself you're thinking about looking to work someplace else. Turn in your two weeks notice, and then take a break from work. Come on tour with us, and when we get back you can look for another job." I reasoned with her.
 
"I don't know, John," she said slowly.
 
"Come on, Dee, when's the last time you left the state?"
 
"It's been a while." She admitted.
 
"Come with us." I insisted. "Keep those band whores off of me." I added with a soft laugh.
 
I saw a tiny spark of what I would dare call rage flash in her eyes before it quickly faded away. "I'll break those bitches legs if they try to make a move for you." She informed me.
 
"So," I grinned, "does that mean you'll go?"
 
I watched as she made a cute face, while thinking to herself. Finally, after a couple of minutes of silence, she finally nodded her head. 
 
"Alright." She agreed with a smile, "I'll go."
 
Unable to help it, I let a smile of my own cross my lips.
 
I just hoped that the guys wouldn't mind me bringing Dee along, without talking to them about it first.