Finger on the Trigger to My Dear Juliet

I didn't know what the fuck I was doing anymore.

It was supposed to be simple. The only person I was close to was Ronnie, and that's it.

And if anyone else wanted to be my friend, I acted like a bitch towards them. Repeat if desired.

So I had no idea why I was being so friendly with Max, to the point where he knew almost everything now.

Weekends were bad for me. Although my father still had to work, I was stuck at home with nothing to do.

I sat down on my bed, my iPod beside me, dutifully playing Tegan & Sara in an attempt to alleviate the boredom and take me away from my thoughts, but to no avail.

"I know you feel it too, these words get overused.
When we get up and over it and over them,
Up and over it and over them.
I know you feel it too, it all seems so untrue.
When you get up and over it and over them,
Oh oh, hell no. Oh oh, hell no..."

I sang along softly to the song, jumping when I heard the doorbell downstairs ring.

I walked down the stairs, my heart beating erratically, my iPod strapped to my hip and one earbud out of my ear.

I pulled open the door to reveal Ronnie and Max, Max holding a beaten up guitar in his hand. Ronnie leaned against the door.

"H-Hey guys, what's up?" I asked.

"We're coming to hang out with you, whether you want to or not," Ronnie explained, and I rolled my eyes. "Your parents aren't home right?"

"No, but you better not me plotting anything Radke," I warned.

He held up his palms in an innocent gesture. "I swear by my deceased hamster Spartacus that I will not lay a hand on your lady parts."

I giggled. "Alright, that's good enough for me."

I opened up the door, and both of them filed into my living room, setting themselves down on the couch. I walked into the kitchen to grab drinks.

If I had to be completely honest, it was really awkward between Max and I right now. I should never have let him shove his tongue down my throat. Leaning against the counter, I tried to regain some composure before I walked back out with the drinks in hand.

"Here ya go," I said, throwing the Pepsi bottles at them both. Max groaned.

"Now they're going to be all fizzy and shit!"

"Too bad," I retorted, sitting down between the two of them.

"How come there's, like, no pictures of you?" Ronnie asked, looking around the room.

"My father doesn't like to show off family stuff," I lied, surprised at how easily the fib had come. "Even in his own house."

"Who's that?" Max asked, pointing to a picture that might be an older version of me, but with green eyes.

"My mother," I said softly. "She's dead."

"I'm sorry," Ronnie and Max mumbled at the same time.

The photo had been taken two weeks before Rachel Fallon passed away. Her black hair, so much like mine, was pulled back into a loose bun, and her green eyes glittered with a sort of triumph. She was leaning over, her knee lightly placed on top of my uncle Anthony's chest, where he had fallen down on his back and was laughing.

Before the picture was taken, my mother had chased my uncle around the backyard, before pinning him to the ground and announcing that, indeed, women were as strong, if not stronger, than men.

I hadn't realized that I was staring so long, before a hand came into my line of vision, knocking me out of my reverie.

"You alright?" Ronnie asked. "You looked really sad."

"Yeah," I said, trying to pull a smile onto my face. "I'm fine. So what's the guitar for?" I asked, trying to change the subject.

"Max here can play a damn good guitar," Ronnie replied, clapping his friend on the back.

"And what can you do Radke?" I asked.

I was startled when Ronnie looked down at the carpet, the back of his neck and ears turning red.

"I sing," he mumbled quietly, and I nearly laughed.

I had made Ronnie Radke, king of I-don't-give-a-fuck, embarrassed!

"Play something," I demanded Max, knowing enough that if I made fun of Ronnie he would never forgive me.

Max held the guitar tighter in his hands, looking down at the strings. He began playing, murmuring that it would be louder with an amp.

We continued in this manner for a while, before Ronnie stood up and announced that he had to go to the bathroom, much to our delight.

"Teach me," I said to Max, explaining when he shot me a confused look. "Teach me how to play guitar."

He held out the guitar to me, and I mirrored his movements, trying to make it seem like I knew what I was doing.

I felt his chest press against my back and his hands come over on top of mine, trying to fix them into the proper positions on the strings.

"This is C, and this is G, and F. And if you play them in this order..." I smiled when his fingers directed mine in the playing of the strings, and the sound that resulted from it.

I turned to face him, then realized how close we really were. Barely a few inches away, and I was frozen. I couldn't help but stare, and he looked exactly in the same position as me.

We both broke away when we heard Ronnie's feet trampling down the stairs towards us, and I felt my cheeks turn pink.

"Jeez, that took a long time," Ronnie commented, causing me to roll my eyes.

"Constipation, Radke?" I asked, and he winked.

"It must have been something in those sodas."

Max continued playing different things on the guitar, and every so often I would hear Ronnie singing the lyrics quietly.

"You just wait, Charlie," He told me. "One day we're going be huge. We're going to get a band together, tour all over the world, I'll get to fuck any girl I want..."

I laughed at his words. "Sure you may wanna bang them, but who knows if they want you Ronnie?"

"Everyone wants a piece of the Radke," He retorted, causing Max to burst out laughing.

Before long I felt the effects of a sleepless night, and I was nodding off. My head sank over to my right, landing itself on Ronnie's shoulder.

"Fuck's sake Char-" He cut himself off as he saw I was almost unconscious.

"She asleep?" Max asked from my left.

"Yeah," Ronnie replied softly, not trying to push me off, which surprised me.

"Wanna let her sleep for a bit?"

"Yeah."

[>>>]

I opened my eyes, noticing that it was considerably darker outside, and that someone had put a crappy blanket on me while I was asleep.

"Up finally sleepy head?" Max asked.

"What time is it?" I asked, looking around for the clock. My stomach dropped when I saw the time.

"You guys have to get out of here!" I told Max, and he mirrored me, standing up.

"What? Why?" He asked. I couldn't see Ronnie anywhere.

"Well my father doesn't exactly like Ronnie, and he gets home in like ten minutes," I said, trying not to give anything away needlessly.

Understanding lit up Max's eyes, and he went into the kitchen, grabbing Ronnie and telling him that it was time to leave.

"It was fun Charlie. We'll see you on Monday?" He asked, giving me a two-finger salute.

"Yeah, sure, Ronnie. Bye guys. And thanks," I said, ushering them out the door.

"Welcome," They both said at the same time, and I closed the door behind them.

I watched as they disappeared into Ronnie's house, and not fifteen seconds later my father's red pick-up truck rolled into the driveway, and I retreated upstairs.

I sat down on my bed, feeling extremely exhausted.

Something was bothering me, and I looked around my room, my eyes finally falling on my desk drawer that was completely shut. I usually kept it open halfway at least.

I walked over to it, opening it and realizing that my journal was in the wrong spot. There was only one person that could have read it when I was asleep.

Max fucking Green.

I felt angry tears appear in my eyes, and I slammed the drawer shut before collapsing on my bedspread.

That had every thought I've ever had nearly written in it. That had everything that's ever happened to me. That's had all the shit that went on with Ronnie and me. That had my fucking feelings in it.

I squeezed my eyes shut, resolving to confront Max about it on Monday, and in the meantime trying to calm myself down.