Such a Typical Thing

I gotta get my game down tight, it's alright;

As I walked back to the bus after my shower, my bag on my shoulder, all I could do was thank God for the invention of shorts and tank tops. I hadn't dried my hair, but it was drying fast due to the intense heat of the morning. It was only ten and I had plenty of time to kill before I had lunch with Garrett.

I stepped onto the cool retreat of the bus and Jack was laying on the sofa, covering his eyes.

"You okay, Barakitty?" I asked, lifting his feet and plopping down, placing his feet in my lap.

"Why don't you ask Jack Daniel?" he murmured, his wrist draped over his eyes.

"I would, but bottles don't talk," I reminded him.

"It did last night."

"Interesting," I said and I couldn't help but frown in somewhat confusion.

He lifted his head and peaked at me. "You look hotter than usual. What's the occasion?" he asked, eyebrows raised.

"I'm having lunch with Garrett later," I informed him, running a hand through my hair which I had yet to tie up.

"No shit? Huh."

I smiled, patting his leg before standing up. I opened one of the tiny cabinets and grabbed the bottle of Tylenol and tossed it at Jack.

I grabbed my make-up bag and quickly applied eyeliner and curled my eyelashes. I twisted my hair into a loose knot at the base of my skull. I French-braided my bangs and pinned them behind my ear. I shrugged, tugging at the collar of my tank top.

"Sexy," I heard Jack say as I left the bus.

I wandered around for a while before finding Vinny at the merch table.

"Damn, girl, what street corner are you working?" he whistled at me. I looked at him, jaw dropped.

"I take offense to that!" I informed him, stepping behind the table.

"Seriously though, what's up?" he asked, looking me over.

"I'm having lunch with someone later," I said with a shrug.

"Just don't let your brother see you." Vinny shook his head, averting his eyes.

"Damn," Danny said, coming up to the table as well.

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Don't say a word," I warned him.

"Wasn't planning on it," he replied, holding his hands up in his defense. I rolled my eyes and dug my phone out of my pocket. It was barely ten-thirty.

"Do you guys need help with anything?" I offered, trying to make myself useful.

"You can help hang shirts," Vinny said, tossing a few my way, along with a roll of duct tape. I sighed, standing up.

I grabbed ahold of a shirt and ripped off a piece of duct tape. I had to stretch immensely to reach the the grate they had set up to show off the merch. I could feel the hem of my tank top riding up. I finally taped the shirt up and wiped my brow before looking over my shoulder a bit.

I could see Danny sneaking glances of the exposed skin of my back and side. He looked away suddenly, realizing he'd been caught.

Before I could fix my shirt, I heard a yell. "When the fuck did you pierce your belly button?!" Matt roared, coming up to the table.

I glanced down to see that the bar in my navel was exposed. Oops.

"A while ago," I said, trying to sound innocent.

"Well, you may as well get a tramp stamp and your outfit will be complete!" he snapped. I couldn't help but smirk.

May as well have a little fun with it.

"You think that's bad? You should see what I did to my nether regions," I told him with a wink.

"Don't wanna know, don't wanna know, don't wanna know," he kept repeating, cringing slightly as he walked away.

"What did you do to your 'nether regions'?" Vinny asked, eyebrow raised. Danny seemed to be listen closely. Grieco had arrived as well and he seemed interested.

"I did nothing, I swear. I was only messing with him," I said, laughing nervously. The scoff Vinny let out told me that he wasn't buying it.

I spent the next hour and forty-five minutes seated in a lawn chair, tossing the occasional shirt to Vinny as fans popped by the merch table. My phone buzzed on my thigh.

From: Gare-bear.
I'm ready whenever you are. :)

I bit my lip and sent back:
To: Gare-bear.
I'll be to your guys' merch table in five.

"Well, I'll see you studs later," I said, standing up and shoving my phone in my pocket. "What time do the guys play?"

"They close," Vinny answered simply with a shrug.

"Alright," I said nonchalantly, walking away.

Stepping out from under the cover of the table was awful. The blazing noon sun hit me hard, heating me up fast. I was extremely thankful that the Maine's merch table wasn't too far of a walk.

"Hey," I said, placing a smile on my face as I approached their merch table.

"Hey," Garrett repeated, standing up. He smiled at me and I had to admit, he was gorgeous. "Ready?" he asked.

I nodded.

We walked to food services quietly, I for one dying in the heat and direct sunlight.

Thankfully, it didn't take long before we were seated at food services and I had a nice cold bottle of water in front of me, along with a BLT sandwich. We ate in a strange silence until Garrett laughed.

"Why does this seem so weird?" he asked, smiling enough to make me melt a bit. Yet still, nothing really sparked.

"No idea," I replied, unable to hide a quickly forming smile.

The silence settled in again before Garrett cleared his throat.

"You look really good, by the way," he complimented me, sounding really awkward. I looked at my lap to hide a slight blush.

"Thanks." I smiled widely, reaching up to push back the strands of hair that had fallen out of the hair tie.

When we were both done eating, we decided to walk around a bit. Once again, we were both completely silent, making it entirely awkward. It didn't help that a few times, Garrett's hand brushed against mine.

Finally, he took the plunge and took my hand in his, weaving his fingers through mine. He glanced over at me to gauge my reaction.

In my mind, I sighed. I was used to this, really, I was.

In high school, I'd been somewhat of a hot commodity for some reason. I don't even know why. I was in the band and played tennis, not exactly the hottest things to do. But, for some reason, guys seemed to really get into me. And not just the nerdtastic ones, but the school's golden boys seemed to develop interests in me.

By the middle of my junior year, I'd gotten letting guys down easy to a science.

This time though, it was different. I was friends with Garrett. I wanted to remain friends with him. All of the other guys I didn't really care about, but Garrett, I did.

So, when he looked over at me, I smiled a bit, trying to hide the fact that I was a bit uncomfortable with the whole situation.

After a pretty good stroll, hand in hand, Garrett got a text from Pat telling him it was time to get ready to go on stage.

He led us up the back to side stage, where Oakleigh was already standing. She gave me one of her signature looks as Garrett released my hand and swooped down, kissing my cheek.

"See you in a bit," he said, grabbing his bass of the guitar rack and walking over to the tech.

"Remy," Oakleigh said in an inquiring tone, her "look" still present on her pretty face.

"Oakleigh," I countered, trying to mimic her tone and expression. It didn't work too well.

"What was that?" she asked as she looked me over. "And why are you dressed like a tramp?"

"Jesus effing Christ! I am wearing a tank top and shorts; half of the girls here are wearing the exact same thing, dammit!" I swore, stomping my foot.

"Remy," she started slowly, "That's because half of the girls here are tramps."

I blinked. She did have a bit of a point there.

"Also," Oakleigh continued, "Not all of the girls here have that perfect ass of yours and those Cs that are not completely covered by that tank top. On any other girl, it might look fine, but on you, tramp."

"Ehh, makes sense," I shrugged with a sigh, looking down. I was met by a nice view of cleavage.

"But really, what's up with you and Garrett?" she asked, pressing her lips together.

"Ughh, I don't even fucking know." I groaned, pinching the bridge of my nose. "He invited me to lunch this morning, and I agreed, and then I was like 'holy shit, when did he get so cute?' and the whole thing was really awkward, and there wasn't really a spark at all, and we went on a walk and he kind of grabbed my hand and I didn't want to hurt him and...and..." my voice trailed off as I took a few deep breaths.

"Okay, I totally didn't catch a word of that. You need to learn to talk slower."

"Okay. Garrett invited me to lunch, so I agreed to it. When we met up, I got a few butterflies, but during lunch, nothing really sparked. Then we went for a walk and he just kind of grabbed my hand. It was really awkward. Like, seriously." I paused for added effect. "I haven't felt that awkward since I walked in on Matt in a short skirt and a push up bra three years ago."

Oakleigh blinked. "That would be awkward. I totally understand your situation now."

"I know, right! But really, he's a really nice guy and he's completely gorgeous, but we're friends and I don't want to mess that up."

Our conversation was cut short when the John and Kennedy approached.

"Hey ladies," John said, taking a long drink of water.

"Hey, bro!" Oakleigh chimed in, elbowing him in the ribs. He scowled at her.

I sometimes wish Matt and I had the relationship that Oakleigh and John had. Matt and I had a good relationship, but it was more of a "you do your thing, I do mine" kind of thing, rather than Oakleigh and John's, which was more of a "we're siblings, but best friends" concept. I love Matt, and I know he loves me, or else I would have been dead a long time ago, but still, we weren't friends. I couldn't go to him just to talk; I had to be asking for advice or help. Very seldom did he ever come to me for any such matter.

A few hours later, I was backstage on the main stage before All Time Low was to go on. After the Maine's set, Oakleigh and I walked around for a while and that, combined with my walk with Garrett had led to a massive sunburn. I wasn't in agony yet, but I knew that by bed time, my shoulders would be on fire.

I sitting on a drum case, Indian style, elbows resting on my knees.

"Nice running shoes," Zack said, staring at my tennis shoes, nodding in approval.

...They're running shoes?

"Oh, thanks," I returned with a smile, leaning over a bit more, allowing a better view down my shirt.

"Do you run?"

"I try to, a few times a week. I did track in high school, and tennis, so that involved a lot of running."

Tennis, eh, not a whole lot. And track, ha, I'd quit after two weeks.

"Well, do you want to run with me tomorrow morning?" Zack asked.

I smiled in triumph. "Sure, what time?"

"Eight okay for you?"

"Definitely," I said with an excited nod.

"See you then," he smiled a bit before walking off with his bass.

"And that's how Remy Flyzik does it," I said quietly to myself.