All I Wanted Was You, John O'Callaghan.

“Jenny?” his voice sounded so pained and hurt. “What the fuck are you doing?”

I pushed away from Alex, my own eyes widening. I hadn’t done that again. Oh, no. Oh, my God. I didn’t look at Alex, I didn’t risk a glance at him, I just stared at the guy I loved most—the guy I had just hurt.

“John,” I didn’t know what to say. What did you say in a time like this? “It’s not what it looks like!” I blurted out.

“Really?” he questioned, his eyes full of rage. “Because it looks like you were fucking kissing Alex Gaskarth.”

“Yeah, but s-still!” I stammered, tears brimming at my eyes.

“No, Jenny.” he shook his head, barking out a sarcastic laugh.

“John, please. Just listen to what I have to say.” I begged.

“Bye Jennifer. Hope you have a fan-fucking-tastic life.” he turned on his heels and walked back into the venue.

I turned on Alex, my body filling with anger. “Look at what you did!” I screamed at him, tears streaming down my cheeks. “You had to fuck everything up, didn’t you?!”

“Jen—please, listen—“ but I cut him off by taking two steps toward him and slapping him across the face.

Nothing but pure anger was in me, because everything I had, everything I loved most had been destroyed by a kiss. By him,

“I hate you, Alex Gaskarth.” I spat. “No, I fucking loathe you. Stay away from me.” I turned around and ran to where John went, hoping I could fix this.

How could I be so stupid? Why did I have to kiss him back? Why couldn’t I have pushed him away? I ran through the hallways that twisted and turned behind the stage of the venue, looking for some sign of John. I headed to The Maine’s room, hoping I could find him there. I burst through the door, frantic.

“John!” I called, looking at the faces of my friends; Garrett, Rachel, Pat, Jared, Kennedy and a so much more.

“Jenny? Are you okay?” Garrett asked, looking concerned.

I shook my head. “No! Garrett, I’m not okay. Where’s John; I need to talk to him.” At everyone’s blank face, I lost it. “Now!”

“I-I don’t know.” Stammered Kennedy—he’s never seen me this crazy before; none of these people have. If I hadn’t been so hell-bent on finding John, I would’ve asked myself ‘Who are you?’ But there wasn’t any time for questions—only apologies.

I left the room and ran back to the stage. On the side of the stage, there was a little entrance guarded by security guards to go to the crowd and to go backstage. I ran past them, heading to the bar, hoping to find him there.

“John?!” I yelled, standing on my tiptoes to find him.

He wasn’t here. He wasn’t anywhere.

I ran through the crowd, elbowing my way past, desperate. I had to make things right—I had to fix what I had done.

But how could I do that if John had disappeared into thin air?

“I don’t want to fucking talk to her!” He shouted. I could hear him from my bunk, even though he couldn’t see me or hear me.

“John, just give her a chance to explain.” Someone reasoned with him. Probably Kennedy; he always had a soft spot for me.

“There’s nothing for her to explain.” He stated. “She cheated on me with Gaskarth.” He spat the name.

“There has to be more to it than just that.” Garrett was speaking now. They were all defending me, but John was right. I didn’t have anything to explain; just to apologize for. I didn’t deserve these friends of mine; that stuck with me even if I was wrong.

I put my hand on the curtain, contemplating whether I should get out of my hiding spot and try to explain. It couldn’t hurt, right? I mean, maybe, just maybe, I could salvage something from all of this. It had been a stupid mistake, and John would—should—understand.

“No.” John was so stubborn sometimes. “We’re over. It’s as simple as that.”

I turned over on my side, facing the wall; all thoughts of fixing this mess left my mind. I closed my eyes, feeling the silent tears stream down my face. Quiet sobs wracked my body as I processed what he said.

We’re over.

Was it really that simple? To me it wasn’t. There were still a billion questions running through my mind, but none of them had answers—or at least, answers I wanted to hear. I what I wanted to do was tell John that I still loved him more than anything, that I hadn’t meant to hurt him, and what I wanted to hear was that he forgave me.

I knew it wasn’t going to happen, though.

I turned onto my stomach, letting my tears fall on the pillow. Nobody else on the bus—not even John, who knew me better than anyone—knew that my heart was breaking; slowing and painfully with no hope of being fixed.