She's Got You High.

It was always the same dream, the same exact nightmare that would wake me up. Heart pounding, eyes opening in an instant, I was terrified for only a moment at what my mind had just fed to me, until I realized that I was safe as I always was. This time I woke up to find Garrett's head snuggled deep in my shoulder, his arms wrapped around my waist, his hot breath on my skin, even and strong. He was deep in sleep, and I was anything but. And as hard as I tried, it seemed I wouldn't be getting where he was anytime soon.

I sat up, and took a look out the window - the sun hadn't risen yet, but it was beginning to get lighter outside. I figured I'd be up from here on out, and my throat felt restricted - I needed water, desperately. I found one of Garrett's million hoodies that were scattered across the floor, and I went downstairs, careful not to disturb any bodies that were passed out on the floor, or on the couch. The clock on the oven read 5:37 AM, and the water I had poured myself felt refreshing as it went down my throat. But still, I was tense, nervous from the nightmare. It felt like a shadow on my back that I couldn't get rid of. I decided that maybe a bit of fresh air wouldn't be so bad. I could watch the sunrise, and by then Garrett would hopefully be up. We all had a busy day today - the first day of tour.

I headed towards the door, adjusting my red flannel PJ shorts on my way. I found my worn out Toms by the coat closet, thankful that nobody had puked or spilled beer in them. I quietly unlocked the door, but what I saw outside scared me more then my nightmare.

There was somebody out there - I couldn't recognize them from their back, but I let out a small scream. They quickly turned around, and only then did I put a name to the face - John O'Callaghan. He was the lead singer of Garrett's band, and I had only met him a few times. He was a few years older then I was, so I never really felt the need to talk to him. What was more surprising them him being on the porch this early, was the glowing cigarette in his hand. I stood still for a minute, my hand still clenching the door handle, before one of us finally spoke.

"...You alright there?" he asked me, as I nodded. "Just a little spooked, that's all..."

"You can come sit, I don't bite." he added. I was silent, as I took a seat next to him on the concrete. He took a long drag of his cigarette, and I watched him - inhale, pause, then exhale, the smoke flowing out in all different directions. It looked so majestic, and I wished I could understood how something so bad for you could look so...beautiful?

John began talking again. "I found that smoking always helps take away the hangover a bit. I usually can't sleep anyways, so I always have one before anybody else wakes up. At least, up until this incident..." I didn't say anything. I didn't know what to say. This was the first actual conversation John and I had had in our lives, and I preferred to stay silent. My eyes were still focused on the cigarette, watching it slowly disappear into the air.

"You know, you don't talk much..." he mumbled, and only then did he realize where my eyes were. "You want one or something?"

I thought about it. 3rd Grade Health with Garrett suddenly flashed before my eyes. They made us read a picture book about a bee who lived around a tobacco plant, got addicted to the stuff, and then died miserable and alone. But at the same time, John made it look so alluring. I found myself nodding - it was the only thing I could do. A moment later the all familiar carton emerged from his sweatshirt pocket, and he pulled one out for me, tossing over his lighter with it. I held both in my hands, feeling myself slightly shake. It wasn't that big of a deal.

"Have you ever smoked before? Hell, have you even used a lighter?" John sounded exasperated at how slow I was taking this, and took the lighter back, in between his hand. "Put the damn thing between your lips, and hold on." The lighter sparked a moment later, a glow of light in the dark, and he lifted it up to the end of my cigarette, lighting it. "Don't breathe yet..." he instructed, "Give it a second." I waited, watching the smoke puff out from the end. "Alright, deep breath in." I figured it was then or never, and I inhaled deeply, feeling the smoke swirl down my lungs, hitting them a moment later. I was coughing insanely, just trying to clear myself.

"Whoa, whoa! Easy..." John said, putting a hand on my back, protectively. "Take a sip of water, and just relax. The first drag is always the worst. You'll get better." I took my glass of water I had brought out with me, and drank the whole thing in seconds. My throat felt so dry, but I didn't want to waste John's cigarette. I steadied myself, took another breath in, and while there was more coughing, it wasn't as bad as before. So the process went, as did the rest of the morning - John and I siting silently, taking drags off of our respected cigarettes. It seemed to be an overcast day in Arizona - gray and cloudy, and a bit cold. Rare to say the least. I was shaking, and after a good 20 minutes of not talking, John looked over at me.

"You cold? Hold on..." He got up, and went back inside the house, only to return a minute later with a zebra striped blanket that I recognized as Garrett's. He draped it over my shoulders, warming me up slightly, before sitting back down beside me.

"So, what made you come out here this morning? You weren't even at the party last night, so you couldn't have been hungover." he asked, looking over at me. He looked tired, and only then did I realize that I had never really taken the time to get to know John. I saw him for what most of our town saw him as - a pretty face, with a wild side to him. I had heard countless stories from Garrett about how he can never keep himself to one girl at a time, and was a bit of a skeeze. I chose to keep my distance, but this side of John seemed to be breaking all of my expectations, all of my walls down. He seemed human, not just the image of a womanizer that I had put in my head.

"Nightmare." I answered simply. I didn't want to get into the details of it - Garrett didn't even know much about it. It was the one thing I wanted to keep to myself, locked up inside. John didn't press it much after that, and I was glad. I felt himself shifting closer to me, and eventually he took the zebra blanket from me, wrapped it around the two of us. If he was cold, he could've just said so. A few minutes later, another cigarette was lit up, and we spent the rest of our time on the porch passing it back and forth, lips to lips. My throat felt raw, and I knew no amount of water was going to help it at the moment. I felt myself getting drowsy and tired, a miracle after having a nightmare only a few hours before, and I began to close my eyes, before John nudged me slightly.

"You...wanna go back inside and sleep?" I guess he didn't mean for that to come off so rude, because as he saw my facial expression, he quickly stammered "No, no, I meant that...it's not comfy out here. It's kinda cold and miserable truth be told. I just thought you'd like it better in...there. With Garrett, probably." The last part seemed tacked on, like he didn't want me around. I got the hint - this was going to be our little secret, just between us. Garrett would probably kill me if he found out I had smoked, and I'm sure the rest of the band would rag on John about it killing his voice. And besides, I'm pretty sure no friendship between John and I would bloom because of this. But I guess I was highly mistaken, because as I stood up, the zebra blanket around my shoulders, I heard him say "If you ever want to tell me about that nightmare of yours, or if you just want to bum a smoke, you'll know where to find me." I smiled to myself, and it was only then that I realized that John O'Callaghan wasn't really that bad of a person.

I went back upstairs then, opening the door to Garrett's stuffy room. He had only shifted a little bit since I left him nearly two hours ago, and when I got back into bed, I felt him stir. "Youalright?" he mumbled.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Go back to sleep Gar, it's a big day today..." He wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me close to him.

"Junebug, you smell like smoke..." He almost whispered it, but I chose not to say anything. I didn't want to confront what had just happened yet. I closed my eyes, feeling safer then ever, remembering the morning, and I was out like a light yet again.