Status: slowly active.
I Am the Boy on Your Girlfriend's Lips
SIX
"Tristan."
With the luck that I have, I had just taken a swig of my beer, and hearing Josh’s words, I choked on it.
Josh quickly ran over to me and started patting me on the back. Hard, I might add.
“Are yer aight, love?” he asked when my choking fit was over.
I swallowed a few times and then answered, “Yeah, yeah. I'm fine. Don’t worry about it.”
“Okay, good,” he said, taking a step away from me, shoving his hands in his pockets.
I knew he hadn’t forgotten about what he said not five minutes ago, and neither had I. But I honestly didn’t know what to say. I mean, I couldn’t be all ‘oh Josh I think you’re hella sexy lets go fuck’ because I still had a boyfriend no matter our happiness, or lack thereof.
“TRISTAN!” Pat yelled, running towards us, shirtless and sweaty.
I jumped a good 6 inches off the ground and let out a loud curse word. “What the hell do you want, Pat?”
“Two words my friend: body shots,” he said, grinning.
“Two words Pat: no thanks,” I declined, shaking my head.
He tugged on my arm and whined, “Ple-ase Tristan. Have some fun!”
“Body shots are not my idea of fun,” I told him.
“Psh! Body shots are everybody’s idea of fun, Tristan!” he argued, still tugging on my arm. He then turned to Josh. “Aren’t body shots fun, Josh?”
“Hell yes they are,” Josh agreed, smirking widely.
“I-I have a-a . . . ” I searched for an excuse. “A rash! Yeah! That’s it! I have a gnarly rash all over my torso. It’s all red and puffy and itchy,” I itched my stomach for emphasis. “And it might be contagious, so sorry guys, but I really can't do body shots.”
“Oh, that’s fine, we’ll just do it out of your cleavage,” Pat winked at me.
“Yeah, there’s one problem with that; I don’t have any,” I said and pulled my tank-top up to my neck.
Josh shook his head and laughed. “Yer doin’ bodey shots, Tristan. End a' story.”
“Oh no—” before I could protest any further, Josh had picked me up and slung me over his shoulder. “Joshua Franceschi, you put me down right this instant!”
He simply replied, “No,” and kept walking.
“I hate you,” I grumbled, giving up on struggling.
When I was finally put down we were at another tent where there were only about 15 people. Garrett, Jared, John, Alex Gaskarth, Jack Barakat, Justin Richards, Cassadee Pope, Eric Halvorsen, Tom Sykes, Matt Nicholls, Oli Sykes, Chris Miller and Max Helyer. I have honestly never been around so many famous people in my life.
“Alright, who’s up first?” Jack asked, filling up a shot glass full of Vodka.
“The two lovebirds!” Kenny announced. “Tristan, get on the table.”
I glared at Kenny with all the meanness I could muster. “No thank you, Kennedy.”
“Get on the table,” he repeated.
“No.”
“Do it.” He started tugging on my arm, trying to drag me over to the table.
I tried to break free of his grip. “Let go or I will chop off your balls in your sleep.”
“I’d like to see you try,” he chuckled, still pulling.
“LET GO,” I started to bite his arm.
“C’mon, Tristan. Just one shot,” this surprisingly came from John.
I whirled around—Kenny had let go of my arm by now—and saw John standing there, all six foot something of him, looking completely wasted.
“You know, this would require you to actually touch me,” I said coldly.
“I know,” he responded, grinning sloppily.
My heart started to flutter in my chest. “O-okay then.”
John took my hand in his—I swear I’ve never had so many butterflies in my stomach in my life—lead me to the table, helped me onto it, and straddled me. I lifted up my tank top and they poured the shot into my bellybutton. All eyes were on John and I. I gasped once his lips touched my stomach, he used his tongue while taking the shot. I bit my lip, holding back the gasp.
John finished the shot, smirking up at me. Everyone applauded. John helped me down off the table, I pulled down my shirt.
"Some rash you got there," Josh laughed.
I rolled my eyes and shoved him playfully. Josh sauntered off, looking confused. John slung his arm over my shoulders, pulling me in closer to him.
John leaned down and whispered into my ear, "You want to head back to the bus?"
I looked up at him as if he had grown three heads. Sex? Was that even in his vocabulary anymore? I nodded, in my drunken state. I was supposed to be mad at him. I wasn't supposed to do this. What would happen to anything Josh and I had started in the few hours that we've known each other?
"I love you babe," John grinned hungrily as we walked back to the bus.
"I love you too," I sighed.
With the luck that I have, I had just taken a swig of my beer, and hearing Josh’s words, I choked on it.
Josh quickly ran over to me and started patting me on the back. Hard, I might add.
“Are yer aight, love?” he asked when my choking fit was over.
I swallowed a few times and then answered, “Yeah, yeah. I'm fine. Don’t worry about it.”
“Okay, good,” he said, taking a step away from me, shoving his hands in his pockets.
I knew he hadn’t forgotten about what he said not five minutes ago, and neither had I. But I honestly didn’t know what to say. I mean, I couldn’t be all ‘oh Josh I think you’re hella sexy lets go fuck’ because I still had a boyfriend no matter our happiness, or lack thereof.
“TRISTAN!” Pat yelled, running towards us, shirtless and sweaty.
I jumped a good 6 inches off the ground and let out a loud curse word. “What the hell do you want, Pat?”
“Two words my friend: body shots,” he said, grinning.
“Two words Pat: no thanks,” I declined, shaking my head.
He tugged on my arm and whined, “Ple-ase Tristan. Have some fun!”
“Body shots are not my idea of fun,” I told him.
“Psh! Body shots are everybody’s idea of fun, Tristan!” he argued, still tugging on my arm. He then turned to Josh. “Aren’t body shots fun, Josh?”
“Hell yes they are,” Josh agreed, smirking widely.
“I-I have a-a . . . ” I searched for an excuse. “A rash! Yeah! That’s it! I have a gnarly rash all over my torso. It’s all red and puffy and itchy,” I itched my stomach for emphasis. “And it might be contagious, so sorry guys, but I really can't do body shots.”
“Oh, that’s fine, we’ll just do it out of your cleavage,” Pat winked at me.
“Yeah, there’s one problem with that; I don’t have any,” I said and pulled my tank-top up to my neck.
Josh shook his head and laughed. “Yer doin’ bodey shots, Tristan. End a' story.”
“Oh no—” before I could protest any further, Josh had picked me up and slung me over his shoulder. “Joshua Franceschi, you put me down right this instant!”
He simply replied, “No,” and kept walking.
“I hate you,” I grumbled, giving up on struggling.
When I was finally put down we were at another tent where there were only about 15 people. Garrett, Jared, John, Alex Gaskarth, Jack Barakat, Justin Richards, Cassadee Pope, Eric Halvorsen, Tom Sykes, Matt Nicholls, Oli Sykes, Chris Miller and Max Helyer. I have honestly never been around so many famous people in my life.
“Alright, who’s up first?” Jack asked, filling up a shot glass full of Vodka.
“The two lovebirds!” Kenny announced. “Tristan, get on the table.”
I glared at Kenny with all the meanness I could muster. “No thank you, Kennedy.”
“Get on the table,” he repeated.
“No.”
“Do it.” He started tugging on my arm, trying to drag me over to the table.
I tried to break free of his grip. “Let go or I will chop off your balls in your sleep.”
“I’d like to see you try,” he chuckled, still pulling.
“LET GO,” I started to bite his arm.
“C’mon, Tristan. Just one shot,” this surprisingly came from John.
I whirled around—Kenny had let go of my arm by now—and saw John standing there, all six foot something of him, looking completely wasted.
“You know, this would require you to actually touch me,” I said coldly.
“I know,” he responded, grinning sloppily.
My heart started to flutter in my chest. “O-okay then.”
John took my hand in his—I swear I’ve never had so many butterflies in my stomach in my life—lead me to the table, helped me onto it, and straddled me. I lifted up my tank top and they poured the shot into my bellybutton. All eyes were on John and I. I gasped once his lips touched my stomach, he used his tongue while taking the shot. I bit my lip, holding back the gasp.
John finished the shot, smirking up at me. Everyone applauded. John helped me down off the table, I pulled down my shirt.
"Some rash you got there," Josh laughed.
I rolled my eyes and shoved him playfully. Josh sauntered off, looking confused. John slung his arm over my shoulders, pulling me in closer to him.
John leaned down and whispered into my ear, "You want to head back to the bus?"
I looked up at him as if he had grown three heads. Sex? Was that even in his vocabulary anymore? I nodded, in my drunken state. I was supposed to be mad at him. I wasn't supposed to do this. What would happen to anything Josh and I had started in the few hours that we've known each other?
"I love you babe," John grinned hungrily as we walked back to the bus.
"I love you too," I sighed.