I Am the Boy on Your Girlfriend's Lips

“Wakey wakey sleepeh ‘ead!” someone screamed in my ear.

In a state of half-consciousness, I flew up in bed only to smack my head full force off what I discovered was a bunk. I let out a curse word, laying back down as my heart beat fast.

I could see shaggy brown hair out of the corner of my eye.

“Josh fucking Franceschi, I will kill you,” I grumbled, rubbing my forehead,

“I'm sorry love, but fuckin’ isn’t me middle name,” I could hear the stupid smile in his voice.

Instinctively I flung my arm out in attempt to hit him but Josh had dodged it.

“Yer proper violent in the mornin’, yer know,” the smile was still there. “It’s kinda scary.”

I turned in my bed so I could face him and gave him a glare. “Don’t make me get more scary, Josh.”

“Don’t make me make yer get more scary, Tristan,” he countered, his smile molding into a smirk.

Not having a reply for that I asked, “Why are you here, anyway? Where are the guys? Because it’s quiet, too quiet for them to be sleeping. Jared snores. A lot. Pat’s usually talking in his sleep. Kenny can never seem to get comfortable...”

“They are at the merch tent—meetin’ and greetin’,” he told me.

“Okay, okay,” I nodded my head. “So then why are you here, Pudgy?”

Josh’s face scrunched up at that comment. “Two things. One, I am not pudgy. I am simply big boned! An' two, Garrett told me ta come cheek on yer an’ make sure yer were okay ‘cause he was fairly certain ye'd 'ave a ‘angover an’ need some nursin’.”

The second he mentioned hangover my brain started getting flash backs of last night. Booze. Lots of it. Boys. Girls. Party. Josh. Lots of boys in bands. Body shots. One plastered John O’Callaghan. Kissing. Touching. Groping. All done with John… Oh my God me and John had sex last night! Holy fucking fuck. This could not be true. I mean, John could hardly even look at me any more. How the hell did he manage to engage in intercourse with me?

Wait a second… One plastered John O’Callaghan. There you go. That’s what happened. The only way he would touch me was if he was piss drunk. Well, that’s just absolutely, positively, one hundred percent great!

I felt a headache form as I thought about all of this. It was actually a triple headache. A I-drank-too-much-booze-last-night, I-just-hit-my-head-off-a-bunk and my-boyfriend-would-only-fuck-me-under-the-influence headache. One of the worst kinds.

“Whoa, Tristan are yer aight? Yer dun look so well,” Josh asked concernedly, pressing the back of his hand to my forehead.

I shook my head, lying on my back, resting my head on the pillow. “Water and two Aspirins. Now.”

I shut my eyes hoping it would mollify the pain as Josh walked away and started rummaging through the cabinets.

Garrett told me to come cheek on you and make sure you were okay… The words replayed in my head. Slowly causing gears to turn. Garrett Nickelsen. Garrett Nickelsen who was not my boyfriend. Not John O’Callaghan. Not John O’Callaghan who was my boyfriend. Meaning Garrett cared more about my well-being than my own boyfriend did. Great. Just great.

Josh returned; a water bottle in one hand and an Aspirin bottle in the other.

“Thank you much,” I said taking the items from him. “I love you forever and ever.”

I shoved two pills into my mouth and washed them down with water while Josh teased, “Liar liar pants on fire.”

“Too bad I haven’t got any of those on,” I smirked at him.

Much to his disliking his cheeks turned a light shade of pink and his smile became slightly shy.

But it was the truth. I didn’t have any pants on. In fact I only had under wear on due to last night’s debauchery.

“Ew,” he squeaked, trying to keep his composure.

I noticed John’s shirt from last night at the bottom of the bed, snatched it, and put it on. “So, what’s on the agenda for today?”

“Well, seein’ ‘ow it’s three o’clock ye’ve wasted most of yer day,” he seemed to be more at ease now. “But we’re supposed to ‘ead over to the 'Urley Stage soon, cause The Maine an’ All Time Low ‘ave got a show goin’ on over there. Then after that, me band ‘as a show and the guys said they’d all be there, an’ then after that maybe IHOP or Bob Evans or somethin’.”

“Do I have merch duty or anything like that?” I took another swig of my water.

“Nah, I got me bitch to cover that,” he chuckled, messing up his already messy hair. But it was messy in a sexy way, let me just say that.

I laughed. “Your bitch?”

“Yeah, Max. 'E’s me bitch, duh,” he explained, poking my nose in the process.

“And is he aware that he’s your ‘bitch’?” I questioned, smiling at him.

He simply shrugged. “Doesn’t need to be. It’s a subconscious thin', yer know.”

“Okay, if you say so Ceschi,” I reached over and ruffled his hair.

He immediately grabbed my hand and brought his face near mine. “Don’t touch the do.”

I shook my head, trying to hide my smile. “Do touch the do.”

“Do an’ die,” he replied.

“I did and I'm still alive,” I opposed. “Why’s that, huh?”

“Maybe I like yer,” he responded, his face still serious.

I didn’t exactly know how to take that so I just played along. “Maybe you like me?”

“Maybe I like yer a lot.”

“Oh really?” I dragged out the L’s.

He nodded his head. “An’ maybe I’ve been wantin’ ta do this since first I saw yer.”

At first I had no idea what he was talking about, but then to make things clear he leaned in and pressed his lips to mine.