Contagious

Parker threw her pen across the room in frustration. Her hazel eyes read the last few lines she had written, her lips curled. She was her own worst critic and, as of late, she didn't like anything she had written. She wasn't necessarily in a slump; she just lacked inspiration. She usually wrote her songs based on her emotions, as most writers do, but for the first time in a long time, she wasn't sure how she felt.

A week had passed since Martin kissed her. A week had passed since he begged her not to go out with Paul. A week had passed since she had read Martin's worst. Her mind had been a mess since then. She kept her cool near her band during practice, she kept everything on the back burner near Paul and Orion. She didn't want to cause any more unnecessary tension between Paul and Martin. But everything inside of her was threatening to spill over.

Sing us a song and we'll sing it back to you.
We could sing on our own, but what would it be without you?

This heart, it beats,
Beats only for you.
My heart is yours...

Ross glanced up at the singer from where he was sitting on the floor. “You okay, Parks?” he asked carefully.

Parker sighed. “I'm fine.”

“Liar.”

She rolled her eyes. “I just... I can't write anything. And it's really annoying me.”

“It happens, Parks,” Ross told her, picking at the strings of her acoustic guitar that was laying across his lap.

“I know,” she groaned, rolling from her stomach onto her back. Her feet were dangling over the edge of her bed, mismatched socks upon them, and she shook her head. “I really miss being on tour.”

Ross smiled. “Me, too.”

“I miss the sounds of the road.”

“A diet consisting of Doritos and Monster.”

“Warped Tour with The Academy Is...”

“Partying with them and Gym Class Heroes.”

“Watching fan girls try to hit on Beckett.”

“Fan girls hitting on me.”

Parker rolled her eyes. “Being around everyone who means the most to you.”

“Playing video games and eating Doritos all night.”

She laughed. “You do that now. Not being on tour doesn't change that.”

“Tiger can't change his stripes, Parker,” Ross said, still smiling. He paused for a minute, fingers still strumming on the guitar. “Have you talked to Martin recently?”

Parker groaned, frustrated. “And we were having such a nice afternoon reminiscing about being on tour with people I miss.”

“That's a no,” Ross muttered. “Does Paul know you two kissed?”

“No,” Parker said. “Paul and I....aren't even technically together. I don't see the point in telling him. Martin should, if anyone. I mean, he's the one who has a girlfriend.”

“Yeah, but—“

“You and Martin kissed?”

Parker's eyes flew to her bedroom door, where Orion appeared. She sucked in a deep breath before nodding. “Yes.”

Orion walked into her room and shut the door behind her. “When was this?” she asked.

“Before her first date with Paul,” Ross said, glancing up at Orion.

Orion flushed slightly as she met Ross' eyes. “So you just up and kissed him?”

Parker groaned. “No. He kissed me.”

“But...he has a girlfriend. He's dating my cousin,” Orion said.

“Dallas is your cousin? Harsh,” Ross mumbled.

“I know he does,” Parker said. “It's not like I asked him to do it. This isn't my fault.”

“Don't get defensive,” Orion said. “We're not judging you. Or, well, I'm not.”

“I'm not either,” Ross added.

“Good. Because I'm judging myself enough for all of us. I feel horrible,” she muttered.

“We're not trying to make you feel horrible,” Ross told her. “You know me better than that.”

“Well, I do,” Parker snapped, finally sitting up. “God, how does he always do this to me?! It's been three and a half weeks since I've been back and everything, everything is getting all fucked up.” She ran her hands through her hair and sighed, bending forward to rest her forehead on top of her knees.

Ross stood up and walked over to his best friend, wrapping an arm around her, his chin on her shoulder. “It happens, Parker. You can't control it.”

“It always happens when I'm around him,” she said, fighting to hold back tears. “It's like I don't know how to control how he makes me feel. It's been three years. I should be over it. I should be over him by now.”

“It's not always that simple,” Ross told her softly. He had never seen her break down before. She was always so strong. He wasn't even sure what to say. “It's particularly more difficult when you're in love.”

Parker froze and sat up, causing Ross to stumble back a little bit. “I am not in love with Martin.”

Ross rolled his eyes. “Liar.”

+

“How am I supposed to write three pages on World War II? I don't even care about World War II! It's over,” Paul complained, sighing in exasperation.

Parker smiled and took the assignment sheet from him, reading over it quickly. “You should consider yourself lucky, Poolie. Your teacher is giving you creative license here. She just said to write a response based on one aspect of World War II and how anything could have changed, right?” she asked.

Paul nodded “Yeah.”

“So you could write, for example, about the racism—what would happen if it were a different group of people versus the Jews? What would have happened if there were no camps? What would have happened if Hitler had been found earlier, if he had given himself up earlier? What would have happened if Anne Frank had never been found—“

“If Hitler had never been born,” Paul muttered.

Parker smiled. “You could even write about that.”

Paul sighed. “I could.”

“What's wrong?” she asked, ignoring the harsh, pointed looks the librarian was giving her.

“I just hate writing. It's never been my thing, it's always been...Martin's,” he said, tone dropping at the end of his sentence. He didn't want to press too far since they weren't getting along.

“I'll help you with it,” Parker offered. “I'll be out of town to tomorrow and Saturday, but on Sunday? You're mine and we'll tackle this paper, okay?”

“Will you write it for me?” Paul asked, widening his eyes and pouting. It worked on everyone else, why not Parker?

Parker shook his head. “I am immune to your charm, Poolie. And I have my own paper to write for Monday.”

“On what? We can trade!”

“On neural death and cellular degradation for biology. Six pages.”

Paul frowned. “Have fun with that.”

“I actually will! I did some reading on biological psychology while I was on tour and it was really interesting. I have some good concepts to tie into with cellular regrowth and some other things, like Schwann cells and oligodendrocytes and—“ she trailed off when she saw the blank look on Paul's face. “What?”

“I have no idea what you just said. You were talking way too fast,” he told her.

Parker flushed slightly. “Sorry. I tend to do that when I get a little excited. I remember once, I had an interview on Good Morning America and we were talking about the new tour and I kept rambling and rambling and rambling and Diane was just looking at me like 'what?' Which is sad! Because she's Diane Sawyers and she's amazing and I'm doing it again, sorry,” she said, biting her lip.

Paul smiled. “It's adorable, don't worry,” he said, trying to fight the blush that was creeping onto the back of his neck. “And since I don't know what you're talking about, you can write that paper on your own. Sorry.”

She laughed slightly. “I guess I can forgive you for that one, Poolie.”

+

“We love you, New York! You guys have been awesome tonight. Thank y'all for comin' out! We are Contagious and we are outta here.” Parker smiled her entire way off-stage, waving to everyone in the crowd before high-fiving her band mates. That was what she missed—the rush of performing, the happiness that consumed her when she looked into the crowd and saw people singing her songs, her words. She always found her way off-stage with a smile on her face, an undeniable glow surrounding her. Performing made her forget about everything else. For those forty minutes, she could pretend that nothing else was wrong, that life was perfect, because when she was on stage her life was perfect. Unfortunately, it was a high that always wore off when the bright lights were turned off, she changed from stage clothes to sweat pants, and threw her hair up in a messy bun and ran wipes over her face to remove the excess sweat and makeup.

“I can't believe the response we got for our new song,” Ross commented, running a wipe over his face.

Bryce threw his drumsticks up in the air. “Especially considering the fact that we've practiced it a grand total of five times.”

“Hey, when I'm right, I'm right,” Parker joked, shrugging.

“And so humble,” Josh said, rolling his eyes. He removed the sweat-band from his hair and tossed it in the case next to his bass. “But I gotta admit, Parks, you were even better than usual.”

Parker shrugged again, still smiling. “I just missed it. You guys know me. You know this shit is my life.”

“I bet high school is driving you crazy, huh?” Josh asked, smiling.

“You have no idea,” she said, serious, the smile fading from her face.

Ross looked at his band made and shook his head, mouthing a 'don't go there.' The last thing Parker needed was a reminder of the drama she had to return home to; she should have just been able to enjoy their performance without thinking about Martin.

Josh nodded slowly. “Uh, Parks, you can just rest, okay? We'll load the trailer, okay?”

Parker looked between her band mates. “I can still load the trailer. I'm not sick or anything; I'm just tired of how stupid people are,” she mumbled, reaching for one of the amps.

Bryce ran over and grabbed it, taking it from her. “You just go rest in the van, okay? Call one of your homies or something. We'll take care of this,” he told her.

“O...kay then,” Parker said, shrugging, and pulling on her North Face fleece. “I'll be in the van?”

“Good idea,” Ross said.

Parker rolled her eyes before walking out to the van. She pulled her lanyard from her pocket, shifting through her back-stage pass and band ID for the venue before finding the right key. She climbed into the passengers seat and reached over, turning on the van so it could warm up while the guys were loading the trailer. She slammed the door shut behind her and pulled her knees to her chest, digging her phone from her pocket. She scrolled through her contacts before landing on Poolie. She knew it was Saturday night and he was probably out with the guys but she just felt like talking to him. She hit call and waited for him to pick up, hoping he would.

”Parker!”

She rolled her eyes. Of course he was drunk. Parker wasn't an angel by any means but alcohol had never held any sort of interest for her at all. She could go the rest of her life without it and be just fine. Not that she was judging him... “Hey, Poolie. What's up?”

”Just hangin' out with the guys. What about you? How was your show?”

She shrugged before realizing he couldn't see her. “It was okay. Are you drunk?”

”I'm just a lil bit tipsy...”

She laughed despite herself whens he heard someone in the background slur the lyric, Errybody in the club getting' tipsy! before realizing it sounded just like Martin. “Was that Martin?” she asked, feeling upset. She shouldn't. She had no right to get upset with him, with anyone, when they decided to indulge in a little alcohol. But for some reason, it hurt when she knew Martin drank.

”Silly girl, of course it was Martin!” Paul laughed. ”I have a question for you!”

“Okay...” she trailed off. She wasn't sure where it was headed but she was curious to find out.

”You should go to the Valentine's Day dance with me.”

She paused. “Was there a question in there...?”

”Will you go with me?!”

As much as she wanted to be upset that he was asking her while he was drunk, part of her just didn't care. She caught herself laughing at his alcohol-induced enthusiasm and she nodded. “Sure.”

”Sweet! We can go with Martin and Dallas. That's a big deal, you know? He never goes to school dances. Of course, he's never with a girl long enough to ask...”

Curiosity got the better of her again. “What does that mean?” She knew she shouldn't have been taking advantage of his inebriation to get dirt on her (former?) best friend, but she did anyway.

”He's always dating someone new. He's had, like, fifteen girlfriends in these past couple years. All red-heads. Until Dallas. I don't know what's so special about her. She's kind of a bitch.”

Parker nodded. Paul was starting to sound more and more drunk with each second but that wasn't what bothered her. What bothered her was the fact that Martin always dated red-heads. She was a red-head. “Yeah. Interesting.”

”It's all because he's not over you.”

She felt her heart break slightly at the sad tone in Paul's voice before he continued.

”But he made his choice and now I has you! And I like you.”

“I like you, too, Poolie,” she said quietly. “Um, look, I gotta go. We gotta hit the road so we're back in Boston by the morning. “I'll call you tomorrow, okay?”

”Okay, Parker! I miss yooouu!”

“I miss you, too. Bye, Poolie,” she said, hanging up her phone and tossing it onto the center console.

“Hey, girl!” Ross yelled, climbing into the driver's seat. “Ooh, nice, the van's all warm. You're the best, Parks.”

“Yeah,” she muttered. “The best.”

Ross caught the tone in her voice and stared at her for a second. “What's wrong?”

She shook her head. “Nothing,” she told him before resting her head against the cold window. “I don't want to talk about it.”