I Love Your Bubblegum Smile

“Give it back!”

“It’s my remote, not yours!”

“We’re on a tour bus, dipshit. It’s a shared remote.”

“Shut up, Jack.”

“Zack, can you please tell Alex to give me the remote?”

“I’m not in this.”

“Give it back you mother fucker!”

“Jack, there are some things you can’t get back in this world.”

“Yeah, like what?”

“Like your mom’s virginity. When I took it!”

“Ooooh.”

The girl watched in awe, as the two boys in front of her wrestled for the small black device.

She wasn’t exactly sure what she had been expecting, but this was definitely not it.

She rolled her suitcase into the tour bus further, the wheels making a screeching noise against the cracked wood.

When her mother had shipped her off to go on tour with her brother, every girls dream, she couldn’t have been more upset.

A two month long tour with testosterone filled monsters?

Sounds like so much fun.

The wood beneath her squeaked, and all the activity stopped, before four pairs of eyes rested on her.

The remote plummeted to the floor, the small AA batteries rolling under the worn sofa.

“Hi,” she waved awkwardly, uncomfortable under the intense scrutiny.

Nobody said anything.

Then suddenly, the boy who had previously been lounging on the soda ran towards her, wrapping her in a bear hug.

“Robert?” she managed to choke out.

“Harley!” he called back, his smile as bright as a fluorescent light bulb.

Yes, her name was Harley. Like the motorcycle.

Harley Marie Dawson, a nineteen year old girl, ready for some fun.

“My little sister’s grown so much!” Robert cooed, acting like one of those overprotective grandmothers you saw on Lifetime.

“Yes Robert,” Harley laughed, “people tend to do that.”

“It’s Rian now, actually.”

“It can be Rudolph for all I care, you’ll still be Robert.”

The boys who had previously been wrestling on the floor snickered childishly.

“Shut up,” Rian scowled, embarrassed by his sibling.

Harley just laughed.

“Aren’t you going to introduce us?” one of them asked, excitedly.

“Yeah, yeah,” Rian muttered, waving a hand carelessly in the air, “Harley, these are my bandmates and best friends. Shitfaces, this is my sister Harley.”

“Hi, I’m Jack Barakat, and I’ll be your Barakitten.”

A tall lanky boy stepped forward, his head decorated with streaks of blonde and brown. He made an obscene catlike purring gesture, and Rian sent him a disapproving look.

“Don’t mind him. I’m Zack, Zack Merrick.”

“Hi Zack...and Jack.”

“And I’m Alex Gaskarth. I can make all your dreams come true,” the honey blonde boy who had previously been wrestling for the remote smiled, and winked coyly at Harley.

Rian saw this almost immediately, and shoved Alex backwards.

“Hands off the sister.”

Alex just smirked.

“And those are your new roommates. If they bother you, let me know.”

Rian sent a glare at the three boys, before taking Harley’s suitcase and dragging it to a bunk in the corner.

An awkward silence filled the air, as Rian disappeared, leaving Harley to be stared at by Alex, Jack and Zack.

It was too late to follow Rian, as he had disappeared into the depths of the tour bus, so Harley was left in the living room.

Sending out silent pleas of help, she found herself taking a seat on the loveseat.

“So...Harley,” Alex started to say, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

“Leave her the fuck alone, Alex!” Rian called from the unknown.

Harley slowly began to suffocate in the silence.

“We’ll be covering a lot of cities, and the fans get kind of intense.” She could have kissed Jack, for breaking the silence.

“They seem to love us musicians.”

Harley’s cheeks tinted an unflattering shade of crimson, as she thought back to the many times she had spent singing into her hairbrush and dancing around to the latest songs, kissing the posters of her handsome idols.

“Do you play an instrument?” Zack asked.

“Kinda. I used to play the guitar.”

“Wait a minute,” Alex’s eyes narrowed slightly.

Harley blushed under his gaze.

“What?” Jack, Zack and Harley asked in unison.

“Are you the girl that hit me on the head with a wooden spoon when I was fourteen?”

Harley’s mouth dropped open in shock.

How could he remember that?

She had gotten a little overprotective with her cookies, and it was one of the few times that Jack and Alex had come over to Rian’s house.

When Alex had tried to eat her freshly baked cookies, it wasn’t her fault that she beat him up with a wooden spoon. It was a reflex.

Either way, he had spoon shaped scars along his neck and back for weeks afterward.

“Maybe...”

Jack burst out laughing.

“I remember that. Alex was so fucked up.”

“What happened?” Zack asked.

“Harley was baking cookies, and she got possessive.”

“It wasn’t my fault. Alex needed to keep his hands to himself.”

“He still hasn’t learned his lesson,” Jack clucked, and Alex smirked.

“What do you mean?”

“Let’s just say he isn’t just grabbing cookies anymore.”

“Gross.”

Alex snickered.

“You know I can give you a demonstration if you want...”

“ALEX! GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM MY SISTER!” Rian’s voice echoed through the bus.

Alex grumbled, scooting away from Harley.

Rian appeared moments afterward, holding what looked to be two types of t-shirts.

“What’s that?” Harley asked, attempted to wipe the blush off of her face.

“You’re our new merch girl,” Rian smiled slightly, “you’re okay with that?”

Usually Harley would have thrown a fit.

Her mother had told her nothing about having to work, and the fact that she had to sell shirts to screaming teenagers under the age of fifteen didn’t help much either.

She would have thrown a tantrum complete with the fake pout and foot stomp, and instead locked herself up in her bunk, wherever that was.

She didn’t feel like fighting though, and thought that maybe this once, nobody would like to hear her bitch and complain about something small. Instead she just nodded, startling Rian slightly.

“Okay, well...we have our first show tomorrow, and it’s a pretty simple job.”

“Okay,” Harley just nodded, the jet lag and exhaustion finally catching up to her.

She stretched out on the couch, almost knocking Zack’s eye out, before snuggling into the pillow.

“Is she going to sleep?” Jack asked, to nobody in particular.

The room was silent, as Harley closed her eyes, murmuring something about airplanes.

“Dude!” one of the boys shouted. “The game’s on!”

“Where the hell is the remote?!”

“Here it is!”

“Why won’t it work?”

“Where the fuck are the batteries!”

“Shit!”

“They’re under the couch, dude.”

“Okay, Mr. Smartypants.”

“Found ‘em!”

Harley heard the television click, and the channel transition from a comedy to a football game.

Two months sharing a bus full of testosterone monsters.

Fantastic.