Life Isn't All That Bad

Garrett had texted me late that night, asking if I wanted to go to The Maine's band practice the next day. It seemed like a fun idea. In New York, I'd gone to shows all the time, but I'd never seen a practice. I quickly responded that I would, before falling asleep.

When I woke up the next morning, I headed downstairs, hoping to cure the grumbling in my stomach. My mom was busy rushing around the kitchen, getting ready for work. "Morning, sweetie," she said, sipping at her coffee.

"Hey mom. I think I'm gonna go see Garrett's band rehearse today," I said, grabbing the milk carton and a box of Apple Jacks, putting them both in a bowl.

"That seems like a nice idea. You'll actually get out of the house, rather than having all those boys over here," she said, but her tone was obviously joking.

I scooped more cereal into my mouth and nodded. "It's not my fault. They just like to show up unannounced," I explained, my mouth full. She just rolled her eyes. I finished up the bowl quickly, my stomach no longer growling. "Well, I need to shower. I'll see you after work, I guess?"

She nodded, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek. "Be good, be safe, blah, blah, blah, all those motherly things.... Bye Beau!" She said, before heading out the door.

I put the bowl in the sink and headed upstairs to take a shower. The hot water felt refreshing as I cleaned. I just stood in the spray of the water for a few minutes, letting my mind go blank as I forced myself to relax. I didn’t think about anything. It felt great, not to have a worry in the world. But once I turned the water off and wrapped a towel around myself, all my worries came back.

I was going to band practice soon. Without a doubt, I knew I'd make a fool of myself. An anxious feeling bubbled in my stomach as I got changed. I pulled on a tank top with a tiger on it. I loved the shirt, but it was too short, and showed off some midriff. Rather than feeling like a slut and showing off my belly, I pulled on a pair of overall shorts. They hid most of my stomach, only showing a little skin at my hips.

I brushed my wet hair, quickly twisting it into a braid. I knew Garrett would be picking me up soon, so I'd never have time to do something decent with my hair. A braid was just the easiest way to keep it tamed.

About twenty minutes later, as I rubbed some chapped stick onto my lips, there was a knock at the door. When I opened the door, Garrett stood on the other side, messing up his hair. His eyes went wide when he saw me. "H-hi, Beau... You look really nice," he said nervously, flashing me his brilliant smile.

My cheeks began to burn. "Thanks. So do you," I stuttered as we walked to his bright yellow car.

"So, you excited to hear The Maine?" He asked, opening the door for me.

I nodded, climbing into the car. "Very excited."

The car was quiet for the next few minutes. Ryan Adams' music flowed from the speakers. "So, um, where are we going? I thought rehearsals were at your house?"

"We usually have rehearsal at my house, but my parents have friends visiting, so we have to have it at John's house," he explained, turning left, then right.

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. I did not like John Cornelius O'Callaghan the fifth. Not one bit. He was rude, obnoxious, and way too cocky. The thought of spending the afternoon at his house wasn’t exactly appealing. Every time he'd hung out with me, he always had that stupid smirk on his face, and everyday he had a new pet name for me.

But there was no backing out now, for Garrett was parking the car in a driveway. There was the muffled buzzing of his phone. He quickly read the text. "Shit. I gotta pick up Pat. Can you go in and tell the guys that we're gonna be a little late?"

"Y-you mean go in... by myself?" I asked, trying to swallow the lump that was forming in my throat.

Garrett looked over at me, seeming surprised by my sudden nervousness. "It's just the guys. They don’t bite or anything. You know that."

I gnawed on my lower lip. "Okay... I guess you're right...." I stuttered, unbuckling the seatbelt. It wasn’t going to be just John. Kennedy and Jared were there too. I could just ignore John, and talk to them instead. I climbed out of the car, turning back to face Garrett. "I'll see you in a little bit?"

He nodded. "Of course." I smiled, shutting the door. Once his yellow car drove off, I made my way up the path to the front door. I was about to knock when the door swung open, Jared and Kennedy heading out.

"Oh, hi Beau," Jared said, offering a brief wave.

"W-where are you guys going?" I asked, noticing the car keys in Kennedy's hand.

He twirled the keys around his finger. "Food run. We can't practice on empty stomachs. Where's Gary?"

"Oh, he um, he had to pick up Pat..."

"Cool. You can head inside, John's just chilling in the basement. Make yourself comfortable, I guess," Kennedy said, shrugging.

"And if he says anything mean, you have my permission to junk-punch him," Jared grinned. "Bye Beau!"

With that, the two headed down the path I'd just come up, and climbed into Kennedy's car.

So much for talking to them instead of John. I took a deep breath before going inside the house and heading down the stairs.

John was sitting on the couch, scribbling away in a notebook. He'd go back, cross things out, add things in. For some reason, I found myself fascinated by it, and watched silently. Until he looked up and saw me.

"Well, well. What's a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?" He asked, that smirk forming on his lips.

"Being harassed by an arrogant asshole," I grumbled, sitting down on the opposite end of the couch.

He placed his hand over his heart. "That hurt, sweetheart. That hurt me right here."

I just rolled my eyes, crossing my arms over my chest. I had planned to ignore him until the guys showed up, but then I spotted the piano across the room. Curiosity got the best of me. "So, who plays piano?"

"I do," he said, smiling proudly. "Why? Do you play?"

I just shook my head. "I always wanted to learn, but I never got around to it," I said, shrugging.

"I could teach you a little," he offered, sitting up a little.

I looked at him skeptically. "Really? You would?"

He stood up from the couch, making his way over to it. "Sure. Come here," he said, patting the spot next to him.

I walked over, sitting next to him. Because of how small the bench was, sitting next to him was more like sitting half on top of him. My heart was pounding against my ribcage. He placed one hand over mine, reaching his other hand around my back and placing it on top of my other hand.

"I'll just show you something simple," he said, his breath tickling my neck. He guided my fingers, and began playing a simple tune. Mary Had A Little Lamb. I recognized it instantly, but still couldn’t focus on playing it. I was trying to stop the burning in my cheeks. I was trying to telepathically tell the other guys to hurry up. I was trying to focus on everything besides how close John was to me, or how I could feel the heat radiating from his body.

My heart was slamming against my ribs and I was sure that John could hear it. But he seemed oblivious to how nervous he was making me, and I was thankful for that. It was one less thing he could pick on me for.

"What is going on down here?" A voice yelled, causing John to instantly let go of me, standing up like nothing had happened. I never thought I'd be thankful for Pat's obnoxious yelling, but I was mentally praising the boy.

Garrett was eyeing John and I suspiciously, but didn’t say anything. The awkwardness was broken when the others showed up, and practice could finally begin.

Although I tried to focus on the music, my thoughts kept drifting away. I got the same butterflies-in-my-stomach feeling that I got around Garrett when I was with John. But I didn’t like John. Not at all. Did I? I tried to figure it out, but ended up even more confused than before.

I needed some serious love advice. And fast, before I went completely insane.