Voodoo
One.
"He wants to fuck you," Tom whispered as I looked at the Twitter page. He started to snicker and I glared at him.
Before that day I'd never even heard of Adam Lambert. Supposedly he was on American Idol, but do you think I have time to watch that?
We had a nice year off, me and the band, and then we got down to work. We produced a whole album and now the rest of our year was scheduled with tour dates and awards shows and meet and greets all around the world. Well, the world not including America. We'd be touring the states in the fall.
"We've never even met," I explained to Tom, my usually-annoying, always-arrogant, twin brother.
"Half of our fans haven't met us and they still want to fuck us," Tom smirked.
I frowned.
"He's a flaming homosexual androgynous man. Of course he's going to feel some attraction to you," Tom explained.
"What's that supposed to mean!?" I cried.
"I'm just kidding."
"Whatever," I closed my laptop.
"Don't get so worked up about it," Tom replied.
"I'm not!"
He smiled. "People know us, people love us. It happens pretty often. I though you'd be over that fact by now."
"Of course I am."
"Good. Now I'm off for a nap. We won't be there for a couple hours right?"
I nodded.
"Awesome. Wake me up when we get there." Tom went to the back of the bus and climbed into his bunk.
I opened my laptop back up. Beautiful, like an alien. It's not like I wasn't used to compliments, but I still felt awkward when I recieved them. What was I supposed to say?
I ran a hand through my newly-short hair and put my laptop away for good.
Truthfully, I never had any intention of meeting Adam. Sure, once I knew who he was he seemed interesting, and he seemed like a good singer. We even had the same taste in clothes. But I didn't want to meet him.
What if he really wanted to have sex with me? What was I supposed to say to him? No, Adam, I can't have sex with you because I'm straight and I'm a virgin. I don't know what love is, therefore, I'm incapable of showing it, and when I try it's just awkward and pointless.
When you chose a music career over a love life when you're young and naive, you've really got no chance to figure out what love is.
But I couldn't stop thinking about what Adam had said about me, for all the world to see. He was confident. He knew what he wanted. Was that me? I wasn't sure.
I did know, though, that I did not want him. I knew I'd probably die alone. How was I supposed to find a girl to love considering who I was? I couldn't find someone that could handle my life, my schedule, and love me for me and not just for who I was. Thoughts like these keep me up at night.
I knew that perfect girl was certainly not Adam.
Yet only a few months later I would be on my knees, sucking his dick with him moaning and telling me that was the only good thing I could do with my throat.
Before that day I'd never even heard of Adam Lambert. Supposedly he was on American Idol, but do you think I have time to watch that?
We had a nice year off, me and the band, and then we got down to work. We produced a whole album and now the rest of our year was scheduled with tour dates and awards shows and meet and greets all around the world. Well, the world not including America. We'd be touring the states in the fall.
"We've never even met," I explained to Tom, my usually-annoying, always-arrogant, twin brother.
"Half of our fans haven't met us and they still want to fuck us," Tom smirked.
I frowned.
"He's a flaming homosexual androgynous man. Of course he's going to feel some attraction to you," Tom explained.
"What's that supposed to mean!?" I cried.
"I'm just kidding."
"Whatever," I closed my laptop.
"Don't get so worked up about it," Tom replied.
"I'm not!"
He smiled. "People know us, people love us. It happens pretty often. I though you'd be over that fact by now."
"Of course I am."
"Good. Now I'm off for a nap. We won't be there for a couple hours right?"
I nodded.
"Awesome. Wake me up when we get there." Tom went to the back of the bus and climbed into his bunk.
I opened my laptop back up. Beautiful, like an alien. It's not like I wasn't used to compliments, but I still felt awkward when I recieved them. What was I supposed to say?
I ran a hand through my newly-short hair and put my laptop away for good.
Truthfully, I never had any intention of meeting Adam. Sure, once I knew who he was he seemed interesting, and he seemed like a good singer. We even had the same taste in clothes. But I didn't want to meet him.
What if he really wanted to have sex with me? What was I supposed to say to him? No, Adam, I can't have sex with you because I'm straight and I'm a virgin. I don't know what love is, therefore, I'm incapable of showing it, and when I try it's just awkward and pointless.
When you chose a music career over a love life when you're young and naive, you've really got no chance to figure out what love is.
But I couldn't stop thinking about what Adam had said about me, for all the world to see. He was confident. He knew what he wanted. Was that me? I wasn't sure.
I did know, though, that I did not want him. I knew I'd probably die alone. How was I supposed to find a girl to love considering who I was? I couldn't find someone that could handle my life, my schedule, and love me for me and not just for who I was. Thoughts like these keep me up at night.
I knew that perfect girl was certainly not Adam.
Yet only a few months later I would be on my knees, sucking his dick with him moaning and telling me that was the only good thing I could do with my throat.