Autographs and Apologies

The two breathed deeply, giving into each others' scent. Their hands interlaced and they laid on the messy bed, wrapped in each others' warmth. His fingers traced her collarbones and then toyed with her red dyed hair, kissing her forehead. The two stayed like that for awhile, silent and still.

Although both of their bodies were close enough to feel heartbeats, Eve was not happy. It had been their second time doing it and still she did not feel loved. She did not feel great or happy or anything with him. She sighed, turning her pale back against him, taking a large amount of the bed sheet to cover her naked body.

James Scott stared at the back of her head, his hand perched on his cheek, and a pillow propped under his elbow. Sweat clung to his skin and wanted to reach out to her but at the same time, it was better off this way. Her away from him.

He was a player. Every girl was just some short-term hookup and she was one of the many in his line. She didn't like to admit it and she knew he only used her for lust. She didn't hate him for it, though. It was what she had wanted, anyway. But then again, sleeping with band members didn't make you famous, did it?

"I should get going." She stood up, not uncomfortable by the fact that he was watching her. She clipped her bra back on and put on her white t-shirt. Pulling on her ripped-up tights, James sat up.

"You don't have to leave yet," he said, almost desperately. She had her boots on already and her cardigan.

Eve smiled slightly as she stood before him. Her fiery red hair was in a ponytail and she still looked as hot as always. James wanted to touch her again but he didn't move.

"I'll see you around," she whispered. She leaned in and gave him a hot kiss, full on the lips, and left the room. Her wild seductive perfume was all that was left for him to remember her of.

He laid back down on the bed, still not fully clothed and suddenly in need of cigarettes. He had felt like this for the past months now. Drugs, smoke, alcohol, sex... it was all that was in his life right now, besides his band. It was getting all so boring. Everyday the same things, almost everyday with different girls. Nothing ever satisfied him and no one ever did.

He gave up from trying to get to sleep. He rolled over the bed and got up. He walked to the mirror. He didn't like looking at his reflection but there he was: tall, bony, messy, brown long hair and he could see the flower tattooed on his upper arm.

He tried not to think about that night, or her for that matter. Just when he turned away, the door burst open and there stood one of his friends, Pierre.

"Well doesn't someone look mighty sexy today!"

"Get out, Pierre! Get the fuck out of my room!"

Christian pulled Pierre away from the doorway, who was still laughing, and threw a pair of clothes at James.

"Come on, let's go."

James's eyes narrowed as he looked taken aback at Chris. "Where are we going?"

Chris rolled his eyes. "We're going out to eat. You look like you need a smoothie."

"I just had sex with Eve. I don't want to go to Friday's, you fucktard. And I fucking reak."

"Don't need to be so straightforward. You smell disgusting. What the hell is this?"

"It's Eve's perfume now get the fuck out!"

"Put some clothes on, we'll be waiting outside."

Before James could even find some object to throw at him, Christian shut the door and went back to drag Pierre outside to meet up with Andrew, who was in the jeep outside. The three of them knew James was going to show up anyway. All four of them had been good friends since tenth grade and since then, their band "Steel Wings" are becoming famous. Almost famous as in appearing in the AP magazines and getting chances to meet Vic Fuentes and the rest of Pierce the Veil.

They all lost friends and gained more along the way. Gone were the high school days and studying--they were all for partying. Tonight, they were going to do just the same.

After approximately twenty-eight minutes, James stepped out wearing a blue plaid shirt, black skinny jeans, and black vans. He stepped inside the car and his friends greeted him by patting him on the head and back.

"How was the sex?" Pierre yelled over the loud radio.

James rolled his eyes as he stuck a cigar in his mouth and lit it. He didn't like or even want to talk about his sex experiences with his friends. "She's a good kisser."

Christian grinned and ruffled up James's hair, taking a cigarette from him too. "Good! You washed your hair!"

James handed his lighter to him. "Yeah... wait, aren't we going to get something to eat?"

"No, man," Andrew snorted, who was steering the wheel. His eyes remained on the road and he was laughing. "We're going to a party!"

"What the hell? I don't want to fucking party, I need sleep. And I wanted a smoothie!"

"Oh stop whining. We need girlfriends," Pierre declared.

"Who on earth will ever date you, Pierre?" Chris inquired.

"A martian!" Andrew laughed as Pierre frowned.

"Hey! You know, chicks dig guitar players! We're also very good with our fingers," Pierre added, grinning.

"Oh shut up," Andrew said.

They parked the car by a curb near a liquor store. Loud music was heard ahead and they stepped out. Many people were already crowding around, most of whom they were acquainted with. After many greetings, handshakes and thumps on the back, they entered inside the party.

James Scott wasn't in the mood to be partying. He bought himself a Cherry Coke and seated himself in the far corner of the room, not paying attention to the people grinding on each other in front of him. Besides, he wasn't into Jay Z.

He wanted to go home and rest and just write some more songs. He felt lonely again, just like he always did. No matter how many girls he hooked up with, no matter how much sex he had, he still felt lonely.

He felt the great longing to go back home and see her, see how she's doing. But he knew what was going to happen: he was going to receive a slap in the face. Maybe even something worse.

He forced himself out of his chair. Taking his can of coke with him, he wandered over to his friends, doing anything in his willpower to forget about Esme Witherson.

And to forget she ever existed in his life.