These Are the Fast Times

Jack

-x-x-x-x-x-

I’m packing some of my stuff for tour when I find a small camcorder in one of my duffel bags.

I’m confused until I realize it’s Victoria’s. Obviously. Who else could it be?

I debate throwing it out the window, but there’s no way in hell I could bring myself to actually do it, so I toss it onto a pile of my clothes instead.

It doesn’t really take me all that long at all to pack. I just throw some clothes, a toothbrush and some soap into a duffel bag and I’m pretty much set.

Which is convenient, because the guys will be picking me up for tour in less than half an hour, and I’ve barely started.

I shove as much clothes as I think are clean into my biggest bag and then collect random toiletries from my bathroom, but I get distracted by the video camera on my heap of dirty clothes.

I can’t help myself.

I power it up and hit ‘play.’

She immediately comes on screen.

“Jack,” she’s saying, in the video, and God, she’s gorgeous. Her voice has that warning tone I’m so used to, telling me to put down the camera before I break something.

“I love you,” I hear my own voice saying. She doesn’t respond, but she gives a radiant smile, her cheeks flushing pink.

She’s got clothes on, unfortunately.

There’s a pounding at my door before I can get any farther, and I quickly snap it shut.

“Yeah?” I call. Alex opens the door.
“Everyone’s waiting outside in the van. Are you ready?” he asks, his bags already slung over his shoulders.

“Yeah,” I answer, picking up my things and getting up to follow him. I make it to the doorway before rushing back in to stuff the camcorder into one of my bags.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

I wake up with half my face pressed against the cold glass of the window in the passenger’s seat of the van. My head is pounding. I blink a few times, stretching and yawning, realizing that Zack’s driving and throwing some irritated glances my way.

“What?” I groggily say in response.

“You were snoring,” he replies, eyes trained back on the road as he speeds along the empty highway. “Loud as fuck, too.”

“Sorry,” I answer, glancing towards the back rows of the van to see that everyone else is as deeply asleep as I was, minus the obnoxious snoring.

“And talking,” he continues. I groan, rubbing my temples, looking at the clock and realizing it’s almost 5am. “You hungover?” he asks, now sounding slightly amused. “I told you that you couldn’t do all those tequila shots.”

“Fuck off,” I grumble, but he just smirks, and last night returns to my memory. Drinking. Lots of drinking. Lots of wishing I was still in New York with Victoria. He abruptly pulls over at the next rest stop. He shrugs at my confused face.

“I’ve been driving for hours,” he says, parking at a rest stop. “Wanna grab something to eat?”

“Sure,” I groggily reply, hauling myself out of the van and following him inside. We leave everyone sleeping in the back of the van. I wait at a table while he brings back a bottle of water for himself and fries and a hamburger for me. I feel too sick to eat.

I miss her too much.