These Are the Fast Times

Melly

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“I can’t believe we’re going on tour without you,” Michael says, as we walk at a brisk pace down the street, huddled under the same umbrella. Tiny drops pelt the thin fabric and drip onto my jacket.

“It’s weird,” I agree, shivering slightly against the wind. It’ll be the first time I won’t be able to join them on tour or work their soundboard. “Don’t fall in love with any other sound techs, alright?” I joke.

“Don’t worry. James really isn’t my type,” he replies, making me laugh. “How was work today?”

“Great,” I grin. “This band from Ireland just finished recording their first album today, and in a few weeks, I’ll be able to sit in on the mixing.”

“I see how it is,” he teases, as we reach our apartment building and she pulls out her keys. “We trade you for a new tech, so you go and replace us with some exotic new band.” I laugh again. “And then you’ll replace me with an Irish guitarist and have his ginger babies.”

“That’s the plan,” I tease right back, following him into the elevator. He abruptly but gently pushes me against the wall of the elevator, pressing his face into my neck, kissing the sensitive skin there. I close my eyes, reaching up to run a hand through his damp hair that’s mussed from the rain.

“You have no idea how much I’ll miss you,” he rumbles against my throat, in a way that makes me wonder if Mike and William are home or how quiet Michael and I can be.

The elevator dings and the door slides open before we get a chance to break apart.

“Looks like we’re going to have to sanitize the elevator,” I hear Mike drawl to William as we step out.

“Get a girlfriend, Mike,” I retort, sticking my tongue out at him.

“We’re going over to Sisky and Butcher’s to hang before we all leave for tour in the morning, if you feel like stopping by,” William interjects before me and Mike can go off on one of our childish-but-fun bickering contests. We nod and they get in the elevator.

We leave our wet coats and umbrella by the door. I barely have five seconds to kick my shoes off before Michael’s lips are attached to mine again.

“Are you going to be okay in the apartment by yourself?” he asks, brushing my bangs out of my eyes. He lets go of me in order to untie his shoes. And that’s when it hits me.

I’m going to be alone for the next month or so. Victoria and Lila are in New York, Michael and the guys (i.e. all my friends) will be on tour. I get this uneasy twinge in my stomach that suddenly makes me want to ditch my job at the studio to go on tour with them. I frown.

“Mels?” he asks, looking up at me from his shoes. He stands up. “You okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” I answer, unconvincingly. “I’ll just have to remember how to make friends.” He smiles. I follow him as he enters the kitchen. I lean against the counter while he looks through the fridge. I sigh, trying not to think about what I’ll do with myself when the guys leave.

“What do you want to do?” I ask, starting to unbutton my shirt as he continues to search the fridge.

“I…” he starts, turning around. He starts to laugh when he sees what I’m getting at. I smile back innocently. “I don’t know what I’m going to do on tour without you,” he finishes, leaning in to kiss me once again. He pulls away after a few more seconds, but I don’t hesitate to crush my lips back against his.

His hands brush over my skin, easily ridding me of my shirt as we kiss and make our way to the bedroom.

“I should-,” he breathes against my neck. I don’t let him finish the thought.

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I’m perched lazily on the bed, wearing his t-shirt while I watch him pack. I glance at the clock.

“You still have a couple hours before you actually leave, you know,” I tempt, raising my eyebrows suggestively. It’s early enough that the sun’s barely rising, not that we’ve been doing much sleeping as it is.

“You’re incredibly hard to say no to,” he admits, brushing a hand over my bare leg before reaching across me for a pair of jeans.

“Mike and Bill won’t even be up for at least another hour,” I continue. He laughs, shaking his head at me. I grin back.

“Did Butcher tell you how he’s going to surprise Lila when we’re in New York in two weeks?”

“He’s going to try to get her back?” I demand, barely containing my excitement. He only shrugs and continues stuffing clothes into his suitcase. “This is exciting!”

“Melly…” he groans. “You can’t tell her, alright? I don’t even know what he’s planning on doing, anyway.”

“I can keep a secret!” I retort indignantly.

“No, Mels…actually you really can’t. Promise me,” he adds, more seriously this time, pausing to look at me.

“Fine,” I scowl. “I promise.”

He just smiles again and abruptly leans in to peck me on the lips, wiping the pout off my face.