When I Look at the Stars, I Feel Like Myself

Silverware clatters around our table. Steam rises from the oatmeal in front of me, hitting my face with little comfort. Holding in a grimace, I swirl my spoon around in the substance. The clumpy material reminds me too much of vomit to eat.

The continental breakfast that the hotel provides doesn't have any fruits or vegetables. None. At all. Meaning I had to find something else to fill my tray with. Oatmeal seemed like the best choice at the time. It would be easy to throw up later. I didn't take into account that it would remind me of vomit.

I may make myself throw up, but I don't want to eat throw up.

And I'm not eating the oatmeal.

I should have gotten toast.

"Where are Alex and Jack?" Calvin asks, drawing my attention away from the oatmeal.

To my pleasure, Jack hasn't shown up for breakfast. I only dealt with him once yesterday. Right after sound check. He asked if I wanted to grab a bite to eat with him. I declined. I don't know why he keeps offering me food, but its not helping him any.

Can't he see I don't need to eat?

"They didn't want to wake up this morning," Zack answers.

"Something about beauty sleep," Elina adds.

"Jack doesn't need beauty sleep," Dalton says, "He's already gorgeous."

And I can't hold back the very unladylike snort I release. Elina shoots me a reprimanding look, to which I hold my hands up in mock surrender. She shakes her head, small smile playing on her lips, and goes back to eating.

I'm trying, okay?

"Someone go tell Jack that Holland's in a bikini," John says.

"I'm not above stabbing you to death with a plastic spoon," I return.

"Holli-bear doesn't wear bikinis," Dalton says.

I haven't worn a bikini in years. Exposing myself and swimming are among the things I hate the most. Bikinis fall in both of those categories.

"You could always tell him she's covered in ice cream," Elina offers, "That's happened before."

"That was one time, and it wasn't even my fault," I defend.

It hadn't been. It was the day I met Elina, her first day of work at the ice cream shop I worked at. I had been the only one on duty so I had to train her.

"Now, pull the lever and fill the cup in a swirling motion," I say, fixing my recently dyed blue hair under my cap.

"Like this?" she asks, pressing down the lever of the brightly decorated machine and filling the cup as I instructed.

"Just like that."

Seconds later, a burst of ice cream explodes from the machine, covering the floor, counter, and me. Elina, who was untouched by the substance, smiles sheepishly.

"Oops," she mumbles.

"S'okay. Happens to everyone," I say, wiping the frozen treat from my face.

"Really?"

"No."

To this day, I don't how she managed that. But we've been friends since.

"There's Jack," Dalton exclaims. He stands from the table and yells, "Jack, over here."

I throw my spoon into my oatmeal, slam my elbow onto the table, and prop my head against the palm of my hand, pouting. Calvin bursts into a fit of laughter at my response. I don't have to look to know Elina is giving me the look again. Jack's steps are audible against the carpet of the hotel dining room. The empty chair next to me is pulled back, and Jack's lanky body takes up the space.

"Hey, Holl, you okay?" Jack asks, his eyes shining with concern.

"Peachy," I say.

"Are you sure? You look upset?"

"I'm fine. Thanks for asking."

He seems to take a hint and starts eating his food. Conversations go on around us. Jack doesn't force himself into any, just eats in silence next to me, occasionally glancing in my direction. I think he thinks I can't see him doing so.

"So, what are you doing today?" Jack breaks our silence.

"Going shopping with Dalton," I reply.

Even though we don't really have the money to go shopping. We spent all of our prize money. I could tap into my bank account, but I'd prefer not to. That money is reserved for bills and groceries. My mother stopped allowing my father to feed money into my account when I moved out. Something about wanting me to learn how difficult the life of a musician is.

It's not as hard as she makes it out to be. I'm not incapable of providing for myself. Working in an ice cream shop and competing with my band has given me enough money to live comfortably.

I'd prefer not having to work at an ice cream shop for the rest of my life, though.

If the band doesn't work out, I could always try to become a secretary at a tattoo parlor. I'm sure blue hair would be accepted there.

"Calvin's coming, too," Dalton says.

"A straight guy's coming with us? That ruins everything," I say.

I'm only joking. Dalton can see that. The rest of the band should be able to see that. They know me well enough by now.

But gay men are better shopping partners.

"I'm sorry, Holli-bear. Maybe his homo-senses will break through for the day."

I look at Jack again, "Well, it looks like I'm going shopping with a gay man and a straight man today."

"Sounds exciting," Jack says.

"Omigosh, Holli-bear, we can go underwear shopping. Elina taught me how."

At the statement, Jack's eyes divert from my face to my body. I glare at Dalton. The attention is uncomfortable. I may be in an oversized sweatshirt and sweatpants, my normal attire when not performing, but I'm still uncomfortable. My body reacts on subconscious nature to Jack's gaze, arms wrapping around my stomach, legs crossing.

"Dalton's not very good at it yet," Elina says, "You may be better off looking to Calvin for advice in that area."

"I underwear shop just fine," Dalton says.

"I don't mind judging that," Jack says, "Holland, you can model the underwear for me after you're done."

The table goes quiet, aside from Riley choking on a piece of bacon. My hand curls into a fist, my jaw clenching. I want to punch him worse than I punched that Andrew boy in elementary school. Jack won't be able to eat properly for weeks.

How can Elina expect me to be nice to him?

Without looking at Jack, I ask Dalton, "Isn't our car outside waiting for us?"

I need to get the fuck away from that guitarist.

Dalton tips his chair back slightly to peer out the window, "Oh, yeah it is. We should be heading out."

I shoot from my seat, "Meet you guys outside."

With that, I leave from the hotel dining room as fast as I can manage. I nod a greeting to the man at the front desk, and I walk out of the building.

He and I talked last night. I couldn't sleep, so I decided to go for a walk. Ended up walking down five flights of stairs, to the lobby, and saw him standing behind the counter alone. It's not that I was attracted to him or anything. He's a middle aged man with a daughter about Elina's age and a son who's ten. Not exactly my type. But he looked so lonely.

I may be an asshole sometimes, but I do have a heart.

A white van is seated in front of the entrance to the hotel. That's our transportation for the day. One of the roadies must have brought it around. Whoever actually drives these things during tour has a lot of patience. I remember when we had to use a van to get around. It was absolutely miserable.

If it weren't for the feelings I got from performing, I wouldn't be a musician anymore. I would have quit within a few days of being in that van.

We've paid our dues by now, and I wouldn't give this up for the world.

I don’t have to wait long for Calvin and Dalton to get outside. They rush out the front entrance minutes after I do. We pile into the van without a sound, Calvin in the driver's seat, Dalton in the passenger seat, and me in the back. The engine roars to life, and Calvin pulls out of the curved drive.

Are we missing someone?

"Where's RJ?" I ask.

Does Calvin ever leave that poor boy alone? I mean, I know he's his brother, but my older sister would never keep me under close watch if our parents died. Then again, she and I have a very different relationship.

She and I don't get along.

Italy and I signed a formal declaration of war when I was born.

"He's hanging out with some guys he met, I think," Calvin replies.

"Calvin's cutting the umbilical cord," Dalton says.

"I just figured he could have fun for the day. He can't be around me all the time."

"That's nice of you, Calvin," I say.

"About as nice as you were to Jack today."

"How about we make an agreement not to mention him?"

"If that's what you want."

"I can't guarantee anything," Dalton says.

Maybe I can get a shock collar specially designed to help wean Dalton off of Jack. I'd work extra hours in the ice cream shop for that.

The rest of the ride is quiet. Our first stop is a men's clothing store. It doesn’t take long for Calvin and Dalton to decide they don't like the clothing in the store. Ten minutes at the most. By the end of those ten minutes, I am exhausted. I hadn't even done anything, just stood by a rack while they ran through the store with ties on their heads.

Breakfast would have prevented me for losing energy. A few bites is enough to keep me awake for awhile.

I think I may cut this shopping trip a little short, so I can crash.

Eat, vomit, then crash.

"Hey, guys," I say, in the backseat of the van again.

"Yes, Holland?" Calvin asks, tie still connected to his head.

Dalton turns to face me, tie also on his head. Did they buy those? I don't recall them standing in line.

"Can we head back soon? I'm tired," I say.

"You've barely been up for two hours," Calvin says.

"Well, I'm tired."

"One more store?" Dalton asks, child-like hope coating his tone.

I sigh, "Sure."

One store couldn't hurt.

"We'll take you back to the hotel after if you're still tired," Calvin says.

"Sounds good to me."

Calvin enters a parking lot, smoothly pulling the vehicle into a spot and putting it in park. For the second time, we get out of the car. I look up at the building, expecting to see some form of music store. I halt upon reading the name of the store. Dalton and Calvin stop walking and turn to face me. Confusion drips from their faces.

That's not a music store.

"I thought you were joking about underwear shopping," I say.

Victoria's Secret.

It's not like I haven't been in there. But I've already gone underwear shopping. I don't need to go again. And I most certainly do not need to go with Calvin and Dalton.

"We figured it would be fun," Calvin says.

Fun? I find it to be quite the opposite. Underwear shopping is torture. Plain and simple. There is nothing fun about trying on skimpy attire and criticizing yourself in a mirror, planning to sneak away to the bathroom because you can't stand the fat hanging from you're body.

I know I'm not the only one who does that.

"Why don't you guys just drop me off at the hotel and go do man stuff," I say.

"Because you need new underwear," Calvin answers, grabbing one of my arms.

Dalton grabs the other. They pull me across the parking lot, towards the store.

"Excuse me?" I ask.

A woman greets us when we enter. Dalton smiles brightly at her. Calvin gives a small wave. I pout.

"Holli-bear, I've seen the underwear in your bag," Dalton says, stopping us at a rack of lace panties, "There is nothing cute or sexy about what you own." He picks up a lace-trim blue thong and inspects it. "You should get this," he says.

"There is nothing wrong with the underwear I own," I say, snatching the thong from his hands and tossing it back in its compartment, "They're comfortable."

"And not sexy."

Calvin holds a pink thong up, smile stretched across his face. A white puff is attached to the side via ribbon. Across the front, it reads "tickle moi." "I think you should get these," he says.

"I have no reason to own sexy underwear."

No one is going to see me in my underwear anytime soon.

"You're being pursued by Jack Barakat," Dalton states.

"Your point?"

The hurt in Dalton's eyes makes me feel terrible in an instant, and I'm not sure what I did.

"Holland," Dalton says, "don't you understand how lucky you are right now? Jack Barakat wants you."

The sound of my full name rolling from his tongue is foreign to me. I don't think he's ever called me Holland before. Ever.

"This is Holland. We work together and she's great with her guitar," Elina says, "Holland this is RJ, Calvin, Ross, and Dalton. I told you about them."

"It's nice to meet you," I give a small smile, fingering my blue hair.

"It's nice to meet you too," Calvin says, "You mind if we see what you've got?" He motions to the guitar on my back.

"Sure thing. Do you guys have an amp down here?"

"Right this way, Holli-bear," Dalton chirps, skipping to the closet.

It's always been "Holli-bear" not "Holland." To use my first name would only mean he's extremely upset. And I still don’t understand why.

"I don't see that as being lucky," I mumble.

"It is to me," Dalton says, tears springing to his eyes, "I've never had a boyfriend, Holland. One of my celebrity crushes is after you. It hurts. But what hurts more is that you can't see how great of a guy he is. Give him a chance."

"Dalton, its not as simple as giving him a chance. I don't want or need a boyfriend right now."

"Not every relationship starts because people 'want and need' a significant other in their lives," Calvin says, "Some things just happen. You won't know if there's something there between you and Jack until you give him a chance. I'm not saying you have to date him now. But you could be his friend, maybe flirt back a little. See where it goes."

They're double teaming me. That's not fair.

"You two can't push me to give someone a chance when I'm not interested."

"We can when we think he'll be good for you," Dalton says.

"You just think he'll be good for me because you like him."

"Holland, Jack will help you unwind," Calvin says, "All you do is work and play your guitar. Even on tour, you're not around us half the time. You need some fun in your life, and I think Jack would help."

I stare at Calvin, anxiety washing over me. They don't understand. And they can't until I decide to tell them. The muscles in my neck clench and unclench, my empty stomach aches for unnecessary release.

I feel sick.

"I can't deal with this right now," I say, "I'm going to the restroom."

"Whatever, Holland," Dalton mumbles.

Sighing deeply, I turn and rush to the nearest restroom in the store. It's not hard to find. The store isn't so large that I would be searching for hours just to find the bathroom.

In the women's restroom, I check the stalls for any other semblance of life occupying the space. It's empty. As per normal, I take the stall farthest from the door. That's not the handicap stall this time. It’s a normal, cramped stall with barely enough room to kneel. I lock the stall door, lean over the toilet, and stick my finger down my throat.

Bile and blood.

That's all that comes up. That's all there is to come up. But, standing there wiping vomit from the corner of my mouth with tears in my eyes, I feel relief, an odd sense of calm.

I flush the toilet and leave the stall, knowing I've been in there for longer than any normal human would be in a bathroom unless sick. At the sinks, I clean up in the normal fashion, ridding vomit from my hand and mouth, and pop a piece of gum into my mouth. Resting my palms against the sink counter, I look in the mirror.

Still fat.

Why would Jack want me when he could have a thin girl?

I can still see the pitiful expression on Dalton's face. The words "give him a chance" ring in my ears. Shaking my head, I push off the sink and leave the bathroom.

I'm telling Calvin and Dalton I'm going back to the hotel room. I can't stay here and listen to them force Jack onto me.

It doesn't take long to find them. They’re still in the section we were in when they started their double teaming.

"Hey, guys, I'm going back to the," I falter, the tall frame mixed among my two band mates surprising me, "hotel," I complete in a low voice.

The tall-framed, skunk-haired male turns around. On his head is a pair of boy short cut panties. He looks as surprised to see me as I am to see him.

"Hey, Holl," he says.

"Jack, what do you have on your head?" I ask.

He flushes, yanks the panties from his head and tosses them back into the compartment they came from, "Nothing."

I nod and ask, "Did you guys plan some play date I don't know about?"

"Not our doing," Dalton states, his voice monotone.

He can't really be that upset over this.

"I was trying to find something to apologize for my comment this morning," Jack says, "I figured I couldn't go terribly wrong with perfume from Victoria's Secret. When I saw Dalton and Calvin, I decided to ask them what you'd like to be sure." There's a pause. "So, is there anything in particular you like?"

I glance at Dalton. His face is passive, waiting for my next move. One misstep and I'm sure Dalton will hate me forever.

Biting my lip, I step closer to Jack and lean across his body to reach the rack. I grab the "tickle moi" thong Calvin had held up earlier and press it to Jack's chest. His hand comes up immediately to grasp the article of clothing. I lean in, mouth near Jack's ear.

"I like these," I mumble, my breath hitting his earlobe, "Find me a bra that matches."

It couldn't hurt to give him a chance.

I step away from Jack's body, looking at my two band mates. Calvin's jaw is slacked, and Dalton looks as if he may explode with excitement. It seems best not to look at Jack for his reaction. I'm sure I know the expression on his face.

Shocked with a hint of lust.

"I'm going back to the hotel to sleep," I say, "You two can ride back with Jack."

"Have a good rest, Holli-bear," Dalton exclaims.

You bet I will.