London Calling

The next day we rolled into Peterborough. The absolutely blissfully wonderful thing about Peterborough was that I knew jack shit about it. So on the last day of June, while the boys went out in the beautiful sunshine and explored and had adventures with Adam After Eve, I decided to curl up in the venue and do absolutely nothing.

It was so nice being alone for once. Just having a nice “cuppa” (that's not even a fucking word, I love England), lounging around, and happily helping out the techies by moving guitars and staying out of the way. Okay, let's be honest, if Thoa was around instead of doing a job she agreed to be a part of to help a friend, I'd be with her. She knew everything about everywhere and she'd been on the road forever. We were constantly texting. It was starting to get to a Levi/Simon-level of friendship, and it had only been a day. The only person I was this close to was Chris, but it was more awesome because I finally had a friend who was a girl. I will never get over that. Never.

So, being alone, I ended up having a lot of absolute nothing to do. I mean, I tried to do stuff. Read a book, fill out a crossword, stuff like that. But I was kinda flat-lining due to the fact that I still hadn't adjusted to England time. Even the loud discussions of the techies couldn't stop my eyelids from drooping, so I curled up on the couch in what the venue referred to as the green room (it was really just a box with a few chairs and a table, but it was better than the time back home when we had to hang in the van before the show) and tried to sleep.

I say tried, because about two minutes after closing my eyes I heard the door open and close. Then there was that subtle click of a lighter just before smoke started filling up the room. Maybe if I ignored it they'd notice me and go outside. So I waited for a minute, but no such luck. Allowing myself to open my eyes just slightly to check who it was, I immediately hated my life. James. Mother fucking. Alexander. Just sitting in one of the chairs. Lounging in fact. Lounging in such a way that it made it plain that he knew I was there but he just did not give any amounts of fucks about it. There was no getting around it, I either had to put up with his shit or find some way to kick him out, and I could not just put up with it. That was giving in to his douchebagery. So I sat up and gave him the dirtiest look I could manage, the one that I specifically saved for Chris when he said something stupid in front of my mom. But instead he just stared right back. Complete eye contact and this shit eating grin that made me want to slap him.

“Hey.”

“Yeh?”

“Please don't smoke in here, I'm trying to nap.”

“I'll do wah Ah wahn'.”

“Put it out,” I growled, trying to keep my cool.

“Noh.”

Before I could fully think it over I was off of the couch, snatching the smoking flame of cancer and disease right out of his mouth, and walking very swiftly out of the green room and into the outdoors. James followed me, of course, shouting things that I couldn't fully understand due to his accent and the fact that I was very focused on my task. As I hit clean air, the cigarette dropped from my hand and fell on the black top and was soon extinguished by the toe of my boot. James actually couldn't speak for once. There were no witty comments, no snarky jokes, just a look of absolute shock.

I have to say that it felt good to be a step ahead of him for just once.

And I went back inside. Straight to the green room, kick off my boots, and back on the couch for some nice catch-up sleep. But practically as soon as I closed my eyes, James was back, possibly angrier than he had been before I put out his cigarette.

“Who' the fuhck is yehr problem!?”

Groaning, I rolled over to face the back off the couch just to avoid him.

“Answer meh,” he demanded, kicking the couch, just below where I was lying.

“My problem is that I am from fucking America, which has a seven hour time difference. I have been on the fucking road from the minute of my landing on this god damn island and I have had no time to fucking sleep because apparently my band mates don't have to, and our van is uncomfortable as hell. So leave me alone.”

The following silence told me that he was at least being less douchey than normal, but it was so tense that I could just tell that he was just glaring at me. And that made it absolutely impossible for me to sleep because now I was just hyper-aware of his death ray of a glare boring into my spine. It was like I could physically feel him just staring at me, because the point between my shoulder blades where his super glare was focused, the heat of his absolute hatred was just trying to keep me from being able to relax.

“James,” I said, sitting up just so I could actually look him in the eye, “I cannot sleep with your attitude filling up the room. Can you please leave.”

“Why should Ah?”

“I was here first, that's why.”

“Tha' don' gihve yeh rights teh the whole dahmn room.”

I officially could not deal with this shit anymore. I needed to get away from him, and the only logical way to do that was to just go outside and abandon all hope of getting any sleep. Glaring at him as I shoved my feet back into my boots, I got up, grabbed my sunglasses from the table, and stormed outside. I didn't really know where I was going, but I spotted a coffee shop about a block away from the venue, so I went there. A cup of coffee wasn't exactly a replacement for actual sleep, but it would have to do if James was going to be an ass all over the place.

So I placed an order, got my drink, and grabbed a comfy seat by the window. I was practically dead, that's how tired I felt, so I gripped the hot cup for dear life. I couldn't fall asleep in the middle of a coffee shop, that would just be awkward. Drinking without tasting, I focused on nothing in particular across the street. Until I noticed that signature scrungy slouch moving through the afternoon sidewalk traffic.

God, strike me down right here, right now.

I tried to pull my hair down in a way that would hide my face enough to make him not notice me. It had the opposite effect, as he walked straight into the coffee shop, ordered a fucking sandwich, and sat next to me.

“Stop.”

“Waht?”

“Following me,” I growled.

“Who said Ah wahs followin' yeh?”

I raised my eyebrows at him. He was smirking, just proving that he was playing dumb and being a complete ass.

“Look,” I sighed, very close to just giving up all together and resigning my free time to be full of James being a jerk, “I just want to rest. I want to be alone. I don't want to be around you, particularly. And I don't want us being together to turn into more press coverage.”

“Mmm, bi' late fer tha',” he muttered, gesturing out the window.

Paparazzi were slowly crowding around the window we were sitting at. Just kill me. I promptly got up, poured my lukewarm coffee on James' lap, and left the building. The group of cameras surged towards me, asking obnoxious questions about James and me and I refused to say anything. I was determined not to blow up until the very last. I kept walking without speaking to them, and eventually they went back towards the coffee shop to scope out the James situation. I forced myself to get back to the venue, my legs practically pushing through molasses. Crawling into my only sanctuary in the form of a white van, I locked all doors, made a somewhat comfortable bed for myself in the empty trunk, and slept until the show.