You Drain The Life From Me.

I took his hand and pulled him up to the merch table.

"Your brother's band is good," he commented.

"Yeah? What's your favorite song so far?"

"Count 'Em One, Two, Three."

I frowned. He just had to pick the song Garrett wrote me. A girl walked by the table and shot me a look that I could only decipher as hatred.

"What's Rachael Roberts doing here?"

I turned my head to him and blew a strand of hair away from my eyes, saying, "Who knows? Just as long as she doesn't talk to me."

"Yeah, I heard about that stupid comment thing. Someone also told me it was just a rumor some kid heard. But are you and Garrett even going out anymore?"

"Honestly, Stephen? I don't know."

"What happened? At school you guys were attached at the hip. And everyone was always saying how cute you guys were. Well, I never said that, cause that would be weird."

I chuckled. "Thanks for coming though."

"No problem at all. This is just a bring-a-boy-to-make-him-jealous thing, right?"

I sheepishly nodded. "I do think you're cute though, if that helps at all."

"Well I do think you're hot, if that helps just a tiny bit."

I held back a frown. Garrett never called me hot, and he knew I would hate it if I ever did. But Stephen didn't know that, so I just let it go. Instead, I forced a smile and jumped down, walking to the other side of the table.

"Time to sell merch, buddy. Just listen to people when they tell you what they want, and don't fight with them. Try to find whatever they need as quick as possible, and be extra nice to them when they leave you tips. If you do a good job, we'll split whatever's in the jar."

Stephen ran a hand through his hair and smirked. As much as I adored Garrett's smile, there was something about Stephen's smirk that got to me...in a good way.

A bunch of people came up asking for t-shirts, demos, posters, and rubber bracelets, and some of them weren't very nice.

But there were more polite people than mean ones, and I got lots of please's and thank you's, not to mention tips.

"Leigh, you know, this is a lot harder than you say it is," Stephen said.

I shrugged and smiled. "I guess you have to be a pro like me!"

"I could never be as great as you, o skilled one."

"Shut up," I chuckled and punched him lightly in the arm.

Garrett never came up to me during the show. Not once. My heart sank with disappointment as Kennedy approached the table. Everyone's eyes went towards him as he did that bro hug thing with Stephen and as he enveloped me in a friendly hug.

Garrett walked by and my heart sank even lower.

I heard someone mumble the word, "Slut."

Kenny let go immediately and he faced the girl who said it.

But before he could say anything, Garrett stopped dead in his tracks.

"Did you just call her a slut?"

The girl raised her eyebrows and nodded. No shame. "She's a slut. I mean, here she is with this dude, and she walked in with the lead singer, and she was chilling super close to the other guitarist, and she was flirting with the drummer, and now she's all over Kennedy."

I sank back and tried to shrink. The last thing I wanted was to be the reason for Garrett getting angry. He rarely ever lost his temper and it took quite a bit for him to do so.

"This dude," he turned to Kennedy, "is one of her best friends. The lead singer is her brother. Everyone in the band treats her like a sister. Now, as for this guy," he shifted his eyes to Stephen, "is a friend of ours. Leave her the fuck alone because Leigh is not a slut."

Another girl coughed and mumbled, "You would know."

Garrett looked at the girls with disgust and said, "Listen, we love our fans, but we also love our friends and family. If you can't be nice to them, then don't bother showing up to see us, don't bother buying our records, don't bother walking around wearing our merch. We don't need rude fans like you."

Those two girls rolled their eyes and left, and so did Garrett.

Kennedy looked at me apologetically. "I'm sorry that those girls were mean to you."

I cleared my throat. "I'm over it. Let's go to 8123."

"Alright, finish selling the merch and we'll head over there."

When the line of people waiting finally turned into no line at all, Stephen turned to me and engulfed me in a hug.

"I can't believe he stood up for you like that," he mumbled.

"He's a good guy. It's just...something's going on. I don't know what it is, but I love him and hopefully, he still loves me. Thanks for being here, Stephen."

"Let's go get drunk."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Stephen and I drove to 8123 in my car while everyone else drove in the van.

"So this whole thing started a week ago?"

"Yeah, he started acting really weird and he avoided me. Then he stopped calling me and just stopped talking to everyone completely."

He sensed that I didn't want to talk about it anymore, so he opened the glove compartment to find my treasure box of CDs.

"Those are all in alphabetical order and if you mess them up, I will shave your head," I warned, knowing how much he loved his hair.

"Jesus, Ms. Anal, chill. I'm the same way with my CDs. Wait, wait. You don't have Love Is Hell?"

"I do."

"It's not in here."

"It's at home, on vinyl."

"Shut up!"

"What are we now, The Plastics from Mean Girls?"

"I'm insanely jealous of you now, I hate you. What's wrong with you?"

I shrugged. "I didn't know you liked Ryan Adams."

"You know those things are worth like $150.00?!"

I nodded. He shoved in Heartbreaker. "Good choice, Gomez, good choice."