That Girl

Of course this had happened! Pete was a terrible person! Why oh why had the Fates stuck me with such a horrid planner?

I’d gotten off my flight, claimed my luggage, and had been strolling absently through the main lobby for a good half hour. It had been a red eye, and as Pete should have known by now, I hate red eye flights, and they hate me.

At this point, I’d even resorted to talking to myself, since I couldn’t find my IPod. Taking a seat, I fidgeted, flipping my razor open and closed before getting up again and making my way towards an area with good reception so I could scream at Pete, and hopefully find someone to fight with.

Because I was in that sort of mood, if you know what I mean.

Still towing my duffel and sticker-covered suitcase, I ran straight into someone. I didn’t stop to apologize, I was on a mission. I could hear a distorted British accent grumble:

“Well excuse you.”

Not that it was any reason to be this way, but I was dead tired, that Alex Gas-whatever hadn’t picked me up yet, and I was pretty pissed in general. I flashed around; glad I had changed into Converse instead of cursing my feet like those heels had earlier today. “Excuse me?!”

Mr. Brit turned around, “That’s more like it.” He smirked, causing my eyes to narrow into slits. Noticing that the foreigner didn’t have any bags, I grew slightly suspicious. Not a traveler?

“Watch your words, fucktard.”

His smirk remained as infuriating as ever, “Is that how a young lady such as you should be speaking?” How many times had I heard that today? Well, wait. It was one in the morning, so I suppose that would make it the last two days...

“Not your concern, dickhead.”

“Oh, naughty words will get you into trouble.” He teased, British accent still prominent. “Such a pretty girl like you shouldn’t have such a dirty mouth, it’s not attractive.”

“I don’t need attractive. My badassery is trending, doucheface, deal with it.”

“Do I need to solve that problem for you?”

“I’m already in a foul mood, Brit. My ride’s not here yet, and Pete’s being an idiot and not answering his phone-.”

“Wait, Pete?” He asked. Brown hair, brown eyes. “Wentz?”

“He’s got a distinct British accent, even though he’s lived in Maryland for a while. Brown hair, brown eyes. Looks like a pretty boy. He’s much taller than me, as you could probably guess; he’s the kind of kid that you hated in high school- well, at least, he looks like one.”

Well fuck me sideways and ship me to King George. This must’ve been the guy.

“Um, yeah. I’m Stella.” I offered my hand, after exchanging my phone into the hand where brass knuckles had been awaiting to be used. What? I came prepared, I had spent my earliest years on the streets, and I knew what was out there. “Are you Alex Gas-whatever?”

“Gaskarth.” His lip twitched as we shook hands. “Sorry I’m late, band practice.”

I rolled my eyes, “That’s exactly what Brendon said. You rock stars think you can take your sweet time, don’t you?” As we started walking, he took my duffel, which was a slight relief. “I mean, you’re all just thinking, ‘Oh, what the hell. This chick is probably busy texting her chick friends-‘when I don’t have any, mind you, ‘so we’ll just take our time.’”

He laughed, “No, Jack got lost, and band practice had run late. He’ll apologize when we get back to the car.” Liar, for one sole reason.

“How do you get lost on your way to an airport this size?!” I exclaimed, as he led me outside, and to a strictly average Jetta.

“You’ll see.” Alex shoved a lanky teen with a shocking blond streak into the back seat after tossing my duffel in the trunk. My suitcase soon followed, and I got in the backseat, noticing there was the lanky teen’s polar opposite sitting in the front. Was he like, an aspiring bodybuilder?

“I’m so sorry, pretty Stella!” The lanky teen tackled me the moment I got in the car. “They never let me drive, and I just got so excited-!”

“Jack, let her go, she’s suffocating.” The body builder turned around, revealing slightly feminine, but quite eye-catching features. Nose piercing, muscles, oozing attractiveness. What a catch, as John and Andy would joke from behind the scenes. “Hi. I’m Zack. Bass. I’d offer you my hand, but…”

I nodded, “Stella, and I think you already know my role.”

“Yeah. What do you know how to play?”

My eyes widened, “A lot.” He quirked his eyebrow, clearly not satisfied with my answer, “Guitar, piano, keyboard, bass guitar, cello, trumpet, bells, tenor, and I know some timpani.”

“No drums?”

I shook my head, “I can, but the beats I’m capable of are relatively generic. I’m not very original without notes to work with.”

“Oh, I get that.” He turned back around as I nodded, stretching out in the confined space.

The ride was swift, filled with music I didn’t care to listen to. I was much too busy listening to Alex’s music and taking notes as we headed-.

Wait, where am I staying, anyways? I wondered, pulling out Pete’s printed note and ignoring the wrinkles I had put into the once-crisp paper. No information as to where I’d be sleeping at night. I whipped out my phone, dialing his number quickly as Alex pulled up to a gas station and declared his car’s need for a refill of fuel (Well thank you for sharing, moron), and Jack voiced his need for a Big Gulp. Zack remained quiet, sitting in the car texting someone. I got out of the car myself, pulling out my phone as Jack towed me into a 7-11, rambling about something I didn’t care to focus on. On the fifth ring, I became slightly worried.

“Yeah?” A hoarse voice answered, clearly busy. I did the math in my head, it was much too early- oh dear god. My suspicions were confirmed by a distant "Who is it, Petey?" Disgusting.

“Pete, is that the only reason you sent me off to Baltimore?” I greeted with a snort, watching Jack absently as he loaded a massive red and white cup to the brim with caffeinated sugar water. I wrinkled my nose as Pete groaned in exasperation.

“Stella.” He muttered with a sigh, clearly irritated. “What the hell do you want?”

“Well if you’re too lazy to check the Caller ID because you and Ashlee want your alone time spent-.” I snickered, only to be cut off.

“Speak now or forever hold your peace.”

“Pete, this isn’t a wedding.” I deadpanned. “I need my hotel’s location, not the kiss of death.” There was an odd silence on the other end. I waited for a moment, supposing he was trying to remember where the hotel was, and its name…

"Stella, can I borrow a few bucks?" Jack asked. I pulled my wallet out of my wallet, ignoring his large, observing eyes as I pulled apart the Velcro and fetched Lincoln's face from the cash. I handed it to him before returning my focus to Pete, nodding as he smiled widely and bellowed, "THANK YOU!"

I almost instantly regretted supplying him with the means of obtaining more caffeine into his system. God knew what could happen.

“Fuck.” That was the hotel’s name? Seemed a bit… I don’t know… Kinky?

“I know you want to get back to your girlfriend, but can you take your mind off of that for just one-.”

“No, not the action, the curse. Fuck, as in I fucked up.”

I gasped, “You didn’t.” There was silence for a brief period, “You have to be kidding me, Pete. You didn’t book me a hotel?! It’s nearing summer, and Baltimore’s a hotspot for tourists. The price-.”

“Oh hell.” I could hear him face palm on the other end of the line, the self-inflicted smack echoing through the speaker.

“No. NO. No! NO!” I started panicking, just as Jack stepped in my line of sight, sipping his drink while slipping his change into his pocket. He watched me intently, thoroughly confused by my incessant pacing as my eyes flickered about and I ran my free hand through my hair. The carefully-straightened hair started to regain its natural waves. “Where the hell am I supposed to stay?! I’m going to beat your ass through this goddamn phone!”

“I don’t know!”

“You can stay with one of us.” Jack shrugged.

I brought the phone down, pressing the receiver against my shirt as I shook my head, “No, no. I can’t be a bother. I’m already hitching rides with you guys.”

“No. It makes perfect sense; it would actually be more convenient.” He shook his head, holding out his hand in silent inquiry. I handed the phone over.

“She’ll stay with Alex.” Jack stated with resolve. All serious, his face determined, no longer sporting a playful expression. “He’s got a guest bedroom- no, his mom was talking about asking her to stay.” Pause. “No, she’ll be able to grasp the band better if she lives with one of us.” Pause. “He’s the lead singer. Of all of us, his character is what’s exuded to the crown the most.” Damn, this boy was good with persuasion. He almost had me convinced to live with that prick for a few months. “He writes the lyrics, too.” Pause. “Yeah, thought so, bye, Mr. Wentz.” He flipped the phone shut. I was mildly surprised: he had given me the impression that he was one of the goofy types, but he’d just been very business-like and serious. I smiled, despite knowing I’d be stuck with that Alex kid for the next month or so.

“You know, for a national nobody, you seem to know how to hold your ground when you’re up against my dad.” I nodded in approval, shooting him a close-mouthed smile, tilting my head up as he suddenly became the silly guy I’d just met again. He handed me my phone.

Jack puffed out his chest, “But we’re hometown heroes.”

"My hero! You've saved me from the streets!" I sighed dramatically, leaning into him. He slung an arm over my shoulders good-naturedly.

"I'll protect you from the evil out there." He said in an unnaturally deep voice. One look at the other and we couldn't maintain our composure.

The two of us laughed before he dragged me outside, startling me as he shoved me at Alex. I stumbled into his side, my reaction time slowed by the potent stench of gasoline and my exhaustion from the red eye. “Looks like you’ve got a roommate, Lexi.”

I snorted at the nickname, because it was just that attractive. His reaction was exceptionally funny. How did one say it? Mortified.