What Separates Me From You

July 8th: Detroit, MI.
After Jeremy’s set yesterday, I made myself the busiest person at the venue. I ducked behind tents, lost myself in the crowds, and basically hid in moving trucks while we packed up. Yes, I know it was pretty sad of me to avoid Jeremy, especially when he did say he wanted to talk after his set. He may have wanted to talk, but I sure as hell didn’t.

I came to realize that I wasn’t avoiding him because I was shocked at his words. I was shocked at the lack of mine. I could have said anything. I could say anything. But there was nothing. I didn’t know what to say. Even avoiding him the rest of yesterday and the majority of today, I still didn’t know what to say to him. What I should say to him.

So I made it a point to avoid him at all costs. Childish, I know.

When it was lunch, I rushed over to the food tent to grab food and run back to my hiding place. My plate was quickly covered in food. I reached out to grab a bread stick when all of a sudden a silver shackle closed itself around my outstretched hand. I followed the shackle to see that it was connected to another shackle, which was closed around another wrist. Guess who the wrist belonged to.

“Jeremy McKinnon,” I warned. “You better release me instant or—“

“Or what, Olive Garden?” he teased with a smile. “Or you’ll make an empty threat?”

Oh, God. Stop that smile please. Something inside my chest skipped a beat. What was that? Was that a heart? I had one of those?

I opened my mouth to cue my freak out but Jeremy’s free hand quickly covered mine. “I don’t like how you have been ignoring me. So now, you can’t.”

He took his hand off of my mouth and I glared at him, “Is this your idea of a joke? Because if it is, it’s a really bad one… I’m not laughing. No one’s laughing, actually.”

“Nope,” he replied simply.

“Jeremy McKinnon, I have business to do.”

“So I’ll go with you.”

“You have a set to play.”

“So you’ll go with me.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. Or, well, I tried to. Seeing that it was impossible, I clenched my fists at my sides instead. “Jeremy McKinnon, this is not realistic.”

He ignored me, “Well, Olive Garden, it looks like we’re going to be the best of friends.”

There was no way I could convince him to unshackle me from him. So much to my dismay, Jeremy and I remained locked to each other. He didn’t say much for a while. He mostly just smiled. I think it was because he was enjoying how frustrated I was at doing regular everyday tasks, like folding shirts or giving out cash.

“Jeremy, I need to go to the bathroom,” I complained a little while later.

“Then go,” he replied in a bored voice.

I gave him a look of disbelief, “Anddd, how exactly am I supposed to do that?”

“Go to the bathroom, take off your pants, and do your business.”

“You can’t be serious,” I replied.

“I’m quite serious, babe,” he said removing his gaze from the magazine he had been reading.

“Don’t call me that,” I snapped.

He smiled at me. “Shall we go to the bathroom?”

I glared at him, and returned to half-ass folding shirts, “No, I’ll hold it.”

“Suit yourself,” he said, returning to his magazine.

We must have been a sight to look at. I was there, folding shirts, or at least trying to, and his right arm hung limply as he let me have full control of my left arm. He sat with his chin propped up on his left arm, reading an issue of Alternative Press. Girls and boys of all ages stopped by the tent just to ask Jeremy for an autograph and picture. It was slightly annoying. But he kept turning them down because his writing hand was out of commission, plus his band’s signing was soon.

“I have to go to my signing,” Jeremy said, standing up, causing my arm to be ripped away from the shirt I was working on.

“Well, I don’t want to go to your signing,” I replied cattily and childlike.

“Tough,” Jeremy replied. He didn’t even wait for my response. He walked off in the direction of AP’s tent with me struggling against him.

“No, I don’t want to go,” I argued.

“Tough,” he replied again.

There was already a long line of kids waiting to get something signed by the band. I could feel their stares and chatter. The other guys in the band shook their head at us. Jeremy sat down at his chair and looked up at me.

“I’m going to need my arm,” Jeremy stated.

“Then use it,” I said.

“I can’t if you’re standing there,” he replied.

“Then let me go,” I replied.

“Sit in my lap,” he commanded.

I glared at him, “NO.”

“Too bad,” he said pulling me onto his lap.

“This is ridiculous,” I complained as the band started to sign the belongings of the first few kids in line.

“Shut up, you like it,” Jeremy said. But really, it was ridiculous. I was sitting backwards, my legs straddling Jeremy, while he signed away. Embarrassing is another word I would use. Some people even commented on us. Someone asked if we were dating. I vehemently said no. Jeremy just laughed at me. Someone else had the nerve to tell us to get a room. Jeremy quickly replied before I could get a word in edge wise: “We sure will, bud.” I glared at him after that remark.

When the last of the kids got their stuff signed, Jeremy placed his hands on my butt and carried me out of the tent.

“Jeremy!” I screamed.

“What?” he asked with a smirk on his face.

“Remember what happened the last time you grabbed my butt?” I warned.

“Yeah, but this time you like it,” he replied.

My face flushed red. I ignored his comment, “Where are we going?”

“To the main stage. I have to play a set now,” Jeremy said.

I struggled out of his grip and he let me down. We were at the main stage already. He made a move to go on stage but I held him back. “Seriously, Jeremy. I am not going out there.”

Jeremy stopped and turned to face me completely. He smiled at me, “You know how to set yourself free.”

I tried to cross my arms again and failed, so I returned them to my side, “Oh really, do I now? What do I have to do, Jeremy?”

“Kiss me,” he replied quickly with an even wider grin.

“What?!” I shouted taken aback, “No.”

“Then you’re going on stage with me,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone.

“No. I. Am. Not.” I said, giving him a threatening glare.

Jeremy gave a small laugh, “Alright, I’ll let you go this time. You can just owe me later.”

I watched as he reached for my wrist and clicked a small silver button. My mouth dropped, “I could have just done that the entire time? Press that stupid button, and that I would have been out?”

Jeremy simply smiled at me as I rubbed my wrist. He winked at me and hopped on stage.