Far From Home

In the deep depths of my dream, I was running. It was dark, and I wasn’t exactly sure what it was I was running from, but I ran anyway. Voices shouted from all directions, telling me my fate was growing near. I fell to the ground, unable to move, unable to escape. The darkness drew closer, and I closed my eyes and prepared for the worst.

I woke up in a cold sweat, breathing heavy, and clinging to some material, while my head rested on something hard, yet comfortable. I shifted and found myself lying on a couch with Danny, fast asleep, lying next to me, with my head on his chest and his shirt in my fist.

I racked my brain, trying to remember what happened last night. All I remembered was spilling my life story to Danny, and afterwards, he hugged me tightly until I fell asleep.

I looked up at him, his dark brown hair in a wild disarray. Pulling myself upward, I planted a small peck on his cheek. He shifted in his sleep, but did not wake. In my mind, I kicked myself for kissing him. He’s a married man, and twice my age! A small part of my brain said to be ashamed, but it was blocked out by the part of me that was falling in love with him. No! This can’t be happening.

I had to find one of the other guys, I could fall in love with any of them, but not the only one that’s married. Unless, of course, another one of them is married, but that’s highly unlikely.

I carefully slid out of his arms and stood, sticking my arms out in front of me to feel my way around in the darkness.

Just when the memory of the other guys going out last night went through my mind, my feet hit something hard and I stumbled forward, and a loud groan came from under me. I tried my hardest not to scream, but began feeling for what I had fallen on. A body? “Jesslynn, you’re getting awfully touchy…,” George moaned. “Oh my gosh I’m sorry! But what in the world are you doing on the ground?” I asked. “I’m looking for that damn midget that stole my Easter eggs, fuck off.”

I almost responded to this load of nonsense, but instead just patted him on the back, wished him luck, and got up off of him. Walking slowly and silently, I made my way to the back of the bus, which was silent and dark, so I had no way of knowing if the rest of the guys were here or not.

Switching on the bathroom light, I immediately checked my bruise in the mirror. It was slowly beginning to fade. My hair was still a dirty, nappy, mess, but I honestly didn’t care at the moment. Just as I went to exit the bathroom and find a place to fall back asleep, Matt appeared in the doorway.
“You can’t sleep either?” He asked, smiling as he ran a hand through his hair. “Bad dream…,” I muttered, looking away out of post-waking low self confidence. He took me by surprise by running a hand below my chin, pushing my face up to face him, then brushing my cheek with the back of his hand.

“Why don’t you come with me, and you can tell me about your nightmare,” he whispered, his voice sounding as seductive as possible for a male human. I stopped breathing, unable to comprehend what my response should be. “Erm…,” was all I could manage.

I couldn’t tell him no, because I really DID want to go. But I was more afraid of what would happen if I did go with him. What if I couldn’t control him?

He laughed that cute laugh of his, then leaned down and kissed me. The room seemed to spin, and I wanted to push him off, scold him for kissing me without warning, but I couldn’t bring myself to do so. I didn’t want to fall in love with Danny because he was married, but I also didn’t want to fall in love with really any of the guys. I knew it would only lead to heartache, yet here I was, having total lip lock with the drummer.

He pulled back and I began staring at my feet. “You’re drunk aren’t you?” I asked, looking him in the eyes. “Well, I can’t say I’m sober, but I’m not like George,” he said, nodding toward the living space. I couldn’t help but laugh as he drew me near. “Come with me,” He whispered. I probably should have said no. I definitely shouldn’t have followed. But I did, and I didn’t have an ounce of regret.