Girls Do What They Want

Carter's POV
The guys' set was flawless, as usual. I had to admit, they were actually extremely talented musicians. I already knew all the words to all their songs and memorized their set. But that just happened when you managed a successful pop punk band.
"Denny's! Denny's! Denny's!" Pat and Garrett chanted loudly as we exited the venue. I chuckled, hugging my cardigan closer to my petite frame.
"So it's understood that you guys are staying on the bus tonight, correct?" Kennedy asked John and I as we walked out of the venue, side by side. It was rare that we were actually standing next to each other without witty comebacks being thrown at each other. Maybe it was because John was tired or something and didn't have the energy to insult me.
We nodded.
"Okay, we'll be back in like an hour. Do you want us to bring you back anything?"
We both shook our heads.
"Alright, don't sound too excited, guys," Kennedy joked. "See you guys later!"
We all said out good-byes to guys as we entered the tour bus. I sighed, laying down on the "couch" and kicking off my wedges.
"So..." John said awkwardly.
"So..." I imitated. "You guys were good tonight."
"Thanks."
I furrowed my eyebrows. "What's up with you? No clever insult? No 'you're a bitch, Carter, stop talking to me'?"
John shrugged. "What I said to you earlier today was really immature and fucked up, Carter. I'm sorry for calling you a bitch, and I'm sorry for everything else I said to you that was messed up."
My jaw nearly dropped at John's apology. "John... what is wrong with you? You're never this nice!"
"Like I said, what I told you was immature. I should be nicer to you."
I looked at John skeptically. "Are you trying to have sex with me?"
"No, Carter. Why can't you just accept that I'm trying to be civil with you?"
I was quiet for a moment. "Sorry."
"It's okay," John replied. "Carter... can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"Why are you... y'know, professional all the time? I mean, sure, fifty percent of the time you're just a regular chick but you're all about business the other fifty percent of the time. It's like there's two of you." John said, sitting down across from me.
I laughed. "It's my job, I have to be professional sometimes. I've spent the last five years of my life as the executive manager of Fearless Records, bringing in over $75,000 a year. All I've ever known is being the boss of everybody in an office, where everyone's scared of me and bows down to me. Obviously I left that whole boss ego back at the offices but I've always been professional, John. That's just who I am."
John was quiet for a moment, as if he was hesitant to reply. Finally, he opened his mouth.
"I like it better when you're not being professional. I think that we would have a better chance of getting along if you weren't so serious sometimes. You shouldn't take life seriously, Carter. You only have so many days, you know." John told me, his greenish hazel eyes flickering between the floor and me.
I thought about what John said. "I guess you're right."
"Of course I'm right," John said, smirking. "I'm always right."
I rolled my eyes. "So are we really just gonna hang out in this stupid bus all night?"
John shook his head. "Of course we're not! I saw a bowling alley a few blocks down though. Wanna go?"
I thought for a moment. The guys said they were gonna be back in an hour.
"We're not gonna be back in an hour." John said, reading my thoughts.
"I don't know, John..."
"Come on, Carter. We'll be back in what, a half an hour later? It's bowling. I'm not gonna make you get drunk and fuck me or something." John said, crossing his arms over his chest.
I sighed. "Fine. Lemme get changed."
John smirked and I rolled my eyes, grabbing my suitcase and going through it. I went into the bathroom and slipped on a pair of skinny jeans and a plain white tee shirt. I put my Converse on and John rolled hie eyes as I exited the bathroom.
"What?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.
"Don't you ever wear anything other than black and white?"
"We've been through this before, John." I sighed, grabbing my wallet and keys. "Can we go?"
"Nope," John smirked. "We can leave when you change your shirt."
"I'm not changing my shirt, John."
John shrugged, putting his hands behind his head. "Suit yourself. I'm sure you want to spend another two hours in this lovely tour bus with your favorite person in the world."
I scowled, stomping back over to my suitcase. I slipped on my Tom Petty shirt, orginially meant for pajamas. It also happened that John owned the same one.
"Can we go now?" I asked.
John grinned, nodding his head and getting up. "Let's get out of here, doll face."
I rolled my eyes, walking down the street side by side with John.
"So where's this bowling alley?" I questioned as I noticed the upper corners of John's lips inching upward.
"There is no bowling alley," He said. "We're going to the bar."
"John O'Callaghan, I'm not going to a bar with you!" I exclaimed.
"Look Carter, we're so close to becoming friends. Can't you just shut your mouth and enjoy your night with me? It's not like we're gonna get shit-faced or anything. I never get drunk without Garrett. It's a sacred rule."
"John, I don't want to go to a bar with you. You lied to me and you always act like a douchebag when you're around me. I'd rather stay on the bus, thank you very much." I said to him, crossing my arms over my chest.
John chuckled dryly. "Carter, you're such a bitch, you know that? The only reason why I even tried becoming friends with you is because we all know that you have such high power at Fearless and can try getting us dropped. That's why Jared, Garrett, Pat, and Kennedy are friends with you. They don't even like you Carter, they're just afraid that you're gonna try to get us off Fearless. That's how much of a bitch you are."
My jaw dropped. They thought I would do that? That's why they were so nice to me?
"You're lying." I whispered, the cold air beginning to bite at my skin. "They wouldn't do that."
John rolled his eyes. "Carter, you've known us for what, a month? You don't know what they would and wouldn't do. The only thing that we care about are our fans and music. We don't care about being professional. And that's the only thing you care about. You came out of fucking nowhere. Come on Carter, think about it."
I shook my head. I felt like I was going to cry -- and I never cried. And I certainly wasn't going to cry over John O'Callaghan and his little entourage.
"This whole band is better off without you, Carter. We never asked for a new tour manager and we sure as fuck never wanted you to be our tour manager." John added.
"I should've known." I said, shaking my head in disbelief. "I'll see you around, John."
I began walking in the other direction towards the tour bus. I heard John laugh.
"See you around, bitch." He called out.
Tears began streaming down my face. The feeling of being unwanted was new to me. I actually thought that being The Maine's tour manager wasn't that bad, and that it was just John that was a douchebag. Now I knew that all of them were douchebags.
I stormed into the tour bus, slamming the door behind me. I grabbed my suitcase and started throwing all my things into it. I didn't want to see The Maine or have anything to with them. Within two minutes, I was packed and ready to go. I retrieved my phone from my pocket, dialing Avery's phone number. She instantly answered.
"Where the fuck have you been?!" She immideatly yelled into the phone. "I haven't heard from you in weeks! I thought they killed you!"
"No, I'm still alive, Avery." I replied in a monotone voice. "I'm coming home."
"What? Why? You still have another month and a half to go!" Avery exclaimed in a worried tone.
"I can't stay here anymore, Ave. The guys are douchebags and total dicks. I should've never come on this tour in the first place. I don't care if I lose my job at Fearless, I can't be on this tour anymore." I told her, walking off the bus with my suitcase in my hand.
There was a pause. "When are you coming home?"
"Now," I replied. "I just packed up all my shit and I'm gonna get grab a taxi to get to the airport."
"Are you sure about this, Carter? Geller is going to be so pissed and he's probably gonna fire you if you come home. I doubt that they're that bad..." Avery said, her voice trailing off.
"Actually Avery, you have no idea. The lead singer is the biggest dick of them all. They were just being my friends because they thought I would get them dropped if they weren't nice to me. I don't fucking care about my job anymore, I just want to go home."
Avery sighed into the phone. "Fine. Do you want me to tell Geller or are you gonna do that?"
"I'll do it when I get home. I'll see you in a few hours, okay?"
"See ya soon."
The line went dead and I stormed out of the tour bus. I walked across the street, looking up the nearest airport on my iPhone. My eyes were glued to screen when I heard a familiar voice.
"Carter!"
I turned around to see -- just my luck -- the guys walking down the street.
"Carter, what the fuck?!" Garrett exclaimed, pointing to my suitcase. "You're doing laundry without us?!"
I rolled my eyes. "Cut the act, Nickelsen. I'm going home."
All the guys' jaws dropped.
"What? Why?" Pat asked.
"John told me why you guys were really being nice to me. Thanks, really. I would've rather you guys be assholes to me than pretend that you like me." I replied, continuing to look for an airport.
"Carter, what are you talking about? We love you!" Jared exclaimed, confused looks on all of their faces.
"Really? Because that's not what John said."
There was a pause. Then Kennedy opened his mouth.
"What exactly did John tell you, Carter?" Kennedy asked.
"He told me that you guys were only being friends with me because you were concerned I was gonna tell my boss to drop you off Fearless." I answered in a monotone voice.
"That's not true!" Pat yelled, his eyes widened. "Carter, that's not true. We promise."
"How the fuck do I know that? John looked pretty damn serious when he told me." I said, crossing my arms over my chest.
"Carter, it's not true. When John's pissed, he just spits stuff out. We love you. You're a really cool girl." Jared tried, desperation in all of their faces.
"Bullshit." I muttered.
"Carter... this is all my fault," Kennedy said, everybody looking at him in confusion. "I was tired of you and John fighting all the time and John being so rude to you. So I told him that he had to start being nice to you because you had a really high power at Fearless and could get us dropped. I didn't think that this would happen, I mean I don't know if that's true or not but that's not why we're friends with you. I--I'm really sorry, Carter. I was just pissed that John was so rude to you all the time."
I looked at Kennedy, crossing my arms over my chest.
"I don't need your sympathy, Brock. I could care less if that asshole was mean to me." I told me, my teeth gritted together.
"Please don't go, Carter," Kennedy begged. "I'm so sorry. I just felt bad. We're all your friends here. We love you and need you here with us."
I looked at all of the guys. They all had concerned looks on their faces.
I sighed. "I'll stay until we get to California. When you guys play your show in Anaheim, I'm off. I can't deal with your drunk asshole of a singer."
All the guys smiled softly, a look of relief on their faces.
"Where is John anyway?" Garrett asked.
"Getting drunk."