Permanently Yours

“Oh, god, I’m so fucking…” I trailed off, trying to apologize, when I felt more vomit rising up my throat. I staggered a ways away from him, falling to my hands and knees and vomiting on the ground nearby.

He still came over and held my hair up, rubbing my back comfortingly until it was over. “Feeling better, drunk girl?” he teased, pulling me to my feet. He had his shirt in one hand, the other hand holding mine tightly.

“I’m sorry,” I coughed out, grimacing at the burning sensation in my throat.

“We don’t have any Advil, but I found some…oh, my god, are you ok?” the adorable one asked, running over to us from the bus.

The one holding my hand let go to wrap his arm around my waist, draping my arm over his shoulder. “Pat, open the door to the bus.”

“What?...Hey, I don’t need…”

“You can clean up and sleep it off on the bus,” the nice guy offered. And for the first time, I felt that he was shirtless. Be still, my heart.

I’d grown up with Garrett and all his crazy friends. I lived with the Joss twins. I was used to being around guys. Not that I’m a lesbian, just that being around guys all the time makes me feel like I’m one of the guys, like... Oh, fuck it. I don’t make sense when I’m drunk. All I knew was that this guy, whoever he was, actually made my heart pound in a way no guy had before.

And I didn’t like it.

“What’s your name, Mr. Nice Guy?” I asked as he lowered me onto the couch in the front area of the bus.

“Kennedy…What’s yours?”

“Grey.” His name sounded oddly familiar, but Kennedy was a pretty common name.

“Well, Grey, the bathroom’s right here. You can, like, wash up and stuff, ok?”

“Thanks…” I stepped into the cramped bathroom to wash my mouth out and splash cold water on my face in hopes that it would sober me up a little. “I really am sorry about your shirt,” I apologized again once I was out of the bathroom, lying down on the couch.

“We have Tylenol,” the adorable one – his name was Pat – said as he offered me a water bottle and some pills.

“Thanks,” I said gratefully, sitting up to take them. I was feeling good afterwards, but I could be better.

Kennedy glanced down at his watch once he had a new shirt on. “Pat, we should go now.”

“Are you gonna be ok?” Pat asked sweetly, so hesitant to leave me alone. I wanted to give him a big hug, but I had some vomit on my shirt, so I didn’t.

“Yeah, thanks so much, you guys,” I told them as I began to get up, but Kennedy gently pushed me back down.

“You’re welcome to stay here as long as you need, just don’t let anyone else in…”

“I won’t,” I promised, so glad to be lying down on something other than the hard metal of the trunk. “I don’t know your band, but I wish I could come see your set…”

“Just feel better,” Kennedy said with a smile before he and Pat left the bus.

Once I was feeling much better, I decided to explore their bus. They had decorated their bunks with photographs of their homes, and they were nice. From all the cacti, it looked like they were from the southwest. One bunk in particular disturbed me, though.

There was a picture of a little boy and girl on a seesaw…

and that little girl was me.

I left the bus in quite a hurry after that, running to our car – where, thankfully, Sam and Ben were waiting. “Grey! Shit, where the fuck have you been?” Sam asked angrily.

“Let’s go home,” I pleaded, getting into the car.

They sighed, but complied. “Seriously, though, Grey, where were you? We were calling and calling your phone,” Ben added, and his tone seemed like it was designed to guilt trip me.

“Sorry,” I apologized, feeling my pockets for my cell phone…before swearing loudly.

I would leave my cell phone on Garrett’s band’s bus. Fuck!