Forget About It

"Where the hell where you?" Frances laughed as I strode towards the tent and camping chairs.

"You wish I'd tell you," I snickered, grabbing a blanket out of my tent and cuddling into it. "Did you guys have breakfast yet?"

"No, we have hardly anything left," Mitchell crawled out of the tent, sitting down next to Frances and me. "Like toast and ketchup."

I bood on the non-existing breakfast and my mind quickly thought about the options we had this morning.

Mitchell, Frances and I lit up, waiting on the others to get up before we made our way to a fast food chain on campus. We discussed what we possibly could have to eat and what bands we should see today. It was the last night on the festival and tomorrow we’d leave.

“I really hate how fast these always end,” I huffed sadly.

“Did you shower?” Paula surprised us by stepping out of our tent and suddenly sat down next to us.

I nodded with a grin, “So?”

“Well you weren’t sleeping here last night,” she smiled at me.

“I met an old friend sometime last night annd,” I dragged it out, “well we kinda got lost in things.”

Everyone coed and laughed, they even fucking cheered on it, although they didn’t know I just hooked up with someone famous. With that, Jack ended up on my mind all day.

I didn’t remember full details of the previous night – like what we talked about and what actually went on - but I’m not dumb. I laid naked in his fucking hotel bed! I can add one and one together.
What really got me on a good mood though is that Jack even fucking remembered me. A fan always wants the band to remember her – then again, we don’t want to be remembered as the slut he fucked on that festival.

I sighed; I really needed to get my mind of musicians.