I'm Anything You Want Me To Be.

"Iann? It's Garrett.. Ugh, I was hoping I'd reach more than your voice mail. Where are you? I've sent you at least a hundred texts. John's not answering his phone.."

"Shut.. Shut up, Garrett.." I hear groans in reply. As if it's going to stop Garrett from talking into his phone and trying to get to me, though.

"Are you okay? Tell me where you are. Dani told me not to tell you, but she's starting to get worried."

"Oh, so now she's worried." I whine. I take the pillow from under my head and throw it at the general direction of where I hear my phone.

"Please tell me you're safe. The van's missing, I'm taking John took it but where are you? Please call back. Thanks."

"I don't get it, why are they so worried," John asks, still in a groan.

"Maybe they don't want me hanging around you." I mumble the odd possibility of that. But no one but I knew what he meant when he said "Let's get fucked up." last night.

Then my phone rings again.

I grab John's pillow and throw it off.

It doesn't stop the ringing, and soon, my recorded instruction message for the voice mail is sounding again. Then Garrett's exasperated voice almost blares.

"Pat's mom told me you left with John, where are you?!"

"Oh God.. Can someone please shut Garrett up.." I feel him pulling the blanket greedily away from me.

"Riannon Jones, where are you?!"

My eyelids fly open, now being reminded of my name and the last time someone even called me Riannon. Or "Rian--Ohh," or however you wanna put it.

Sunlight. Too much sunlight.

And I'm cold. John fought for the blanket, won, and now I'm cold.

Two pillows on the floor. My phone's still in my jeans. On the floor.

"John." I keep my eyes fixed at the sight of my clothes on the wooden planks as I blindly try to reach for him.

"Quiet.." John hisses tiredly.

"John." I turn around now and yank the part of the blanket he's been holding to his chest with his arms.

"Jones!" he complains.

"John, tell me where we are." I command quickly as I get up.

"Uh," he turns onto his back and covers his eyes with his forearm. "I.. I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?! Where are we, John?!"

"On a bed. In a room. I. Don't. Know." John uselessly adds.

"Shit." I lick my lips as I pick my pocket for my phone. I look at it and see the two voice mails Garrett just left me, then I see the messages he'd left.

He exaggerated, he left only 67 messages. Not a hundred. Garrett would.

I scroll through the inbox and see the preview of each message, all starting with either "hey" or "where are you" or "call back."

I turn around again to see John trying to get comfortable without a pillow.

I can't help noticing how his hair is all messed up though. I have to remember that this is his first time he's gotten sleep in a decent bed for three weeks, and it's mine too.

It's nothing new, seeing him shirtless like this. Besides, why would he sleep with a shirt on?

Though, I find out the real question as my eyes drift over my reflection in the mirror by the dresser.

The real question is: Why am I waking up with his shirt on me?

The real questions: Why is my head throbbing, why is my body aching, and where the fuck am I?

Somehow, this feeling is very familiar. It's something I haven't felt in a while.

Of course, I've woken up hungover plenty of times. The headache was, and will always be the worst part.

But there's this unique combination of that headache with the rest of my body feeling winded, and it takes me a while to realize when else I've felt it.

And realizing when else I've felt this way makes me feel all.. Stupid. How could I even forget for one second what happened last night?

I just slept with John O'Callaghan. Again!

And it may sound like I'm excited, but I'll clarify right now: I am not.

I do feel some sort of adrenaline rush. And it makes me do something I didn't think I was capable of doing anymore: Calm down.

Yes, it's very odd. The adrenaline could make me quick enough to run away, it could make me strong enough to kill John with a simple punch in his gut. But the only thing the adrenaline makes me do is calm down.

I walk over to him and gently shake him up. "John,"

"John what?" he asks in a low, seductively joking but not really, voice.

"Not now." I mutter.

"No, say it." he demands.

"John Ohh." I roll my eyes now and start attempting to shake him up again.

He grabs my wrist and pulls me onto him. "Nah, Jones, you gotta say it like you mean it."

"You gotta make me mean it then." I reply in a quick-witted manner, though I don't know how I just managed to say that without thinking.

"You are perfect." John says slowly, his fingers running up my back under the shirt. "You are so fucking perfect."

"False." I reply. I decide to go into childish teasing though. "The last time I talked with Garrett, he told me you ended up with him in bed." Okay, maybe not 'childish' teasing because this is pretty much R-rated shit. But I go on. "You know what you are? Gay."

"Now, you of all people would know I'm not gay." he whispers after he brings his lips up to my ear, after he puts a stray lock of my hair behind it. "You don't really think John Ohh is gay, do you?"

I pull back, growing almost annoyed of the sensation of his lips ticking my sense of hearing. I got too much of this last night.

"After last night," he says now, though. "You should have to think twice before saying that."

"So you're completely aware of what happened last night,"

"It's not what happened, Iann, it's what we did." he huskily corrects. He starts pulling me in for a kiss.

But when I glance at his lips while I almost oblige to his subtle force, I remember where those lips have been, and I start to wonder if it would be any definition of safe at all to taste whatever is on them.

He senses my doubt the moment it spoofs up in my system and immediately stops.

"You're not gonna leave me again, are you?" I quietly ask.

The hot mood then melts into warm as he slowly shakes his head. "Never again."

"Spring Eight." I say. "Why did you have to leave?"

"Iann, I didn't want to--"

"I'm not asking you whether you wanted to leave or not," I cut him off as if it isn't important to me that it wasn't his choice. "I'm asking you why you had to leave."

"I forgot I wasn't supposed to be at that party."

"Why not?"

"We had to move into studio the next day and we were meeting the producers."

"Jared told me you were recording your first album--"

"Yeah. Our first fucking album. And we were just literally thrown into it so there was no room for any of my screw-ups."

"That's what you left me for," I conclude.

"If it were up to me, I really wouldn't have, it's just.."

"You couldn't let them down, your band mates." I mumble.

He breaks eye contact with me now.

Before either of us could say another word, my phone rings again.

I pry myself out of John's arms and get on my feet. I pick my phone up and answer.

"Iann, thank God--"

"Garrett, I'm fine." I say.

"Are you crying?"

"What?" I shake a no out of my head. "No--"

"You sound like--"

"No, Garrett, I'm fine." I repeat, slowly bringing my hand to my eyes. There are a couple of tears from unknown reasons, but I stop them from flowing and resume pursuing Garrett.

"Do you still want me to come pick you up?" he asks.

I look at John and see that guilt on his face. All that guilt. "Yeah,"

"Where are you?"

I don't bother putting my phone down to ask. "John, where are we?"

"This is my room." he says after looking around, seeming like he'd only realized it now, too.

"John's place."

"John's place.. Are you alright?"

"I'm great."

"Okay. Wait like ten minutes and I'll get over there--"

"What about Dani?"

"She's hanging out with Pat and Jared. I'll come over soon, okay?"

"Okay," I hang up after this.

I pick my jeans up and start putting them on when John stops me, much to my zero expectation.

He grabs my phone from my hand and drops it onto the floor.

I don't know what's driven him to pushing me against the wall and kissing me sloppily. And I don't know what's driven me to not stopping him.

But for once, I feel like a moment of being this close to each other between John and me's not lust-charged. For once, I feel somewhat comforted, knowing that this isn't going on between two unaware drunkasses, that this isn't fueled by alcohol.

And we both aren't afraid of going too far with each other again, and neither of us tries to control the situation.

And we let this happen between us, we let ourselves do this again.

"John? Are you awake? Garrett's outside." an unfamiliar voice informs us from the other side of the locked door.

"What?!" we both hiss.

We haven't even thinned our breaths out-- Heck, all our clothes are on the floor.

"Yeah, in a minute!" John answers as he pushes himself off of me. "Invite him to breakfast, would you, Shane?"

"Yeah, okay. By the way, Pop's asking if you're staying for breakfast--"

"Yeah, I'm staying!" John yells back. He'd thrown my pair of pants at me and he starts putting his own on.

"Wait, your parents are home?" I ask.

"They're upstairs, it doesn't matter." he quickly replies, putting his shirt on. He sniffs at the collar and takes it off again. "Holy shit, I smell like sex."

I don't take time to assess what he's saying because he says it didn't matter that his parents were upstairs. I don't remember much of last night, and my head really is throbbing, but I can piece together most of what happened in this room.

And let me tell you, it wasn't in silence. We were making too much noise, I'm sure.

He's now rummaging through a bureau, frantically checking one of the drawers for a shirt.

"Or you could, just, you know, shower." I suggest, almost sarcastically.

"You're a genius." John walks back to me and takes my face in his hands, then he kisses me. "I think.. I think I could be in love with you." he says nonchalantly, now making his way to the shower with a towel.

"What about me?!" I question.

"Oh, right." He bites his bottom lip as he turns to face me again. "My mother is going to kill me--"

"That is not the main problem right now, John--"

He lets out a laugh.

I realize what he's cackling out about when the words fly off his tongue.

"You said The Maine!"

"John." I sternly say, pretending to be infuriated, when in all honesty, I find it hilarious, too.

"Well, get off my bed!" John requests.

We realize we're both laughing now.

"John?" Garrett's voice echoes from beyond the door this time.

John and I start trying to quiet each other down, but it just seems funnier because we're both trying to hold back laughter coming from somewhere or something we didn't even understand or know.

"Iann?"

"We'll be down in a minute, go grab breakfast with Shane!" John instructs after he successfully pauses his chuckles. He grabs my hand, pulling me up.

Then he drags me to the bathroom.

What he does next, I can't even say is suggestive. Because he just goes on without any permission.

He rips off what's left of my clothes and pushes me into the shower, then he joins me before starting to run the water.

We're both laughing loud and hard now, uncontrollably even, probably because no one can hear us in the shower. We're standing together, naked, in the shower, and laughing our asses off, and it seems like the most natural thing ever.

Then of course, it's not so natural when we start doing things we shouldn't be doing with/to each other in the shower.

We can't help it, though.

"Shit, John, wait." I gently push his wet body away from mine. "I'm hanging out with Garrett today--"

"Ah, fuck Garrett--"

"Can't, I'm fucking you." I joke.

"Fine, fine." He turns the shower off and helps me out. He doesn't even intend to finish up. But he gets me into a towel and I walk into his room with my feet still wet.

"How unfair, you get to change and I don't."

"Your suitcase is right there." He points at the door.

"Oh, thank God." I quickly throw something on and start my way out.

"Wait," John grabs my hand and kisses me again one more time before I go.

"What?"

"I'll see you."

"Yeah, you will." I say, not really sure of what I have to say, if I have to say anything at all. What is one supposed to say anyway when you just had sex in the shower? Or sex at all, it's clearly uncalled for right now. I pick up the pace and speed off.

At the table in the kitchen, I see Garrett with a glass of orange juice.

"Are you staying for breakfast?"

"What?" I turn to the refrigerator where I see someone putting back the OJ carton.

"You staying for breakfast?" he asks again. It takes me a second to think about the way he resembles John. Not the way Jay does, but he's in the gene pool, probably. "Oh yeah, I'm Shane."

"John's little brother?" I guess, even though it's pretty fucking obvious.

He nods. "Are you staying for breakfast?" he asks again.

"No, I'm heading out with Garrett." I reply politely, even though I don't see the point of being polite to someone younger than me.

"Okay, have fun." Shane smiles.

"Yeah, we will." Garrett assures Shane, smiling back. He holds his hand out to me but I don't take it, instead, I follow him as he starts to walk out. Then he finally notices my hair is wet when I get in what he says is Trey's car. "Did you just shower?"

"Uhm, yeah." I answer, choosing my words carefully. "John let me take a shower in his bathroom."

"That's great." Garrett beams at me as we start driving off. "Put your seat belt on." he reminds casually.

I take it and strap myself in.

"Did you spend the night with John?" Garrett asks.

"Uhm, yeah." I answer again.

"Did you have fun?"

"Lots of it," I don't lie.

"What did you two do?"

"Uh," I look down at my nails.

I remind myself where those nails have been, whose back they were clutching onto.

Then I remind myself I have Garrett to answer to right now, and that now isn't the right time to think about the second episode of Drunken Sex with John Ohh from last night. "He was trying to write something with his guitar, I watched. Boring stuff." I tried hard not to lie, but this sounds like something Garrett would buy so I just end up saying it.

"Did you get on anything?"

Sure, I was on the couch, then I was on the bed, then I was on his desk, then I was on the floor, then I was against the wall, the rest of the night I was on top of him. I was on everything, thanks for asking, Garrett.

There is no way I'm even verbalizing that thought. "We tried to look for something to watch on the TV but we ended up just playing catch." I tell him.

"By the way, Dani accidentally packed your toothbrush in her stuff."

Now, this has me remembering what's been in my mouth. Nasty things.

"John gave me some mouthwash," I excuse anyway.

Garrett nods. "Glad you didn't bother his folks much."

"Yeah," I fumble with my hoodie, recalling what John had to do to shut me up.

Though he barely did try to keep me quiet, because he adored every sound I was making.

"Were you okay?"

"Understatement." I say before I can stop myself. It takes me this car ride to think about it. I was more than okay, I was more than great-- I was alive last night, I was ecstatic, I was enthusiastic, I was..

"I'll bet my hat you two had a great time together."

"Yeah." I agree though.

"We are going to have more fun though." Garrett suggests.

Impossible. "Can't wait."