Four Corners and Two Sides

It was apparent that everyone was antsy over the second to last day of Warped. I woke up, at 6 am, to the sound of Mitchell banging on something. I couldn't figure out what, until he whipped open my bunk curtain, and I heard the familiar clang of a steel pot.
"Rise and shine, you beautiful bitch!"
"Really?" I covered my whole head with a pillow. "We dawn haff do blee uh uh dil wine."
The snap of the next bang on the pot with the spoon made me jump, and my ears were ringing. I figured it was going to be a bad day by what I was up against, but I was looking forward to a pleasant morning. Could always count on Mitchell for stress induced baldness.
"What was that!" He screamed.
I threw off the pillow, chucking it as best as I could at his large head. He laughed and leaned out of the way, barely missing.
"I said we don't have to be up until nine."
"But we're giving you a makeover."
"No?"
"Yes."
"What is the reason for this?" I stretched, loving the feel of my joints being jostled.
"I saw her," he hopped on me, growling in my ear.
"Please stop, oh my god," I whined, hoping for any type of normalcy before Washington. "Saw who?"
"Katelynne."
My body froze at the sound of her name, once again feeling that ache in the pit of my stomach. Mitchell noticed and quickly stood up, leaning over me to grab his "instruments".
"She's hot."
"Whose side are you on?" I gave him my best death glare, but he just chuckled at my sudden hostility.
"Yours, obviously. But I'm a guy. I just say it like it is. He'd be crazy to pick you over her for looks."
"Mitchell, you're such an asshole." I felt my cheeks burn, with jealousy. I could picture her in my head, clear as day. Long hair, tattoos maybe, lean legs, tall, thin. Kellin could have any girl he wanted, so why wouldn't he go with perfection?
"I'm joking!" He nudged my arm playfully, snapping me back to my own pitiful state. "If I had a dildo for every time somebody called me an asshole, I'd have a million dildos right now."
I sat up slowly, brushing through my mangled hair. On top of bad breath, I probably looked like a truck full of garbage smacked me right in my face.
"Just curious, how many do you have right now?"
"That's fucking personal, Eliza. How dare you?"
"I was just wondering, jesus christ," I huffed, crossing my arms. We exchanged smirks and he lightly tapped on the pot with his fingers.
"So get your little butt out of this bed, I'm picking out your outfit."
"Nope, I need Sanders."
"Why?" Mitchell whined, stomping his feet. What a baby.
"Because he is the fashion guru in our band. He always looks good, even in his sleep."
"You watch him sleep? Wow, I'm going to go tell him!"
Mitchell skipped away before I could grab his shirt, leaving me alone, distressed, irritated, a little sleepy. I could debate in my head forever on whether I would say something to Katelynne or not, but I had to make a choice this morning. Thousands of things could go wrong today. I could end up with a black eye. I could start over with Kellin (yeah, right). He chooses me over her. She lets him go. I could end up face to face with Katelynne and we'd become friends, or something weird like that. I wished that he would just leave with her already, and pretend nothing happened. But it was never easy on Warped Tour. I learned that the hard way. And I could never let them walk away without giving her some piece of me.
And so I had my answer. I gave one last good stretch, and prepared for a wrath of mystery. I traveled to the living room, in search of Sanders and his good taste.