We're Stuck Halfway

Sounds were playing hide and seek with Holly's ears. They would come in, come out. Be loud, and then be soft.

She didn't mind this as she swished the contents of her red cup like a whirlpool. It was a party after all, and even if she didn’t like them, she had to live with it. She was doing it for her best friend.

Of course, being the introvert she was, she disregarded the people who tried to make conversation with her, who looked at her suspiciously. She’d seen a few familiar faces, but she’d stand up and swiftly walk away before she could be approached.

She didn’t want anyone telling him that she was around, so she stayed low, kept her quiet, continued to swish the contents of her red cup mindlessly. She downed it in a matter of seconds and watched the time on her iPhone tick by.

“Ten o'clock,” she told herself, sitting up straighter on the couch. It was a way of getting her to stay, a pep talk for herself. She zipped her phone back into her purse before she could go crazy at how slowly the time passed. “Two more hours and I can get outta this hell hole.”

There was a trio standing next to the couch she was seated on, and one guy must have overheard her because he dared approach her with a smile on. “Hell hole, eh?” He sat down tiredly, keeping a comfortable distance between the two of them.

Initially, Holly wanted to make little to no conversation with anyone, but she figured talking to someone would help the time pass. She allowed herself to make a short conversation with him after checking him out to make sure she didn’t know him.

She didn’t, thankfully. He had those cute brown eyes that made you think of chocolate, a plus, but he had a smile that told you that he wasn't at his best intentions at that moment on.

His smile wouldn’t have bothered her much on normal circumstances, but there was something else about him that made her cautious.

She had this sort of talent; she knew how to tell boys in bands apart from boys not in bands.

This guy? He definitely was.

His body posture gave away everything: he had that overconfidence that screamed out of most band boys whenever they talked to girls. She was horrified for a moment as she processed that he may have figured she was a groupie.

But before she could mention to him that she wasn’t interested in knowing what was going on down there, her mouth talked over her head. “Yes, this is quite the hell hole.” She didn’t know that she was aching to talk to a living being that badly.

“You should dance with me. It might ease your mind off that hellhole term,” he suggested. Holly thought about it. Dancing with the guy didn’t exactly mean she was interested in him. Okay, maybe it did, but she was fairly sure that she’d pick Jesse over any band guy for more than a million reasons.

Moreover, if she didn’t move anytime soon, she’d start getting pins and needles on her legs and the last thing she wanted was to limp across the makeshift dance floor.

So in turn, she accepted his offer, taking his hand in hers. She was kind of disgusted with herself, holding the hand of a complete stranger, but then she thought of Jesse and how he had to make out with women he barely knew for work, so all she did was shrug and go with the flow.

Once they were on the dance floor, doing some swaying-hand-through-hair-not-really-sure-if-they-looked-sexy-or-just-epileptic moves, he finally introduced himself to her, “I'm Cameron, by the way. And I don't think you know my band- much less who I am based on the way you act around me,” he chuckled. “It’s quite refreshing. You’re not a… uh…”

Holly beamed at him, feeling great as she loosened up her muscles. “Oh no, of course not! If I were interested in only getting into your pants, I’d know not only your name and your band, but also your sexual orientation, birthday, address and favorite Ben & Jerry’s ice cream flavor.”

He looked at her as if she had told him that she was born on Saturn, an amused grin playing on his lips. “Well then, I’d love to meet your definition of groupie because a tub of Half Baked would win my heart right now.”

She laughed, liking that he got her sense of humor. By then, she was starting to perspire, and she noticed the beads of sweat forming on Cameron’s forehead as well, so she prodded him to the side of the room. He was still looking at her weirdly, and she silently hoped he was gay, to avoid hard feelings when he’d find out she had a boyfriend.

“I haven’t seen you around here before,” he stated, cocking his head. He was still smiling. Holly’s heart started to ache for him. She decided to not tell him that she had a man in her life already. “You must be friends with some guys on tour, then?”

Before Holly could think of a quick lie, a few people hollered from behind him, where the main hall was. She stood on tippy-toes to catch a glimpse of whatever was happening from over Cameron’s shoulder. There was no use since Cameron was too tall for her. Damn, he was probably six foot two.

Even if her heart was starting to beat rapidly, she kept her face calm, trying to be into the conversation. “You never told me the name of your band.”

Cameron was answering her, but she couldn’t seem to hear him. All of sudden, the only voices she could hear were from people standing feet away. A deep laugh, a rich, Sour Patch Watermelon laugh made her nauseous.

He was here.

Her head started pounding, accompanied by a million butterflies in her stomach.

It was impossible.

At the same time it was entirely possible that for the first time in too long his voice reached her ears because he was standing not ten feet away from her. And his laugh sounded exactly the same.

“Earth to- holy shit I don’t even know your name yet?” Cameron waved in front of her face, looking behind him as if she could actually see what was happening. She was glad that she didn’t.

Without even thinking, Holly answered with ‘Bob,’ openly telling him that she needed to ditch him for the bathroom. She tried her best to listen to his answer, but the only thing she actually comprehended was, “My band’s We Are the in Crowd, so you’ll know where to find me, Bob.”

She smiled at him miserably, hoping she didn’t look half as bad as she felt. Her emotions were everywhere. She was sad for leaving Cameron without telling him her name or that she had a boyfriend, mad at Charlie for bringing her into this mess, mad at Harry – Jerry – Perry – whoever hosted this party, mad at herself for being so vulnerable, mad at him for being such a pain in the ass, mournful over their past relationship, happy because… she had Jesse.

Out of everything that had happened to her, meeting Jesse was what kept her going. She reminded herself that if things had gone differently in the past, she wouldn’t have wound up next to him at that bar in L.A., ranting about best friends and trying to defend The Stones as he compared them to The Beatles. She thought of that first quirky conversation, his tentative call the next day to ask how she was dealing with her own hangover.

She recalled how Jesse managed to charm her parents at once despite their remarks of distaste for actors and the Hollywood industry beforehand. How he was the first guy among all her cousins’ boyfriends to receive words of approval from her uptight grandmother during the reunion she was so terrified of attending.

She kept these in her mind as she crossed the pathway to the bathroom, blinking her eyes rapidly as she heard his laugh again, though faintly.

Long gone were the images of Jesse. She could only think about her former love’s 3AM texts and his scrambled, broken thoughts that shouldn’t have made sense but they did to her because they had this connection that shouldn’t have been made possible for two living humans on this damned planet.

She heard his laugh in her ears as he picked her up from her bed only to push her against the wall desperately because he missed her after two weeks of being apart. His sniffles as she kissed his temple because his dog died and no one else understood that he didn’t like it when people said ‘sorry for your loss,’ because they never meant it because they didn’t know anything.

She felt the whisper of kiss linger on her lips before he murmured “I love you,” for the first time against her and

Oh

She banged her head on the door as soon as she was inside the bathroom, her miserable tears rolling down fast against her cheeks. Only when the door was locked did she realize that she’d been holding her breath.

Only she wasn’t.

She couldn’t breathe.

She fell down to the ground, her back still against the door, hyperventilating and struggling with the purse she held in hand, emptying it of its contents and scrambling onto the floor to look for the paper bag she so desperately needed to exhale into.

She hadn’t had a panic attack for so long. Without Jesse around, she was an open wound still bleeding all over the tiled floor.

The tears were cold droplets that stung her face and she wiped them away furiously, agitated with the whole situation. She couldn’t comprehend what to do because he was here. He was so near and Jesse so, so far away and halfway was a brick wall threatening to crumble down.

“Open up, please! I need it really badly!”

Holly jolted up from the tiles, causing her head to spin for a few moments. She felt like shit. She didn’t even know how long she’d been in here, but she knew that it was far too long for her sanity to keep itself together.

The voice called again, and she contemplated telling them to fuck off, but before she could do so, they shouted, “Please! I beg of you! I really need the bathroom. I have five bucks here. Or, fuck, a free ticket to my band’s next concert, please!”

Holly almost had a heart attack. The voice sounded familiar. So familiar. Too familiar.

“Don’t you like The Maine?” Kennedy asked. Holly almost fell to the floor again. Out of all the people who could disturb her peace and quiet, it had to be one of his band members. He pounded on the door once again. “Fuck! I’ll buy you shit; I just really need to get my own shit out.”

Karma was a bitch, she knew. Was she getting it for not telling Cameron a single thing about her? She quickly gathered her things, letting her hair free of the elastic band. There was nothing left to do but go home. If she stayed, Kennedy or another guy from the band would notice and it wasn’t time to wonder if they’d hug her or punch her or tell her to stay away from their home state.

Most of all, she didn’t want to face him.

As the banging on the door intensified, Holly took a deep breath and draped her hair over her face. She didn’t bother to zip up her purse as she swiftly unlocked the door and sidestepped Kennedy.

It was only her luck that he seemed to care more about pooping than giving away a free ticket to his next show.



Charlie was having a pretty amazing conversation with Alex Gaskarth. It all started with a 'Wow, this party sucks, doesn’t it?' to wanting to get out of the house, to making out, and then to finally introducing themselves.

Earlier, she promised herself to not kiss him before properly introducing themselves to each other, but she wanted to, and Alex wanted to. He was a manslut, and, she was, well, a slut. They were a perfect match.

It wasn’t like she was used to being addressed to as one, but the first time she was called one was when she was in high school, so it wasn’t new to her as well. She accepted it, and acceptance was always the first step to change.

They were talking about Arizona vs. Maryland by the time they were bothered again. Holly, one of Charlie’s favorite people, though on top of her to-kill list at that moment, tapped Alex on the shoulder, blinking her big grey eyes at him. “Hi, may I please, please, please borrow Charlie for a moment? I wouldn't take long, I promise,” Holly pleaded, smiling sheepishly. Alex shrugged, smiling as well. He stepped away from Charlie and walked over to a few guys, but not before slapping her butt playfully.

She got tingles all over.

She lost track of what was happening only for a brief moment because she had her claws out in an instant, with a snarl directed at Holly. “Please tell me that this is really, really important.”

Holly spread her hands irritatingly. “I honestly think that anything is far more important than talking about breasts with a guy you fancy.” She rolled her eyes. “Really, Char?”

Charlie took a deep breath, smiling at Holly as if she wouldn’t enjoy skinning her best friend in that instant. “I was not explaining the anatomy of a woman’s body to Alex, mind you. I was explaining haboobs, as in desert sand storm winds Arizona lingo type of haboobs.” She threw her hands in the air. “Look, if you’re here to judge me for trying to have an at least decent conversation with him, please go because I already feel inferior enough.”

Holly looked uncomfortable. “I just-”

“I know you’re still coping with the long distance and you and Nickelsen being in the same state again,” Charlie continued, not hiding the distaste in her voice when she said the name of the guy who broke her bestie’s heart. “But like you, I’m coping and I have a feeling I’ve found the one guy who makes me feel less threatened.” She swallowed, flitting her eyes away from Holly’s. “I’ve never been this comfortable talking to a guy since Pat.”

That was when Holly flinched, and she touched her fist to her lips. Something was wrong. Charlie was about to question her when she said, “It’s really funny that you mention him because he’s here right now.” She sighed. “The whole band is in this same house at this very moment.”

Those two sentences made Charlie’s legs feel like Jell-O. Jerry told her, assured her even, that The Maine would not show up. She asked him a million times and he always shrugged it off and told her not to worry and – he should’ve at least warned her!

And then slowly she realized that she turned off her phone while making out with Alex in the garage since someone kept on ringing her.

Holy shit.

Holly was looking at her with expectant eyes. They were going to have to ditch the party, but… Alex. She back glanced at him, fondly watching the man with the pink hair as he laughed and talked with the people around him.

“I’m sorry. Can I take two minutes to say bye?” Her eyes were still on Alex, so she couldn’t mask her surprise when Holly held her hand.

“I’m sorry, too. I’ll be waiting in my car.”



Garrett chuckled discreetly, watching as the girl who was oh so, so intent on seducing John tried to stroke his face. She was so close to straddling the poor guy, and that was the signal that she’d crossed the line with him.

He felt sorry for her, though, knowing all too well that John had eyes for one and only one girl, as Garrett himself was.

Life had been good to him, throwing in accomplishments and a bittersweet love he very much enjoyed.

His relationship with Selina was kind of unconventional.

He met her on his tour bus ‘cause she was forced to hang out with her friend who happened to be one of the lucky ones to get a tour of the place. He made some pointless chitchat with her at first, friendly talk, but that soon escalated into following each other on their blogs and texting and just taking all the time.

He was still confused that year about every single thing, so he couldn’t exactly make a move on her, but he eventually did a year and nine months later, meeting up in NYC before his show, grabbing a snack together.

She was mesmerizing. At first glance, he didn’t really think anything of her, no love at first sight crap, but when they talked – it was when the sparks flew.

Many of his friends commented on how ‘she didn’t seem his type,’ but he shrugged them off his shoulders, replying that only he knew what kind of girl he’d be attracted to.

Obviously, his friends were basing his taste on his ex-girlfriend, the perfect rich girl down-the-block that everyone liked, who had flawless tan skin and a million buck smile with known parents and an A on almost each of her papers. Was she perfect? Certainly. At first.

He decided that he didn’t want perfect. He wanted lanky tall and extremely pale and living in an apartment. He wanted quirky yet still amazing. He wanted someone who wasn’t perfect, but perfect in his own eyes. Selina was just that, and he loved her for it.

His previous girl was perfect all over, but when he wasn’t around, things got sketchy.

Unlike her, Selina was able to maintain a long distance relationship with him. She was contented with their phone calls and their Skype chats and their Facetimes – they were attached to each other, but it didn’t mean they had to be physically all over each other all the time.

The thoughts of her made him uncontrollably happy as he took a few swigs of the beer bottle, relaxing more comfortably on the couch he was sitting on.

But his happiness was disrupted when someone came running from the far side of his vision, running towards him. The figure turned out to be Kennedy, the rhythm guitarist in his band. He smirked, looking up at him. “Some girl running after you?”

It turned out that Kennedy was not in the mood for jokes because he fumed. “Not now, Nickelsen.” He threw a tiny notebook down on Garrett’s lap. “You need to see this.”

Garrett eyed Kennedy cautiously, wondering if he already had too much to drink thirty minutes into the party. Kennedy nodded at the notebook impatiently, so Garrett had no choice but to put the beer down on the ground next to his feet.

He tensed up as he realized how familiar the notebook seemed.

But it couldn’t have been hers.

Could it?

He took a shaky breath as he slowly, carefully flipped it open to the first page, anticipating the worst.

It was in her script.

Her cursive.

But seeing it was nothing compared to how he felt as he read the poem, written in black ink with a few drops of what he was too scared to assume smudging the first few lines.

Garrett stopped breathing, hearing but not listening to Kennedy say, “She's here. I knew that girl hurrying out of the restroom looked familiar. She’s back in Arizona.”