Status: School's a bitch, and I'm not friends with her sister, so very very slow updates, but it's an active story.
Mile Marks
03
“Rome?” I opened my eyes. “You awake?”
“Now I am.” I was a little annoyed that he’d interrupted my slumber.
He laughed and told me he was going into the grocery store to get food. “Want to come?”
“Yeah,” I said, opening the car door.
We walked into the store which had just opened. “So what are we getting in here? We don’t really have any way to cook, or any money for that matter.”
He looked at me like he had a plan. I should have known he’d have a plan. He was, after all, Alex Gaskarth. “We have enough money to last for a while. I got some from my parents. After that, I brought my guitar. We can play for money.”
“Hate to break it to you, but nobody really knows who you are. Why would they pay you?” I was having second thoughts about this trip. No money, two kids stupid and fearless, and well, no money.
“I’m Alex fucking Gaskarth, Rome. And I’m in All Time fucking Low. People know who I am.”
“People on Myspace maybe, but nobody else.”
“Well, people are going to know who I am, and in the meantime, we can try to play for the little money we’re bound to get.”
“Well, anyways, what are we getting? It’s barely seven in the morning and we’re at a store that has chips, and things that have yet to be cooked,” I looked around at the packages of meat, the vegetables in the produce section, and the snack aisles in the center of the store.
“We need some provisions,” he told me, then led me to the aisle with the macaroni and cheese.
“You sound like you’re going to war,” I chuckled.
“You look like you’re going to a middle school sleepover.” He gestured to my loose Blink 182 shirt, and candy corn pajama pants, and grabbed three packs of macaroni from the shelf in front of me.
“You don’t look much different.” He was wearing red pajama pants and a Yellowcard shirt. His hair was disheveled, and he looked like he’d taken a rollercoaster ride.
“Macaroni, check. Sour Patch, check. Peanut butter, check.” I looked at him with raised eyebrows, silently asking what the fuck he was doing buying macaroni, sour patch, and peanut butter. “What? You can never have too much peanut butter.”
“Why am I friends with you?” I rolled my eyes.
“Because you’re my Rome, and I’m your Lex.”
And that was that.
“Now I am.” I was a little annoyed that he’d interrupted my slumber.
He laughed and told me he was going into the grocery store to get food. “Want to come?”
“Yeah,” I said, opening the car door.
We walked into the store which had just opened. “So what are we getting in here? We don’t really have any way to cook, or any money for that matter.”
He looked at me like he had a plan. I should have known he’d have a plan. He was, after all, Alex Gaskarth. “We have enough money to last for a while. I got some from my parents. After that, I brought my guitar. We can play for money.”
“Hate to break it to you, but nobody really knows who you are. Why would they pay you?” I was having second thoughts about this trip. No money, two kids stupid and fearless, and well, no money.
“I’m Alex fucking Gaskarth, Rome. And I’m in All Time fucking Low. People know who I am.”
“People on Myspace maybe, but nobody else.”
“Well, people are going to know who I am, and in the meantime, we can try to play for the little money we’re bound to get.”
“Well, anyways, what are we getting? It’s barely seven in the morning and we’re at a store that has chips, and things that have yet to be cooked,” I looked around at the packages of meat, the vegetables in the produce section, and the snack aisles in the center of the store.
“We need some provisions,” he told me, then led me to the aisle with the macaroni and cheese.
“You sound like you’re going to war,” I chuckled.
“You look like you’re going to a middle school sleepover.” He gestured to my loose Blink 182 shirt, and candy corn pajama pants, and grabbed three packs of macaroni from the shelf in front of me.
“You don’t look much different.” He was wearing red pajama pants and a Yellowcard shirt. His hair was disheveled, and he looked like he’d taken a rollercoaster ride.
“Macaroni, check. Sour Patch, check. Peanut butter, check.” I looked at him with raised eyebrows, silently asking what the fuck he was doing buying macaroni, sour patch, and peanut butter. “What? You can never have too much peanut butter.”
“Why am I friends with you?” I rolled my eyes.
“Because you’re my Rome, and I’m your Lex.”
And that was that.
♠ ♠ ♠
I made another reference.