We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together

“Backseat serenade. Dizzy hurricane. Oh god, I’m sick of sleeping alone. You’re salty like a summer day, kiss the sweat away to your radio.”
The drum beat stops, and consequently every instrument after it. “Fuck. I’m sorry,” Cody groans. “I don’t know if I can do this.”
Alex lets out a laugh. “It’s your first time running through the set, man. Don’t stress it. You’ve got two weeks, and Rian’s going to help you out.”
“Yeah, dude. It’s the least I can do for you filling in for me,” Rian chimes in. Cody nods.
“Alright. Let’s try it again.” Alex looks to Cody, and they run through the song

“I wrote that song about you, you know,” Alex informs me. “Backseat Serenade. About getting back together with you.”
I feel my lips tug into a smile. “Really?” He nods. “How many songs have you written about me?”
He shrugs. “Well, we were just about to release Nothing Personal when we started dating, I think. So, that leaves me with Dirty Work and now our album we’re working on now.”
“Did you name it yet?”
“It’s a lot like naming a pet…” We both share a laugh. “So, no.” Our Olive Garden waiter places the salad bowl and a breadsticks in front of us. “But, as far as songs about you…Time Bomb, Daydream Away, and My Only One—that was the last on the album. I wrote it right after we broke up. This new album, though, considering it’s not completed…” He counts on his fingers. “Obviously Backstreet Serenade. I just wrote one over this past tour called If These Sheets Were States.”
“Do I get to hear it soon?”
Alex smirks. “I might make you wait on this one.” I stick my lip out in a pout. “It’s special to me,” he reasons. “For Baltimore is a song I actually wrote last week. Flyzik really likes it and wants it to be a single. I kind of want to show you that song tonight.”
“I can’t believe you wrote that many songs about me.”
He laughs. “I’ve written a lot of songs, babe. Plenty more that will never be heard. Nothing personal.”
My eyebrows perk.
“And you’re not going to work them out of me. Ever.”
We fall into a comfortable silence as we eat our salads until I wonder aloud, “how many songs did you write about Danielle?”
Alex sighs. “I was with her a long time.” I wait patiently as I watch him set his fork down. “I mean, I met her before we made our first album.”
“So, a lot?”
“I guess, but as time progresses, they just turned into serious hate songs. Take Break Your Little Heart and Get Down on Your Knees for example.” Alex shrugs. “There’s one song on this next album about her, but other than that, they’re about you and the history of this band.”
“What song?”
“Paint You Wings. It’s one we’re still working on right now. It’s not entirely done lyrically, either.” He shrugs and then looks at me. “What?”
“I like listening to you talk about your music.”

I pull the straightener through my hair. “You’re sure you want to come out with us tonight?” Alex questions.
I stare at Alex through the mirror. “I didn’t put all this effort into my appearance just for personal pleasure.” Alex rolls his eyes and pulls the straightener from my hands.
“You look great, babe.”
I laugh and take the straightener back after he pulls it through a few strands of his hair. “My boyfriend straightens his hair,” I mumble. Alex laughs and pulls open the bathroom drawer, taking out his toothbrush and toothpaste.
“When’s the last time you even went out to the bars?”
I shrug. “I think that night Cody called you, and you came home. Regardless, I plan on getting more than a little drunk tonight and then coming back and having some crazy drunk sex.”
Alex’s lips tug into a smirk. “I fucking love that.” He pushes his lips to mine.

Come morning, everything on my body hurts. I push myself up from bed, and the room is still spinning around me. “Fucking shit,” I groan resting my head in my hands.
“I’m still drunk,” I hear Alex whine as he rolls over, pulling the blankets over his face. “Ow. What the fuck?” He pulls the sheets down and examines his wrist. “What the hell is this?” I remove my face from my hands and pull his hand towards me.
“Is that a tattoo?”
“That was not there yesterday. What is that even of?” I lift his wrist closer to my face. “Oh my god. Virginia.” I look up at him, and he lifts my wrist into view.
“No fucking way.” I yank my arm back and stare at the silhouette tattoo on my wrist. “I would never get a tattoo! Oh my god! Alex, what the fuck did we do last night?” I quickly stumble out of bed and start collecting clothing to dress myself in. He stares at his tattoo.
“I get it,” he gasps. “It’s Peter Pan and Wendy! You have Peter Pan tattooed on your wrist, and I have Wendy!”
I stop and stare at him. “We got a couples tattoo. Mother fucker.”
Alex laughs. “Jesus, babe. How drunk are you still?”
“The room is spinning,” I answer, stumbling as I tug on a pair of sweats. My foot gets caught in the waistband, and I end up toppling to the ground.
“Fuck, you’re bleeding.” I glance down at my exposed knee and heave out a breath of air.
“I’m actually going to puke relatively soon.” I glance back down at my wrist. “I have a tattoo.”
“Alright, let’s get you to the bathroom…” Alex pulls himself from bed and helps me off the ground.
Jack applauds as Alex and I finally enter the kitchen. “There she is, the woman of the hour!”
“Quiet,” I snap. “My head hurts. Does anyone want to explain to me what I did last night?”
After hearing stories from all four of the boys, concluding with my idea to get tattoos while blackout drunk, the pieces of last night slowly come together. Save for the tattoo adventure and the ‘sexcapades’. Apparently only Alex, Zack, and I partook in the tattooing, and I just wanted to go home with Alex after my sixth shot.
“Oh, don’t forget that chick that hit on you,” Rian chimes in, nudging Jack’s arm with his elbow.
“Yeah! What the fuck?” Jack laughs. “You called her a whore.”
Alex nearly doubles over in laughter. “She did what?!”
“I did what?” I repeat.
“Yeah, you called her a whore because her shirt was low and her skirt was short.”
“Dude, she could have pulled that shirt down lower for all I cared,” Zack chimes in, earning a fist-pound from Jack.
“I literally don’t remember anything after dancing with Alex,” I pout. “I actually want to remember all of this!”
“I don’t. I got cock blocked!” Jack’s face pulls into a pretend pout.
The room rings with laughter. “And I got a fucking tattoo,” I groan.
“You’re still drunk,” Rian states, laughter trickling through his voice.
“Fuck you all.”