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When I woke up in the morning it took me a couple of seconds to work out where I was. John’s unpainted walls confused me and for a brief panicked second I thought I’d woken up after a disastrous one night stand or something, before the door swung open a little and John’s familiar head poked in.

“Oh, good, you’re awake now.”

I scrambled upright, pushing the covers away from my chest. “I wasn’t before?”

“No, you looked pretty wiped so I left you to it.” He moved more into the room and I realised he was holding a mug, which he handed to me. “Have some coffee. Freshly brewed.”

‘Thanks.” I let the steam wash over my face, inhaling the earthy smell eagerly. The mug burned my fingers, but I kept them curled around the side, liking the discomfort for some reason. I felt the bed dip as John sat down on the end. He’d put on a shirt this morning, thankfully, just a plain loose grey t-shirt; a low V-neck which showed off his tattoos. He gave me a lazy smile. I wondered if it would be easier if it were John and I who liked each other. If Garrett and Hannah didn’t exist it wouldn’t be difficult to fall for John with his perfect smile and his poetry and his good looks. Impossible now, of course, but still, the fantasy seemed appealing to me in that moment, because in that universe I wouldn’t have to talk to Garrett about what happened the night before. In the fantasy a relationship with John would be easy, whereas in reality even friendship with Garrett was looking difficult.

As if he could read my mind, John raised his eyebrows at me. “So, you ready to talk?”

“It’s stupid,” I muttered, “I don’t even understand why we’re fighting.”

“It’s not stupid if it’s upsetting you.”

I clutched the mug tighter, feeling the hot liquid stinging me through the china. “You know, it’s kinda about you.”

“Me?” I could hear the surprise in his voice. “I thought you explained that we never-“

“I did, it’s just now Garrett knows we’re just friends he thinks I prefer you over him or something dumb like that.”

“Maybe he thinks that you have good taste,” he joked.

“John.”

“Sorry. What exactly did you say to him?”

“That you were easy to talk to and that there was some stuff I couldn’t talk to him about – obviously.”

“Brandy, he’s not gonna understand that. You know Garrett gets, like insecure or shit sometimes.”

“I said some shit about Rhiannon too,” I mumbled, and John sighed.

“I can talk to him if you like?”

I shook my head quickly. “No, he’ll just think I set you up to it at the moment. I need to talk to him myself first.”

John shrugged loosely. “Maybe you’re right – I mean obviously I’m a sore subject at the moment. But you have to talk to him soon Brandy. For yourself and Garrett, but also, I don’t wanna sound harsh, but this can’t mess up The Maine. I really don’t want Garrett hating me. ”

“He doesn’t hate you. And Garrett’s more mature than that, John.”

“Yeah, I know, I know.”

I drained the rest of my coffee and then climbed out of bed. The sweatpants John had lent me kind of swamped my small frame. There was at least a foot of extra material at the bottom, so I leant down and rolled them up neatly so I could walk without tripping. John watched me and sniggered.

“What?”

“Nothing. You just look like a kid that’s stolen your older brother’s clothes or something.”

I rolled my eyes. “Shut up John-oh.”

He long limbs unfolded as he pushed himself off the bed and he picked up my empty coffee cup, still chuckling. “You want me to drive you home? You can keep the clothes and give them back later.”

“You sure?”

“Totally. Just talk to Garrett, okay?”

“I will do. Thanks for letting me stay, John.”

He patted me on the head awkwardly, although I knew his affection was sincere. “Not a problem darlin’”

Xxx

‘The next episode will play in 30 seconds…’

I considered getting up from the couch and shutting the tv off, but it was just too easy to sit there and continue doing nothing, to put off life for another episode of Orange Is The New Black. I glanced at my phone lying on the cushion beside me and picked it up again, taking a breath and dialling his number. This time it only got to one ring before the answering machine kicked in. Garrett had pressed decline.

The next episode was beginning, but I couldn’t focus on the dialogue on the screen. The messages I’d sent Garrett, begging him to pick up his phone, stared back at me unanswered. If he wouldn’t talk to me then I couldn’t apologize or explain. It was like hitting a brick wall, and I couldn’t help but feel I deserved it.

I was nearing the end of the episode when my message alert sounded, making me jump. I snatched my phone up, simultaneously praying it was Garrett whilst being terrified of what he might have to say. But the message was short and blunt.

‘Can’t talk now. Busy. Will ring you later mb.’

The full stops were pretty good at showing how annoyed Garrett was because he never used them. And they stung. I switched off the tv mid-sentence. Either Garrett was lying and he wasn’t busy and he was just avoiding me purposefully, or he actually was busy but was still angry with me. I hoped it was the second one and grabbed my car keys of the hook in the hall, heading to the one place where I had the best chance of finding him. He probably wasn’t going to like it.

Xxxx

8123 looked empty when I pulled up. The lot was practically deserted. I spotted Pat’s car, and Tim’s family estate, but other than the Kirch’s vehicles there was no-one around it seemed like – certainly Garrett’s car wasn’t there. I parked loosely in a spot and decided to go in anyway, ask around to see if anyone knew where I could find him. The door was swinging open, letting in a cool breeze, so I just walked right on in. The door to the actual studio was ajar and the voices I could hear coming from inside made me freeze in the hallway.

“Shit man, I don’t know. You think I was too hard on her?”

“It’s your business Garrett. And I’m not getting into the whole Rhiannon thing again, you know my opinion. I don’t know what to say.”

There was the noise of someone tuning a guitar and Garrett sighing deeply.

“I’m just so fucking confused. Like, why is she doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“I don’t know! This!” A guitar string was plucked rather violently.

“What? Being friends with John? She’s allowed friends, Garrett. I don’t even understand what you’re fighting about.”

The guitar was shoved aside. “We just are! At least she hasn’t called in the last half hour….”

“Dude, she’s probably calling to apologize. You should let her, and probably apologize yourself – be that good friend that you’re jealous of John being.”

“Don’t you compare me to John too, Ken.”

“I’m not! I don’t know why you need me to tell you this, but John is not a match for you. Brandy and you have been friends for years – you came first and you always will. Relax, dude.”

“Yeah, I know, but-“

“But what? Jesus Garrett!” Kennedy’s voice dropped to a gentler tone. “If you want my opinion here it is, Garrett. If you’re getting so worked up about Brandy and what she said maybe you should ask yourself why you’re more concerned about that, than the fact that your girlfriend threatened to move out this morning.”

“Rhiannon’s bluffing,” Garrett defended quickly.

“Either she is or she isn’t Gare. Think about it. Talk to Brandy. I’m gonna go get a drink.”

The sofa creaked as Kennedy got up and I pulled away from the door sharply, but not quickly enough. Kennedy came face to face with me as he rounded the corner, and his eyebrows shot upwards.

“Br-“

I bought my fingers to my lips hurriedly and his mouth snapped shut and he frowned at me.

“Did you hear that?” he hissed.

“Sort of. Some of it.”

Kennedy shook his head. “I swear to God if you two don’t sort yourself out, I’m going to have to do it for you. Garrett’s inside, go on in.”

I flashed him a hesitant smile as he brushed past, looking tired. The door was even more ajar now, and I knocked lightly before walking in. Garrett had the guitar on his lap again, fiddling with the strings and didn’t look up.

“Come in.”

“Hey Garrett.”

His fingers paused on the fret board and he looked up slowly. “Brandy.”

I shuffled into the room awkwardly. “Thought I mind find you here.”

“It is where I work, yeah,” he replied sarcastically, and I flinched.

I thought about trying to extend the painful small talk a bit longer to delay my apology, but Garrett’s frosty greeting and obvious discomfort were even more excruciating. I sat down on a nearby chair and looked at him. He was dressed in a loose knit black jumper, with frayed sleeves and tiny holes in it all over. It was the cutest thing he owned, I’d always said. Tired and angry, he still managed to look kind of beautiful in it. Soft, like I wanted to curl up on his chest and just stay there.

“Garrett I’m really sorry about what I said over the phone last night. I was tired and cranky but it’s no excuse, I know. John’s never going to replace you and he’s not trying to either, you have to know that.”

He still avoided looking at me; taking the guitar off his lap and placing it gently back into the case resting by his feet and doing up the buckles before talking. The silence was suffocating, like waiting for radio static to break. I shuffled in my seat, trying to think of something better to say, desperately.

“It sounds dumb when you put it like that.”

“Huh?”

“Talking about replacing people and stuff.”

I felt like I was walking on eggshells so I didn’t reply, and Garrett sighed. “I was dumb.”

“No, Garrett, it’s okay, honestly, I shouldn’t have—“

“—No, I’m sorry, I over-reacted Brands.”

“You didn’t.”

“I didn’t?”

“No, I mean yes, I mean - shit. Look, Garrett, can we just forget this happened? I would really like that. I think we were both stupid and it would really make me happy if we just ignored it, okay?”

Garrett looked unsure, like he wanted to discuss it further. “Please Gare.”

And he nodded, finally, forcing a smile onto his face. “Sure, okay.” I returned his smile and was still grinning when Kennedy marched back into the room, a bottle of coke in his hand, looking between us both with an exasperated expression.

“Oh for God’s sake, do I have to tell you to hug as well?”

Garrett chuckled and stood up, opening his arms to me and I slotted myself in, laughing. Garrett’s arms closed around my back, rubbing gentle circles into my t-shirt. I buried my face into his shoulder and the softness of his jumper. He smelt like laundry detergent and faint musk and I breathed it in, folding myself into him. I never wanted to let go.

When we did, however, Kennedy was no longer in the room.

“Huh, guess our session is over for today. There’s a barbecue here at 8123 later – you’re gonna stay, right?”

I looked up at him. We were still standing close together. Garrett’s bags were mussed from where he’d been hugging me, and without thinking I bought up a hand to wipe them gently out of his eyes. “Yeah, Gare, I’ll stay.”

Xxx

The roof of 8123 was a good place to look out at the rest of Phoenix. The city seemed to roll out in front of me, tiny miniature streets and little tiny cars like a toy town. The suburbs sprawled outwards and like a kid I tried to spot my house amongst the thousands of tiny squares and patches of backyard. I had just about pinpointed the roundabout area it should be, when I felt someone come up beside me.

“Hey Brandy.”

“Hey John.”

He handed a beer and looked out at the city with me, narrowing his eyes against the sun’s glare bouncing off some of the glass buildings below. “Sometimes I forget how big Arizona is.”

“I know what you mean. Makes me feel small,” I commented, staring out at the vast amount of space around us.

He smiled and shook his head. “Makes me feel big. All these people that I don’t know just makes me focus on my friends and family, you know, instead of getting lost in it all. That make sense?”

“Sort of.”

He shrugged and took a sip of his own beer. “You fix things with Garrett?”

“Again, sort of.”

“Sort of?”

“We agreed to forget about it.”

John looked at me disapprovingly. “Wow, what a sound way to deal with your problems.”

I rolled my eyes and took a gulp of my beer. “It’s fine. We’re fine.”

“I’m serious Brandy. Look I didn’t want to get into this before, but Garrett is getting jealous. Not just jealous of your friendship or whatever, but he’s acting like your significant other, or whatever you want to call it. I thought you were gonna talk this out, get to the bottom of your feelings or something. He’s jealous, but he’s not doing anything about it, and Brandy, you’re letting him.”

I was not drunk enough for this conversation. I gulped down the rest of my beer and tried to walk away but John called me back and I swung around.

“I don’t want to talk about it, John,” I snapped.

“I’m trying to help you,” he frowned, putting his beer down on a nearby table and grabbing my arm to reel me back in. I stared down at my shoes and John sighed.

“Look, there’s a quote that I think is quite applicable here,”

“Don’t you dare go spouting quotes at me O’Callaghan, this isn’t poetry class.”

“Just listen. ‘Never make someone a priority when all you are to them is an option’ – Maya Angelou. That’s what’s happening Brandy. At the moment, Rhiannon is still his priority, and if you don’t talk about these things and what’s happening between you, you’re just gonna get stuck in a loop of feelings that don’t have any outlet. Don’t you feel stuck?”

“No,” I mumbled.

Yes. Yes I did feel stuck. I felt entirely trapped in my feelings for Garrett. I knew Garrett must have some sort of reciprocation – Kennedy’s words from earlier came back to me. If Garrett really was more concerned about falling out with me, than his girlfriend then that had to mean something, right? And there was what Tayla had said earlier, too.

“You think he likes me?” I asked timidly.

“I know he likes you. Everyone can tell Brandy! But he’s not acting on it, that’s the problem.”

“But I mean, I’m not acting on it either, John. Does that make me to blame as well? This is so fucked up.”

I had cried too many tears over Garrett already, I wasn’t about to cry again, especially in front of everyone. I blinked them back aggressively and John pulled me into a one armed hug.

“No, Brandy, no. I just – shit, I don’t know why I’m trying to give you love advice, I’m crap at this myself. I just hate seeing you like this, upset and everything. Talk to him, like properly. Get everything out on the table. Or else, I don’t know, walk away, Brandy.”

He gave me a watery smile and a pat on the shoulder and then headed back to where Halvo was beckoning him over. I went and found one of the garden chairs to sip my beer in peace, already trying to block out John’s conversation – it was too much to think about.

“Hey there, little lady.”

I looked up to find Jared smiling down at me. I tried to hide the surprise on my face, but Jared must have seen it because he chuckled. “Yeah, I know we don’t talk one on one much, but I just wanted to chat.”

“Oh. Okay, sure. How you doing Jared?”

“I’m pretty good. I saw you with John. You looked distressed. You alright?”

“Yeah, um, we were just talking about some stuff.”

Jared nodded thoughtfully. “About Garrett, right?”

I blinked. “What?”

Jared tipped the neck of his beer bottle towards me and smiled. “Garrett. You like him.”

“Uhmmm…”

“Relax, Brandy, it’s okay. You and him have been on a roller-coaster recently, which probably means things have got complicated between you, which probably involves some repressed feelings, am I right?”

“Am I that obvious?”

“No, but Garrett is. He talks about you all the time. Like seriously, sometimes we have to tell him to shut up. And recently it’s all – ‘I don’t know what to do about Brandy…’ and when we answer, ‘do what about Brandy?’ he clams up real quick. So, there’s that.”

“Oh. Umm, okay.”

“I just came over here to tell you, I guess, that you should wait for him. He’s so confused right now, but I know when he sorts out his shit, he’ll choose you. He loves you, Brandy. Truly. Please don’t give up on him – it’d break his heart. I don’t wanna watch that.”

I frowned, trying to align Jared’s advice with John’s. They completely contrasted and left me feeling like I was like the rope in tug of war, pulling in completely different directions. Jared shrugged and gave me one last smile before wandering away. I got up to the drinks table and grabbed a glass of coke, meant for mixing, but the urge to get drunk had only worsened things recently. Maybe it was time I stayed sober and thought things through.

I looked around for Garrett, but he’d disappeared about a half hour ago to collect the pizza we ordered along with the barbecue, and he wasn’t back yet. I meandered back over to to where Kennedy and Nick was standing, crossing my fingers that we could have a normal conversation.

“Hey Brandy.”

“Hey Ken, Nick.”

“Nick and I were just talking… should we watch Breaking Bad next, or Game of Thrones? You watch a lot of tv, right?” he was teasing me, a twinkle in his eye, and I was grateful for the light topic. I chuckled despite everything.

“You make it sound like I have no life, Kenny, I’m hurt.”

“Awhh, no, we know you have a life, we’re just bowing down to your superior knowledge of media consumption.”

I shook my head amusedly. “Well, if you ask me….”

Xxx

The pizza boxes lay decimated on the table. The barbecue had been somewhat of a disaster (as in Tim had managed somehow to burn pretty much everything) so when Garrett had arrived with about ten pizzas he’d been swamped by very hungry men. I practically had to fight them for even a couple of slices and now the evening had progressed into the drinking stage. Someone had dragged a set of speakers up and Nick was ‘DJ-ing’ – he was putting his iPod on shuffle and pretending not to notice whenever anything vaguely embarrassing came on. A minute ago ‘Jenny from the block’ came on and John threw his head back and laughed, proceeding to attempt to break dance in front of us all, until Kennedy hauled his ass away. Needless to say he’d had a few, but it didn’t matter – everyone was laughing and yelling along ‘I’m still, I’m still, Johnny from the block.’ I was laughing so hard my sides were hurting.

I felt someone check my hip and turned around to find Garrett smiling at me, a glass of what smelt like whiskey in his hand. His eyes were glassy and unfocussed and he was on his way to being out it. It shocked me, because I hadn’t realised he’d been drinking so heavily. I’d spent a long time talking to Ken and Nick, and to be honest my conversations with John and Jared were playing on my mind, making me find excuses to stay away from wherever he was for most of the evening.

“Hey, Gare,” I said tentatively. “You alright?”

“Dandy.” He paused. “Haven’t seen you much.”

“Sorry, I’ve been talking to the guys.”

He was slightly unsteady on his feet, so he sat down next to me and took another sip of his whiskey anyway. “What did you talk about?”

“Tv, mostly,” I replied dryly. “Apparently the vote is that I watch too much Netflix. Everyone’s a critic.”

“I love The X Files. Best tv show ever.”

“I know you do, Gare, and yeah it’s pretty great.”

“I miss watching it with you. We haven’t done that in a while.”

“We’ll do it soon, promise.”

Garrett hummed “Have you noticed that Gillian Anderson like, hasn’t aged, at all? And did you know that she’s actually a blonde?” He frowned, “well she’s blonde now anyhow.”

I chuckled. “No, I didn’t know that. How old is she?”

“Like, forty. And she’s still hot. If I was forty I totally would. Don’t lie, you would totally do Mulder as well.”

“Mulder in the show, not now. It’s the jawline, I can’t help it,” I laughed.

“Same thing,” he shrugged. He drained the last of his whiskey and chuckled. “What would you do if The X files were real and we were suddenly invaded my aliens?”

“You want the badass answer or the truth?”

“Truth.”

“Probably cry,” I mused, “hide under a table somewhere.”

“A table? Pretty sure that’s the procedure for earthquakes, Brands.”

“Alien invasion, earthquake, same thing.”

“Ok fine, what’s your badass answer?”

“Obviously overthrow the government with a baseball bat and break into the FBI’s weapon store so I can defend myself. And kill them.” I say firmly. This was nice – stupid meaningless easy conversation. It reminded me why I loved talking to him. The things we could invent when talking to each other were endless sometimes.

Garrett mock gasps. “Doesn’t that count as genocide?”

“I think this conversation is getting a little heavy,” I laughed. “What would you do?”

“Make friends. Learn their ways. Blend in until they accept me as one of their own. Survive.”

“Sneaky,” I said, impressed, and Garrett grins.

Nick came over and started talking about what he’d do in the event of an alien invasion, so I took that as my opportunity to slip away and refill my coke and got caught up in a conversation about 8123 with Tim. It was about an hour later that I next saw Garrett. He was slumped in a patio chair next to the stereo. I didn’t know how much he’d had in-between seeing me, but I could no longer just smell the whiskey in the glass – the scent was rolling off him, assaulting my senses when I got near. I bent down in front of him and pried his half empty glass from his fingers.

“Gare?”

He looked at me from under hooded eyes. “Brands?”

“You didn’t slow down drinking huh?”

“Didn’t want to,” he slurred. “Whoops.”

I glanced to my left where Nick was laughing with Kennedy and tapped him on the shoulder roughly.

“How’d Garrett get so bad?” I hissed.

Nick looked at Garrett, whose head was lolling on his shoulders, and winced. “He wasn’t that bad last time I checked, promise, Brandy.”

“What’d he do? Down a bottle when we weren’t looking?” I replied sarcastically, my tone biting, but Nick shrugged.

“Maybe?” He looked uncomfortable and shuffled his feet. “You want me to take him home? He looks like he needs his bed.”

The rest of the party was raging on, and I knew Nick had had a few beers so I shook my head and waved my glass of coke in his face. “No, I’m sober, I’ll take him home.”

“You sure?”

I thought about Rhiannon possibly being there and nearly backed out, but I nodded anyway. “Yeah, I’m sure. Just help me get him in my car.”

Nick helped Garrett up, and slung his arm around his shoulder. Garrett was half asleep already. His cheeks were flushed red, and he stumbled as he walked. We dragged him down the stairs and across the lot with much difficulty, and helped him climb into my passenger seat. Nick watched me get in the driver’s side, frowning.

“Text me when you’re home – both of you, okay?”

“Sure, Nick.”

I slammed the door and started the engine. The sudden noise made Garrett moan and sink lower in his seat.

“You okay, buddy?”

“My head hurts,” he groaned.

“I’m not surprised. Hey if you’re gonna be sick, please tell me so I can pull over, yeah?”

“Shut up,” he replied weakly, and I couldn’t help but giggle. The drive to Gilbert was pretty quick as the roads were empty, nothing but stop signs to make me pause. Before long I was pulling into Garrett’s drive and I flicked the engine off.

“Home sweet home, Gare.”

He surfaces from where his chin had been resting on his neck. He didn’t make a move to get out the car and I bit my lip.

“You want some help?”

I moved to get out the car, and had my hand on the door handle before I felt Garrett’s fingers on my shoulder, stopping me. I twisted back around to look at him and found him leaning over the console, face lit up by the blinking blue buttons on my dashboard.

“Gare?”

“You’re really pretty.”

My hand stopped fiddling with the lock. “Okay, Garrett, time to go inside….”

“You’re so, so beautiful. You knew that right? Have I told you that before? I must’ve done. But you’re so beautiful.”

I tried to laugh but it came out hollow. “And you’re drunk. Come on Gare, get out the car.”

Why was he doing this now? My heart felt like it was hammering out of my chest, but the situation was all wrong. Did it take him a bottle of whiskey to grow some balls, was that it? The smell of alcohol permeated my car, reminding me that whatever he was saying now he probably wouldn’t remember in the morning.

“I don’t wanna. I wanna come home with you. I don’t love her anymore. I tried so hard, Brandy, I really did, but you can only force it for so long, you know? Do you understand?”

My breath got caught in my lungs and I had to forcefully drag the air back down, stop myself from choking. Oh God, he was telling me this. But why was he doing it now? His fingers pressed into my arm, panicky, insistent, and I nodded jarringly. “Yeah, I get that Gare,” I replied softly. “But you have to get to bed. I can’t just take you home.”

It wasn’t that simple. Christ, why couldn’t it be that simple?

I couldn’t deal with this, not when he was drunk. I couldn’t trust anything coming out of his mouth and it was killing me. I finally got the car unlocked and climbed out, pausing to wipe my face with my sleeve, removing any traces of tears that the dim interior of the car had been hiding. I helped Garrett out and up the path, ringing the doorbell before Garrett could say any more. I had my arm around his middle, and his arm was curled around my shoulders, helping him stand up. He was muttering under his breath, stuff I couldn’t make out, and I counted down in my head until the door opened.

Rhiannon stood silhouetted in the chink of light the half open door let in. She flinched when she saw me and nearly tried to close the door in my face.

“He’s not here,” she snapped.

“I know! He’s here! Look, he got really drunk, will you just help him into bed?”

Rhiannon’s blonde hair was thrown into a messy bun, and truth be told the sweats she was wearing made her look tired and awful. There were circles under her eyes and smudged mascara. Like she’d been crying. Shit, had she been crying?

She stared at Garrett for a second and then turned her glare to me. “You got him drunk?”

“What? No!” I shifted Garrett’s arm on my shoulder, trying to stop him from sliding to the floor or something, “No, he was at 8123 at the party and he got himself drunk!”

“8123? He told me he was at Nick’s!”

Garrett snorted beside me and my eyes widened. “Uhmm, well he wasn’t. Can you just take him?” He was beginning to drag me down and I was developing a crick in my neck from the uncomfortable position.

Rhiannon folded her arms and looked at us both, narrowing her eyes. “You know what? No!” her eyes flashed menacingly. “You can take him home. I’m done. I’m so done with the both of you. I can’t stand the lying and I can’t stand you and I can’t stand Garrett pretending like we’re okay. Take him. You’re welcome to him.”

She slammed the door in my face and I was left out on the porch in the dark, Garrett clinging to my side, who was now beginning to chuckle softly, if slightly hysterically, under his breath.

I was in shock. Had Rhiannon and Garrett just broken up?