Flames in Our Veins

August 2009

Reagan:
Party at my house tonight. I want to see you here. OK?

He smirked down at his phone as he reread her text over and over again. She wanted to see him at her party. Out of all the guys in the city, she wanted his company. His. How he managed to get her attention was beyond him, but he decided not to second guess it. Sending a short and simple text back, he placed his phone on his bedside table and stretched out his long legs off the bed, the cold hardwood floors meeting the bottoms of his feet causing him to welcome the morning for another time.

The events of the night before were a blur for John. He was surprised he was able to make it back at his parent's house. Perhaps it was Garrett who offered assistance. The tall man ran his hand down his face and chuckled softly to himself. Thanks for the help, Gare, he thought to himself.

His eyes scanned his bedroom. There were clothes everywhere, shoes all over the place, as well as empty beer cans that scattered the floor. It had become a habit to crash back at his parent's after a long night out in Tempe, especially when he had been away for months. He had no intention of leaving huge messes for his parent's to clean up, but John was just doing what he did best.

There was Tylenol and a glass of water on the bedside table, plus a note that simply said You may be 21 but I am still your mother. Take care of your hangover and clean your room. Dinner tonight with the family. See you when I get home. Love, Mom.

He chuckled softly again and did what his mother told him. Thankfully, he felt better the moment he finished tidying up his bedroom which took him 3 long hours. Looking around, he felt a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction. He never liked to disappoint his parent's, especially his mom. She was his number one fan. There was no way in hell he'd ever do anything to let her down.

Kennedy:
How are you holding up?

Garrett:
Holy shit man! You were so gone last night.

Santino:
Let me know if you're going to Rae's party!

It was around 2 o'clock when John decided to drive over to his friend's, Max's, house. It was routine since every single one of his friends were going to be there. It was basically their pre-game before the actual party, and since the party hostess was none other than the very popular and easy-going, Reagan, everyone was decided to get together and go through their game plan for the evening. As soon as John parked his BMW near the curb, he dug the key into his pocket and walked up the path towards the front door.

"Sloppy, motherfucker." He was greeted at the door by Jared, who threw his arm around his friend's shoulders. "You really surprised us last night, John-O. We weren't really sure you were able to take those shots of Fireball, but you proved us wrong."

Another set of hands came over John's shoulders, giving him a friendly rub. "It was pretty damn entertaining, if I say so myself." O'Callaghan turned his head to see Eric grinning at him like a fool.

"Fuck off, Halvo," he replied with a low chuckle. He shoved his friends aside and shook his head before casually bumping into their sides as they made their way towards the kitchen where the rest of the guys were.

He heard the faucet running, as well as the stove attempting to light. It was just another afternoon with the guys. There were Garrett, playing around with a guitar, and there was Pat, who was simply sitting on top of the table drumming his sticks against his knees. John looked around and saw Nick, Kennedy, Justin, and Dirk sitting in the living room playing the X-BOX. By the shouting, swearing and constant groaning they were making, John assumed they were playing Fifa.

"Well if it isn't Mr. Fireball himself," Garrett said with a hint of amusement.

John quickly hooked his arm around Garrett's shoulder and held him in a friendly headlock. "Thanks for taking me home. You're the best, Gare." The rest of the guys all looked at the two of them with a smile and continued on with what they were doing.

"Hey man, nobody else was sober enough to even walk up to you. And may I remind you, you were only laying on the kitchen floor. " The bassist laughed and strummed a few strings of the guitar.

"I'll try to take control next time, bud."

"Oh no you're not." The guys all looked towards Halvo, who was now standing on his feet with the controller in his hand. "Tonight is Reagan's party! That means her parents are out of the house for the entire weekend. Do I need to remind you assholes how big their liquor cabinet is? And knowing Reagan, she's going to invite all of her hot sorority sisters!"

"It's not like you're going to get any of them," Tim Kirch retorted with a snicker. Halvo only stuck his tongue out at him in response. "Yeah? Who said you were invited?"

"Guys, guys..." that was Kennedy. The guys all turned towards the lanky guitarist and paused. "We seriously need to talk this through. We can't have another mishap happen like last night," as he ran his tongue over his lip, he turned to face John. "We always discuss our game plan. Last night was just one fucked up mess and we can't let that happen again. Everyone was all over the place, everyone was sloppy, and it wasn't nice."

"You were just as sloppy as John, Ken," Garrett added as he rested his elbow on top of his knee.

The guitarist nodded once before crossing his arms against his chest. "Yeah, but I recovered quickly. Do you want to be the one to take John home again?" When the bassist shook his head in response, it was Nick's turn to speak up.

"Ok, so first of all: who is willing to be the DD?"

Eyes scanned the entire room in an attempt to avoid others, but they all fell on the only one to ever become their designated driver. Since he was often repulsed by alcohol, the way it smelled and the way it made people act when consumed irresponsibly, it was usually Garrett to be the helping hand. However, he didn't mind it. He would rather the DD be him than someone else. He cared about his friends' safety.

"Gare?"

The messy haired kid pressed his lips together and nodded which caused the rest of the guys to erupt in cheers and chants.

John laughed and hooked his arm over Garrett's shoulder once more before being handed a red cup filled to the brim with clear liquid. He eyed the cup suspiciously and then looked up at Justin, who had a smirk on his face. Bringing the cup up to his lips, John took a sip and then casually relaxed his muscles when he tasted water instead of Vodka.

"We're just sobering you up, John."

"I'll be fine, motherfuckers," John replied as he took another long gulp. He walked into the kitchen to see Tim and Max cooking up some eggs and bacon. "Late breakfast?" John asked, leaning against the counter. The two nodded and flipped the frying pan and the lead singer's eyes watched the food fly just a few inches into the air before landed perfectly in the middle of the burnt pan.

"Do you remember anything?" Max asked as he slid the food onto a larger plate and placing it on the counter for the others to have at it.

John shook his head and took another sip of water. "Nothing at all. How bad was I?"

Tim and Max looked at each other and stifled back a laugh. That bad, John assumed.

"You were practically groping Ashley..." Tim said casually. John's eyes widened slowly as he slammed his cup onto the counter. "What the fuck?" The two nodded. "Damn it. No wonder she hasn't texted me."

"Make it up to her tonight," his red headed friend suggested as he approached the plate. John watched him reach for a strip of bacon and stuff it into his mouth. Late breakfast was their thing, and it was always a good idea after a long night. He gave his friend a nod and scanned the room again, watching his friends do what they do best. It had to be nearing 4 o'clock now, which meant his mom was going to be home soon.

...Dinner.

John completely forgot about the dinner his mom mentioned in the note. His eyes had widened once more when the thought came to his head. It was no worry though. His mom's dinners usually started at 6 and ended around 8 and Reagan's party wasn't supposed to start until 10. He was good on time and his plans were just lining up perfectly.

After finishing up his conversation with Tim and Max, John walked down the hallway towards the bathroom and closed the door behind him. He placed his red cup near the sink and stared up at his reflection. He looked better, if he said so himself. His eyes were less red and his cheeks were looking less flushed. As he leaned over to get a better look, he noticed a small cut just underneath his eye. Jesus, did I get into another fucking fight, he asked himself.

Shaking his head, he reached into his pocket and retrieved his phone to text Ashley.

Send to Ashley:
Hey Ash. So I didn't get any text from you last night, but I'm sure you got home safe.

Send to Ashley:
The guys just told me what happened. I'm sorry.

Send to Ashley:
I'll see you tonight at Rae's party?

The tall man slid his phone back into his pocket and shut his eyes. There were some people who assumed John had a problem when it came to alcohol and parties, but that was just him having fun. But after hearing about the events of the prior night, he realized he had to relax just a little, but how could he when the party of all parties was just hours away?

"Don't fuck up tonight, John," he said quietly to his reflection. "Don't fuck up."