And She Made the Shape of My Heart With Her Hands

“Are you sure this is okay, Paul?”

“Absolutely! The guys don’t care,” he assured indifferently.

“Well okay…”

I was tired of this drama. I was sick of this. I didn’t want to spend another day in that godforsaken van.

Okay, okay. I’m sounding a little too over dramatic, but the truth was that I did need my space from the guys for a while. Maybe just a couple days or so. I don’t know.

Paul pulled me around a huge car, his arm around my shoulder. What soon came into view made my jaw drop.

“Whoa, Paul! That’s… Wow.”

He chuckled at my reaction. “Yeah, it’s pretty nice.”

“Heh. No shit.”

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go in, shall we?”

Paul led me down the black pavement and up the steps, through the big, white, bus/camper/trailer. It was indescribably big.

“Well, this is it,” Paul plopped himself on the blue couch. I sat near him, still looking around fascinated.

Paul pointed. “You can sleep there.”

I followed his tanned and callused finger towards a set of bunks. There were four of them.

“No, Paul. No. You sleep there. I sleep here,” I said as I patted the couch beneath me.

“No! You should have the bed!”

“I don’t want it! I’m not the one playing for a zillion people tomorrow! I’m sleeping here!”

“No, you’re not! You’re sleeping on the bunk, Cara!”

“Why?”

A white door swung open to reveal the others’ faces as Paul yelled, “Because you’re the girl!” He turned to his band.

“Hey,” Martin greeted nonchalantly.

“Hi.”

I waved to them. I’ve already met them all. I turned back to Paul, talking low and fast in almost a threatening hiss, “You’re sleeping on that damn bed, Paul.”

He held his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay!”

I sighed, pleased with my victorious argument.

Martin sat on the other side of me on the small couch. John Keefe sat in this little booth that had a table in front of him. Bryan sat across from me in a matching blue chair.

He ran his hand through his light blond hair. “How long are you staying?” He didn’t say it in a rude or mean way and he didn’t say it in an overly excited way either. It was just simple curiosity.

Martin didn’t notice it. He chucked a pillow at his head. “Shut up! That was mean! She can stay for as long as she wants, of course!”

Bryan’s expression turned apologetic. His eyes met mine. “I’m sorry.”

I cracked a small smile. “It’s okay. You sounded inquisitive, not rude.”

“Whoa! Big word!” John called out.

A chuckle escaped my lips as I played with my purple cast.

John took notice of it. “Hey. Isn’t that from when Paul tried to molest you?”

Paul stared at him with stormy eyes that matched his expression. Bryan tried to suppress a chuckle, but Martin flat out laughed, not caring who or what heard him.

I giggled slightly. “I’m guessing you heard all about the whole thing with my brother jumping to conclusions?”

They all nodded their heads; John’s very fast as he grinned.

“Yeah. Garrett likes to play the controlling brother at random times. Paul just happened to be there at the wrong time,” I explained, rolling my one shoulder back to stretch the muscle a tad.

“Heh. Yeah. That, or Paul really was trying to jump your bones and fu-”

“Okay! I’m tired! Are you all tired?” Paul interrupted desperately.

I giggled lowly. “It’s okay, Paul. I know what happened.”

He gave me a half smile. “Yeah, you’re right. So screw all you!” Paul turned to his band members, especially John Keefe.

“Well, Paul, I’d gladly accept your offer, but I’d get jealous knowing that you’d be pretending I was Car-”

“Ah! Shut the hell up!”

I laughed and shook my head.

It was nice being away from the drama and tension and just being around meaningless fun again.

I felt a weird sensation or pressure move down my cast and skin. I groaned a little and flipped over, only to be slightly poked in my ribcage.

I heard muted gusts of laughter. I frowned and opened my eyes.

I looked down to see about a hundred pens and pencils stuffed down my cast all around it. It looked like my hand was up a live turkey’s ass or something.

“What the hell?” I muttered as my brow furrowed.

I looked up to see John Keefe, Paul, and Martin on the floor in front of me, staring. They all had goofy smiles plastered upon their faces.

“What the… How did you…? Why?” I cried out, sitting up.

They started laughing, slightly bellowing over as they rolled around the floor.

“It looks like your arm’s up a peacock’s ass!”

“No shit,” I muttered, still observing the piece of unique ‘craftwork’ the boys came up with. “You guys are a bit twisted.”

“Hey! I said it wasn’t a good idea!” Bryan was sitting at the small table eating a pop tart with a small smile on his face.

I shrugged. “Whatever. I’ll deal. After all, you nice boys that came up with this clever idea are going to take out each pencil anyway.”

They all stared at me with blank expressions. Paul started to reach up for a white pen.

I nodded my head in encouragement. “Go on!”

They continued as I soon felt my cast be rid of the pointy obstructions. I sighed in contentment. “That feels so much better.”

“That’s what she said.”

“Ah! Good one, John!”

I rolled my eyes.

Boys will be boys, I guess.