Consequences

7. drunk blonde

|| AXL'S P.O.V. ||

Silence quickly seeps into my apartment as I reluctantly listen to Dakota's footsteps fade away when she exits the building, leaving me utterly confused. My door slams shut with a loud noise, and after that the only sound to be heard is the ticking of the clock on my wall. Running my hands through my hair and pinching my lips between my fingers seems to be all I can manage at the moment as I try to comprehend what the hell just happened.

The day isn't off to a very good start, and I need to be at my absolute best tonight for the last show of the tour. I woke up less than an hour ago due to the phone's constant ringing. It turns out we have an interview today that I had completely forgotten about. I'm not entirely sure what I had expected to happen with Dakota when she woke up, but I certainly didn't expect her to leave so soon with her tail between her legs. She looked anxious, like a fragile piece of thin glass that you have to handle with supreme care to keep it from shattering.

The jittering of the door handle snaps me out of my thoughts, and Izzy appears in my apartment with a frown etched onto his face. I sigh exasperatedly, not having the energy to ask how the hell he got in. I don't want the day to go on just yet, my warm bed practically screaming for me to return to my previous position where I was buried deep within blankets and pillows in complete darkness and silence.

"Dude, what the fuck? The interview starts in an hour, man," he informs me, black hair disheveled from what I can only imagine being the wind.

Instead of answering my best friend I utter an exaggerated groan of frustration, rubbing my face in the process. My feet carry me towards the kitchen where I automatically pull out the leftover pizza slices from a couple of days ago, not bothering to heat it up in the oven before shoving it in my mouth.

"This day already sucks," I mutter with my mouth full of the cold Italian delicacy rip off made by an American dude down on Melrose.

Izzy exhales deeply from the doorframe, "Why?"

Why does this day suck already? Because the beautiful girl who slept on my couch last night left 10 minutes ago without explaining her sudden need to flee, and I'm not even sure why I give a damn.

I shake my head to let him know I don't want to elaborate. My spontaneous breakfast comes to an end, and Izzy and I are soon on our way to the interview. Only one thought is able to keep me somewhat sane during the millions of questions asked by the brunette with way too long purple fingernails; my bed is waiting for my ass to come home. Hibernation is just around the corner.

• • • • •

The concert goes smoothly tonight, no fights or an actual reason for me to lose my temper, which I manage not to. The crowd is ecstatic as usual, but after drinking a beer with the guys I decide to head home. One errand needs to be run before I can allow myself to sleep, though. My mother figure in Los Angeles is most likely expecting a visit tonight or tomorrow at the latest, so I might as well get that over with now.

The restaurant appears closed, but the bar is still illuminated with the usual dim lighting from the jukebox and many string lights hanging from the ceiling. I only step one foot in before freezing, my jaw dropping to the ground as I make eye contact with the girl I never expected to see again. Those blue eyes could be recognized from miles away, blonde hair cascading down her back in the most natural way possible.

I gulp audibly before convincing my feet to carry me towards the bar, Laura's bright smile not decreasing as Dakota's small figure sways in her seat to return her attention to the beer in front of her.

Laura practically throws herself over the countertop to engulf me in a bone-crushing hug, her painted lips pecking me on the cheek before releasing my body. I take a seat beside Dakota, not paying attention to Laura rambling on about how excited she is for me to be back in LA, my mind preoccupied with the situation I am currently in. What are the odds of this happening?