She's With The Band

𝐒𝐈𝐗𝐓𝐘 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄

Hi guys!

Okay so it's about that time when I should be writing some ... well you know... smut 

LMAOOOOO

Okay so guys don't judge meeeee I beg! I tried to write it well but I'm not so sure I got the job done....

OKAY! With that being said, I hope you all like this chapter LOL

Nate's Point of View:

"This is the cutest place I've ever seen!" Aubrey exclaimed, smacking her hands over her mouth.

"Told you, gingerbread house." Jackson "whispered" to her.

Dean and Brendan snickered softly, and I elbowed Jackson in the ribs for his comment.

Looking up at the house I had lived in for a large part of my life, a floodgate of emotions and memories swept through me. I haven't been here in what feels like a long time, so any time I've visited my true home since leaving I've felt extra emotional. Don't tell anyone that though, I have a reputation to uphold, remember?

Speaking of that unhinged, bad boy, angsty, reputation that I've created for myself, it's been sort of missing as of late. For the first time in a long time, I've been trying to let myself feel again. I've been trying to process my emotions and feel through them. Mentally, I've probably been the healthiest I've been since when I lived here in France. And even then it wasn't so great...

Looking up at the house can be triggering due to the memories my father has graced the house with, but I try to remember that the good definitely outweighs the bad here. My dad didn't live in this house, he wasn't here to torment me every single day. My mother lived her. She and my grandparents raised me in this house. They are kind people. Gentle people. 

Even though this house has wonderful memories as well, melancholy still washes over me nonetheless. When thinking about my mother and the woman that she was, I smile. When thinking about the fact that she's gone and dead, all I want to do is crawl into a ball and sob for hours.

But I know she wouldn't want me doing that. Not around my grandparents, and not around my friends.

And not only did I grow up here, Brendan did too. This is his house as much as it is mine, and coming back here will always continue to make me extra emotional. I tried so long not to feel anything because I had been hurting for so long, but not letting myself feel things is good. It gives me time to appreciate the people around me, and it gives me time to feel more secure in myself as a person. I need to continue to let myself feel more.

I curtly glanced over at Brendan, not wanting him to realize that I was feeling a mixture of things, but even if he didn't catch a glimpse of my face, he would be able to tell how I was feeling. He knows me the best out of anyone, sometimes I'm sure he knows me better than I know myself.

He was looking at the house, a small smile on his lips.

"Alright," I said, clearing my throat a second after. "Let's get the bags."

We all got our bags from the truck, refusing the help that the driver was so willing to give out. Instead, I tipped him $1,000. $500 for the drive, and another $500 to get him to stop trying to help us with our bags. I can't stand celebrities among other high-profile people that can't do shit as simple as carrying their bags to a door. We're human which means we're perfectly capable of doing average human things.

While walking to the steps, Aubrey gawked and quietly squealed with each new discovery she made about my previous home. How the window shutters were painted a shade of baby blue. Or how the flowers looked so vibrant, or how the grass looked so green.