She's With The Band

𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄

Hey guys!

I hope you guys like this chapter, a lot of stuff goes down 

Anyways, prepare for some drama!

Nate's Point of View:

I can't believe I had sex with Aubrey two nights ago.

Like I actually can't believe it.

I'm happy that she felt comfortable enough to do that with me, and that she trusts and loves me enough to face all the fears she must've felt. Fears that Kyle instilled in her.

I should still kill that motherfucker.

Well, now it's a few nights later and the guys and I have to attend another stupid gala thing again, only this time I'm so unlucky and I don't get to perform, how sad.

No, I'm actually really fucking glad that I don't have to sing again because I don't know if I could bear to perform solo again. Especially not in front of all of these people.

This event is a lot more chiller though. This one is at an art gala, and a lot of younger socialites are here so it's not as stressful. The other night I almost panicked whilst on stage even though the audience seemed to be enjoying everything. What sucks about tonight though is that I'll end up running into Brady, Valentine, Andrew, you know, all of my favorite people...

What pains me to my core is that Aubrey's not here. She was invited, obviously, but she didn't feel like coming. I can't blame her though, I know she must be exhausted from all the constant moving around and traveling. Besides, she said that she wanted to stay in bed and read her book... can't blame her for that one.

It feels like it's been ages since I've read a good book.

(It's been two days)

Jackson hit me in the shoulder lightly, grabbing my attention.

I raised my brows as he pointed to a painting.

"What are your thoughts on it?" He questioned, crossing one arm over his body and placing his chin on his jaw while he looked at the painting, trying to seem intelligent.

I snickered before laughing lightly and then shaking my head. I took a sip of champagne and decided to play along. My brows pinched together and I began stroking my jaw, noticing the corners of his lips curling up. The painting was beautiful, it was a painting of a singular red line across a canvas.

So much detail, and so much precision.

"It's beautiful," I said sarcastically, turning to him with wide eyes.

He snickered at that and punched me in the shoulder with a closed fist. A waiter walked by with a tray of champagne and Jackson scooped one off of the tray, thanked the waiter, and then downed it in the span of all but eight seconds.

He then shook his head, his hair becoming messy as he raked a hand through it and then placed the champagne back on another waiter's tray, thanking the other waiter for taking his drink.

He's so fucking chaotic.

He nodded his head at the drink in my hand and his lips curled up a little. "What are you nursing it?"

I asked at the jab and looked down, realizing I sort of have been nursing it. We've been here for a little over an hour, and I've only drank half. I scrunched my nose, feeling somewhat confused with myself, and then brought the glass to my lips and began letting the liquid slide down my throat, feeling some sense of a burning sensation rise in me.