Rock 'N' Roll Singer

𝗘𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧𝗘𝗘𝗡

The leftover dew from last night's rainstorm dampened my feet as I ran to catch up with George. I may have crushed a daisy or two as I tried to swing 'round to meet him face to face. He couldn't possibly ignore me then, I thought. The puny excuse for a garden would surely understand.

"George!" I outstretched my arms and held my palms up to block his path.

To my surprise, he stopped, and not just to blow some smoke in my face as a sign to leave him alone. He peered at me with sleepy eyes, eyelids at half-mast like he might just collapse and take a nap in the dirt.

"What?"

"Don't 'what?' me," I huffed, lifting my fedora brim so he could see my narrowed eyes. "You just walked out after the show."

"Yeah, I did." He craned her neck upwards and let out a stream of smoke into the midday sky.

I swear, he was acting like that just to annoy me.

"But why?" I growled.

"Calm down, Marie."

"I won't! We've got this Tom guy coming in, and now you might leave the group."

George took a large step forward, peering down at me as his shoes brushed against my feet.

"Calm. Down. I never said I'm leaving the group. You just jump to conclusions so much, your head isn't on straight." He let the cigarette fall to the ground and stubbed it out against a wall. "If you can talk without freaking out, what about Tom bothers you?"

"He just came out of nowhere, like he had been eavesdropping on our conversation. He's just so... forward and flashy. I don't like his smile either. Something about it weirds me out."

"So what I'm hearing is because he wasn't introduced by your wise, all-knowing boyfriend, we can't trust him."

"That's not what I was trying to say, George. I'm just worried about what could happen to the band."

"You're always worrying and worrying. You can't just be calm for once?"

"I'm going to ignore the fact that you said that and instead say that I just want what's best for us. Am I not allowed to think this all sounds like something from a movie? All sounds too good to be true."

"So you let Bon do everything for you because you're too spastic to do it yourself. I probably shouldn't say it, but you know that he's only into you for sex, right?"

He might as well have stabbed me in the heart.

"Don't go there. You're just upset and
tired, which is okay. I know how you feel. I'm a bit tired, too, honestly."

I reached out a sympathetic hand, regretting my freak-out before

"Don't tell me how I'm feeling when you can just act timid when things get too hard for you."

I held back the tears and instead let out an irritated
grunt. I had a few choice things I wanted to say to him—if I knew exactly what those things were. The tears were already beginning to sting my eyes; I had to keep them in until I knew he was gone.