• Tomorrow Will Be Different • {J.C} (P.1)

• Chapter Four •

        Last night had been a blur. Julian was disappointed in his bandmates for even entertaining the idea they had played well. They were decent, sure—but great?
...Not so much.

Nick had started too late, before the chorus of their second song. Fab hit the hi-hat too soon, before Al had switched chords while dropping into the bridge. Their mediocre performance had affected his own, which upset Julian more than the carelessness of the groups sound.

He was disappointed in himself, unable to carry on as if their mistakes had not affected him. It defeated the purpose of practicing five fucking days a week—he was going to have to bump it up to six.

As a result of Julian's dismay, he decided on penance. He chased liquor with hops in a desperate attempt to rid the humility of his own performance. He couldn't help but to feel irked by the people coming up to him throughout the night with nothing but genuine praise for the show they had put on.

After several rounds, Julian found himself accepting the stranger's admirations—one in which, he even took home with him.

        Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Julian released a heavy breath as he looked over at the sleeping girl next to him. He winced at the lewd memory of the nameless woman from the night before—once again, more so embarrassed with himself.

He couldn't understand what she was still doing there—in his bed—after yet another terrible performance.

His eyes closed tightly in regret when remembering the sounds coming from her mouth; the encouraging way she whimpered with praise—despite his inability to even get hard all the way.

It wasn't her fault—he had been the one chasing whiskey with beer. It took a while, but he finally managed to finish. However, he wasn't so sure about the unfortunate girl laying next to him.

        Her eyes peeled open, revealing baby blue irises. He was a little surprised they weren't darker; he could swear the girl had hazel eyes—possibly even brown. Julian quickly recalled something he hadn't thought of yet—the girl with only a towel standing in Albert's bathroom. That had been the face he thought he would wake up to—a horrifically confused face of a girl that was remarkably uncomfortable.

         "Hey." The girl spoke sweetly with a smile.

"Hey." Julian repeated.

He sat up with a quiet groan; his body aching all over. At least he had tried giving it his all last night—enough to feel the tender gnaw of his thighs and heavy knees. He dreaded the moment he would have to stand.

Julian retrieved his underwear from the floor, putting them on in silence as he prepared to get up from the bed. His mouth twisted painfully, pressing his lips together to try and hide his discomfort from the strange girl in his bed.

He stood outside the room as he waited for the young woman to get dressed. He hoped that being outside the bedroom would prompt her to leave sooner.

        She emerged from the doorway, flashing Julian a sheepish grin. He returned the expression, but only out of forced kindness. He waved her toward the hall, motioning her to go on before him.

Taking glances at the woman's backside, he questioned what possessed him to think he could even handle a woman like that. Her prominent curves moved vivaciously, even when she wasn't trying to seduce him—while she was simply walking down the hall.

Julian's embarrassment suddenly worsened, knowing without a doubt her cries of ecstasy had only been out of courtesy. There was absolutely no way she had enjoyed herself; she had only acted that way as an attempt to stroke his ego, which nearly angered him—emasculated him.