The Opportunity of a Lifetime

Chapter 8 (Hailey's POV)

I feel the sun on my eyelids, and I pull my pillow over my face, groaning. Why does morning have to be a thing? I try to fall back to sleep, but then I get the urge to pee.

"Goddamnit," I mutter, sitting up. Well, I would have sat up if I didn't bang my head on the ceiling right above me.

"Ow, fuck!" I whisper-shout, rubbing my head. Why is the ceiling so low? I look around and I see Joe Trohman hanging out of a bottom bunk, his cheek smushed against the floor, snoring quite loudly. Am I going insane? That blow to the head is making me see the guitarist of Fall Out Boy. Oh, wait! Were on tour with them! Oh my-

"Oomph!"

I am so not sleeping in the top bunk again. All I do is hit my fucking head and fall out of 'em.

When my body makes contact with the ground, Joe jerks awake, eyes widening like he just saw boobs for the first time. Which was a very long time ago, since we all know he's one kinky son of a bitch.

"Hailey! Are you okay? What happened?" He scrambles out of his weird sleeping position, making his way over to me.

"Flying high, man, flying high."

"But... You're on the ground," he says, confused.

"No shit, dumbass," I retort, rolling my eyes and getting up.

"I take great offense to that!" Joe calls after me.

"What? Your dumb, and you're an ass. Seems quite legit to me."

He runs after me, so I sprint towards the "living room" of the bus, only to stop dead in my tracks at the sight before me. A few seconds later Joe rams into my body, both of us slamming to the ground.

"Dude, what the hell?"

"I couldn't stop in time." I crane my neck around to look at him, and he grins sheepishly at me.

"Get off," I grunt, shoving him off of me. He looks as if he's about to give me a piece of his mind, (if he can find it, he lost it a long time ago) so I hurrily put my finger to his lips, shushing him.

He gives me a questioning look, so I explain, "Cuddle-say on the couch-say."

He looks to where I'm pointing, and smirks mischeviously at the fact that Cheryl and Pete's heads are resting against each other's, Pete's arms wrapped protectively around Cheryl's body.

Before I can stop him, Joe jumps up from the ground, skipping around and screaming some song from the top of his lungs.

"Nobody stands between me and my man, its me and Mr. WENTZ! What kind of fuckery is this? You made me miss the Slick Rick gig..."

By this time, Cheryl and Pete have fallen off the couch in shock. I'm sitting there with my hands covering my ears, due to Joe's raucous singing.

I run over to them, checking to make sure they're alright. As soon as I come into Cheryl's line of vision, she jumps up at the speed of light and tackles me to the ground, tickling me and jabbing me.

"Dude! What did I do? I'm not the one screaming from the top of my lungs," I pant, trying to shove Cheryl off of me.

"I got it!" Pete yells, chasing Joe, who starts downright shrieking the words to his little song.

"WHAT KIND OF FUCKERY ARE YOU? SIDE FROM SAMMY YOURE MY BEST BLACK JEW! BUT I COULD SWEAR THAT WE WERE THROUGH!"

"Joe! You are a Jew!" Pete shouts, jumping on Joe's back, making him collapse to the ground.

"What the FUCK is going on?!"

It goes completely silent as everyone turns to look at the source of the sound. Patrick is standing there with his arms crossed, not looking amused at all. Andy is standing beside him, looking like he can't decide whether he wants to laugh or yell.

"Aw, our little fedora man is angry," Joe quips, breaking the silence.

"You're damn right! Who in their right mind would be up at-" he checks his watch, "-two in the afternoon?!"

We all glance at each other. "Um, a lot of people, 'Trick," Pete replies, chuckling.

"Well, not me! I need my rest. I'm the singer ya know."

"And I'm the guitarist, Pete is the bassist, Andy is the drummer, and Cheryl and Hailey are the teenage stalkers who live with us while on tour. Nice to meet ya, fucker!" Joe salutes Patrick, pissing him off even more.

"Hey! You guys invited us to stay with you," I retort, flipping Joe off, who sneers playfully at me.

Patrick just shakes his head, walking back towards the bunks.

"Someone's on his man period," Cheryl mutters, making everyone laugh.

"He's just a little teenage drama queen in the mornings - well, afternoons - but don't worry. He'll be back to his cute as a button self once he takes a shower," Pete explains, thumping Joe on the back of the head, causing them to start wrestling again.

"And I thought we were the inner four year olds," I say to Cheryl, both of us laughing at the boys.

About an hour later, when Cheryl, Joe, Pete, and I are sitting on the couch and competing against each other at Mario Kart, Patrick walks out, sporting a black polo, black skinny jeans, his usual black Asics, and a cheerful smile.

"There's my Patty," Pete says, winking at Patrick.

"Don't call me that," he whines, pouting.

"Were here!" The bus driver yells.

"Well, I guess that means we have to go set up and practice for our show," Andy explains, stretching.

We all pile off the bus, heading into the building. Cheryl and I help them set the instruments and amps up, and then they start practicing their set list. I lean back and smile, enjoying the sweet sound of Patrick's voice filling my ears.