Chapter 6

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me: *thinks abt what happens in this chapter*

me: :^)))


Chapter 6 - We've Got Unfinished Business


Jack tells me that I can stay with him in his apartment as long as I don't fuck anything up. It sort of makes me think about how this whole thing is going to work out—how we're going to write and record, how long I'm going to be here, how long until I get to go back to San Diego. This is a major change for me, but I think I'm ready for it. More than that, I think I need it.

Then Jack tells us that we should go somewhere and celebrate, so once I've got my stuff moved in and the sun is starting to set, we decide to head out.

"Hey," I say nervously, feeling like I should just shut up and deal with it but not willing to. "Can I—can I drive?"

It's such a weird question, especially for people I've just met. Kellin gives me a hard look from the backseat, because he knows. "It's just—I need to," I stutter out, feeling my face heat up. "I need to drive."

Jack stares at me for a few moments before nodding and smiling a little, seeming to realize that it really is more of a need. "Uh, sure. Don't crash."

He means it as a joke, but my breath hitches ever-so-lightly, and once again, I lock eyes with Kellin through the rearview mirror. "I won't. Trust me."

Jack gives me directions to the bar, which isn't that far away. "Alright, then," Gabe says when we get there. "Vic, you wanna be the designated driver for the ride back?"

"Yeah," I reply. "I'll be sober." I can see Kellin raising an eyebrow at me, and for good reason, too. He knew me when alcohol was my only solution, but though it might be tempting, I've learned to resist.

Inside the bar, we sit down at a table, and though it should feel nice being welcomed, I can't shake Kellin's eyes on me, or Justin's. It almost feels forced, though Jack and Gabe do seem to have good intentions. I can tell, though, that it's a lot less comfortable with me here. I feel like I'm violating something.

After barely twenty minutes, I can't handle the tension anymore and excuse myself to the bathroom. I don't actually go to the bathroom, though—instead, I end up at the bar. I don't plan to drink any alcohol; mostly, I just want to sit and collect my thoughts without looking like a weirdo in the restroom.

I can't be there for more than three minutes when a very familiar blue-haired wonder sits down in the stool next to me with a way-too-casual "Oh, hey, Pretty Tan Guy! Long time no see!"

I turn to face the girl in surprise. "Bree?"

"In the flesh, yes, indeed," she replies, raising one perfectly shaped eyebrow and letting her bright red lips curve into a smile. "Wow. Didn't expect to see you here, of all places. Aren't you from California?"

"San Diego, yeah," I say slowly, unsure of how to react to her being here. I don't think anyone's really sure of how to react to her in general.

She whistles lowly. "Wow. Nice. So, what brings you up here, then? Whatcha been up to this past year?"

I bite my lip. "Um, I kind of just joined a local band up here. I, uh, I play the guitar."

"Ooh," she says, sounding genuinely interested. "What band? I might've heard of 'em."

"Uh, Sleeping with Sirens," I say, realizing after the words leave my mouth that if she knows this band, then she probably knows a particular person who happens to be in it.

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