The Guitar > M.G.C.

Chapter 10:

*Reality*

A couple days later, we're almost done with the Australian tour. I get to stay the entire tour, even though I'll probably be spending my birthday on a plane back to LA.

It was Mikayla, my mom, a guard and I driving to the next hotel. The car in front of us had the band inside it.

Mikayla and my mom were both on their phones. How much do you want to bet they're texting their significant other?

Mikayla slightly laughs as she's tapping on the screen.

"We're almost there, ladies," The guard who's driving tells us from the front seat.

My mom murmurs a 'thank you' as she still stares at her phone.

I stare out my window into the soft city lights and the whizz from passing by so fast.

I catch something else; my reflection. I stare into my blue eyes that resemble my dad's, my blonde hair that resemble my dad's, my obvious interests that match my dad's; like my clothing.

I stare into it and for weird reason I imagine myself as a boy. I wonder if my dad would've pushed my harder to do things he likes if I was a guy.

I just squish these thoughts away and put my head to the glass. Closing my eyes, I start thinking into reality instead of a less inportant time.

***

I wake up with my throat incredibly scratchy and thick. My muscle are tense and I'm drenched in a sicky sweat, even though I'm wearing a tank top and shorts and I'm on top of my blankets. The fan that is on doesn't help much either.

I attempt to wipe the tiredness out of my eyes, but my body states otherwise. A sharp pain hits my shoulders.

I groan, but wipe my eyes anyway.

Unexpectly, I start a coughing fit and my can feel snot start trickling inside my nose.

The door of the hotel room opens and my dad steps in with a frown on his face.

"Are you okay? We can hear you coughing from down the hall," He asks with concern.

"I'm fine," I grumble, my voice cracking and my throat burns.

"You're sick," My dad fully comes in and closes the door behind him.

"It's probably just a cold," I assure.

"How are you feeling?" My dad questions, ignoring my assurence.

"I'm okay," I push him away as he walks towards my bed.

"No you're not."

"Dad," I roll my eyes and repeat: "It's probably just a cold."

"You sound horrible," He comments. "I'm getting your mom."

"I don't need her," I shake my head. "I don't need anyone."

"Sure," Is all my dad responds with and turns back to the door.

A few minutes later, my mom comes in.