Fly Away With Me (Alex Gaskarth Fanfiction)

Chapter 6

Six. I had almost forgot what it was like to take a hot shower in a bathroom that had an actual door, not just one leaning against the wall waiting to be hinged into the frame. It definitely wasn’t extravagant by any means, but there wasn’t a frayed makeshift curtain hanging over the rod—instead there was a door into the transparent shower, a fully functional showerhead (free of unsightly mineral deposits) and a cleaned drain.

I know it’s just a shower, but it wasn’t mine. It wasn’t tattered and torn. There wasn’t a daddy long legs living in the corner of the ceiling that I was too scared to kill.

It was just—new.

And for a girl who moved three thousand miles across the country on a whim and looking for adventure—that scared me more than it should.

“Lyric! You in there?” Alex’s voice carried through the door, his fist against the door, “The guys are here, we’ll all be downstairs when you’re ready.”

I turned off the water and wrapped myself in a towel, “Got it, be down in a minute.”

His footsteps carried out of the bedroom, shutting the door behind him as I wiped my hand against the steamed up glass. I swallowed back a cough, knowing all too well that my body was protesting and would continue to protest against anything that didn’t involve a bed and twelve hours of uninterrupted sleep. Under different circumstances, I would have been more accepting of a full nights sleep, but with time off from work and a borderline stalker roommate, there was no way I was wasting what little time I spent here.

They had fucking clean showers.

And do not even get me started on the closet.

The same closet that Ali and Lulu had stocked with whatever they deemed acceptable. They weren’t 50’s style dresses (as Alex had expected) but instead the two of them had taken it upon themselves to give me the wardrobe of my dreams. It was full of the clothes I would wear daily, had I been rich enough to afford to buy them. Luckily, Ali was filthy rich—meaning that dropping a few zeros on a new wardrobe for a girl, who had once spilled a martini on her fiancée’s business suit, was no big deal. Small talk. A passing remark.

I blow dried my choppy blonde hair before pulling on a pair of black leather shorts and purple silk peplum top, finishing the look off with a chunky silver necklace, hoops and zip up peep-toed black booties. (link!) Painting on some eyeliner and mascara, I realized the outfit was probably more than Alex had anticipated when he said to dress nice, but if there was one thing I had learned working at the bar—it was that there was nothing quite like making heads turn and necks snap. A woman can’t ask for power when she walks into a room, she has to take it.

I finally made my way out of the room and down the spiral staircase to the basement, or well, man cave. Before I could even make it to the bottom step I could smell Jäger in the air, thick as smoke, pulling me through the threshold. The room was open, rivaling the square footage of the upstairs. The floor was tiled, except for the carpeting under the pool table in the center of the room, which was where—currently—Alex’s entire band of bar buddies were spilling over a game and sloshing their drinks triumphantly in the air.

“It’s the woman of the hour!” Jack’s voice boomed over the distinctly punk music pouring from the stereo, “Or should I say the woman of the weekend?”

“Aladdin,” I laughed, walking towards him, “How the fuck are you, man?”

He grabbed both of my shoulders and took a long look up and down, “I’m fine, girl, and by the looks of it so are you.”

“Down boy.” I slid his hands off and made my way past him over to Alex, who was leaning against the pool table, arms crossed, “Didn’t anyone ever teach you boys manners?”