These Coming Years

Chapter Seven: Surreal

"We didn't sleep together, Marisol," I repeated into the phone.

"You sound disappointed," she commented. I could just see her smirking, and it made me roll my eyes.

"No," I demanded. "I didn't come all this way to just have sex with him." I rubbed my eyes. Marisol had woken me up way sooner than I wanted. "We just...held each other," I smiled. "It was perfect."

"That's romantic and everything, but what are you guys now?" She asked. "Friends? A couple? Somewhere in between?"

"Friends, I guess?" I pulled my blankets tighter around me. "I don't know yet. We didn't talk about that. It seemed like the only thing that needed to be done was to hold each other until we fell asleep. When I woke up a few hours ago, he'd put the blankets on me and left."

"Sounds like more than just friends," she said. I could hear her filing her nails in the background. "Whatever you two are doing, just be careful. I don't want to have to be without my girlfriend for another six years."

"I don't think it'll end up that way," I assured her. Our conversation ended promptly after, and I curled back up to fall asleep again; however, I was abruptly snapped awake by the hard knock at the door. I flipped the blankets off of me, giving myself a few moments to straighten up. It was like déjà vu. I pulled the door open and found Brendon awaiting my greeting in the hallway, his hands in his pockets.

"Morning," he smiled. What year was it? Brendon seemed like a completely different man than the night before. He seemed happier and more confident. "Did you sleep okay?"

"Yeah, I guess so," I shrugged. "I was certainly warm. Thanks for that."

"Well, I know you get cold easy," he mimicked my shrug. He bothered to remember that? "Alright, so we leave in an hour. You need any help getting ready?"

"I think I'm good," I shook my head. "What are we doing today?"

"I already told you," he grinned. "It's a surprise."

"I know, but I'm going to keep asking," I put my hand on my hip.

"Of course you are," he laughed. "Just go ahead and get ready. It'll be fun."

"Well, what should I wear?"

"Something comfortable," he answered. He left me to get myself ready, and I turned on some music to fill the silence. As my John Mayer station rang around the room, I was dressed and packed in no time.

I decided to take the rest of my time to fix my makeup. Shadow was smudged all around my eyes, and my eyebrows were basically all over the place. It took some work to wipe it all off, and get my face clean, but it wasn't impossible.

As I picked up my makeup bag, a realization popped into my head. Brendon was famous. He was in a band. A group that actually went somewhere. They must have had a few albums out by that point. And I hadn't heard any of them. I grabbed my phone and created a new Pandora playlist.

The fist thing that played was a song called "I Write Sins, Not Tragedies". I didn't recognize the title, but the tune was very familiar. I could just hear all the rough versions I heard back in high school. This was a lot finer and cleaner, though the lyrics were essentially the same.

Brendon's voice was still so beautiful, but it just sounded a little different than the song he sang to me once in the desert. I had no idea what it was called, or when it was recorded. Though, I was sure more searching would lead me to it. I just let it go.

The music continued to float around me as I fixed my face. As the final coat of mascara was applied, I heard a knock at the door. I jumped and quickly turned off the music. I strode to grab the handle and pulled the thick, heavy door out of my way. Brendon stood in the hallway once more, only this time he held a bag of his own. He was quickly followed by Spencer, holding a similar item by his left leg.