➰Collin➰
We walked into the hotel, smaller than the other one and semi empty, a scent of pine hit me as I placed my bags down.
Looking around, a small lounge area was set in the middle, the front desk in the back of the room. The floors hardwood, a small glass chandelier hung above, plants adorned the place and a welcoming receptionist stood, her hair tied back in a tight bun and a blue blouse hugging her waist.
"I'll check us in." Mike said, walking over to the desk.
I walked down to the lounge, flopping down on the couch. We had a forty minute drive next to a ranting blue haired boy and another one silently mocking him, the drive felt eternal, I paid but I didn't matter as long as I got out of that car.
I rubbed my temples slightly, the cool breeze from the ac hit my back, making the hairs on my neck stand. I looked over at Tre who slightly drummed on his knee, sitting on the love seat.
"I've heard that song before, what is it?" I asked, looking at him. "It's Android. It's one of our songs." He chuckled, "Are you a fan?" He laughed, sitting back.
"I've only listened to your first album and second. I was dragged here from Texas with my friend you decided to check out in the hallway." I let out a slight laugh.
"Hey, the drumming got better in the second album, way, way better." He said, "If you don't agree you're deaf." He added.
"Didn't you have some other dude? Some Al Sombrero?" I laughed at the name, "Close, but I call him Kiffmeyer. Not Sombrante. Yuck." He laughed.
( IM LAUGHING SO HARD AT SOMBREO BC ITS AN INSIDE JOKE)
"He was a fuck up drummer, but I saved the band." He announced probably, pushing his hair back.
"You do sound better, I love 1,039 but drumming did really improve." I agreed, making him smirk. "That's what I tell everyone." He boasted, smiling goofily.
"Hey, we've got our room, let's go." Mike said, motioning us to the elevator. I looked over a Tre who picked up his suitcases and Billie who sat lazily on the other side of the room, playing with the pen on the table.
We all piled in the elevators, I clung to the metal bar, biting my lip.
"The receptionist recognized us. Saying she saw us somewhere on MTV." Mike let out a small ha.
"Our album is getting big." Billie mumbled, sighing, shoving his hands in his pocket. "They just finishing building this hotel a couple months ago, that's why it isn't too full." Mike said picking up his suitcase as the hotel door opened on the seventh floor.
"Room 28C, should be at the end of the hall." The bleach haired boy spoke once again, walking quickly down the hall.
Billie was the last one behind, trudging with a large suitcase.
"He likes his quiet time, that's how he cools off. He goes from trying to keep his cool to ranting to quiet time. He should be good by morning." Tre whispered, walking into the room.
It had a little lounge, two doors in front of it and a small mini fridge and a small kitchen and and gladly, no balcony, a tv sat in the front of the room, Tre immediately sat down on the recliner, laying back and switching on the tv.
I heard him let out a hollering "Ha." Before pointing at the tv carelessly. "We're on tv." He laughed.
"And you're surprised why?" Billie asks, walking into one room. "It's about our little mess." Tre snickered,
I looked at the tv, a blond woman showing the mess hotel employees are sweeping up.
"We have Intel that a Mary Jane Ganja and three going by the name of Peter Simons, Simon Richards and Deedee Lester have destructed the hotel and crushed the top of a 67,000 car. The finances will be charged as soon as the people are found." The reports informed.
Tre snickered, "They don't know who we are." He pointed at the tv as the reporters displayed the mess.
"What time is it?" I yawned, sitting on the small blue love seat. "It's 12:39, are you really tired already?" Billie scoffed, sitting on the padded chair, propping his feet on the table.
"Sorry, I don't have the schedule of a rockstar." I shot back, "You'll be sleeping in that room," Mike pointed at the room Billie's stuff was placed in.
"Wait, that's my room and it only has one bed." Billie raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, my room has two beds and Tre's a kicker and I move around, a lot." Mike laughed, pulling out a beer from the mini fridge.
"Last time any of us shared a bed you ended up being kicked in the crotch, BeeJ." Mike laughed, taking a sip.
He winced at the thought, "Do you snore?" He asked, "No." I replied, "Do you kick or move around?" He asked again, "No." I yawned, "Do you blanket hog?" He asked another question, "No," I answered slightly annoyed, "Are you on your period?" He asked with all seriousness.
I shot up, annoyed. "No, no, no, and no!" I yelled, "Now please, can I go to fucking bed?" I asked.
He smirked, shooing me away.
I shot him a glare, grabbing my luggage and shutting the door. I plopped my luggage on the bed, pulling out pajama shorts and a plain shirt, stripping my close off and throwing those on.
I grabbed my toiletries, walking into the bathroom.
I wiped off the bit of makeup I had on, throwing the wipes in the toilet, flushing them away.
Quickly putting my hair in a sloppy pony tail, I brush my teeth, taking care of everything I needed to do before heading to the queen sized bed.
I took the side facing the wall, since the bed was pushed up to the corner, the window facing me.
I opened it slightly, letting in the warm summer air.
I pulled the covers over me, drifting off to sleep.
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Castaway ➵ Billie Joe Armstrong
FanfictionWoodStock 1994. Collin Grey, the castaway, is dragged to a music festival across the country. After being doused in mud she meets someone. Billie Joe Armstrong. A person who found her imperfections as beauty. (SLOW UPDATES) *** Warning, This book c...