Best Kept Promise (Best Kept #2)

Chapter 33: No More Chopped For You

Song: The Rock show by Blink-182

*NOTE: This chapter is in Tyler's point of view! Also, I found that picture on pinterest and laughed for ten minutes because it's Tyler. :))))))

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-Tyler-

Lugging my bags up to the third floor is not what I want to do when I get home. I'm excited to sleep in my own bed tonight though. It's usually the first thing I think of when I get home.

When I make it upstairs, the door is already opened from Benji and I walk inside. I move through the living room, throw open my bedroom door, and then proceed to drop my bags on the ground before flinging myself onto the bed face first. I take in a breath and breathe out slowly. My eyes shut and I exhale again.

After tour, when I get home, it all hits at once. My body will ache for a few days, but I always sleep it off. As I'm building my strength back up, I also think about tour and how much I miss it. I'll miss the van, being close to my band even though we live together, and just seeing a smile every day that's not mine.

Well, it's not like I look in the mirror and smile at myself.

Okay, so maybe I've done that a few times. Always staying positive.

I push myself up and climb off my bed to get the rest of my bags from the van. We don't usually unpack the trailer for a few hours, sometimes we wait until the next day. There's just too much to do when you get home and all you want to do it sleep and see family.

I do miss my mom's a lot and I'm going to dinner at their house tomorrow. A small problem, I haven't mentioned it to Maggie yet. I want her to go...to meet them, which I'm nervous about. I've taken one girl home and I regret that.

It was a moment of weakness. I thought it'd last, but it didn't. But there's no reason to dwell on that. We get our hearts broken and we pick up the pieces like it never happened. But there's always a scar where you tried to mend it and weld the broken pieces back together. Mine is barely there anymore. You don't get anywhere thinking the world is out to get you.

She pales in comparison to Maggie.

There's no comparison at all.

With Maggie, I've met my match. She fights with me, she kisses me, and she straight up doesn't put up with my bullshit.

We all have our faults. Mine relate to being alone. I've never done well being by myself. Not that I need a babysitter, but more in the realm of not having anyone there when I needed them. It's not easy to just turn it off either. No matter what someone says, you can't just snap your fingers and make it go away.

As I'm walking down the stairs, I shake my head and smooth both hands through my messy hair. I fell asleep in the van and I'm not really awake. I'm here, but not here. Kind of in between, if that makes sense.

The first thing I see when I curve around the van is Maggie's rear end sticking out of it.

She's wearing sweatpants rolled up under her knees, a black tank top, and her hair is still in a messy ponytail from where she fell asleep in the van.

I stand there with my arms crossed and I tilt my head to the side.

When she curses, I have to hold in a laugh. I've heard Maggie cuss before. Mouth of a sailor when she thinks no one's around.