Situations Are Irrelevant Now

Chapter 1: He Loves Me Not

The door handle to my bedroom continued to jiggle as my best friend Max attempted to unlock my door and force me to meet his new bandmates.

One of them, Ronnie Radke, I have known since middle school and have actively avoided. Chances are the other band members won’t be much more appealing. I don’t really want to find out.

After fifteen consistent minutes of listening to the rattling door knob and an occasional curse word, I decided to address the problem.

"Max, just give it up already! I don't want to meet your stupid new friends, and I really don't want to see Ronnie!"

"Aw, c'mon Megan, give them a chance. Besides, it’s not their fault you have a crush on Ronnie!"

With a frustrated growl, I opened the door to find Max standing in the hallway, wearing his typical goofy smile.

"Who has a crush on me?" an amused voice asked from the stairs.

Max’s smile grew. "Take a guess."

Ronnie stepped further down the hall and, upon seeing me, rolled his eyes and continued walking. "Oh, of course. It's just you, Megan.”

I punched Max in the shoulder as I passed by him and followed Ronnie back down the stairs and into the kitchen.

"Look, Ronnie, I don't like you anymore. My sixth grade self had no idea you’d grow up to be such an asshole.”

He laughed as he poured himself a bowl of cereal. "Bitch, please. We all know you still have the hots for me.” Self conceited jerk.

Max finally joined us in the kitchen. “Ah, there you are! So, I guess this means you do want to meet the rest of the band. Who knew I was so persuasive?” 

I ripped the box of cereal out of Ronnie’s hands and took it into the living room. When I heard Max following me, I paused a shot him a dirty look over my shoulder. “Sorry, Max, I just came down for some food.”

It was hard to ignore the crestfallen look on his face, but then I remembered what Ronnie said and managed to find enough courage to leave the room without any room for argument.

+++

Our living arrangements were a bit unique, to say the least. The house technically belongs to Ronnie, but he let Max and I move in. Now, you might think I’m crazy to be living with someone like him, but I didn’t have much of a choice.

Although I have a job, I also am going to college. Living alone was way too expensive, and I don’t have many family members to rely on. Max told me about the house, and by some miracle, we managed to convince Ronnie to let me live here.

With Max and Ronnie’s attention on forming a band, they are constantly in between jobs, meaning I’m usually the one paying most of the bills anyway.

Sighing, I returned to my bedroom with the dreaded realization that I still had to work on a three-page research paper, due tomorrow. My already existing nature as a procrastinator didn’t mix well with my pessimistic attitude brought on by yet another unpleasant encounter with Ronnie.

Somehow, I managed to force myself to start working. Just as I wrapped up the first page, a sudden loud bang filled the house. The noise was followed by a couple of rough chord progressions. Guess the rest of the band must’ve finally arrived.

Despite my best efforts to block the noise with headphones, what little focus I had seemed to have disappeared completely. With an angry huff, I saved my paper and turned the computer off. Unable to focus on anything else, I went down to the basement.

The moment Max saw me, he haphazardly discarded his bass and pulled me closer to the group before I could even contemplate escaping.

"Guys, this is my friend Megan. Megan, this is the guys: Robert on drums, Omar and Bryan on guitar, and of course you know Ronnie." Yeah, of course I do.

I smiled at the three new members and tried to be as polite as possible. They seemed to be really nice guys, which made it all the more shocking to see them working along side Ronnie. Having nothing better to do, I decided to take a seat on the tattered sofa and listen to them practice. Much to my surprise, they weren’t bad. Painful as it is to admit, Ronnie’s singing was great.

+++

After an hour of playing, the band decided to call it a night. It was obvious that they took the practice session seriously, as each of them appeared sweaty and worn out.

Max ran over to me and tried to pull me into a hug, but I placed a pillow between us just in time. “Don’t come any closer,” I laughed, “you’re all sweaty!”

He kept his distance, but couldn’t resist asking what I thought of the performance. What do I say to that? Do I tell him the truth that they were amazing or that it sucked, if only to spite Ronnie? The look on Max's face was so cute that I just couldn't lie.

"It was pretty good, actually," I admitted.

Max seemed beyond pleased and started putting away the instruments with a smile on his face. Just as I was going to offer to help the guys get their instruments packed up, I felt something wet on my arm. I looked down to find Ronnie’s fingers wrapped around my arm. Before I could pull away, he tugged me into a very unwanted hug.

"Ugh, get off of me Ronnie! You're all gross."

He smiled. "And you love it."