Opportunity of a Lifetime (A Macklemore and Ryan Lewis Story)

Chapter 7: Cold Beers and Controversy

AUTHORS NOTE: I'm not implying that Ben would give alcohol to underage kids. Actually I don't think Ben even really drinks anymore. This is only for the sake of the story. IT'S FICTIONAL. Also yay it's a longer chapter!!!! I got more votes and reads I was hoping for so keep it up guys!

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We were about 4 days into the trip, and in this short time I was already getting really close with everyone. Ben and Ryan especially, Dylan and I already spent all of our time together. I joked with everyone like we were best friends, but the best part was that they treated me as an equal despite the age difference. I could go to lunch with anyone of them and have a great time.

I just couldn't go drinking with them.

Well, just not out.

"Hey," Ben whispered in my ear. I was sitting in the third of the five rows, which I more or less claimed as my spot. We were all watching the Seahawks vs. Jacksonville game. And of course you know how that went. Everyone was in a great mood.

Ben slyly handed me a cold beer, I gave him a confused look, feeling the condensation and the icy can chill my palm.

"Uhh..." I didn't know if it was a test, but I would've happily drank it.

"Only this once, but one beer isn't gonna hurt you." Ben gave me a wink, his low eyelids flashing and a mischievous smirk growing on his face.

I've had my share of alcohol, just like any other teenager. One of the reasons Ben's music speaks to me is because for a period of time I was convinced drinking would make my problems go away. I stopped, but a beer never made me go back or anything. So I opened it and took a sip. Pretty good stuff. Ben shouted and walked away, shaking Zach's shoulders ferociously.

It was a timeout.

Yeah... He may have been just a little wasted.

I made room for Dylan as he sauntered over, sitting next to me. "Ben gave you a brew too?" He asked, eyeing the beer in my hand. He took a sip of his own, which I didn't even realize he was holding. I raised my eyebrows at him and he just smirked back. "You can handle a little alcohol can't you sweetie?" He asked, but I didn't really want to tell him about my brief past with it, so I just nodded, taking a sip and turning back in my seat to watch the boring scenery blaze by in all it's disappointing glory.

The game was clearly going in the Seahawks favor, it being 37-3 with only 5 minutes left in the fourth quarter. So I ended up not paying attention much to the end of the game, reclining my chair and being pretty much silent the rest of the game. After that we all watched some movie I really wasn't actually watching, I was just staring out the window listening to my music.

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"Hey, you seemed a little quiet today. After I uhh... mentioned alcohol." Dylan whispered hesitantly, getting up from his bed and sitting on mine. It was late at night now, and the small window showed that the boring scenery wasn't going to let up for a while. The only difference was the stars that freckled the sky. In a way, the stars were much like Dylan's freckles, so intricately placed and faded to a point were you have to be looking specifically for the little specks to see them.

His preposition bounced around in my skull, the words searching for the vulnerable kid desperately wanting to shout to the world what she hid behind other peoples music.

"Well..." I fiddled with my fingers, not making eye contact.

Dylan put his fingers on my chin, forcing me to look at him. "You can tell me anything, I'm here for you." Damn those green eyes.

I sighed, knowing that I would tell him eventually. "It's not big, I just started drinking at the start of freshman year. And it went on for a couple months. I stopped, it just still brings me down sometimes." I stared at a piece of lint on the ground like it was the most interesting thing in the room.

"Me too," Dylan whispered, everyone was asleep by now, and I would rather we kept this between Dylan and I. I looked at him with sad eyes. "I guess I was kind of a player, even freshman year. But my parents were never home, so I used whatever I could to fill the void. Not drugs, sex usually. But I drank my fair share."

"Sorry." I awkwardly shifted in my seat, not knowing what else to say. I never expected he was the player type.

"Yeah... I'm kind of done with that chapter in my life." He looked away sadly.

Dylan reached over and pressed his soft lips on my forehead, kissing it gently before retreating back to his bunk after closing his eyes for the night. I watched him sleeping for a little while, his eyelids fluttering in sync with his chest heaving up in down. He did not snore. He only took small breaths that whispered in and out of him, speeding up to the tempo of his dreams. He truly did sleep like an angel.

I thought about our conversation. This was something I hadn't ever shared with anyone, but something about Dylan made me feel like I connected to him, in a way I only ever could with Macklemore music. I think it was more than just his eyes that made him seem so much like Ben. A caring quality I couldn't put my finger on. I went back to my bunk and fell asleep listening to the gentle rumble of the bus speeding down the highway.

I woke up at 3 in the morning with a dry mouth and a sore throat. After trying to fall back asleep and failing, I quietly got up to go get a glass of water. I tiptoed over to the sink and saw Ryan working on his laptop, the faint glow from the computer lighting up his tense face. After filling up a glass of semi-cold water I walked over and sat next to him.

"Whatcha working on?" I asked him quietly. His eyes looked bloodshot and tired.

"Ya know, the video, what else."

"You should really get some sleep, you can work on it tomorrow." I said, reaching to close his laptop. He pushed my hand away.

"You don't understand, I need to get this done, this project means a lot," Ryan told me. He twitched away when I put my hand on his shoulder, something's really bothering him.

"I get it," I started, "it means a lot to everyone, but you can't be your best when you don't get any sleep at night, don't you think Jackie wants you with her?" I said, not thinking he was anything more than overworked.

"It just needs to be perfect," Ryan groaned, his eyes filling up with tears. Woah. He's always the jokester, I'd be less surprised seeing Ben cry, and that's saying a lot. "People already doubt me, and I can't let anyone down anymore," he explained, a tear falling down his cheek.

"Who'd you let down?" Without thinking, I reached over and caught his tear from staining his shirt, "Cause it certainly wasn't me. Just do what you know how to do, and it will be perfect." I could see the desperation in his face. Stress doesn't even begin to describe the emotion I saw.

"No one thinks I can pull off such a controversial subject, with young actors like you, if it's not right it looks like the wrong message." Ryan ran his hand through his dark hair, something's I've noticed he often does when he's stressed. A quote for some reason popped into my head. One by Eminem, probably the rap king of controversy.

"Eminem said something once," I started. "I think it was, 'you've got enemies? Good, that means you actually stood up for something.' I guess it's okay being out there, cause where is playing it safe going to get you, it won't change anything." I told him. He wiped another tear from his face, obviously embarrassed that I saw him in a time of weakness. I gave him a small smile, hoping to bring his spirits up.

"You're pretty smart for a 15 year old you know that?" Ryan sighed. I blushed a little. I gave him a grin and the corners of his mouth turned up a little, and he even let out a small laugh.

"So I've been told," I joked. "I'm also smart enough to know that you need your beauty sleep if you want to look like the little princess you are," I said, snatching away his laptop before he could do anything about it. "You'll get it back tomorrow," I walked towards my bunk. "Oh, and goodnight Mr. Lewis." I added before returning to my bed. I turned back to him and saw that his mood has changed from genuine sadness, to pulling a fake upset face. He looked a little peeved, oh well, he needed to sleep. He'd thank me tomorrow.