Bro Code

Chapter Four - Ryder

As far as I was aware, I was in bed in Swansea, and had no intentions of getting up. We had flown in, and landed around 2 in the morning, and got into the small, two-level house around four, give or take thirty minutes. And, because of that, I couldn’t have been more tired. I didn’t sleep at all in the car, or the plane, or the following hour while I caught up on Supernatural, and now I was laying on four hours of sleep. Four hours of sleep. Someone had the nerve to come into the room I shared with Chapman at eight in the morning and wake me up. But it wasn’t one of the boys. The boys would sing, bang on the walls, use the megaphone, or simply jump shirtless on the floors or my bed until I was up. No, this wake up call wasn’t anything like what the boys would do, but I had most definitely heard it before.

The soft hum echoed through the room, soft footsteps padded across the floor, the curtains opened and the weight shifted on my bed. The humming changed to slow singing. “Happy birthday, dear Ryder, happy birthday, my dear . . . “

I opened my eyes, welcomed by a smiling teenage girl as she ran a hand through my surely messed-up hair. “May I help you?”

Arabell laughed. “I got here a while ago, but Christian pulled me into a game of Mario Kart.”

“Did you win?” I asked, smiling. I took her hand from my cheek and played with her fingers, watching as she laughed again and pulled her free hand through her straightened blonde hair.

“Of course I won! But that doesn’t matter. You have a TwitCam to do, and you have to do it quick so we can go out for breakfast.” She smiled proudly.

Today was my sixteenth birthday, which didn’t excite me that much. We spent most of our time in Europe, so it wasn’t like I was going to start driving, nor could I get a job - not like I needed one. I knew Arabell would want to do something for me, though I would have been just fine if we stayed home together. Either way, I would let her do it, as I knew she took pride in pampering her already-pampered boyfriend.

“Alright, I’ll get up.” I huffed as I sat up in the bed, causing Arabell to tip slightly, and giggle as she caught herself.

“Good,” She brushed her hair out of the way and stood up, standing between my legs. “I need to get ready, but I’ll be there right after. Can I use a bathroom?”

I placed my hands on her hips, and she bent down so I could place a kiss on her forehead. “Yes, but you should use the one downstairs. Kick any of the boys out, but the two up here are gross.”

With luck, the floors would be covered in water, the toilet seats wouldn’t be half-up, their clothes would be in the basket, and there wouldn’t be shaving cream drawings on the mirrors. Without luck, it would be much worse.

She nodded, fixing my hair before picking up her bag by the door. “Get dressed, I’ll meet you right after.” With that, she walked out the door.

I sighed and stood up, still feeling sluggish. I went into the bathroom, where Chapman had left the message: “Old whore!” in dripping shaving cream on the mirror. After wiping it up, I turned on the shower and undressed, before jumping into the cold water. I felt good, so good I didn’t feel like getting out. I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes, feeling the water hit my back, but my thoughts went to the TwitCam and Arabell, and I straightened up. After pouring a glob of blue, scentless soap into my hand, I rubbed it through my hair and rinsed it out, then washed my body, followed by my face, then brushed my teeth and got out. I left my own trail of water on the floor as I got a towel, stepping lightly as not to slip, which would make for a painful birthday.

Slowly, but quicker than before showering, I walked to the closet and looked through the clothes I left behind when we went on tour. I pulled out black jeans with a holes around the knees, and a black Arctic Monkeys t-shirt, and black Keds, then pulled them all on and went back to the bathroom. I couldn’t find my own, so I took some of Chapman’s pomade (Our favorite, which the two of us used for every live show and is only sold in California.) and ran it through my hair, enough to make it stick up where I wanted it to. Continuing the pattern, I took some of his cologne, then ran down the stairs, where Christian was still playing Mario Kart.