W.D.Y.W.F.M. (Jesse Rutherford Fanfic)

Chapter 1.

A/N: Yay! You guys are cool. Here you go, another chapter.

Jesse’s POV

“You guys know where she is?” I ask the two guys from the backing band that are supposed to support the new chick. Of course, she’s late. I knew it was a bad idea; a Neighbourhood show never had an opening act before. But since this is a big event, especially since we are in Cali, somebody convinced the lads that we should have someone open, just to increase the suspense or whatever.

Of course, I was against it. But, hey, I’m ‘just’ the lead singer. Anyways, I would cope with it, if she wouldn’t be half an hour late. We could have begun already instead of waiting for her, but her set is already put up on stage so the staff could practice the transition between the two acts.

So we are obligated to wait backstage for her poor late ass, whoever she is. A least it’s permitted to smoke in here.

“Relax man… She’ll be here soon if she wants to do the show.” suddenly says Zach from the couch, as he lazily pinches the cords of his guitar. I just roll my eyes at him, continuing to take puffs of my cigarette. I’m not stressed, just really pissed.

“Guys, she’s here!” shouts Mikey from the theater’s back door. They all stand up, leaving me to tag along. Oh great.

I unconsciously drag my feet to the entrance and ruffle my hair, making sure to be presentable. I don’t quit the cigarette though, somewhat wanting to make a statement that I won’t care of her judgment.

I hear all the ‘nice to meet you’ from the band, as I get closer, seeing her form standing in between Zach and Jeremy. She looks up to me, her sullen hazel eyes staring intently. The way her frail fingers slightly twitch at my presence and the manner that she chews on her lips give away the fact that she is nervous.

But jeez, she looks like a fucking mess. I am no one to judge, but by the looks of it, her oversized mustard-yellow sweatshirt gives her about 50 extra pounds on her actually size. And she’s small, and skinny. Her bare legs, which are only marginally covered by the shortest shorts I’ve ever seen, look like two standing toothpicks. Plus, she looks as if she just had a bucket of water thrown over her. Oh right, it’s raining outside. That would explain the muddy boots and smudged eyeliner.

I got to admit that she has a nice heart-shaped face; her button nose gives the illusion of an unbelievable innocence compared to her badly cut washed-out platinum hair and stained skin. She looks as if she’s been on crack lately, the dark circles under her eyes probably coming from her sleepless nights.

“Jesse.” I introduce myself, reaching out for her hand. She shakes it with restrain, fuddling with her leather bag on her other arm.

“Sky. Sky Ferreira.”

Sky. Who the heck names their child ‘Sky’? Unless it’s just a stage name… I guess she’s kind of embarrassed, flashing me a shy smile from the corner of her firm lips.

“Sky? Like Skylar? Or Scarlet perhaps…” I ask, blowing smoke onto her. I think she realizes that I’m sort of mocking her, mainly because of the way that her smile drops instantly.

“Sky. Like the blue sky.” she says, pointing to the ceiling with a tight smile. So much sarcasm.

Yeah, I’m used to this kind of reaction. My appearance makes them think that I’m some sort of show-off asshole. But whoever cares about the opinion of a disrupted teenager must be a real idiot.

I shrug and walk away, as the gang continues to chat with her.

“Come on people, let’s get moving!” shouts someone, a member of the crew probably.