The Jesus of Suburbia

Whatsername

TWO MONTHS LATER:

Last night I had the strangest dream. I met a girl at a concert and brought her back to the hotel. She had pink hair and a weird accent. Irish, I think.

I roll over and stretch my arms out, yawning. My head hurts.

As I drop my arms they hit something that mutters and moves away.

I open my eyes immediately and back away from the noise.

Fuck. There's a pink haired girl in my bed. "Um, excuse me but you need to leave." I said in a quiet voice.

No answer.

I clear my throat and repeat myself.

Still no answer.

She doesn't really look that intimidating or anything, but I don't really want to shake her awake.

Her light pink hair is across the pillow in a dramatic cotton candy fan and her back is turned to me. I can't tell if she has clothes on though because all the blankets are on her side and none on mine.

I'd love to just go back to sleep and live with the consequences, but if Billie, Mike or Tré come to wake me up then I should already be in hell.

So, with courage, I reach across the small distance and shake her shoulder. "Hey uh, wake up."

The girl mutters something that sounds like "Fuck off."

Well then, I'm sure we'll be great friends.

I shake her shoulder again and she turns towards me, blindly slapping my face. "Shut up, Timothy."

Wait, who's Timothy?

I frown and stop shaking her shoulder. This girl must have been very drunk. Well, maybe I was too but at least I could handle my alcohol.

My head drops back onto the pillow as I think. Eventually she'll wake up.

Just as I'm falling asleep again a knock sounds at the door. Dammit.

I sit up quickly and start to head towards the door. No wait, the girl.

Frantically I look back at her and pull the blankets over her head. Really smooth, Red.

I glance around the room and nod, wiping my sweaty hands on my boxers. Good, I'm still wearing clothes. Things look in order besides the two jackets strewn on the floor.

After glancing at the breathing pile of blankets again, I walked over to the door and opened it a crack.

"Hello?"

Tré was the first one I saw. It looked like I'd opened the door right as he was about to knock again. He lowered his hand and stepped away a step.

Billie was behind him with four cups of coffee.

Mike was behind him with a muffin or something.

They all looked tired.

"Hey Red," Billie began, stepping towards the door and beginning to push it open with his shoulder. "Looks like you just got up. I have coffee, don't-"

"Uh no." I said quickly, trying to shut the door. "You cannot come in right now."

"Why not?" Tré starts in a whiny voice. "We've spent the last twenty minutes trying to figure out which room was yours."

"That's great." I say passively, trying to close the door despite the protests of the three men behind it. "I'm not presentable."

Mike laughs. "We're all guys."