A Hotter Touch, A Better F... Than Any Girl You'll Ever Meet

Chapter 25

It was close to midnight when I got past baggage claim and was finally in the parking lot, hoping they all in general weren't too pissed to choose somebody to come pick me up. Spencer HAD been kind of vague about it when I'd called him, but I was allowed to hope, right?

Ten minutes later I was kind of loosing hope. And about to find myself a cab. But then an old, familiar Jetta pulled up in front of me and I recognised Jaime's head of red hair in the driver's seat.

"Thank God," I muttered after opening the door. I tossed the bag onto the back seat and got seated in the passenger one. "I seriously thought you were going to leave me here to rot."

"Trust me, certain members of the household would've wanted that," she answered as she started the car back up.

"He still pissed at me?" I asked with a sigh.

She shrugged. "Brendon was the one who asked me to pick you up. He didn't want you to be left here but he didn't feel like going himself either. She bit her lip lightly. "I think it's Spence and Brent you want to worry about."

I nodded, taking a deep breath.

"And just to warn you, they're sitting you down to have some big talk as soon as we get there," she added, with a small, reassuring smile.

I sighed, but nodded again and leaned back in the seat.

We drove for a good fifteen minutes in silence. Then she turned to me again. "You can smoke in here, you know," she told me.

"I don't smoke," I quickly answered.

She sighed, sending me an exasperated glance. "You're going to need all the honesty you can muster tonight, Ry. Apparently it's not a lot. Even if everybody didn't already know you're doing it again, I've known you for too long not to see it when you lie."

"Sorry," I muttered before taking the pack out of my pocket, getting a cig out and lighting it. I was still a bad liar, that much was obvious. And I hated that Jaime, who'd been my neighbor while growing up, and whom I'd always been close to in some odd way had to see this side of me.

"Ryan, just..." She sighed again. "Just don't lie tonight. It's make or break in all instances. Your band, your friendships, your relationship with Brendon." She shook her head slightly. "You're tearing him apart, you know."

I nodded, taking a huff off my smoke. "I know," I muttered sadly. "And I'll do my best to fix it."

"Good," she concluded.

Then we fell back into silence, and fortyfive minutes and seven cigarettes later we were back at the apartment.

I looked up at it from the street, dreading going inside. Everything was supposed to come out in the open that night. I had no idea how to do it, and I had no idea whether things would, as Jaime put it, 'make or break.'

Still, she shoved my bag into my hands as I stepped out the cig and then gave me a push in the back towards the entrance.

I stopped again once outside the door into the actual apartment. Then I took a deep breath and followed the redhead inside.

I felt like I'd entered an interrogation room. Everybody was seated around the round kitchen table, looking probably the gravest I'd ever seen them.

Jaime slipped into her seat between Spencer and Brent and what I was left with was my usual place between Brendon and Spence.

Biting my lip, I warily sat down, glancing at Brendon, who, true to Jaime's words, looked like he was falling apart again.

He'd been crying again, that much was clear from the bloodshot eyes and the light bags beneath them. Not to mention the fact that he hadn't bothered with contacts at all, was still wearing his glasses and still in the same clothes as he'd put on that morning. He was lightly shaking and his forehead was rested against the palm of his hand, elbow on the table, making him look as if he didn't even have the strength to keep his head lifted on own accord.