Roadie: A Summer Set FanFic

Chapter 2: Application

*Note: I do not own any members of The Summer Set, the band itself, Twitter, or any songs used in this story. I do own the characters outside of the band.*

Side photo is Blake!

"Chelsea, Chelsea, tell me you love me! Chelsea, Chelsea, are you feeling me now?" I sang out loud as I drove through my neighborhood Wednesday morning. "Chelsea Chelsea, I think it's 'bout time we get down, get down. I want more!" 

I parked in front of Blake's house feeling unusually happy. I danced around in my seat, bobbing my head to the beat of the music. "Chelsea" had always been one of my favorite songs. It always put me in a good mood. 

I had the radio up so loud, I didn't hear when Blake got in until she turned it down quickly. I looked up alarmed, as she looked...well, horrible. 

"Blake?" I asked tentatively. 

"Morning." she said bitterly. Her voice was kind of raspy. Her face was pale, excluding the dark circles beneath her exhausted eyes. They were kind of puffy, too. 

"What happened?" I asked, alarmed. "Have you been crying?" 

"Yeah," she sighed, leaning her head back against the head rest and closing her eyes. "I got into a big fight with Lucas last night." 

"A fight?" I repeated, pulling out of the driveway. "What kind of fight?" 

"A screaming match," Blake answered, sniffing. "I thought we were just going to hookup and it wouldn't be anything, but apparently he liked me." 

"But Lucas is such a player," I shook my head, trying to figure out why the biggest manwhore at Lake View would go to the house of a girl known for sleeping around, thinking it was some romantic date. 

"I guess he thought we were actually going to study," she laughed halfheartedly. "As soon as we started making out, he said he didn't want to do this yet. And it just turned into an argument. And he called me a whore and a slut and all these horrible names." Blake started crying again. 

"Aww, boo, you're not a slut. You just like having fun. There's nothing wrong with that." I reassured her, reaching out to hold her hand. "And he knows that. Why would he think he could date you? Lucas isn't an idiot, he knows you don't date. Everyone does." 

"I don't know," she huffed, shaking her head. We stopped at a red light, and I turned to look at her. She was wearing a pink and white flowered dress with white flats and a loose, white sweater. Her usually curly hair was up in a top knot, with a few curls framing her face. She looked like she had makeup on but it didn't cover much. 

"Here," I reached into my backpack and pulled out a small makeup case, handing it to her as the light turned green. "There's brown eyeliner in there, and black mascara. Fix your makeup at the next light." 

By the time we pulled into the school parking lot, Blake looked a lot more presentable. She had always been good at putting on a brave face. 

"Okay, the bell already rang," I told her, adjusting my black sequined tank. "Go take your English exam, and we can go off-campus for lunch." Senior privilege: permission to leave school grounds for lunch. 

"Can we go to Chik-fil-a?" she asked. 

"Of course," I laughed, giving her a hug. "Keep your head up, girlie. He's not worth it." 

Blake smiled at me, turned toward the English building, and walked away with her head high. I was glad she was so tough. 

I glanced down and saw that my black sequined high top had come untied. I kicked my foot up onto the tire on my truck to tie it. When I turned around, I slammed into a tall figure.