BloodLust // yungblud fanfic

Chapter 3

Holly groaned and rolled over in bed. Her eyes felt like they were glued shut. She knew she'd done something crazy last night, but she couldn't remember what it was.

She peeled one eye open and looked at the clock on her nightstand. 11:21. Great.

Not that she had anything she needed to do. It was the principle of the thing. She was an adult now, or— at least technically. She didn't feel much like an adult. When she was younger, she'd always thought that grown ups had all the answers and were never confused or uncertain about anything, and that she too would magically become all knowing and wise, but it hadnt happened yet. Maybe it never would. Maybe everyone was just scared and lost as she was.

What a depressing thought.

She staggered out of bed and looked at herself in the mirror. She'd been too drunk to take off her makeup before she passed out the night before, and her mascara was smeared halfway down her face. Her hair looked like rats had been nesting in it. There was some sort of bruise on her neck, and she leaned closer to get a better look at it, probing it gently with her fingertips.

Not a bruise— a spectacular love bite.

Right. The bar, the guy, the ridiculously incendiary kissing in the alleyway.

Did functioning grown ups have ill advised make out sessions with strangers they had just met? Probably not.

At least she hadn't fucked him.

She needed at least a gallon of coffee before she was prepared to cope with life.

She went out into the kitchen and found a half a pot of coffee waiting for her, still hot. God bless Dylan. It was probably several hours old by now, but she would drink engine sludge at this point as long as it had caffeine. She poured herself a huge mug and leaned against the counter to chug it. Definitely old. It tasted better than the inside of her mouth did, though.

As the caffeine worked it's way through her veins, Holly noticed a piece of paper sitting beside the coffee maker, covered in Dylans sloppy handwriting. She picked it up and squinted at it.

Drink ALL of the coffee, the note read — ALL was underlined several times — and then give me a call. I think i found you a gig.

Great. More meddling. But she would have to call him, or he'd give her hell later.

She wasn't sure where her phone was.

After fifteen minutes of searching, she finally found it in the top drawer of the bathroom vanity. Good thinking, drunk Holly. Definitely an appropriate place to stash your phone, right next to Dylans shaving cream.

She's finished the second cup of coffee by then. Good enough. She dialed Dylans number and waited for him to answer.

He picked up on the third ring. "Still alive, i take it?"

"Yeah, because i party so hearty." Holly said. Dylan acted like it was time to call Alcoholics Anonymous every time she had more to drink than a beer or two. She got it, but it was still irritating.

"This was the first time i've been out in a month! Just because you're old and domesticated now—"

"Right, okay, not the point." Dylan said. "You got my note?"

"Yeah." Holly said. "What's this alleged gig?"

"Hardly alleged," Dylan said. "Straight from the horses mouth. Jordan told me about it this morning. He's got that friend in that band, you know, the guys who made it big—"

"Crayons markers or something," Leah said. "Colored pencils."

"No, that's Sams band." Dylan said. "I'm talking about Yungblud. Anyway, so Jordan told me that their guitarist just quit, mid tour, and they're in L.A. for like two days and they need a replacement. So they're doing auditions today. I really think you should go."

"I don't want to be in another band," Holly said. The first time had worked out just great. She wasn't exactly champing at the bit to go down that road again.

"That's stupid," Dylan explained. "You're good at it, and you love it, and if you spend the rest of your life just working bullshit office jobs it will be a complete fucking waste. Look, I know that what happened with us was horrible, but that's not, like— that was just Daniel, okay? Not every situation is going to be like that. And i'm tired of you moping around the apartment."

"I don't mope." Holly said, which was a blatant lie. "And it wasn't just Daniel, it was everything, it was the shitty van with the heater that never worked, and the shitty truck stop food, and the shitty shows where the crowd hated us, and the like—not showering, and —"

"These guys have buses, and i think they can afford to feed you." Dylan explained. "I'm done talking to you about this. The audition starts at 3:00. Get a pen and write down the address."

Holly did it, so conditioned by a lifetime of being bossed around by Dylan that she was completely unable to disobey a direct command. After Dylan hung up, she stood there for a minute staring at the address.

Yungblud. Right.
What a stupid name for a band.

That settled it. Holly couldn't play for a band with a name that dumb. She wasn't going to let Dylan bully her into it.

Fuck Dylan, anyway. Holly liked her office job. It was uncomplicated and easy. She showed up at 8:30 and left at 5:00, and she didn't have to talk to anyone except the nice lady in the next cubicle over, Carol, who had pictures of her grandkids on her desk and always gave Holly those little hard candies in the gold wrappers. Nobody yelled at her, or got high and puked in the back of the van, or spent all of their food money on weed. It was fine.

She turned on Riverdale on her television and drank the rest of her coffee while she watched Cheryl Blossom yell about something. Cheryls hair was long and shiny. Holly wondered if she could make hers do that. Probably with a lot of hair spray.

She looked at the clock on her wall.
12:53.

Still plenty of time to get in the shower and make it to the audition.
Not that she was going. Just hypothetically.

She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the back of the couch, trying to force her mind to go blank as the TV blathered on. She didn't want to think about anything. Her brain didn't cooperate with her, though. It presented her with an image of the guy from last night, smiling at her, hiking her skirt up around her waist and saying, I don't usually do things like this. Holly has smiled back and said, Neither do I.

God, what a crazy night. She hadn't hooked up with a random stranger like that since her failed stint in community college. It wasn't that she was opposed to the idea; she'd just lacked the opportunity. She'd spent most of the last three years touring. Fooling around with fans was a bad idea; fooling around with her band mates, even worse.

She hadn't even learned the guys name.

Her phone buzzed. She opened her eyes and glanced down at the screen. Dylan, of course. If i come home and you're still there i will kick your ass.

That was an empty threat if Holly had ever heard one. Dylan wasn't going to do a thing to her. Whine a lot, maybe. He could be pretty irritating.

She would be a lot more willing to go if the audition weren't in fucking Burbank.
Traffic on the Five was always a nightmare.

Her phone buzzed again. Scared?
The most irritating thing about Dylan was that even though she knew when he was trying to manipulate her, it usually still worked.

She turned off her phone and tossed it on the coffee table, and turned up the volume on the television. She planned to still be sitting there, greasy, unbathed, and disgusting, when Dylan got home. It served him right. It was none of his business what she did or didn't do, as long as she paid her half of the rent, and she did, every month, on time.

That was the problem with family, the never quit meddling.
She looked at the clock. 1:07.

Heaving a sigh, Holly got up and headed for the shower.