Flowers In His Hair - H.S

H.S. Flowers In His Hair - 3

- It's raining today- Just thought you might want that useless piece of information stuck in your head all day.

This one goes out to @mygoIdfishisdead. My first comment and I love you for that.

***

I mess around with him, and I'm okay with it.

It's only 5 pm when I arrive home. I'm scarfing down the food, too lazy to get a plate. She's right, I don't eat enough.

It's just never been a priority. I'd instead drink. The band has a gig tonight, the band that my friends and I drunkenly decided to form one night.

We're not successful, not by a long shot, but we get a gig now and then and I actually really enjoy it when we get to play. The only downfall is, I'm not going to be able to hear Lisa tonight. I'll Have to get some other kind of fix and that's always dangerous.

I throw the container in the sink and walk away only to turn around halfway because I forgot to rinse it out and the idea of any sort of insect coming after the smell has me running to open the tap.

I take the nap that was suggested and wake up feeling like I'm in another universe, It's one of those hard naps where your body tries to turbocharge itself into another dimension.

I also slept too long so now I'm rushing through the shower, leaving my hair to air dry and get dressed in record time. I hop down the halfway still pushing my one foot into my shoe and obviously fall flat on my face. It's my own fault, I'm as clumsy as a newborn giraffe.

I grab everything I'll need and make my way out, still putting on some of my rings as I power walk to the venue. It's not too far but they're going to be pissed that I'm late, again.

My thought is confirmed when I run through the door and I'm greeted with a sour look from Clare. I don't mind her much because she's been dry humping my last nerves recently and I'm over her shit. "I have the urge to yell at you." My head snaps to Mitch who's lazily sitting on the couch, tuning his guitar. I roll my eyes at him.

Mitch is a psychologist, that's actually how we met. I went to him for a first appointment, but he told me that he has someone better in mind after an hour with me.

He called me out of the blue a couple of months after our session to ask me how I was doing and invited me for a beer, the rest just sort of happened and now he's my best friend. Mitch is the only person who really knows me, well he knows more than anyone else does.

I stare him down with narrow eyes. "Oh, yea? I have the urge to caress your face with my fist in a forward motion." I raise an eyebrow at him and he snorts.

"I love it when you get rough with me." He teases and I can't help but laugh at him. Adam is standing in the corner with his back to us, probably high as a kite because he hasn't acknowledged me yet.

"Well, nobody's perfect," I tell the room and move to get my own guitar. I tune it quickly, just in time to be called for showtime. The bar is one of our regular gigs, about once a month or so. It's small and we usually attract about a hundred people, nothing big but we enjoy it nevertheless.

We get into position; the owner turns the music down. I step up to the microphone. The first chords ring through my entire body, leaving a vibration behind. Here to take my medicine, take my medicine. Treat you like a gentleman.

The small group of fans that we have goes wild as the first words leave my mouth, and I smile because this will be a great show.

We all rush off the stage with a natural high and enough adrenaline to put down a horse. The vibration hasn't left my body and I jump from one foot to the other in the small room.