Destined To Explode

Thankfully, by the end of the night, everyone is safe and well. No one steals a tiger, no one marries a stripper and no one falls asleep on the roof and ends up seriously sun burnt. The only casualties seem to be a few rough hangovers and a lamp in Zack and Jack’s room that had been accidentally knocked over in someone’s sleep, seeing as the two conjoining rooms had been where most people crashed once the limo had brought us back from across town.

I wake up relatively early, organizing in whispers about going for a morning jog with Zack in an attempt to rid myself of the small headache that I had, Travis joining us sluggishly when I had tripped over him trying to leave – all he wanted was to get out of the room filled with snores that sounded like pneumatic drills in his sensitive state.

The hotel had some nice grounds so we lapped around the pool a few times, soaking in the morning sun as we did – talking about what we remembered about last night’s events and what ridiculous questions we had been asked over Twitter about the embarrassing photos that had been uploaded in some people’s drunken states.

Travis, for once, is ashamed of his actions, telling us both to shut up continuously as we mention when he threw up on a poor waitresses feet as she’d brought him yet another drink, Dutch Courage as he called it, so that he could ask for her number. Not that that ever happened once he had a few too many shots.

“Seriously,” Travis whines, Zack and I still laughing about it even though we’re in the elevator now, he was leaning against the mirrored walls in order to soothe the headache that he still had. “It’s not that funny!”

“But it really was!” Zack guffaws. “You were all confident about asking her for her number one minute and then the next you were suddenly bent over in your chair, throwing your guts up.”

“I know what happened! It’s going to haunt me forever!”

Travis is still pouting as we get back to the room, the majority of people still asleep, although there is someone in the shower, but it’s hard to work out who’s missing from the mass of people all over the floor. Alex is still sprawled out on the bed with Jack at his feet, both still clearly snoring even though Lipshaw has moved to lay across them both, obviously having given up when he had tried to climb into the space which I had occupied earlier.

“Today is clearly going to be a productive day.” I smirk at Zack, surveying the room. “What time is bus call again?”

“Matt said four-thirty, but then again…” He trails off, looking towards the person buried beneath a pile of towels near the bathroom door, who up until now, I had been wondering the identity of. “Do we wake them up?”

“If we want to get killed, then yes. I say that we wait until last minute to force people awake.”

“Agreed.”

~*~*~*~

We’re all half an hour late back to the buses that have been parked at the venue for the past day. A few more people had woken up before the time that Zack and I had set aside, but the rest of them had slumbered on and then had to be rushed to get up, back to their rooms, showered and out of the rooms by the checkout time, which some had run over, only adding to the bill that we had managed to rack up with the damaged lamp and missing stuff from the mini bars.

Two weeks away from the tour and my bunk – which I did occasionally use to nap in if Alex was still asleep when I got back from setting up – was now overflowing with dirty laundry.

“So, uh, when are we doing laundry?” I eye the bunk, crinkling my nose at some of the articles that are poking out even though the curtain is pulled closed. “There’s something moving in there, I swear.”

“Yeah…” Colussy moves into the bunk section behind me, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I was meant to do that yesterday.”

“Great.”

I take a quick picture, upload it to Twitter and caption it with barely a thought before I slip into Alex’s bunk for a quick nap, the majority of the other guys having resorted to sleeping again after we had set off, only a few remained awake and talking in the front lounge.

Ten minutes is all that it takes for Alex to tiptoe into the bunk sections, quietly pulling me into the empty back lounge and telling me to check my Twitter.

“Oh.” It’s all I can say as I scroll through the replies that had been madly coming in since the picture had hit the internet. “So, everyone is assuming that I’m the band whore because my bunk is full of clothes and inhabitable?”

“Apparently,” he chuckles, flicking on the television. “You gonna reply?”

“I don’t know how… How do you tell a couple hundred girls that no, you are not sleeping with the whole band and crew without looking like you’re flipping out?”

“Are you not flipping out?”

I shrug. “Not really. People send me this kind of thing every day, it’s nothing new. I just don’t want them to think that it’s affecting me when it’s not.”

“Give.” He holds his hand out for my phone, which I hand over with no complaint, watching his tap away at the onscreen keys for a few seconds before he hands it back to me.

Sleeping with all of them. Best sex I’ve ever had ;)

I scoff at the new tweet which he had written on my behalf. It’s clearly sarcastic and some people will appreciate the joke, but then again, no matter what my reaction was to all of this new drama, some of their fans were going to take it the wrong way and just keep going on.

“So, does being your girlfriend get easier with time, or…?”

“Not really,” he laughs, throwing an arm around my shoulders and pulling me into his side a little tighter. “There’s always going to be those who hate you just because you have me, but then there’s the good side where people adore you because you’re with me!”

“But, why? I just don’t think I want that sort of adoration unless I earn it.” I roll my eyes. “It’s not exactly fair, is it?”

“Well, no it’s not but they are somewhat irrational sometimes. I love them all to bits but they do get a little crazy when one of us is suddenly off the market with someone they don’t have complete access too.”

“Is that why Lisa was so unpopular?”

It’s still a bit of a touchy subject, his ex, but in conversations like this where she will have talked to him about it too, I feel like I need to see how she coped with it all.

“Well, that was part of it but she didn’t really deal with this kind of thing in a great way. She would lash out, get personal and yeah… it didn’t go down well.”

“I’ll try to remember that then.”

Notes