"Thank you for coming tonight! We're All Time Low, this is our last song!" The lead singer screams into the microphone, as the guitars start ripping into another song. I was pretty sure it was titled 'Dear Maria...' something with counting. I didn't know. I wasn't exactly the biggest fan of All Time Low, I just came to get out of the house.

Okay, that was a lie. I was an All Time Low fan. Just not the biggest. I only knew Poppin' Champagne which they played that night, and Remembering Sunday. They were my two favorites. The crowd was large, considering it WAS an AP tour. Not that I've been to any, but my friends have. So when I heard that they were touring and coming to Detroit, I bought myself a ticket and went.

The mosh pit was spreading fast. I wasn't a punk or a rocker, I didn't get into those things, so I moved out of the way, moving in the tight crowd full of young teenaged girls and big guys. I got closer to the barrier, a little bit out of the way. I turned around to see the progression. Suddenly, a sharp pain was brought to my nose, and tears sprang to my eyes. I was punched in the mother fucking nose. My hands flew to my nose and I felt blood start to fall. I cursed and held my nose. I saw people around me look at me in total pity.

The song stopped. "Thank you- woah, what's going on down there?" Whoever it was, they were talking about me.

By then, everyone was looking at me. The blood falling out of my nose was a basic waterfall and all over my white shirt (great). I was drenched in stupid, scarlet, blood, from a stupid, punk asshole.

"Are you okay?!" The same voice said.

I pinched the bridge of my nose and looked up. It was the energetic, skunk haired, guitarist. I nodded and gave a thumbs up. Does it honestly look okay!?, I think to myself.

"Uh, no, it's not. It looks like your nose gave birth," The singer says, wincing at my nose. "Who did that?"

I shrugged, not bothering to talk. Not like they'd be able to hear me anyways.

"Is anyone here with you?" The guitarist asked, scratching his head.

I shake mine.

"Alright, come up here, we'll get you some help."

I didn't fight it. The crowd moved out of the way as I walked towards the stage. A big, chocolate colored, and sweaty security guard, who made sure crowd surfers didn't get onto the stage, helped me up. I glanced down at the crowd. The band had a good view on everyone. They all looked like potatoes from up on the stage, desperate for the band's attention.

I didn't talk to any of the band members, a guy with a clipboard guided me backstage. "Wait for the band here," he told me, sitting me down on a fold out chair.

The band came right in. The two guitarists handed people their guitars, and everyone but the skunk hair boy left.

"Holy shit!" The skunk haired one kneeled before me, looking up at my still bleeding nose."It's still bleeding!"

I realized how long it was actually bleeding for, and grew light headed. "I was punched." I stated.

"I realize that. Did you see the guy that did it? I could have the security guard go find him or something. You can beat him with a stick?" He joked.

The singer came back with a handful of toilet paper. "You got smashed."

I nodded and pressed the toilet paper to my nose. "Totally realize that, thanks," I spoke with the toilet paper falling in my mouth. "By the way, whatever your name is, I'm pretty sure the person that hit me was a chick. Not a guy." I looked at the guitarist.

"Jack," He said. "That's Alex."

"You're one of the first people that have met us, not knowing our names." Alex said, chuckling.

"I didn't plan on meeting you in the first place." I spoke fast, the dizziness worsening.

I felt like a bitch, I mean I was acting like one. They were trying to be friendly, and I was just snapping at them. I felt bad. "Sorry," I said, taking a deep breath. "I just-"

And that was when I fell off the chair, blanking out.

I woke up, with the band and other people hovering over me, waving paper over my face. "Did I pass out?" I moaned.

Jack nodded. He was hovering over my head. His eyes were big, and worried. He reminded me of a puppy.

"Sorry. I don't mean to be a pest." I tried sitting up, but my body ached.Some of the crew (I was guessing it was the crew) left, leaving just the band. They helped me sit up against the chair. I hated being pampered, this was like my hell. I shouldn't have felt like that either, I mean it was a band. A popular band, pampering me. Over a bloody nose and a pass out. I felt my nose. Thankfully, I wasn't bleeding anymore. "Can you hand me my pur-" I stopped. "Oh wait it's in my car.."

"Do you need a phone?" The guy with the buzzcut asked.

"Yes, thank you, Buzzcut." What was I saying?

"...Rian..."

"Thank you, Brian."

He looked at me and then walked away.

"Before you call me a random name based on my physical appearance, I'm Zack." Buff guy, apparently Zack, said.

"I would've said Hulk or something," I grinned a goofy grin.

Zack muttered something. "So is she okay? Because I have to pee."

"I'll watch her, you guys can go." Jack said.

"Are you sure?" Alex said. Zack said bye and left... someone obviously had to pee..

"Yeah." Jack said, sitting next to me. I realized how skinny he was. But also sort of cute. I wondered if all the girls liked him. All the fan girls. Maybe Alex, since he was the singer. If Jack wasn't in a band and I knew him personally, I would definitely would date him. But instead of wanting him, I just kept thanking him.

I wipe some blood off the top of my lip. "Thanks, Jack. You really don't have to do this."

He shrugged. "I like helping pretty girls."

"Wha-"

"Nothing," He said quickly, eyes bugging out.

Rian came back with a Sidekick phone. He handed it to me. "Here you go. Jack, give that back to Vinny when she leaves." He instructed and left.

I dialed my little sister's cellphone number. I told her I didn't feel well and needed her to pick me up.
"You're just going to leave your car in the middle of Detroit?" I muttered a yes. She said she was on her way.

I handed the phone to Jack. "Thanks again. You're really nice."

He shrugged, giving a cheeky smile. "No problem. I never got a name?"

"Oh, right. Whitney." I held a hand out for a formal greeting.

He shook it. "So your nose is okay? I mean you bled a lot."

"How long was I out?"

"Twenty minutes. Around the 16th, we started to panic."

I winced at my neediness. "I'm sorry for taking up your time. You probably have rockstar business to do. Not caring for a bloody mess."

He chuckled. "Nah, it's cool. Hey, so this might sound really weird, but you're really pretty."

I stared at him, taken back by his directness. "Thanks. But you shouldn't be trying to pick up girls at your concert. I could be a crazed fan girl and this could all be an act."

"You're not. Usually, they're crying at this point. 'Aaaalex! Aaaalex, do me!'" He mocked in a high pitched voice.

"Oh man, how many twelve year old girls do you get saying that a day?"

"At least 60 a night. Sometimes, I'm scared they'll find a way into the backstage. Like, making an act of getting punched in the face and passing out." He teased.

I smiled, "Imagine being the Jonas Brothers."

"I would definitely break into THAT tour bus."

The phone on Jack's thigh started buzzing. He looked at the number. "It's a 586 number. Is that your sister?"

I grabbed the phone. "Hey?"

"I'm here."

I hung up the phone and gave it back to Jack. "Don't worry. I won't let her call the number ever again." I got up.

He got up, too. "Um, listen, can I, uh, give you my number?"

"Aren't you scared I'll post it on the Internet?" I joked. Of course I'd never do that.

He nodded. "Yeah, but, life's full of chances. He held up a finger. "Be right back." He took off. When he came back, he had a notepad and a pen.

"Is this your personal number or your agents?"

"My mom's." He scribbled quickly and handed it to me.

I shoved it in my pocket. "Hopefully your mom's a nice lady."

"I'll see you again?"

"We'll see."