Real Ugly(18)

It doesn't.

Instead, tears stream down my face, and I find myself obsessing over the date I'd promised I'd never obsess about.

March 15th.

Oh, how I hate March 15th.

It's three days away, and I can't stop thinking about it. Six years. It's been six years, and the pain is still as fresh as ever. And it's all his fault. Him. Turner Campbell. Might as well change his name to Satan or Beelzebub or Lucifer or something.

I touch a hand to my belly and roll away from the wall, so I'm facing the black curtain. My fingers play across the stitches while my mind tries to convince me to get up and take ownership over what happened on that stage. I should be proud; everyone else is. Except maybe Hayden. I mean, she says she's glad that we got some hot press, but I think she's jealous that I stole the spotlight from her. Hayden really, really doesn't like to share. I wonder, maybe, if it has something to do with Turner Campbell, too. If maybe she remembers she slept with him, and if she's jealous about the kiss.

Fuck.

How am I going to look him in the eyes again? If I do, he'll see things there that I don't want anyone to see. I'm not a sixteen year old girl with idol fantasies; I'm a grown ass woman, and I need to let up on this Turner obsession that I've been nursing. Shit. But I know deep down that I'm on his radar now. My mistake. I should've never returned his jacket to him. I'm such a fucking idiot.

I sit up suddenly and tear my headphones off, tossing them to the foot of the bunk and climbing out and into the bright sunshine that's streaming through the windows. The door to the front is open, and I see the band sitting around and eating one of America's rare but admittedly delicious home cooked meals. Blows my fucking mind that the woman can whip up a five star dish on a bus. In-freaking-credible.

Everyone looks up as I walk in, and Spencer smiles at me in the rearview mirror. There's no doubt in my mind that they can see the tear streaks down my cheeks or the redness in my eyes. But fuck 'em. I don't care. Tears or no tears, I could still kick all their asses.

America assumes my expression has something to do with the video and gives me a sympathetic look. Good, but she has no idea how much worse this is. It's a scar that'll never heal, but one that I thought would at least scab over. Thanks a lot, Turner. You're ripping it off, piece by piece.

“I need to stop at a store,” I say, and America's soft expression hardens.

“No problem, lemme just stop the caravan and tell all five bands and their staff to wait while you run in for some tampons.” I flip her off and roll my eyes as I grab a plate and slap some food onto it. I'm not hungry and my stomach feels like it's full of lead, but I'm going to go through the motions, damn it.

“Fuck you,” I tell her as I scoot in beside Hayden and try not to touch her skin. You never know where it's been. “You know what I meant. When we get to Phoenix, I need cigs. Jesus Christ, who put a stick up your ass this morning?”

“You did,” Hayden says, leaning her elbows on the table and resting her cheek against her hands. She stares at me with her blue eyes and smiles an evil smile that makes my already aching belly feel like it's being pulled in two directions. God, I might throw up. “Turner's been calling all night and all day.” Hayden nods her chin at the counter, and I look up to see my phone resting there next to America's. Oops. Guess I forgot to drag it in my cave with me.

“So?”

“So, you know how I feel about him,” America says as she switches off the stove and dumps whatever it is she's cooking onto a plate. “And I don't want Amatory Riot too closely associated with Indecency. It's only a matter of time before somebody dies or fucks up, and they'll be screwed. We don't need to be attached to a sinking ship.” She punches the faucet on hard and starts to scrub, splattering her fancy suit with soap bubbles and droplets of dirty water.

“I had no idea you two were so into each other,” Hayden continues, doing her damnedest to take my bad mood and bring it up to a whole new level. “Let's just hope he's better in bed than I remember.” Her smile remains stuck to her lips as she drags a bite of food up to her mouth and chews it slowly, like a fucking cow. My fingers clench around my fork, but I manage to resist the urge to stab her in the thigh with it.

“Interesting,” I say, letting a smirk twitch on my lips. “That you remember fucking him at all. Glad you got your memory back though. Now you can owe me and Blair one for cleaning up your vomit and refraining from posting pictures of your puke covered ass online.”

Hayden frowns, but before she can say anything else, Dax is sliding a box of cigarettes across the table at me.

“I know they're not your favorite, but it's better than nothing, right?” I clamp my hand over the carton and drag it back, feeling Hayden's eyes boring into my cheek. Good. Let her think that Dax and I have something going on. I think he's the only guy she's ever truly had feelings for. Hmm. Maybe I should start dating him just to fuck with her? I consider it for a moment. Anything that hurts Hayden makes me happy. Call me cold, but it's true. Misery loves company.