Page 43 of Where You Are

We’re halfwaythrough the four-month tour, and unlike the tours before, this one seems to be one big blur with all the shows, appearances, and parties seeming to run together. At least it has for me. Normally I’m on the up and up of what’s going on and when, but this time around, I couldn’t tell you what day of the week it is, and sometimes I’m not even sure what city we’re in.

We have a VIP meet and greet before the show, and while I’m not hammered, I’ve got enough of a comfortable buzz going to get me through signing autographs and posing for pictures.

Jack, being the front man, obviously gets swarmed the most, but a fair share of females flock over to the rest of us with some male fans sprinkled in. I do my part, smiling, shaking hands, signing random items like backstage passes, t-shirts and posters. Every once in a while, someone wants a photo op and I stand out of my seat to pose with them. When it’s a female fan, normally I’m careful about not posing in any way that would raise any eyebrows, usually by just simply putting a hand on their back and not leaning in too close. Tonight however, I don’t have as tight a grip as I usually do on my own reins, and don’t put up much of a fight when certain barely dressed ladies decide to drape themselves over me for photos. I can’t even muster up a whole lot of surprise when a raven-haired girl doesn’t wait for me to get up and instead drops into my lap for her blonde friend to snap a picture. I just go with it.

Afterwards, backstage, I’m quiet, sluggishly getting ready for our show in front of Santa Fe. I put on whatever clothes are convenient. My hair is a shaggy mess and I have awho gives a fuck what time it isshadow on my face.

I grab the Johnny Walker off the wet bar in the dressing room and unscrew the cap. Taking a few pulls before heading out on stage has become a new habit over the last few weeks. I never used to do this. Instead, I would do our set completely sober and just enjoy the natural high that comes with the adrenaline of blasting my music through an arena’s sound system and the roar of the crowd. Now, I find myself depending on liquid motivation to go out there and entertain thousands of faceless, nameless strangers.

Don’t get it twisted, I love and appreciate our fans. But when you’re carrying around a heart as heavy as mine, it’s hard to get out of bed, let alone get on a stage. But I do it, and I hate that I’m not giving these devoted fans my best self, yet I can’t seem to help it. It feels so forced I can’t stand it.

So I plaster a fake smile on my face and let the buzz of the alcohol pull me through our set. I take the mic and rile the crowd up between songs like I always do and they love it, but I don’t feel it, which is fine. My daily goal at present is to feel nothing.

* * *

At every after party, there is a back room. It’s the room where the dark,hard to come back fromcrazy shit happens. The guys and I don’t tend to venture back into one. I’ve seen Josh do so a time or two, but not without repercussions following him into the next day, sometimes even the next few weeks. Jack and I never go back there, and as crazy as the guy can get, neither does Chris. While he likes to try crazy shit, it’s got to be on the happy and fun side.

Tonight, I’m living with one of the worst emotions a person can have come over them: indifference. I’m leaning back against a wall, opting for the hard-partying, gritty rock star cliché, holding not a glass but a bottle of the brown liquor that has become a security blanket. I have an overly made-up red head in a black crop top, tiny black ass-gripping shorts, fishnet tights and come-fuck-me boots pressed up against me, and if it looks like I don’t give a shit, it’s because I don’t - aboutanything.I absently scan the rest of the room instead of looking at her face as I tilt the bottle back. It’s loud as fuck in here and I’m in such a haze I have hardly a clue what she’s saying to me in her soft, seducing tone. When I finally chance a look down at her, she tilts her head in the direction of the ill-fated back room. I’m half-gone already, might as well see what happens when I let the rest of me become immersed in the darkness.

I carry my trusty bottle of Johnny with me as I wander after the beckoning red head, following her into the fox hole.

MELANIE

“Stay with me, Em.” Matt’s eyes bore into mine as they gaze at me through his wet lashes.

“I’m staying M,” I assure him as he closes his eyes, rubbing his nose against mine. “I’m not going anywhere.” His strong arms tighten around me, making me feel so safe. I push the wet strands of hair out of his face and wrap my arms around his neck. We’re in the lake, but the water is warm and so is his embrace, holding my bare skin against his.

“Stay with me,” he pleads again, folding me tighter in his arms and burying his face in my neck as the light around us grows brighter.

No. No, not again…

“Matt… don’t let it take me,” I beg in a quavering voice as I tighten my hold on him as well. Everything around us is turning white. I turn my face into his cheek, trying to keep every bit of my skin touching his like it will keep us where we are. I squeeze my eyes shut tight against the light, but they feel its burn anyway. I can’t see Matt anymore, and I’m feeling him less and less. He’s slipping away.

My eyes are stinging and blurry with tears as they flutter open. I take a sharp gasp of air that whooshes out of me with a shudder. I let the tears fall on my pillow and squeeze my eyes shut again, trying to go back to Matt, even knowing it’s useless. Sobs try to overtake my body, but I fight them off with some deep breaths while simultaneously throwing the covers back. I sit up on the edge of the bed and look around the hotel suite while wiping the tears away. The creams, soft greens and pinks might as well be musty black and grey.

I haven’t left this room much since Sasha and I landed on this island. Instead, I’ve cocooned myself in here while working on the resort’s logos.

I’ve had that dream many times, but this time was so much more vivid than the others. I could feel the water and Matt’s wet skin against mine; could feel his wet hair between my fingers. I could smell his scent, slightly diluted by the lake, and hear nothing but his voice as the water lapped around us. It’s left me feeling shaken and lonely, not to mention cold in contrast to the warmth I felt with him. I grab the fluffy white hotel robe and wrap it around me, huddling under it.

After coffee and a shower, I sit down in front of my laptop, trying to get myself in the mindset to start work for the day. It’s a struggle with the dream still at the front of my mind, playing on repeat. I’m yearning for Matt exceptionally hard after that, missing him and his arms so badly. And while I don’t usually allow myself to do this, I want to see him and I’m too weak in this moment to fight it.

I open my browser and run a search on the band, hoping to be greeted by some new photos where I might be able to catch a glimpse of Matt. The internet does me one better however, and one of the first photos that comes up is one of him and a dark-haired girl sitting on his lap. I’m level-headed enough to know it’s a fan, judging by the fact it’s from an Instagram feed, but still, seeing another woman so close to the man I love sends a hard blow to my heart that resounds through my entire body. I feel heat flush my face as I focus in on Matt. His hair looks longer and there’s something off about him. He doesn’t look like the version of himself I got to know so intimately. By the look on his face, I can tell that this female fan took him by surprise and wasn’t exactly invited into his lap, but he doesn’t look like he’s hating it either with the carefree grin he’s sporting.

I suppose this is reality, and I wasn’t naïve enough to think I’d see him the way I did in my dreams. Nevertheless, I don’t like what I’m seeing. It hurts and feels all kinds of wrong, but what did I expect?

Perhaps it’s time to accept that the Matt I knew and the love I had with him is gone. My moment of weakness is over, and now it’s time to be strong, or at the very leasttry. Before I can change my mind, I block all celebrity gossip sites so that I can no longer access them, and instead of working, I close my laptop and venture outside. Time to see what’s out there.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Matt

Okay,I turned an unknown into a known and feel confident in leaving it at that. Lesson learned.

The door had barely closed behind us before the redhead dropped to her knees while I leaned back against the wall, knocking back more amber liquor and not giving a good goddamn about what was about to happen. And then… nothing.

My mind is blank after that, and it scares me almost right out of my hangover. God only knows what I did last night, and it doesn’t sit right with me in the slightest. As distraught as I am over the possibilities of what could’ve gone on last night, I see a small glimmer of hope in the back of the dark room of my mind.

I just realized I still give a shit, which is a far cry from how I felt last night, and a damn good start.

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