Uproar

Chapter 31

Chester

"No you left the fucking door open."

"Hey why's all my equipment mixed with Rob's drum set?"

"Where's my luggage?"

I sighed, fustrated with everyone's bickering. Soon enough, everyone's hushed whispers turned into shouts and full on arguing. This went on for a good thirty minutes. And eventually, the arguments were beginning over silly things.

"Can everyone shut up?" I asked, my voice somewhat harsh. The guys quieted down and looked at me. "I'm sick of everyone yelling. The only person I want to hear yelling is me."

"Well we're sick of that too," Mike said smirking. Joe snorted behind him. I glared at him.

"Oh shut up," I snapped at him. "I get paid to scream."

We moved our stuff onto the tour bus and loaded onto it. We were finally going home after these last few shows in the U.S. Unfortunately it wasn't gonna be too cozy since Mike and Joe set up a studio in the back of the bus. Oh well.

I helped Mark load up some of his gear while everyone else hopped onto the bus. "Let me get the rest," Mark said as he walked back to the venue doors.

"Alright," I said as I lifted some of his light stands. I huffed as I lifted the heavy bag of light stands. "Need help?"

Rob held his hand out, trying to get the bag from me. "I got it," I grumbled, shoving it onto the tech van. He put his hand on my shoudler, "I can help with the re--"

"I said I got it Rob," I said harshly, pulling myself away and grabbing more bags.

***

"These are the places that--"

"Okay stop. I said sound more like the dude from Korn."

"This is the fucking fifth time you say that and this is the fifth time I'm trying to sound like Davis."

"You know what, just get out," Mike said waving his hand towards the door. I sighed and took off my headphones, setting them on the small desk. I exited the tiny room and climbed into my bunk.

I was so frustrated with everyone. Frustrated at Rob because he rejected me. Frustrated at Brad for ignoring me. Frustrated at Joe for picking on me. Frustrated at Mike for being an asshole. I was surprised he was drunk enough to not remember that night in the venue dressing room. I hated that he didn't remember. But he went and got wasted, and enough to decide to mess around with me.

I remembered how his hands ran around my body, wantingly, but in his eyes, nothing was there, just a full, drunken look. He was just horny. He said wanted to fuck me and god damn it, I really wanted him to. But I knew it wouldn't mean anything to him.

I couldn't let him do it. I couldn't let him kiss me either. What would that mean then? It would ruin every single memory I had of each kiss we had before. Back then, it meant something. He had loved me and it showed in every kiss.

I sighed, feeling pathetic. How am I still in love with the man that makes it his goal in life to put me down each and everyday?

I sighed and decided to do what I've been wanting to do for a while, I just never had the chance or the courage.

I fished around my travel bag for my phone and flipped it open. I scrolled down the contacts and found Sam's number. I bit my lip and chewed on the skin, contemplating if I should call or not, really go through what I've been meaning to do.

I sighed again, hitting the call button and holding the device to my ear. It rang a few times before Sam answered.

"Hello?"