The Mortician's Daughter ♥ Andy Biersack
Chapter 8

“How are you feeling?” Andy's deep voice floated to my ears. My eyes were closed, but my other senses were working; the smell and taste of secondhand cigarette smoke filled my nose and mouth, the far-off sound of Avenged Sevenfold in my ears.

“Everything hurts,” I groaned. I opened my left eye to find Andy standing—towering—over me, smiling down at me.

“It won't,” he promised me. “Soon.”

“How soon is soon?” I asked suspiciously. Andy just smirked at me, and I sighed.

“Hey, you were the one who—“

“Peer pressure!” I interrupted. “It was peer pressure.”

Andy just snorted. He proceeded to lift my legs, sit down on the couch where my legs just were, then let them fall down over his lap. Since the first night I met him, when he sat in my boyfriend's chair and propped his long gazelle legs up on my boyfriend's desk, I knew he had no boundaries. It was one of his quirks that I didn't mind.

“Listen, don't mind Scout,” he said for about the millionth time that night.

“Andy,” I said, in the most annoyed voice that I could; he was ruining the moment by bringing it up again. “I don't care. If she wants to treat me like dirt, that's her prerogative. I'm not a mean person, and there is absolutely nothing going on between us. I kind of understand, but at the same time, as long as we know the truth, it doesn't matter.” I hadn't meant to go on a tirade, but I was honestly sick of rehashing the situation, and Andy seemed to think I was still upset about it, and I just wanted him to let it go.

“So,” he said, suddenly changing the subject, “I'm dropping the 'Six'.” He leaned back into the couch, folding his arms behind his head.

“What?” I asked, confused. “Please clarify.”

“I mean...” He dropped his hands. “You know, 'Andy Six' was a character I came up with when I hated my life and wanted to escape from reality. Now I know who I am, and I love my life. So I think it's high time I stop hiding behind a name.” He shrugged.

“Well then,” I said, “I'm proud of you. For finally finding yourself and all that other stuff I'm supposed to say.” I grinned.

Andy reached over and punched me lightly on the arm.

I pulled a face and rubbed it as if it had really hurt, even though we both knew it didn't. “So where's Sandra?” I asked. Come to think of it, I hadn't seen Kelly around all night. Or much at all lately, since she started dating Sandra.

Andy just looked at me. “Kelly didn't tell you?”

“Tell me what?” God, way to make me feel out of the loop. I talked to all of these people every day, considered them my best friends. And yet there was something important going on that they hadn't told me? I felt slightly betrayed; I don't know why, I'd just never had so many close friends before, and it never occurred to me that maybe they wouldn't tell me important stuff. But who else would I tell, Peter? Sabrina? The school newspaper? Please. I had shut them off from my new “life”.

I noticed we were the only ones in the room now and wondered where everyone else had gone.

Andy didn't say anything for what felt like a while to me—but really wasn't—and I wondered what could possibly be going on. I was just about to demand him to speak when he finally said, “Sandra left the band.”

“Wait, what?” Sandra was probably the person I least expected to leave. I rubbed my shoulder blade because it hurt, even though I wasn't supposed to. Somehow this news made it start throbbing. “So... who's gonna be BVB's drummer?”

“CC, he's really cool, and a total beast on drums,” Andy replied. “Hopefully you'll meet him soon. And hey—“ he grabbed the hand I was massaging my shoulder blade with—“you're not supposed to touch that, Miss Raven, remember?”

I sighed. “It hurts though.” I was suddenly very aware that my wrist was encircled in Andy's hand, and even though I felt something go through me I tried not to show it, tried to act completely normal.

“It will do that,” he said matter-of-factly. I mentally cursed myself. My first—illegal—tattoo and I was already acting like a big baby, as if they didn't already think of me as so much younger than them. Andy didn't need any more reminders of my age. He must have seen something in my face, because he continued, “Not for very long.”

I smirked and then my phone buzzed out of the blue, ruining this nice moment I was having with my friend.

New Text From:

Peter

Crap. Crap crap crap. He had no idea where I was, and if I didn't reply and he called my dad, I would be in HUGE trouble.

Hey, not busy tonight. Wanna do something? ;)

Oh God, anything but the winky face. I knew Andy had seen the text and who it was from, I could see he was trying hard to make his face impassive—but I could see right through, or so I wanted to delude myself anyway—when I—tried to—inconspicuously looked at him through my hair; I forgot to discreetly look at it, my phone just laying on my stomach since I was in pain and knew I wouldn't even want to dig in my pocket to find it, and he was still next to me, my legs over his lap.

I realized he still had a hold of my wrist, and I think he finally realized it too. “You know what I think?” he said, trying to sound nonchalant, but his voice had a deeper tone than usual if that was possible, almost husky.

“What?” I asked, acting as if the text was nothing and I had all the time in the world.

Andy shifted, turning to face me. “I think you need someone like you.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” But I knew exactly what he meant. He'd hinted at it before. He'd never said I needed him, not outright, but he was known to point out how different Peter and I were and how it was a miracle we even got along let alone loved each other. Peter. I told myself. Your boyfriend. Don't get distracted. You love him. Peter. I was doing this a lot lately, and I hated myself for it. I hated myself for having conflicting feelings. I felt like a whore.

But I couldn't help it when Andy stared at me with those piercing ice blue eyes...

“You know what I mean,” he whispered, his smoker's voice gravelly, but then, it almost always was.

Somehow he was closer to me now, his face inches from mine. How this came about I didn't know; I was still laying in the exact same position trying to keep pressure off my shoulder. “Don't tell me you don't know what I mean.”

“No, I know what you mean. But—“ I gulped. But what? Would I really stop him, would I really pull away if he tried to kiss me now?

“But what?” Andy was still whispering, vocalizing my very thoughts.

“But... I lo...I... I don't know. What's stopping me,” I whispered. “I can't... I can't just leave him, I...” Sure I could, if he was here right now I would leave, but we both knew in reality I wouldn't. And I had no idea why I stopped what I was about to say earlier; okay, I had a very good idea. I had a perfect boyfriend, but I couldn't love him, couldn't even say I loved him, not with Andrew Dennis Biersack's lips inches away from mine.