Accidents Don't Just Happen Accidentally

Walking through my front door the next morning, after Ashley had graciously dropped me off at home, turned out to be a disaster. When I looked at the clock in the kitchen, I realized it was way later in the day that I thought it was, and I needed to be at work in thirty minutes. I hadn't even showered yet and the drive was fifteen minutes away!

To make matters even more pleasant, I noticed Sam on my couch, reading what she calls her "religion in print," an album cover. The choice of today happened to be "Wretched and Divine: The Story of the Wild Ones." I would have gladly sat and went through lyrics with her--she analyzing them, no shit, every single line--but I was already going to be late to work.

I half-limped-half-tried-to-walk-away, but Sam has the best preferential vision in the universe, because I didn't even think I was anywhere near sight, but I should learn to stop underestimating her.

"I see you there, Alex, don't think you're sneaking away."

"I have to get ready for work, I'm going to be late."

"Well, too bad, now sit." She patted the seat next to her without looking up.

"No, I need to shower."

She glanced up momentarily, but did a double-take, her eyes widening with shock. I clearly wasn't in the best condition. I tried to flatten out my sex hair as much as possible, but my make-up went to shit, and no doubt I looked like a train-wreck. Then I came to realization that Sam has seen me in that type of get-up before, and was wondering why the hell she looked shocked.

I pursed my lips together, gesturing for her to speak.

"Damn, I've seen you with hickeys in the past but what the hell, Alex?"

Oh fuck. I know Andy attacked my neck, but were the hickeys that big? I hadn't even seen them. Shit, it's probably going to be a scarf type of day, but it's so fucking hot outside, just like it has been in lately, in late October.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." I stated, then continued on to casually walk away. I headed for the bathroom to start my shower.

As soon as I closed the door, I heard Sam knocking on it. "This conversation isn't over."

"What, are you going to talk to me while I pee? 'Cause that's just disturbing, Sam."

"That is precisely what I'll do" She commented. I rolled my eyes, although, she couldn't see it due to a door in the way. "Who did you sleep with, Alex?"

"No one!" I called back as I started stripping down.

"Bull!"

I sighed. "t was no one, Sam, just drop it, I'm going to be so late for work if you keep talking."

I started the shower, letting the water run to warm up. I needed a nice, warm shower to wake myself up, and to clean off the sticky sweat from moshing, partying, and well, from sex. I also had horrendous morning breath.

I took a look in the mirror. I trailed my hand down my collar bone to my chest. I was covered in hickeys. I was so sore, both from the merciless fucking, it having been quite a while since my last time, and Andy's size. Goddamn, I looked like a vampires fuck-toy. Even if he didn't draw blood, all these damn hickeys are like feeding marks.

I started trying to tame my hair a little before I actually hopped into the shower to quickly wash my body. It was looking like I wasn't going to get to do my hair, or put on make-up. Which I guess was fine by me, but it was a very rare occasion when it happened, so more than likely my co-workers are going to be confused. Not to mention that my hair just doesn't look as good when I don't do it.

I profusely ran shampoo through my hair, and rubbed my body wash over myself like a motherfucker. When I got to my hand, I noticed Andy's number was still on it. Shit, should write that down. I don't know if I'd keep in touch with him, I mean, it never happened, we agreed. But, it would still feel different if we stayed in touch, or friends. But just having it written down somewhere in case I actually do text him, seems more logical than just rinsing it off.

I turned off the water and started drying off. I decided I was going to have to throw my hair up, so I grabbed a pony tail holder and some bobby pins before exiting to my room to get dressed. We don't have a work uniform since we're a small little record shop, but there is a dress code to a point.

I grabbed fresh underwear--damn you Andy for ripping my favorite ones--a Sleeping With Sirens crop top, some high wasted shorts, and my foundation. I sure as hell did not want to wear a scarf in this weather. I threw on some red Chuck Taylors--I happen to have a mini collection of Converse, which is a total of three pairs. I then finger combed my hair a bit before throwing it up into a bun. I pinned the stray hairs in the back up and let my fringe stay down.

I would have to put the foundation on in the car, so I grabbed my make-up-to-go kit that I rarely use, but oh does it come in handy when I need it, and threw the foundation in it. I grabbed a leather jacket, because it would more than likely be cold when I got off work tonight.

Sam was still waiting for me in the living room.

"Guess what, you're driving my to work because I have to cover up these damn hickeys. Wait, one second, I'll be right back, but you're driving me."

I went into the kitchen and grabbed a pen and paper and wrote down the faded number on my hand and put it in my junk drawer. I then realized I haven't eaten since yesterday, and I didn't have time to make anything, nor had anything quick to eat. I quickly called that we had to stop somewhere to get me food.

***

It was a slow day at the shop. Me, my boss, Olive, and another co-worker/sort-of-friend-of-mine, Luke were working today. As expected, I did a horrible job of covering up my hickeys, so when Luke and I were the only one's left in the shop, just holding out until nine o'clock, he decided to bring up the topic of the concert he knew I was going to last night.

"So, rough night?" He asked as we sorted through old vinyls.

"Kinda." I stated, moving onto the Bs of the vinyls. Everyday we had to sort the CDs and vinyls. It was tedious, but I loved my job. I got to listen to music for a living, while handling the hard copies.

"How was the concert? It was BVB, right?"

"Yea. It was epic, as expected. Partied pretty hard with the band afterwards."

"Wait, you partied with Black Veil Brides?" He asked, stopping sorting the Cs.

I nodded, not even looking up, "Yep."

"Oooohhhhh, I'm so jelly."

I laughed, moving onto the Ds, while he continued on the Cs. "Who the fuck says 'jelly'?"

"Guys that want girls to like them."

What is he implying? "With that word choice you might scare girls away."

"Didn't scare you away, you're still here." He commented.

"Yea, because I'm working. Which you're failing at, give me that vinyl. Of Mice & Men doesn't belong with the Cs."

"Jeez, someone's PMSy." He joked, handing over the vinyl.

"You're not winning any brownie points, Luke."

"I wasn't under the assumption that it was possible to after saying jelly."

"Stop saying jelly. It's like you're a white girl underneath all that lean figure and eyeliner."

"Hm, maybe I am. You don't know, Alex, I could actually be a white girl in disguise."

I laughed again, a more genuine one than the last. This is why I preferred working with Luke than Olive. Olive was a great boss, but Luke liked to crack jokes a lot. It was just his personality, just like how mine's very elaborate.

"You very well could be, I wouldn't know for sure." I commented.

"Well, would you like to." He nonchalantly just implied if I wanted to do that with him? What the fuck? He's never done that before. He's been flirty in the past, but I just figured it was harmless.

"What the fuck are saying, Luke?" Although, I had a pretty good idea.

"I think you know what I'm saying, Alex. What'd you say? We get off in ten, so, why not?"

"How about no, I'm not that kind of girl."

"Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me."

How about never?

***

Zack has to come get me from work, due to Sam already being asleep--she works earlier tomorrow morning. I know that the next time that I see her, I'll have to explain myself a little more and that's what I'm trying to figure out: how the hell I'm going to explain myself to Sam and Zack. Sam can see through my shit easiest, but Zack will gladly accept what I tell him. He knows when I need to tell him something, and he may sense bullshit, but he'll let it slide.

I hop into Zack's beaten down blue mustang. There are various wrappers of all sorts scattered across the floor, probably from his many sweets. Zack had a sweet tooth greater than a girl on her period that craves chocolate twenty-four seven.

"So what happened to you last night? We couldn't find you and Sam was freaking out. I had to drag her off the bud, crying and drunk trying to tell her to calm down because you're a big girl that will find her way home." Zack rambled off as he put the car in reverse and began embarking out of the parking spot he graciously took right outside of the shop.

"Oh, I kinda passed out in the back. Nothing to worry about." It's not what I told Sam, but it's what I would've told her if she hadn't seen me when I first walked into the living room after just getting back, the morning after.

"Sam was freaking out."

"Yea, she was on my couch when I got home. I didn't have a lot of time to explain, but she seemed okay."

"Yea, because I stayed up all night talking to her. She felt like the and I quote, 'worst best friend on the face of existence.' No joke. I had to reassure her that you were a grown adult that knew what she was doing, and besides that, what was the worst thing that could happen to you on Black Veil Brides' tour bus?" He made a right turn onto my street. Only fifteen more minutes and we're there.

"Anyways, please never do that again, you scared the living shit out of Sam, and me."

"Noted." I calmly replied.

The rest of the ride was silent, except for the roar of late night traffic and the faint sound of All Time Low playing through the car. I didn't mind the silence, it gave me time to think. Did I actually want to text Andy? I wouldn't mind staying friends, but I don't know if he actually gave me his number because he wants to be friends genuinely, or if it's because he was trying to be nice, pitying the girl that knew it meant nothing and just thought she better leave before he gets more pissed off. If it's the latter--which is a lot more likely--then I don't think I could handle that. I hate pity, it's unnecessary, at least that's the way I feel.

As I was deep in thought, Zack pulled up to my place. I thanked him and confirmed that him, Sam and I were all still on for pizza this coming weekend at my place. He humbly confirmed, acknowledging that he would bring a six pack over as well.

I nodded, thanked him for giving me a ride, and went up to my apartment.

I closed the door shut, locking it. I glanced down at my hand. The number was gone, only small remnants of ink remained. I set my keys on the kitchen counter and went to my junk drawer. I dug through it for about ten seconds before I stumbled across the piece of paper I knew I was looking for.

I held it in my hands, staring at his number. The digits burning into my retinas, but I wouldn't remember them. I was contemplating keeping the number, throwing it away or texting him right now. It might seem weird if I contact him right away, after the whole shebang went down.

I decide to give it another night or two to think about and put the number back int he drawer. I go to take off my make-up, the faint idea of Andy Biersack's number being in my junk drawer of my kitchen, in the back of my mind. I wonder how many girls would give to be in this position. Now that I'm in it, I don't even think I want to go through with it.

Notes