The Band Whore Diaries

10/23/17

I sat up in bed this morning, realizing that I had not been in my own bed in my own bus, but I had been completely naked in Danny's bed in Danny's bus.

His room had been completely trashed.

The blinds to his window had nearly been ripped clean off, his flat screen had a big crack across it, and several holes were punched into the side of the wall.

What the fuck happened last night?

Suddenly realizing that I had been over three hours late for my shift at Asking Alexandria's merch tent, I made an attempt to search for my clothes.

"Hey," Danny yawned, suddenly wide awake, "where are you going?"

He rolled over to face me, as I strapped on my black lace bra, which I only wore for special occasions, such as getting laid.

"I have merch duty," I reminded him, "you should know because it's your own fucking band."

"I don't know, only because I don't care," he smirked, rubbing his eyeliner-smeared eyes, sitting up in bed.

"What happened last night?" I demanded, taking in the environment once more.

"We fucked," he yawned, seeming to not give a shit about his wall, which was so full of punch-holes that it looked like a piece of fucking Swiss cheese.

"Are you sure about that?" I questioned him.

"Yeah, we did. I guess we got a little too carried away," he shrugged casually, checking out our masterpiece of disaster.

"A little? Jesus, Danny," I snickered, sliding on my black Vans.

He was silent, continuing to watch me, almost like he didn't want me to leave.

"Does this change anything between us?" he asked out of the blue, staring at me inquisitively.

I wasn't exactly sure what to say.

I didn't really think it would take something as minor as a one night stand to make Danny question his feelings for me.

To be honest, I wasn't even sure how I felt about Danny at this point.

After all, he laced my cigarette with a mystery drug and gave me alcohol, and that combination alone was dangerous enough.

"What? The fact we fucked last night, or the fact you got me high?" I shot, standing in front of his bedroom door.

"Both," he insisted, flashing me puppy eyes.

"I really don't know, Danny," I said truthfully.

"Alright," he sighed.

I walked out of his room to find Sam and Cameron asleep in their bunks, while Ben was still passed out on the couch.

Outside in the freezing cold, South Field had been a different story.

Merely glancing over there was enough to make me cringe.

Nobody had bothered put out the bonfire from last night, and it had shrunk into a sad, tiny little flame.

Max and Ronnie had passed out in shitty lawn chairs, while James was remained in the grass, sleeping like a baby.

Red Solo cups were discarded in massive piles, while beer bottles, cigarette butts, used needles, and beer cans scattered the grass.

It looked like the fucking apocalypse.

I hurried to my merch tent, silently thanking some kind individual for already setting my booth up for me.