THREE …it’s the very moment that i wish that i could take back…

She was pretty sure that pounding sound behind her was footsteps. And she was pretty sure that the yell she heard five seconds before was her name being called out in a hurry. Either way, she didn’t stop walking (a speed-walk her mother had taught her in second grade “just in case” she ever had the need to “get away quickly” but not seem like she was running) until she reached a table of merchandise being set up with t-shirts of various effervescent colors, but mostly black.

It was easily at least one hundred degrees out, and considering the fact that Mackenzie was not exactly in peak physical condition (she would go to the gym only at gun-point) she needed a little breather. As she glanced in interest at the different t-shirt designs, her pursuer had time to catch up.

“I really don’t think you should be exercising in this heat,” Mackenzie said nonchalantly, pulling a water bottle out of her bag and taking a swig before handing it to Mikey. He took it gratefully and wiped his forehead free of sweat. “You can’t stand to lose any weight. You’re already too skinny to begin with.” She turned to him with an amused smile on her lips. “Do you ever consider eating a piece of cake or something?”

Mikey laughed. “Pretty much everyday, but the guys eat everything in sight before I have a chance.” He passed her the bottle. “Thanks.”

Mackenzie shrugged and turned away from him, to look back at the shirts. “This is a cool shirt.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Mikey replied, glancing curiously at her. “You want one?”

She let out a small laugh. “I don’t have any cash on me.”

If Mackenzie had been more observant when it came to guys, she would have seen Mikey blush just a tad. “You can have one. We’ve got tons.” He paused, laughing nervously. “Free of charge.” For a few seconds he shifted through the pile of shirts she’d been looking at and then turned back to her with a triumphant ‘woohooo.’

“Here.” He handed it to her, almost shyly. “I guessed you were probably a small.”

For the first time in days, she smiled genuinely. “Thank you,” she said, hugging it to her chest like she might cry. “That’s really sweet.”

Mikey shrugged good-naturedly. “It’s no problem. Do you want me to help you find the FOB bus? I didn’t want you to get lost looking for Fall Out Boy Lane because it doesn’t exist.”

“I figured that much,” Mackenzie replied, following as Mikey started walking down a row of buses.

They appeared in front of a large tour bus marked ‘BOY’ and Mikey knocked as loudly as was possible, given the fact that there were people all around, chatting and laughing. There was some scrambling going on inside and then someone yelled, “COME IN!”

Mikey pulled the door open and peeked inside. “Are you decent?”

“Since when do you care?” Came the response from the depths of the bus.

“Just fucking put some pants on,” Mikey replied, motioning for Mackenzie to go ahead of him onto the bus. A short man in his late twenties appeared in front of them, completely clothed and holding an acoustic guitar in one hand and a pad of paper in the other; he was wearing a baseball cap that was backwards, ripped jeans that were the tightest possible, and a tight t-shirt that proclaimed him to be a Sex God.

“Hey,” he said to her, his eyes traveling up and down her body as was every guy’s custom. “I’m Peter.” He stuck his pad of paper under his arm and held his hand out to her, shaking it gently and then turning around to sit back down at the small table, which was covered completely in bits of crumpled up paper. “Yo, Mikester, what rhymes with ‘hateful bitch’?”

“Your lyrics don’t have to rhyme,” Mikey said, sliding into the other side of the table, and motioning for Mackenzie to do the same. “This is Mackenzie.”

Pete nodded to her. “I didn’t get any memo about not rhyming.”

“No? Dr. Seuss put it out just last week. Where’s everybody else?”

“Patrick’s doing some radio interview and Joe and Andy are in the back playing…some video game. I don’t know what. I’ve been kinda distracted with this piece of shit.” He waved a hand at the pad of paper, and angrily crossed the last line out.

He looked up at Mikey and Mackenzie and set his pen down. “So what’s up. Dude, you didn’t tell me you had a hot girlfriend.” Pete leaned toward Mackenzie and whispered. “Mikey has trouble with the ladies.”

Mikey colored slightly. “Shut up.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Mackenzie felt compelled to say. Mikey tugged at the collar of his t-shirt looking decidedly uncomfortable.

Pete straightened up and blinked at her a couple of times. “But you must have a boyfriend.”

Mackenzie smiled ruefully. “No.”

“A girlfriend, then?”

She gave him a strange look, as if offended to be called a lesbian. “Um, no.”

“So what’s the story?”

“Does there have to be a story?” Being a writer, she knew the answer to this.

He laughed. “There’s always a story.” Pete stretched and then yawned. “But I can tell you’re not going to be forthcoming with information about your sordid past, so may I ask what you are doing here, if you are not Mikey’s latest?”

Wordlessly, Mackenzie held up her press pass.

Pete leaned forward to get a better look, then he made a face. “Oh. You’re one of those.”

Suddenly she was all business. Her shoulders straightened and she put her hand out across the table to shake his firmly. “Mackenzie Carter. The Scene.”

Pete raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? That’s a cool mag. I read it all the time. Don’t remember seeing your byline though.”

“Well, this would be my first one. My idiot boss decided to pull his head out of his ass and let me be of use other than to fetch him coffee.”

Mikey and Pete both laughed appreciatively. “My first assignment,” she continued, pulling a worn notebook from her large purse. “is to get into your head. So to speak.”

Pete chuckled. “I wish you luck, then. It’s a damn mess in my head, and if you get in there, you might not get out.”

Mackenzie cracked a small smile, pen poised at the ready. “I’ll take my chances.”

[lyrics: Relient K, “Who I Am Hates Who I’ve Been”]