when you need me the most,

[olivia gardner]

I'M FALLING IN LOVE
BUT ITS FALLING APART

Day six of the bet. For six days, John had been trying to woo her. For six days, he had been succeeding. She didn't know why it was now of all times that his charm started to work, but it had. She couldn't tell him this, of course, because that would ruin everything. She was so close to winning, so close to being able to go home. But did she want to anymore? Not really. More like not at all. But after all that she had put John through, how could she tell him this now? Her only hope would be to lose, even though she hated to be the loser. She could probably deal with it if she got John, but would he still want her after the chase was over? And would he ever let his victory go, or would he continue to brag about it? Either way, she was still too scared. Scared of getting hurt again, scared about what people would say. She honestly should have been braver about this, but John was the first person that she had fallen for in a very long time. And there were too many factors, she didn't want to risk anything. He was worth the risk, but she was too stubborn to admit that until today.

Tonight was the big The Maine tour bus party, and everyone was already pretty wasted. She could barely maneuver around the crowd of people, most of them drunk and happy. And a little horny, as evidence to the massive amounts of couples making out or getting a little frisky. That was just gross. But tonight, Liv wasn't going to drink. No, she would be the good girl and make sure that everyone got to their buses safely, and that no alcohol poisoning would occur. No, not on her watch. She was playing mom tonight, and people had better listen to her. After all, her elbows were pointy and her nails were sharp, and she wasn't afraid of using either on people who refused to follow her bossy instructions. She did this a lot, mostly because she didn't want to see anyone get hurt on tour. Too many people ended up getting lost and falling asleep in the middle of the lawn, and that honestly was not good publicity. Nor was it very hygienic, or safe. What's not to say the bus wouldn't drive off without them?

Despite the fact that it was midnight, it was still hot as hell outside. That's what the summer did to these poorly circulated buses -- she was burning up, literally. So of course she, like everyone else, was running around in short shorts and a tank top. Even that seemed like a little much, what with the massive amount of body heat being produced by the massive amount of party goers. She was carefully avoiding each of them, squeezing through them to try to find the only person here that she cared about at the moment. Where the hell was John? He was usually socializing in the front of the bus, after all he was one of the most liked guys around. But no, he wasn't out there. He wasn't in the bathroom, nor was he outside. She had ran around the entire party practically, looking for his tall frame and pretty hair. But no, he was no where in sight. It worried Olivia, because it was so out of character for him. What she had said in the chat box must have really freaked him out, or maybe he was just giving up on her. Either way was bad news.

She headed towards the back, where the bunks were at. It was a general party rule that this area was blocked off, because sometimes people got drunk and had sex in their friends' beds. Not a good idea, because that usually lead to fist fights and burning sheets. "Are you in here?" She asked loudly, looking around at each bunk. Her eyes fell to his, and onto a very drunk John. "Oh dear..." She whispered, calmly walking over to him. Her white tank top made her nearly glow in the dim room, but despite the lack of light, she could tell that there was a beer in his hand. And some empty bottles on the floor. Uh oh. She continued towards him, sitting down on the edge of the bed next to him, her leg pushed against his. "How much have you had to drink?" She asked softly, putting her hand on his knee. This was the most attention the had given him all week, poor boy. She was tempted to admit to him that he had won, but would he remember in his drunken stupor? She didn't have the guts to come right out and say it, nor did she want to hold it in any longer.

NOTES fail.
WORDS 809
TAGGED ava

[/size]

[john o'callaghan]

SHUT UP AND PUT YOUR MONEY
WHERE YOUR MOUTH IS ,
that's what you get for waking up in Vegas.



_____________________________________________

Well fuck. John stared at the screen of his Macbook, clenching his fists a little bit and grinding his perfect teeth in silence as his fingers unwound themselves and tapped against the keys of the silver keyboard. He didn't know why he was so annoyed, so mad at himself. No, that was a fucking lie, he knew why he was mad at himself. He was mad because John O'Callaghan wasn't a selfish person even though in this very moment he wished with all his might that he was. It was six days in to his bet with Liv, the one that he had put on the table that he could make her fall for him in one week. Six days gone by, and one more to go. He had the upper hand, clearly, and there was no way that she was going to win, because he knew that she had practically fallen already halfway through the week with his best tricks. He was in love with her, no doubt -- had been for almost over a year now, from whenever it was that she came into The Maine's lives as their public relations rep. But now...now he was sitting here in the common area of his band's tour bus, angry at himself. It was impossible to see how he could be, when he was about to win. But no, fuck, his conscience came back into the picture and now he was second-guessing himself.

He raised his thumb to his mouth and bit down on the side of his nail a little bit, watching the little chatbox screen scroll with each reply that Liv made to him. This conversation had started off weird to begin with, and somehow he just got the worst vibe off of it. Surely enough, he had gotten ticked halfway through, just because he was overthinking everything now. From the moment where she said a stupid comment about it all being an elaborate plan, that he just wanted to get rid of her...yeah, that totally threw his mindset off. In the back of his mind he knew that she probably didn't mean it at all, but John couldn't help but dwell on it. He was being selfish, putting and forcing himself on her more or less -- she seemed to be letting her guard down for him though, but now he just wasn't sure if she was really in for this and legitimately possibly liking him back for once, or if she was just... hell, the bottom line was that he didn't know. He was just being selfish. Olivia didn't even like him in the first place, she hated him or just heavily disliked him for no reason other than him being himself -- so, this was all dumb to begin with.

He was wasting his time, but it wasn't wasting time to him, because she was what he wanted. He wanted her, to love him and open up and be okay with him loving her back. But she didn't want him, not that way. And it was clear in how she acted in the past few days -- he was foolish to think that he could have changed her. Even if they had gotten closer... no, she wanted to go home, and he was being selfish. He didn't want to do this anymore, if anything, the right thing to do was to let her win the stupid bet, just so she could go home and be happy. She didn't seem to be enjoying herself on Warped anyway, not this time. And all he wanted was for her to be happy, even if he wanted to be selfish. So he stopped trying two days ago, gave up his game and acted like normal John to her -- cocky and sly and arrogant. All because he didn't want to force her into something she didn't want. And what made it all worse was that he had a feeling that her eyes were on either Kennedy or Pat this whole time, not him. How could he be so dumb?

Shutting his laptop, he was completely riled up now, frustrated and all as he shoved the Macbook to the side of his bunk. Getting up from his bed, he messed up his hair badly, ruining any sort of tameness that it had that night as he stalked into the common area of the room. Fuck, he and the guys were supposed to be having a party tonight, and he so wasn't in the mood for it anymore. If anything, he was going to get completely wasted now, by himself if he needed to, just to stop thinking about it. Alcohol would probably help him sleep tonight anyway. Unintentionally, he broke a glass as he dropped it against the counter of the makeshift kitchen area, and then he intentionally threw a coffee mug against the wood panelling across from him. God, he just wanted to like, punch something. Garrett was startled, and so was Pat, and after a whole shouting match over nothing and a hurtful remark to Pat about how "she fucking likes YOU, so fuck off," John quit his irrationality and apologized after Kennedy emerged from the bunk area, his stern-ness ever so prominent. With a dry throat John tried to breathe a little easier, cleaning up the pieces of broken ceramic and glass and trying not to cut himself as he picked up each piece while Pat vacuumed the other unseen remnants up.

Thirty minutes later the party was starting, and John had mingled somberly with a bunch of friends from all the various bands on Warped. Shots with Jack and Alex from All Time Low and Caleb and Kyle from Forever The Sickest Kids definitely helped, but John being a bit of a lightweight due to his lanky body and stay-away-from-alcohol attitude lately caused him to be a lot more drunk than he normally would be, had he kept his ASU attitude with all the boozing. But no, he was different now. Seven shots and three beers later, Olivia had finally showed up to the party, and once John's eyes locked on her golden blonde hair and perfect figure, he turned on his heel with a half-full cup and an unopened bottle of Blue Moon's seasonal lager and started walking towards the back area where the band's bunks were. It was a rule that no one was allowed to go back there with someone, especially during a bus party, but John didn't really give a fuck at the moment -- not like he was going to do anything but drink and be emo for a little while until he lost conception of reality from the alcohol. Chugging the rest of the contents in his cup, the singer set it down on the floor of the bus, next to his foot as he sat down on the side of his bunk, pulling his bottle opener from his keyring and popping the cap off this beer bottle. Beer number four for him, and it was only eleven-thirty at night, barely a half hour in to the party.

As he was about to bring it to his lips, a familiar soft feminine voice rang in his already sort-of ringing ears, and he groaned a little bit for dual purpose -- one one hand, she was seeking him out and he was halfway to wasted now because of the amount he had consumed in barely a half hour, and on the other hand, someone had put Can't Stop, Won't Stop on the stereo or something and Kiss and Sell had just ended to lead on into I Must Be Dreaming. Fuck his life. That's all that was going through his head -- worst timing for that song ever, especially since he had written it about her. He shut his eyes as he took a long swig of the beer, trying to block out his own singing voice that was radiating through the closed door of the bunk area, and soon John found himself looking pathetically at Liv, who was sitting next to him on his bed. "When did you get here?" he asked softly, his voice already drawling even more than it may have usually done for the way he talked. No hello, he just...went straight into the question. His arm twitched a little bit, he wanted to drape it around her shoulders and pull her in closer as he would have done if he was still playing the stupid game with her, but no, that wasn't gonna happen. He felt like a dick, not because of the fact that he was drunk, but because he was purposely ignoring her now because he wanted to lose. And it was actually killing him, more than he thought it would. If only she knew.

"Uhhhh..." He looked at the Blue Moon bottle, tilting it a little and stupidly reading the amount of alcohol it contained by volume as a distraction from looking at her pretty face. He had flinched a little bit at the feeling of her leg touching his, and his body reacted once more in another flinch when he felt her hand resting against his knee, touching the denim of his dark jeans. "Bunch of shots and thr...no, four now...yeah...four, beers," he mumbled, the fingers on his free hand fumbling with the top two buttons to his button-up white shirt while clumsily offering his beer to her. "Want it? Fuck those guys," he added, his greenish eyes rolling back in their sockets as he groaned, hearing himself singing "Tell me that you love me" and so on. "Fuck my life... what are you doing back here anyway, shouldn't you be like...I don't know, hanging with Pat or like...packing to go home, or something?" He didn't mean to sound bitter, but that's how it came out. He took another long swig of his beer, his usual smirk replaced with a scowl -- he was totally ignoring the fact that Pat was more or less Liv's best friend out of all the guys in The Maine; he could blame it on the fact that he was drunk at the moment anyway.

[/b][/color] omfg done
TAGGING! tati omg.
WORDS! 1706
NOTES! coding re-use + ramble ramble my drunk ones are always long.[/ul][/size][/blockquote][/blockquote]

[olivia gardner]

I'M FALLING IN LOVE
BUT ITS FALLING APART

"I've been, you know. Around." She said calmly. Yeah, she'd been around the outside of the bus, not daring to go inside in case she ran into him. It took all of her courage to actually venture inside, that and seeing Alex make faces at her; she knew it was only a matter of time until he came up to her and started harassing her about John, or got others in on it too. The entirety of The Maine seemed to be in on this conspiracy to get them together, so there was really no way she could avoid it. She had to talk to him, or they would force her to. Either that, or drag John out to where she was hiding to talk to her himself. Either way would be bad, she'd rather just confront him herself and look as if she actually did want to talk to him, which she did. If only he would see that, maybe they would be okay.

Well. He was certainly tense, to say the least. It almost hurt her when he flinched at her touch -- usually he was the one starting the physical contact, and she was surprised that he didn't try to hold her hand or pull her closer or something. No, he seemed actually distant, which scared her. Now that the chase was almost over, was he bored of her? Did he no longer like her now that he was so close to winning? Her jaw almost dropped when he started listing off amounts of alcohol. She couldn't remember the last time she saw John get actually drunk, let alone drink four beers. What was he running from, besides the truth? His words were slurred, and he did not look very good. Great, how was she supposed to have a serious conversation now? All she expected to get out of him at this point was whining about losing so far and lots of drunken mumbling. Maybe some slurring and puking too -- who knew what the night would bring?

"No, no. I'm okay." She said, grabbing the beer from him and setting it on the floor. She could at least stop him from getting any more intoxicated. She noted that John was rolling his eyes at the song playing -- alright, his mood definitely had something to do with her. She leaned back when he asked her about the other band members. God, he must have really thought that she hated him. Did she really give him the cold shoulder that badly? "I wanted to find you, you know. To talk." She was surprised by how much his last words stung -- did he really mean them, or was it the alcohol talking? He should know by now that she was developing feelings for him, if he wasn't lurking in the chat box then he should at least be able to read her moods and reactions to his statements. "I...I don't think I want to leave." She stated finally, leaning closer to him.

"There are people here that I just don't want to leave just yet." She whispered, hoping that he would get the hint. She wasn't about to come right out and say it, that would give him too much satisfaction in his drunken state. She looked into those big green eyes of his, and wondered what he was thinking. Did he really want her to leave? Was he giving up on this whole bet thing? It certainly seemed like that to her. That was the only reason she made those comments in the chat box, about it all being some big conspiracy to send her home early. He seemed to have given up on the chase, and that bothered her. What was so unappealing about her now? Had he gotten to know her enough to know that she wouldn't make a good girlfriend, and wasn't worth his precious time? Ugh, those thoughts were bad. But with his current mood, she couldn't help but to think them. "And I'm not talking about Alex either." She joked, her hand gently rubbing his knee. Anything she could do to comfort him right now would be good.

NOTES fail.
WORDS 694
TAGGED ava

[/size]

[john o'callaghan]

SHUT UP AND PUT YOUR MONEY
WHERE YOUR MOUTH IS ,
that's what you get for waking up in Vegas.



_____________________________________________

Hanging his head a little bit, John found himself staring at the beer bottle once more, and once she had taken it from him -- hey, he wasn't really caring about it right now, he was drunk right now and wasn't going to fight for the drink, so as far as his mind knew right now, he let her take the beer away from him. "Hmm..." he said randomly, very carelessly, and not as a particular response to anything she said so far. His thoughts were wandering a lot and so were his eyes, he wasn't paying attention really but he was trying to just somehow collect some of his thoughts and words to form some sort of cohesive speech to describe what he felt he needed to say to her. As a weird reaction, he moved a little bit to his right, so that they could have space between them -- he didn't want to get too close to her, she didn't want to be near him really, did she? "You wanted to what? Talk? What is there that we could possibly talk about?" he asked, eyes focused now on his hands as he turned them over, examining his long fingers. Why were they so long, why was he so tall, why was he so stupid?

I don't think I want to leave. The words hit him a little later (and harder, not gonna lie) than they were actually spoken, the delay in his mind courtesy of the alcohol that was currently circulating throughout his system. Liv had closed the space between them again, and John could feel their bodies touching as she leaned closer to him, the heat radiating from them both. It was so fucking hot on the bus, and it didn't help that it was the peak of summer and that there were tons of people lingering around, albeit on the other part of the bus that they weren't currently in. "Why not, you won the bet, more or less. Isn't that what you wanted?" he asked, trying not to spit it out and succeeding, simply because he was drawling again in his drunken state. For a moment he almost felt that she was secretly telling him that it was him that she didn't want to leave behind, but how could that be true with the way that she had been acting, resistent to all his words? And then he remembered. 'People' didn't actually mean him, it was an open response and term -- it probably wasn't even hm anyway.

"You don't have to lie to me, Liv," he said flatly, now trying hard not to sound as annoyed as he did, and even if her hand was a very soothing feeling on his knee as she rubbed her fingers against it, his reflexes somehow caused him to get up suddenly -- except, he forgot the fact that he was sitting in a bunk and there was one above his head, therefore, he hit his head on the above bunk, which belonged to Kennedy. The thought of his friend made him turn around, and his face was contorted in an expression of both frustration and pain, towards his feelings that were bottled up inside and owing to the fact that he had just maybe gotten a minor concussion -- 'cause man, that fucking hurt, and his head was throbbing now. He raised his hand to his head, holding it carefully and closing his eyes for the moment to take it all in before opening them, in addition to his mouth. "Yeah? Who are these 'people' then? Not me, I know, I get it, it's probably Kenny that you're talking about, or fuck, maybe it's Pat, maybe it's been Pat this whole time and I'm just a fucking dumbass to not have realized that you two are like, super fucking buddy-buddy and probably more than that. If it was him, why couldn't you just say so in the beginning, I would have laid off completely." It sucked being drunk, because 95% of the time it meant that irrational statements would come out, not to mention the whole deal about drunken words being sober thoughts. But maybe that was what he needed.

Looking at her, his eyes were squinted a little at her, but only because he was trying to hide what he really felt. With his frustrated habit -- running his hands through his brown hair constantly -- giving him away, the look on his face definitely conveyed exactly what he was feeling. Angry, sad, annoyed, frustrated, upset... the list could go on. And as his eyes met hers even as his tall stance wavered against gravity, she could see even in the dimmed light of the bus that he was about to cry. "I don't want you to leave either, okay," he blurted out, pacing around the slim walkway while keeping his eyes on her, the emotional (albeit drunken-fueled) tears threatening to escape his eyes. He made it to the door that separated the common area of the bus from the living area, and as he stood there idly, he mused to himself that it was good that the music was loud -- he felt like he was speaking in a normal tone, but he knew well enough to know that whenever he was inebriated, his voice's volume was increased. Not that he was even yelling -- he hoped he wasn't, at least, because that's not what he really intended to do no matter how mad he may have been. "I stopped trying, Liv, because I don't want to be selfish. I don't want to win a stupid bet anymore, I don't want to keep you here because I 'won' -- really, I'm not fucking winning anything. I stopped trying because I want you to be happy, and this stupid bet seems to have made you even more miserable on tour."

He had thought about it a lot, and now he even referenced the fact that she never really reciprocated his flirtations and wiles in a positive way -- it was always negative with a touch or two of semi-positive, but never was it completely and truly positive. Even the time she had ended up falling asleep in his arms a few days ago, that may have been 90% positive, but she had to blow the other ten percent away with her slapping of his arm and other remarks that followed. He pried his one hand away from his head and threw both of his hands in the air. "I know you wanna go home. Hell, you deserve to go home for all the great work you've done for me and my stupid band. So I forfeit. You win. You don't even have to come back to work for us anymore if you leave." Alright, maybe he was going crazy now. "Just...just fucking be happier even if it's not because of, or with, me -- even if I wish you could be happy with me, because if you actually got it out of your mind that I'm out to hurt you, I fucking know I can make you happy." Ow, his head hurt a whole fucking lot now, especially since he abruptly let go of its makeshift support system of his arm. "Fuck," he muttered, leaning his back against the side panel near the door and sliding down slowly to the floor. Knees propped up, his long arms rested floppily on top of them, and he looked back up at Liv with a pathetic stare. He still looked like he was going to cry. He had lots of things to fear now -- if she did like him back and he was just being stupid, he probably ruined any of the chance he had by pulling this shit. "I'm sorry, Liv," he found himself saying, his mouth barely moving as he tried not to whisper words but actually say them. "I'm just...really drunk right now."

[/b][/color] omfg done
TAGGING! tati omg.
WORDS! 1329
NOTES! ramble ramble my drunk ones are always long.[/ul][/size][/blockquote][/blockquote]

[olivia gardner]

I'M FALLING IN LOVE
BUT ITS FALLING APART

What was there to possibly talk about? What he joking? There was so much... about the bet, the winner of said bet, and the consequences of said bet as well. He seemed more, not cruel, but vindictive than usual. Yeah, she did want to win. That was the point of a bet, wasn't it? That each side had something they wanted, and whoever lost would not be very happy about it. Well, Olivia was happy about losing; not the fact that she lost, because lets face it -- no one liked to lose. But Olivia was happy that she had fallen for John, simply because she had realized how fantastic he was. "There's...a lot of stuff I need to say." She stated, watching as he looked at his long and thin fingers. She wished she was holding them right now.

How could he be so daft? He had won, everyone else on tour seemed to know it but him. And yet here he was, sitting, drunk, in the back of the tour bus while a big party was going on just a few feet away from them. At least he wasn't one of those drunken people who went out and fucked everyone in sight, but this wasn't much better. He needed to stop moping and kiss her, damn it! "No I didn't..." She said, her voice barely audible. So, was this the reason he was all freaked out and hiding? Did he think she honestly didn't want him? That boy was way worse at reading people than he claimed to be. However, he was way better at wooing people than she had originally thought. With the defending her honor and making cute comments here and there, and dedicating songs to her... she was caught in his net by day two. She had spent the next four trying her hardest to pretend like she hadn't fallen for him, and that might have come out like a little bit of hatred, but it was all false. She was a great actress.

"I'm not lying." She defended, her hand tensing on his knee as he jumped up and hit his head. Did the little bump give him brain damage or what? She wasn't into Kennedy or Pat, no no no. They had become her best friends in the band, mostly because Pat was as cute as a button and she could confide in Kennedy without fear of it getting out to the rest of the world. Besides, neither of them had ever hit on her, so she gravitated to them first. "You are seriously stupid if you think I'd ever have feelings for Pat." There was nothing wrong with Pat, no. But that would be like falling in love with her brother, and that was pretty messed up. She was so not into incest. No, she was into John.

He stood up, causing Liv to retract her hand. She ran it through the bottom of her long golden hair, watching as his eyes filled with tears. "You certainly act like you want me to." She stated bluntly, ignoring the fact that he was getting emotional. When people got emotional, she got emotional too, and so she tried to pretend that it was just the light playing tricks on her. She convinced herself that drunk people just cried a lot, it was no big deal. But his response made her want to sob, and although she tried not to show it, her eyes betrayed her. She held her head up high and blinked back the threatening tears. She didn't dare speak, in case her voice decided to crack like it always did when she was upset. She was never good at hiding when she was upset for that very reason.

"I..." She started, but no words came to mind. She decided to shut up and let him explain himself further, because he seemed to be on a drunken rant. She still couldn't believe that he couldn't see that she wanted to stay now. It was all because of him, too. Oh god. He could make her happy, so fucking happy. She wished she hadn't had pushed him away the past few days, and that she wasn't so afraid to let people in. Otherwise, he would have known that she had fallen for him and this depressing drunk moment wouldn't have happened. She stared up at him as he walked over to the wall by the door and slid down, collapsing on the bus floor.

She tried laughing, but it kind of came out was a choke -- yeah, her eyes were never good at keeping those pesky tears in. "Yeah, you are." She stood up from the bunk finally, and walked over to John -- towering over him for the first time, ever. She sat down on her knees in front of him, pulling his hands off of his legs so that they could intertwine with her own (and yes, they were as long as John had been noticing.) "Don't be worry." She whispered as she leaned closer to him, making sure he would hear this all loud and clear. "I'm going to stay. And it's not for Pat or for Kennedy." She offered him a tiny smile, gathering the courage to admit these two simple words. "You win." She leaned closer and kissed his cheek, moving her face back so that her forehead rested on his own.

"You're so dumb sometimes." She reiterated. Honestly, she had this little seed in her mind thinking that he wanted to lose on purpose. To make her happy. But right now, John was her source of happiness. She may have missed her friends and family back home, but John probably did too. She kept forgetting that while yes, he was a musician, he was still a human being, and probably had the same feelings going though his heart that she did. "I know you will make me happy. I'm staying for you." And not just for him, but for her too. She wasn't mindlessly following his win, because she could have easily lied and just gone back home. If she wanted to leave, she could have. But her heart was set on staying, and there was no way he could convince her otherwise.

"I'm going to go back to the party...I'd like it if you joined me, but you seem kind of, not in the mood for it." She said as she got up to leave, letting go of his hands so that he could follow by his own free will. If he still wanted her, he could follow her. She was giving him a choice, and she wouldn't hate him for either option. After all, she had played the hot 'n cold card way too much over the past few weeks, maybe he needed some time to sort through his feelings, see if he still wanted her after she had given in. She walked slowly, her heart not wanting to leave that room without him -- she really wanted to stay here and talk, but he wasn't in the mindset to do that, and she wasn't about to bombard him while he was intoxicated. Maybe they could later, or maybe he would just choose to ignore it; she really didn't know. She didn't have enough experience with normal relationships (should she call this normal... or a relationship?) to be able to figure out on her own what would happen from here, and was doubting herself as a companion at this point. She had plenty of reasons to; after all, her last few relationships were failures up epic proportions.

NOTES fail.
WORDS 1265
TAGGED ava

[/size]

[john o'callaghan]

SHUT UP AND PUT YOUR MONEY
WHERE YOUR MOUTH IS ,
that's what you get for waking up in Vegas.



_____________________________________________

He was totally in a different zone at the moment, looking stupid as he just sat on the floor with his back to the wooden panelling of the back area of the tour bus. She was talking but he was only half-listening to whatever words were coming out of her mouth at the very moment. John was just...thinking, to himself, about other things. In his inebriated statement his reactions were pretty damn delayed, his mind lingering on certain statements for longer than he should have been thinking about them, reading into them more than he should have. Like the little comment about how he was stupid for even thinking that she could like Pat. "Yeah well," he mumbled, "how can I really know, how can I tell between your flirting and...whatever." His hand flopped around in a stupid motion, careless of a 'whatever' if you could make it into a hand signal, but it looked a lot more dumber because his vision wasn't exactly seeing the right thing at the moment. All John really knew was that he was drunk, he was emotional, he was frustrated and stressed -- and feeling all of those things at once didn't make a great combination at all.

"I DON'T WANT YOU TO!" he yelled, annoyed now. Yep, delayed as hell, cause she had just responded to the fact that he had stated the obvious fact, the fact that he was really drunk. "Don't want you to leave..." John found himself face to face with Olivia now, she having had moved from her position on the side of his bed to now be sitting on her knees in front of him on the floor. Her hands were warm, he felt the contrast in their body temperatures as Liv reached out for his hands, pulling them from their position against his propped up knees. He let her entwine their fingers, and really, that was all he could really want, the least of all the things he could have asked for. "I'm not...worried...?" he started, his voice back to its quiet volume and semi-shy tone. John frowned a little bit -- he wasn't sure if he just misheard her or anything, since the music outside of the area they were currently in already overpowered either of their normal speaking voices. But she was leaning close to him, too close that it kind of scared him at the moment. "Huh?" he whispered, sounding immensely dumbfounded, and then he felt his lips against his cheek. You win. The words echoed in his mind, rung in his ears. Blinking rather rapidly, he whined a little bit, quietly, to himself. He knew, John knew that he now looked as dumb as he sounded moments before.

"What?" His greenish-brown eyes were staring intensely into her brown ones, his nose brushing up against hers as their foreheads rested against the other's. Okay, he was running it all through his mind one more time. She had just said he won, she had just said that she wasn't going to leave, she had just said she was going to stay, not for Pat or Kennedy. So what did that really mean? He swore to himself that he wasn't this dumb or irrational normally, it was just the pile-up of events that had caused his mind to be so damn jumbled. And the alcohol, we couldn't forget the alcohol. For once, John O'Callaghan didn't have any words hanging on the tip of his tongue for a smooth reply. Finally, Liv had him beat, for the first time this whole week. The statement about knowing that he could (or would? she used a different tense but it fit well enough) make her happy was still playing over again in his mind, kind of like the marquee laser sign at the local drugstore that said how much the lottery jackpot was worth that week. She was staying for him. And he won, he won not just this stupid bet, but he won her heart. That was what she was basically trying to say, right?

Still silent, John closed his mouth again -- it was rude to keep his jaw opened if he wasn't talking, but he had forgotten all about that manner for the past two or three minutes. She was going to go back into the other part of the bus, through the door and back into the land of happy-fun-drunk time with the rest of The Maine and whoever else was in attendance. He had almost forgotten that Liv had probably little to no alcohol in her system at that moment. Blinking, he let her go very slowly, his fingers loosening their grip against her own, his hand dropping back down against his jeans as she stood up. For a moment, John just fixated his eyes blankly on her, looking her over. She was everything he could have ever wanted, looks and personality and just, everything. That's what it was. Liv was just perfect, with her tall slim figure and her golden hair -- every bit of the Arizona girl that John could have wished for. She was right in front of him, and she was leaving the option and all the possibilities in his hands. Suddenly he found himself standing up, his back stretching as he rose to his full height, and John's arm reached out for her, hand grabbing Liv's wrist gently but with enough force to stop her from leaving. "Liv, wait."

He had finally found his voice again, and John ignored the dizzy feeling that was overwhelming him as a punishment from getting up way too quickly for a person in his current state. Stepping forward, he placed his hand gently against her face, thumb grazing the soft skin of her cheek as he leaned in closer. In a quick motion the space was closed between them, John's lips pressing softly against hers as he backed her against the door to the bunk area. Discreetly his other hand turned the small lock to make sure that no one would come back there -- it wasn't as if he was going to try anything naughty, but it was more on the fact that for one, he didn't want anyone else drunk stumbling back there by accident to either fool around on one of his bandmates' (or even his) bed, or throw up on the sheets. Breaking away momentarily for a breath, his mouth made it to be next to Liv's ear, and his voice was dropped down to a whisper again. "Just so you know, I've been waiting for that -- I just wished that the first one between us wasn't made when I was drunk," he breathed. "But I couldn't help it...so I'll make sure I kiss you loads more when I'm sober." Without giving her a chance to respond, John was kissing her again, a little more roughly now, his hands roaming her sides as he let the sounds of a drunk Alex and a drunk Jack leading a sing along to Weightless' recording set the strange mood, penetrating the silence between them as they stayed lip-locked.

[/b][/color] omfg done
TAGGING! tati omg.
WORDS! 1191
NOTES! ramble ramble my drunk ones are always long.[/ul][/size][/blockquote][/blockquote]

[olivia gardner]

I'M FALLING IN LOVE
BUT ITS FALLING APART

Liv could feel him rise behind her, figuring he was just going to follow her out to the more cheerful side of the bus. After all, she doubted that the rest of the band or partygoers had seen him much that night, as he seemed to have isolated himself off in his bunk long before the party really got pumping. Maybe her little confession had sobered him up enough to go out and enjoy some company and obnoxious music. But no, Liv felt his hand clasp around her wrist and pull her back, finding herself nearly in his arms once more. This was kind of déjà vu to a few days ago, when he was harassing her about dating him in front of a line of fans all waiting for his signature and a photograph. Only this time, Liv wasn’t fighting or pretending that she wasn’t interested. That was over, and she wouldn’t do it again; at this point, resistance really was futile. “Yeah?” She asked, standing face to face with the lead singer.

His other hand moved to her face, and she couldn’t help but to think this for the second time in the past week - - damn, his hands were seriously soft. How could a guitarist do that? That was the reason she had quit trying to learn string instruments; calluses weren’t pretty, and she was getting frustrated with the rough and cracked skin that was coming from the playing. Maybe she should ask him his hand softening secrets, although that conversation seemed like it would be better for a time when his answer could be formed with whole sentences and thought through just a little bit more. Before she knew it, his lips were contacting hers, and they were having their first real kiss. She was waiting for that - - not forward enough herself to initiate it, but she was certainly not upset that it was coming now. Alright, so she might have been a little disappointed that he was drunk off his ass at this point, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

She could feel him lock the bunk room door behind them - - she assumed it was just for privacy reasons, not because anything intimate would happen. Neither of them were like that, and John wasn’t the slutty rock star that everyone envisioned when they thought about touring and buses and girls living with guys like this. Liv moved her hands to his shoulders, locking her arms around his neck as their kiss continued. At least it wasn’t one of those awkward, two second peck kisses that they would have to claim as their first. All of the pent up emotions of the past few days (and even months for John) were shown through that one passionate kiss, one that managed to be both fervent and tactful; a feat that was hard to pull off in this day and age. When their lips finally parted, his mouth moved to her ear, and she felt shivers run up her spine. She wanted to tell him that she didn’t mind, but he was continuing his thoughts. If she didn’t want to deal with a drunk and loving John, she would have waited an extra day to tell him how she really felt. She could handle intoxicated people though, hence her position of mother hen. She hoped no one would be getting into any trouble while she was locked in her own room, getting cozy with the boy of her dreams.

Liv grinned, and although he couldn’t see it, she was sure it was heard through her tone of voice. “You better-” She started to speak before his lips crashed into hers once more. As much as she hated PDA, she couldn’t wait to kiss him in front of people. Not because she wanted to claim him and let everyone know that she had snatched up one of the best guys in the music business, but because she wanted to prove to John that she could handle being the singers girlfriend. She may get hated for no good reason whatsoever, but she was starting to see why it was worth it, why girls stayed with their boyfriends who had these big star dreams. And besides, John was a surprisingly good kisser. Not like she had expected him to be bad or inexperienced, because he was John Ohh and that would be impossible, but because she hadn’t even thought about any physical connection with him yet. All that she had thought through was the emotional aspect, but she was quickly liking his lips more and more.

As they were standing there, her arms over his shoulders and his playing with her sides, an All Time Low lyric popped into her head. It probably had something to do with the little Weightless sing-a-long that Jack was leading outside of the room (of course it was Jack, how else would so something like that?), although the words that filled her head had nothing to do with Weightless or the new album. If she could sing, she would have belted out a, “the flavor of your lips is enough to keep me pressing,” but she didn’t want to have their perfect moment ruined by her squeaky singing voice. They stood there for a few more minutes, their kiss counter quickly rising higher and higher. She hadn’t planned on this much lip contact tonight, she thought they were going to save this for a day where he was better equipped to remember the night’s events and confessions. However, she wasn’t about to complain.

Liv had a hard time breaking away from him, and gave him a few more small kisses before drawing her face back enough to speak. “Wanna cuddle with me?” She asked, suddenly not in the mood to go back out to the party. She figured the guys could take care of themselves for once; she wasn’t needed every single night. She grinned shyly and twisted her hands that were clasped together behind his neck, not about to take no for an answer. She giggled and walked over to her and Pat’s bunk, climbing the few small stairs to the top bed with ease. When she was up, she grabbed John’s hand, helping his drunken state up a few rungs of the ladder. Alright, so she could have thought this through better. The beds were obviously meant for one person, but she didn’t care. She fit so perfectly into his side (alright, she had checked a few times when giving him little hugs) that it wouldn’t matter. They could do it. “Don’t make me stay up here all alone all night.” She warned, throwing one of her pillows down at the ground, narrowly avoiding John with it. This she could get used to.

NOTES fail.
WORDS 1134
TAGGED ava

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