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When Jack found out, he was in bed nursing a hangover.
His head pounded, his eyes watered, and he was about to get up to go puke again when his phone rang.
Sighing deeply, he picked it up. It was Alex. Of course, he had to answer it.
"What's up, lefty-dick?" he mumbled.
"Jack! We got our lineup!" Alex sounded excited as fuck. He hadn't been that excited since he found out they were touring with Blink-182.
"Lineup?"
"You know, the bands we're touring with this summer," said Alex.
"Who are they?" asked Jack, wanting to get to the point so he could go throw up.
"Some dudes called The Wrecks, Night Riots, SWMRS, and Waterparks."
"Waterparks?" stuttered Jack.
"I know, it's a weird band name," said Alex.
"Alex, I'm gonna call you back," said Jack.
"Um, wh-"
Jack hung up, set his phone down, and raced to the bathroom.
When he was done blowing chunks, he collapsed back on his bed and stared straight up at the ceiling. Waterparks. He knew Waterparks. He knew if Waterparks would be there, his renegade heartache would be there with them.
*****
It happened in November, five years before.
When All Time Low rolled up in Houston, Texas that day, it was chilly with a chance of rain. They got to their signing at some place called Cactus Records, which, thankfully, was indoors, so they didn't have to endure the cold.
The fans were amazing. Nobody was mobbed, nobody pushed anyone in line, and nobody demanded a signature without a pen, or a picture without a camera. There were just as many guys as there were girls, which surprised Jack, as he didn't think his band appealed to guys.
As he was signing a blonde girl's bra (not the one she was wearing), one boy caught his eye.
He was nicely tanned, a bit shorter than Jack, but his light brown hair made up the difference. He had bright blue eyes and sweet little lips and a nice ass. Jack was drawn to him, and not just because of his ass.
Jack finished writing his note on the girl's bra and let her flounce off to Zack. The boy approached him, and he could feel his palms starting to sweat.
"H-hey," said the boy. "You're one of my idols. W-will you sign this?"
He held out a copy of Don't Panic-It's Longer Now! and Jack grinned. "Of course, man."
The boy passed him a Sharpie, and Jack opened the CD's case.
"What's your name, by the way?" asked Jack.
"Um, Geoff," said the boy. "G-E-O-F-F."
"Got it," said Jack, and wrote Luv u, Geoff! on the inside cover of the CD case.
"Th-thanks," stammered Geoff, and turned to go.
"Wait, hold up," blurted Jack, and Geoff looked back, surprised. "C'mere. I wanna sign more of your shit."
"What?" Geoff came back to the table, smiling nervously, and handed Jack the Sharpie again. "O-okay."
Jack bit his lip, pushed up Geoff's sleeve, and signed his forearm. Underneath his signature, he wrote Call me @ 10, then his phone number.
Geoff glanced at the writing and his face broke into a grin. Jack caught his eyes and winked. The other boy winked back.
The next fan approached Jack, and he smiled at her and signed her things, but his mind was still on Geoff. It stayed on Geoff through the rest of the signing, through the short break they got for sound-check, through the show itself, until ten.
He couldn't stop checking his phone. Nine fifty-eight, nine fifty-nine, ten! His phone rang almost exactly at the change of the hour.
"Hey," he said.
"Hi," said Geoff.
"Where are you?" asked Jack.
"Right outside House of Blues."
"Which entrance?"
"Front."
"I'll be disguised, but see you in fifteen." He hung up, put his pants back on, found a paper bag to put over his head, and power-walked outside. The tour bus didn't leave until two; he figured he had time.
Sure enough, Geoff was exactly where he'd said he was. When he saw Jack approaching, he smiled and nodded. "Hello."
"Sup," said Jack. "I'm gonna get you coffee. Just wait a bit."
"Wh-what?"
"I don't know much about Houston, but I know that House of Blues's snack bar makes a mean cappuccino," said Jack. "And we gotta wait, or some fan's going to kill me."
"Wait, why are you getting me coffee?"
"Because you're cute," admitted Jack.
"How'd you know?" asked Geoff shyly.
"The way you walk," said Jack.
"It's that obvious?"
"Well, yeah," said Jack. "It just screams 'don't hit on me.'"
Geoff glanced at his feet and scratched the back of his head. "Well, it works."
"Until today?"
"Yeah." He tapped his fingers against his thigh. "But I don't mind."
Jack looked around at the dissipating crowd. "I think we're okay now. Come on."
He darted through the venue doors, making sure Geoff was following him, and waved to the omniscient security guards. This House of Blues's snack bar was very homey, with nice décor, run by a tired-looking lady who seemed startled to find a guy wearing a paper bag on his head at her bar. Smiling, Jack took the bag off his head and turned to Geoff.
"What's your forte?"
"Um..." Geoff shifted nervously. "Anything?"
"Bro, I'm in a band," said Jack. "I got that rich-ass band guy money. Get whatever you want."
"No, really," said Geoff. "I'm down for anything."
"If you say so," said Jack, turning back to the tired lady. "Two cappuccinos with extra frothy shit."
A giggle escaped Geoff's lips, and Jack smirked.
"All right," sighed the lady. "Two cappuccinos with extra frothy shit coming right up." She whirled around and began bustling with an unstable-looking machine. Jack took a seat on one of the bar stools and motioned for Geoff to do the same.
"So...how are you liking Houston?" asked Geoff.
"It's nice," said Jack. "We've been here a few times, and I went around the city and checked out the things. We don't have much time to do that on this tour, but it's good."
"We do have a lot of things," said Geoff.
"Yeah," said Jack. "You got nice architecture, lots of cool little shops, and cute boys."
"Mh-what?"
"Two cappuccinos with extra frothy shit," called out Snack Bar Lady, setting two cute little mugs on saucers in front of Jack and Geoff.
"Thanks," said Jack. "Anyway, what was I saying? Cute boys?"
Geoff nodded. "Something like that."
"I don't buy coffee for a lot of boys," said Jack. "Just attractive ones. You're pretty hot."
"Are you drunk?"
Jack burst out laughing. "No, I'm sober. It surprises a lot of people. I'm just upfront."
"Okay." Geoff took a sip of his cappuccino.
"So, who are you?" asked Jack.
"Who am I?" echoed Geoff. "I'm Geoff Wigington. I'm twenty-three and I play guitar."
"No, like, what are your life goals?" asked Jack.
"Um..." Geoff fidgeted with the handle of his coffee mug. "Well...I want to make music."
"Good goal. It's mine too," said Jack, and Geoff smiled.
"And...I want to travel the world, and see a lot of stuff, and make a name for my band Waterparks, and...I just wanna do shit with my life."
Jack nodded. "I always hated the idea of being tied down to one place."
"I want to see everything."
"That might be hard," said Jack, and Geoff laughed.
"Why am I telling you about myself? You probably just want to fuck me and never speak to me again."
Jack spread his hands. "You got half of that right."
He didn't sleep at all that day.
*****
After that, he'd had a total of three more conversations with Geoff.
Then they just...stopped.
Jack didn't know what he'd done. He'd message Geoff, or call him, but he wouldn't answer. He knew Geoff was still alive. He kept tabs on how Waterparks was doing, and he'd cheered them on for their new releases, their signing, their first album. But Geoff never picked up.
That was almost five years ago. Jack and Geoff hadn't spoken in five years. It was a surprisingly long time, thought Jack as he stared at his ceiling. It feels like forever.
But Jack couldn't stay in bed all day.
Eventually he had to get up, put on pants, and drag himself to the outside world.
All that day his mind was elsewhere.
*****
The first day of the tour hit him like a ton of bricks.
SWMRS arrived first. Cole kept on stumbling over his words, which Jack found endearing, but Joey's dad jokes were decidedly not. They were good. Jack liked them. He couldn't say the same for Zack, but Jack was certainly fond of them.
The other two bands showed up shortly after that. They were a good, solid bunch of guys. Jack couldn't concentrate on them; he was too busy thinking about the blue-eyed boy who had yet to arrive.
Finally, he did.
Awsten, the singer of Geoff's band, was totally starstruck. Jack grinned and gave him a bro-hug.
"I'm-I'm honored, Jack Barakat," he stuttered as Jack let go.
"Don't mention it," said Jack. "I'm used to meeting fans."
Awsten chuckled. "Ha, ha. Otto, come say hi to the nice men."
The drummer, Otto, was unimpressed by Jack. He simply rolled his eyes and shook the hands of everyone he didn't already know.
The door opened again, and Geoff stepped through.
Jack jerked his head up. He looked so good now, more grown-up, less like the fresh-faced emo kid he'd been when they met. Such a sweet guy.
Geoff made his way through the crowd of sweaty men and approached Jack, his hands clasped in front of him.
"What's up?" said Jack.
"Oh," said Geoff. "Nothing much. Although, I heard London has great cappuccinos."