expectations.

Several hundred miles later, Presley had retold her story over seven times and still hadn’t stopped smiling. Sure, it hadn’t been the best of circumstances to meet the two rockstars, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. At least she had made an impression.

And made an impression she had. That much was proven when they stopped at McDonalds the next day for lunch..

She and Hayden roll their eyes as they (yet again) yell at Bren and Finley to keep out of the indoor playground that was certainly built for four year olds, not nineteen and twenty one year old men.

She giggles as Bren suddenly gets stuck on the slide and quickly snaps a picture. Presley posts it to twitter, captioning it, “instead of ‘when you give a pig a pancake’ it should be ‘when you take a Bren to Mcdonalds’.

She takes a bite out of her salad as she scrolls through her tumblr dashboard. Presley looks up as she senses eyes on her. Catching Hayden staring at her she asks, “What? Do I have something on my face?” He shakes his head no. “Just….Who eats a salad at McDonalds? I respect the whole ‘vegetarian’ thing but come on.” She laughs but suddenly begins choking on her lunch as she reads one of the banners scrolling on the top of her phone.

Twitter: @BenAfuckingA “@lastpresley and her band @LTL_official are sick. Check them out, you fucks.”

“What’s wrong? Pres, are you okay?” She responds by shoving her phone in his face. Hayden’s eyes widen as he realize what this means for them as a band.

“Finley! Bren! Ben fucking Bruce just tweeted about us!” The shock on the boys face is so comical they all start laughing. Finley runs over to Presley and scoops her up out of the cushioned chair and into his wiry arms.

“Thank you so much for being a snappy bitch to him!”

She giggles and pushes against his chest. “Let me go, you dingbat!” He refuses and just holds her tighter to him.

“To the van! We’re all gonna get smashed! Well, except Hayden - he has to drive.” Hayden pulls a pouty face and they all laugh yet again. Today is definitely a happy day.


“I am so fucking glad I met you guys.” Presley slurs a few hours and a few too many beers later.

“And to think if I hadn’t left Mississippi because of my parents, I wouldn’t be in a band that’s on their way to play mainstage at Warped Tour!” Finley and Bren share a grin. Drunk Presley was one of their favorite Presleys, right next to laughing-so-hard-she-can’t-finish-her-own-joke Presley.

“We’re glad we met you too, Pres.” Fin speaks up and Presley is thrown into his lap as Hayden stomps on the brakes.

“Hello there.” She says, giggling as she trails her fingers up and down his chest.

“Okay, I’m cutting you off, babe.” He reaches for the neck of the beer bottle. “No,” she pulls the bottle to her chest, cradling it.

Red, white, and blue lights illuminate the night and sirens break the silence of the quiet countryside.

“Dammit, Hayden! How fast were you going?” Bren demands, panicked as he and Fin hurriedly stuff empty bottles and cans under the seats and into luggage. The seriousness of the situation hits Presley like a shit ton of bricks. I’m so screwed. The thought miraculously sobers her up.

“Quick, give me some chips or something greasy so I can hide the beer breath.” They hand her a small bag of Doritos and she stuffs several in her mouth. Sometimes having an overprotective mother and a sneaky older brother paid off.

Hayden pulls over the van and the cop makes his way to the driver window. Hayden rolls down the window and the is blinded by a flashlight being shined directly into his face.

“Would you like to know why I pulled you over tonight?” The voice was familiar, but Presley couldn’t quite place it.

“Um, yes sir?” It was meant to be a direct answer but came out sounding more like a question.

“Because I wanna party with you shitheads!” The flashlight is turned to illuminate the “cop’s” face. Cheers of ‘Elliott!’ fill the van.

“Elliott Gruenberg, you fuck! I almost had a heart attack. Presley here isn’t exactly old enough to drink legally and isn’t exactly in the soberest of moods.”

“Oh, I’m sober now.” She mumbles, still trying to process how the hell her best friends knew one of the guitarists of Blessthefall.

“Sorry, girly,” Elliott says, sticking his head inside the van, “me and the guys go way back.”

“Uh, no problem.” The boys notice her unusual silence and laugh among themselves.
“I think our girl here is a little starstruck.”

“Shut up, Fin,” she orders, whacking him in the stomach. Elliott smiles in approval.

“I like her. She’s got spunk. Now come on guys, I’ve got some friends I want you to meet.”

Notes

Can we talk about Memphis May Fire's 'Beneath The Skin' bc that song makes me cry I swear.