Looking for trouble | Vol. 2 | Jamie Bower fanfiction

12 | Unexpected

Skye

I see the idiot immediately. He stands next to two women, one of them is pulling his shoulder urging him to sit down the other is standing next to him his phone in her hands. Under his newfound tan, his face seemed weirdly pale and sweat tinted his skin. His hair was devil may care handsome, which meant it was all over the fucking place. But he didn't seem all that well; he seemed confused and sad of course, but also a little ill. His eyes wild and vaguely glassy.

I catch up to them and one of the women turns to me, the one with Jamie's phone in her hands.

"So I'm guessing you're Skye?" she asks.

"It's me, what happened?"

"Dehydration. One second we were talking to him, the next he was passed out on the ground." She informs me

"Just great, thanks for phoning me anyways, and helping James, he's been a bit off today," I reply as I put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it lightly. I could feel his eyes laying heavily on me.

"Are you okay?" I ask as any normal friend would. My outburst earlier forgotten, I might be mortally mad at him, but I didn't want him to go around passing out on the ground. I am not that evil. Believe it, or not.

"Yeah, a bit," he says placing his hand over mine on his shoulder. I remove mine immediately.

"Good," I reply shortly, still holding an eye on him for a second longer - in fear that he might just tumble over (with Jamie you never know) - and then I turn to the women, "Do you guys know James from somewhere?"

"Aaaahh," they mumble in unison.

They look awkwardly at each other, the ground and then lastly up at me, "well we're fans of his, we both met him at one of his gigs," the woman with sort reddish hair tells me, seeming slightly embarrassed and out of place.

"Oh, cool!" I say smiling; I've actually never seen fans of his over the age of 20. They were somewhat rare bread, I guess. They seemed older than me, more like Jamie's age, though much more grown up. Jamie is a real child-man; after all they seem more than capable of taking care of a comatose Jamie.

"It is!" the same woman chirps, appearing more sure of herself after my positive reply, "Jamie is great live! Just before we were talking about the time I gave him a unicorn onesie at Guilfest," the reddish haired woman shot a friendly smile, which round her rosy cheeks. The other woman just sat down fidgeting with Jamie's phone absentmindedly.

"You... Gave him that onesie?" I ask, my brow furrowed together and the red haired nods, I turn to Jamie, "wasn't that the one I was wearing when..?"

"When we first slept together? Yes it was."

*smack*

I hit him over the head with the flat of my palm.

"We didn't sleep together that night!" my irritation over his sly comment is greater than it should have been. Arsehat. I turn to the women, "I promise you I didn't sleep with him wearing your gift!" I plead her. I need her to believe me. "We only fell asleep together and that's all! Nothing more happened! I swear!"

A slightly cheesy smile spread over both of the women's faces, "that's cute, are you guy's a thing?" red haired woman asks, the one woman who had sat down looking though Jamie's phone, had looked up, when I had smacked Jamie on the head, before she joined her friends cheeky grin.

"No. Just friends," I reply, making sure Jamie hears every word. Both their grin lessens and Jamie lets out a disbelieving huff. Suddenly a loud ringtone erupts.