There are some things in life you never get used to. Wigs is one of them. Hot band mates who think you're a guy is another. "Hey, Jackson," Kevin greeted me as I stepped into the recording studio. I waved and dropped my duffel bag on the ground. Luther turned at the mention of my name and said, "Oh, hey, Jackson. Wanna hear something awesome that makes me hate you even more than I already do?" I laughed and replied in my fake but convincing, (months of practice will do that for you,) British accent, "'Course. Don't I always?" He grinned for a second and then frowned as he told me, "My girlfriend won't stop bugging me. She says, 'You spend more time in each day with Jackson Aepatt than with me, and you still dress like a hobo?'" I laughed again. Luther really didn't dress that badly. The label would never let him. But of course it was nothing compared to the clothes of Jackson Aepatt. I wonder why that is? Maybe because Jackson's clothes are picked by women? Kevin laughed and said, "Yea, well, apparently style comes with being English." I nodded, "Mhm. Born with all the skills needed to catch a girl quickly and lose her even faster." Kevin laughed and high-fived me. The door closed behind me and I turned to see that one guy that made every day of my life that much harder. Joel, (pronounced joe-ell, not joll,) the hottest guy in the band, if you don't include the male version of me. (Yes, I do make a gorgeous guy. I'm allowed to say that without sounding snooty, because I hate this fact and wish I could just be a pretty girl.) If he was just a super hot guy with a moody personality who cared about nothing but fame and fortune, then I could get over it and pull off my boy-charade quite well. Unfortunately, he wasn't. He was a brown-haired blue-eyed lyricist who preferred spending hours writing the the lyrics for our songs over going out and spending the money the songs made. He was the bass player and he would get so lost in the music that he would close his eyes and lulled back his head. He was everything that everyone thought I was. And thus, he made my life a major pain as I pretended he was just another guy and that I wasn't attracted to him at all, as I took his smacks on the back and spent countless hours on a tour bus as he fell in and out of sleep and said nothing to him that had any sign of flirting within it. "Hey," he said as he stepped into the small room and picked up his bass. I nodded at him and looked quickly away, keeping my eyes on the microphone in front of me. Not glancing back at those gorgeous eyes as we started playing, not glancing to see how long it took before he closed them and leaned his head toward the sky.
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