After a few extra drinks bought for her by fans at the bar, Jane had a good buzz on – one good enough to temporarily ease her inner dialogue about the current affairs happening in the band. She hopped up on the stage and greeted the crowd, as always, and let the boys play their minute and a half intro as she drank some water a bobbed along to the beat of the song. This show was like any other one besides two things:
1)	The much larger crowd of fans below them
2)	The fact that Jane didn’t look behind her once during the performance

The cold shoulder wasn’t supposed to be a “fuck you” to Rob by any means. It was more of a way to keep her focus on the music, the crowd, and the performance, and also not to make things any more awkward and tense than they were already. She could feel his presence behind her, though, like someone repeatedly poking her in the shoulder to get her attention. But she pushed through the show, showing her attention to the crowd of people who paid to see them, and ended with a short sentiment.

“Thank you guys so much for coming out and singing with me. We didn’t expect all the love, but we really appreciate it. We’re In Bloom from Long Beach. Thank you.” 

The crowd cheered, and Jane returned the microphone to its wobbly stand before hopping off the stage to catch a breath. Maybe it was the venue, or the large amount of patrons, but the air was warm and humid inside, she felt like she’d nearly faint. One of the water bottles that was half-way full was poured over her head and massaged around with her fingers, the rest of the stray drops dripping down to the ends of her hair and scattering on various parts of her. 

One thing Jane had been awful at was interacting with the crowd [i]after[/i] a show, usually because all of her energy was given away to the crowd on stage, but it was decided she should do some face time. She took a spot behind a merch table provided by the venue and ran by their new driver, and Jane spent a half an hour greeting people and signing CDs as they were purchased. 

It truly all felt so surreal, as if she was watching herself from a corner of the ceiling, and someone else was controlling her down on the ground.

Once they packed up and left the venue, Sam and Austin were going back and forth about what they wanted to do that night. All of them were excited to be in New York City – Jane too – but she couldn’t push herself to want to go out. She just wanted a bath in the roman tub and pass out after a couple of joints and a Xanax she saved for the night before a morning she could sleep in.  

“I think I’m gonna stay in tonight, guys,” she squeaked, her voice struggling to make a sound after the performance. “Have fun, though.”
Austin turned around from the passenger seat and gave her an understanding nod. 

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Only moments after arriving to the room, Jane was locked in the shared bathroom, smoking a joint with a speaker playing [url=https://youtu.be/AMPpMfjnn-I]Alison by Slowdive[/url] softly. With closed eyes, her head was resting on the wall of the tub, her face looking upwards, as the warm water soothed her in all aspects – cursing to herself when the water finally turned cold and forced her to leave her sanctuary. The bathroom was foggy, both from steam and smoke, but Jane looked at her reflection momentarily. She slowly reach out to the foggy layer covering the gold-trimmed mirror and drew a happy face where hers would be. 

Maybe she smoked too much.

Or maybe Rob would see it and laugh.  

Maybe leaving small things like that around would keep her at the forefront of his mind. 

She wrapped herself in a white fluffy towel and scurried to her room without looking up to see if she was alone, and once she arrived, Jane closed the door quietly behind her.

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Half an hour later, Jane’s body was so heavy, she felt as if she’d eventually sink through the plush mattress down to the floor. The Xanax had did its work; her hazy mind had released the problems it had been constantly mulling over. Instead, vapid thoughts of the tour and their growing popularity flashed in front of her like a montage on a projector until her last joint was extinguished in the ashtray on the end table.  

Jane was only wearing boy shorts under the fluffy white comforter, and the smooth fabric felt as if it was constricting around her, lulling her to sleep. Some made-for-TV movie was chattering in the background, but she could no longer focus on it. Her eyelids, which felt like weights, began to force themselves shut as her last yawn broke out and sent chills down her spine. One heavy arm slowly grazed the other, up and down, feeling the blonde hairs that stood up. Being alone in the large, fancy bed seemed like a waste of space, so in order to contradict that notion, Jane sprawled out almost as wide as she could, but her short figure was unable to compensate. 

Hopefully, she’d get to sleep in past 6:00 AM. Waking up so early, finding something to occupy her mind before the others were up, was tiring in itself. The sedative would allow her to at least sleep until 11 that morning. 

Her phone was sitting limply in her hand, and thoughts of texting Rob crossed her mind, but ultimately, Jane came to the conclusion that it wouldn’t be a wise choice. In this moment of inebriation, she was probably too vulnerable to attempt to stay sane in front of him. So, instead, she silenced the phone and hugged the comforter that surrounded her with her arms, and eventually drifted off into a heavy, deep slumber. 

There were no plans for the band the next day, and Jane had the hopes of convincing Rob to go sightseeing with her. If they were just [i]friends[/i], that meant they should hang out together, right? If she couldn't be intimate with him like she wanted to be, especially after how [i]good[/i] he looked as he exited his room earlier, then she needed to at least be close to him. Spend time with him. Talk to him. Gauge where he was at with her. Convince him that he just settling for being "normal" with Jane wasn't going to cut it without, of course, having to confess how she really felt.