I looked down at my phone, hearing a familiar ringtone-The (Shipped) Gold Standard, playing at the "I wanna scream I love you" part, of course-changed by Pete when I let him use my phone to call Joe. "Hey, Patrick!" I greeted.

"Hey, Bailey." He said, "We'll be there in a few minutes to pick you up. Are you ready?"

"Yeah," I looked around at my bags, "I'll only be there for a few days, while you guys are doing the shows. I'll meet you at the airport when you get back."

"Okay." He said something to Pete about cutting out whatever he was doing and added, "See you in five."

"Yep, bye." I hung up and walked outside, making sure to lock my door. Ever since Patrick had snuck in I had been careful to do that.

Patrick's car appeared in the distance and I shouldered my bag, standing up. Patrick pulled up and slowed to a stop, I could hear him yelling at Pete, who was leaning over him and honking the horn.

"Thanks, Pete." I groaned, buckling my seat belt. "Because my neighbors didn't hate me enough already."

Patrick chuckled and Pete pretended to be outrage. "You monsters!" He yelled as we drove down the road, "Are you hating on our Bailey?"

"Pete," Patrick and I both groaned.

Patrick pulled up to the airport and I unbuckled. "Thanks Patrick." I said, kissing his cheek.

"It's no big deal." He told me with a wave.

"Of course it's not," Pete muttered behind us, "Give him a kiss and he'd give you the world."

I rolled my eyes and stepped out of the car, laughing to myself as Patrick started to give Pete hell for saying that.

Pete folded his arms and pouted at me. "Please," He begged, "Please, please, please?"

"For the last time, no, Pete. I am not going to get you ice cream."

"Just a small one, Rick. Please."

Sighing, I pulled my car over towards the ice cream stand. "Just one," I swore, "And just this time."

Pete and I each got our ice cream, just a plain vanilla for me and pumpkin pie for Pete. We ate it at a picnic table in the shade of a tree, licking around the edges so that the ice cream wouldn't fall into our laps. Pete looked up at me, his face covered in sticky ice cream. "Um, Pete, you have a little-" I held up a napkin, "Just wipe off your face." I told him, shaking my head.

When we were done, we climbed back into the car. I checked my texts, there were none from Bailey, but Joe had messaged me, asking where we were. We went out for ice cream, I texted him, We'll be there soon.

I checked my phone again, feeling strangely lonely without being able to be in touch with Bailey, despite the fact that my best friend was sitting right next to me.

"Hey, Rick, are you okay?" Pete asked me, concerned.

"Yeah," I told him, "I'll be fine."