A/N: This is my first JoBro fic, so I'm super excited!! Anyways, I don't own them, just their hearts. Here goes nothing!
This cannot be happening, I said to myself. Well, I would have said it if I were able to move my jaw, or any other part of my body. As I lay on the cold concrete in the parking lot, I thought about how ironic the situation was.
I could hear Momma Dee's voice as if on playback in my head.
"Charlotte, you are not going to that concert. Especially unsupervised! Do you know what kind of people wait around at those kinds of places, just waiting to get a hold of a young girl by herself?"
"You are not my mother!" I had yelled at her. "I may be living here for now, but next week I could be halfway across the country. I'm going to this concert before I get thrown around again!"
"There will always be another concert in another town," the old woman said. "But there will never be another you. Please don't go to this concert."
As the sounds of the upbeat concert began to slow down, I listened as group after group of exciting fan girls passed by. I was hidden behind the back set of tires on a giant white tractor trailer, probably the one used to transport the instrument and equipment from venue to venue. The suppressed giggles of fans trying to sneak a glimpse at the stars began to fade as the hour became later and later.
I began to panic when I heard the movement of men loading the equipment onto the truck. What if nobody realized I was underneath the rear axel? Things could get even worse than they already were. I struggled to get myself into the open, but only managed to push myself far enough for my hand to break free from the truck's shadow.
"Wait, Mike," I heard a familiar voice call out. "We need the two acoustics to stay on the bus."
I used every ounce of strength I had in to force out a loud yelp as I watched a pair of shiny Italian shoes pass by the truck. The sound was barely louder than a grunt, but the shoes stopped. I wiggled my fingers, as if begging for him to see them. The owner of the shoes bent down and looked beneath the truck.
I was looking into the stunned eyes of the oldest member of Connect Three.