Adam Levine sat on the floor of his kitchen. It was 5 AM. His roommate, Gene, called Jesse to come deal with him but Jesse was busy. What the fuck did Jesse have to do? Adam WAS Maroon 5. He was pretty sure nobody knew Maroon 5 had any other members not to MENTION fucking Jesse Carmichael. Adam leaned back against the kitchen island and played with a frayed corner of his wifebeater. The minute Blake brought that vanilla flavored tequila Adam should have known something like this would happen. Vanilla flavored tequila should be fucking illegal. When Adam drank tequila he got aggressive, which Behati had reminded him of just moments before. You would think that after he became a millionaire he would have better luck with women. He had told himself over 10 years ago that once he was a rock star he would find a nice supermodel to do coke with and she wouldn't ask him any questions. Things never turn out the way you think they will, do they? Behati spent most of her time in Paris and when she was around she'd act like his fucking girlfriend until the end of the night when he made his move she would say "We can never ever be together" like some goddamned Taylor Swift song. He had grabbed her arm to try to talk to her but he was too drunk to find the right words. It always came so easy when he was writing OvereXposed but real life isn't like "Payphone feat. Wiz Khalifa" is it? That's when she called him aggressive and pathetic. She told him "Just get over it, Adam. We're in different places in our lives" like he wasn't a judge on NBC's The Voice.
So Adam sat on the floor of his kitchen quietly crying and clutching the tequila bottle. The entire night he had been secretly blowing lines of Ridalin in the bathroom so he wasn't going to sleep anytime soon. Behati had left him there. He vaguely wondered if she would come back if she saw him lying on the floor with his cheek on the cool tile through his giant bay windows. She didn't. She had this way of making him feel like he was a loser instead of the Grammy Award Winning Artist that he was. He hated her for that. He was Adam fucking Levine and some mean supermodel was making him feel like he was nothing. She was so dumb. Profoundly dumb. Why did he love her? It was a question Blake asked him time and time again. Fucking Blake. He honestly didn't know. He wanted to quit her. He just couldn't. All he knew at this moment leaning against his Viking Stove was this: he wanted to ruin her life like she ruined his. He stood up, a little uneasy, and walked through the kitchen into the garage. He stumbled into the front seat of his car. She thought he was aggressive? Just wait until he drove his vintage Porche through her goddamn front door. He would show her aggressive.
He smiled. Things would be better after this. He turned on the ignition.
