"Just look at me now before I walk away,

you just might miss me, miss me one day

Yeah, yeah, yeah."

The loud instrumental blasted through the speakers of the open field. Ponci was feeling the moment, his head banging to and fro as he slammed his drumsticks on each drum. Cubbie was by the wings of the stage, asking the stage manager to raise the volume for his instrument. Mark was at the center, throwing his feet up and down as murdered the keyboard.

As the song ended, Cubbie's head shot up to see the most familiar face he had seen in a long time. She was walking towards the stage, wearing a white muscle tee with the words YOU CAN'T SIT WITH US. Her zebra leggings wrapped around her legs and her Ray-Ban Aviators stuck to her face. She tied her hair up, making them all see every inch of her face.

He left his bass and jumped off the stage. She turned the other way and pretended to run but he caught up with her. He brought her in for the biggest and tightest hug he's given this whole tour. He could smell the scent of her hair on him while she smelled the scent of his sweat.

"Cubs, you're gonna kill me."

"Right, sorry."

Cubbie pulled away with a huge smile on his face. He held her arm tight enough for her to know he had missed her but loose enough to show no harm.

The rest of the band left the stage to greet her. They all gave her the usual 'I-haven't-seen-you-in-forever' hug. Ponci, being the last one who hugged her, stepped aside.

"Hi Mark."

"Hi Nat."

The two of them stared at each other for a few seconds and looked away. Cubbie hissed and looked back at Nat.

"So you're staying for the show, right?"

Nat gave him an awkward smile - awkward for him enough to know the answer.

"I have dance later, Cubs... You know about-"

Mark scoffed, his body turned sideway and his arms folded. He and Nat were never really fond of each other, even before Foster the People was born.

"Since when did she ever stay long enough to see our shows?"

Nat glared.

"No one asked for your opinion. You're not Cubs."

Cubbie stood in the middle of the two of them and spread his arms.

"Cut it out guys, we're not children anymore." he sighed. "I thought we were over this phase." he mumbled.

"I thought so too," she replied. "Mark obviously doesn't know the meaning of growing some balls."

He snapped, "For your information, I do have balls. You would know, since they got you pregnant 3 years ago!"

Heads turned toward Mark. He needed a moment to realize what he just said, and his body stiffened with shame. He didn't know what move to make next; he was afraid that the whatever action he was going to do next would make the situation an even bigger problem.

Nat looked at her flats, nervously thinking of how to reply to that. In the end, however, she had no choice.

"She's with the nanny," she murmured. "I'll go get her." and she turned around and left for their child.

Cubbie looked over at Mark and slapped the back of his head as hard as he could - so hard that he almost wished it gave Mark a bit of a concussion.

"She's still my best friend. I don't care if you have blood because of Ezra - you respect her." he almost threatened.

Mark sighed and his eyes met Cubbie's. "Dude, it was an accident. I know what I said was foul and-"

"Foul?" Cubbie cut him off. "That was not foul. That was down right dirty."

"I realize that." Mark shook his head. "Look, I'll talk to her later while we spend time together with Ezra, alright?"

Cubbie put his arm around his bandmate. "I miss our high school days - you, Nat and I. Tres amigos." He nodded, "Nat misses you."

Mark laughed sarcastically. "How would you know?"

Cubbie laughed along and shook his head at him. "Mark, I've been her best friend for more than 12 years." he smiled. "Trust me on this."