I wake up to a lump of white fur stretched out across my chest.

"Gah! Jezzie! Get off!" I wedge a couple of fingers underneath my baby and push. She flips over-right onto my stomach-and slides off of my bed, landing with a thump on her furry little butt. Yeah, that's my baby girl. Jezebel is the only cat in the world who never lands on her feet. She's only six months old, so hopefully she'll grow some coordination when she gets older. I turn over and flop back on my mountain of pillows, now realizing that they are covering in a fine layer of cat hair. God, I hate Mondays….

"Knock-knock!" A cheerful voice chirps from the other side of my door.

I roll onto my side and push myself up onto my elbows. "Come in."

An enormous amount of poofy auburn hair pokes its way through my doorway. "I come bearing good news and coffee!"

I rub my eyes. "Jesus, Ray. It's eight in the morning on a Monday. How the hell can you possibly be that happy?" Ray might be my best friend, and we might be roomies, but sometimes living with a 'morning person' can be the most annoying thing in the world.

My best friend in the world sets a cup of steaming coffee on my nightstand and musses my hair. "Because like I said, I have good news. I also have lots of coffee in my system. But mostly good news."

I yawn sleepily. It's so fucking early. "It's too early to be this cheerful," I spit the word cheerful out like an expletive, "but enlighten me anyways."

"I got our schedules and dorm assignments, Miss Holbrook."

Ooh…I take a giant gulp of coffee and order, "Gimme!"

"Now who's awake this early?" He teases. I glare at him, and he pretends to reel backwards in fright. "Okay. Here's your schedule." He dangles a piece of paper in front of my face, which I instantly grab at. He jerks it away. I try again and get a handful of air.

"Raymond! Give me my damned schedule!"

"Fine, you schedule-slut. Here's the piece of paper."

I show him one of my fingers-I think you can guess which one-and scan my schedule.

"Cool!" I scream. "No classes before nine thirty, ever! Hell yeah!"

Ray groans. "Lucky. I have a class that starts at six forty-five! Even I don't get up that early! But wait!" He jabs at my schedule. "Looky here! You have a night class one day a week. Art History…." He brushes his hair out of his eyes and grins at me. "God, Nat, isn't this cool? I mean, we're going to college in San Francisco! We're going to live in California!" He bounces up and down excitedly. "Maybe I'll meet someone! I mean, it's not like I've had much luck here …." He trails off, and his hair seems to droop. Ray's afro is a direct barometer of his mood; it seems to deflate when he's sad, and when's he's happy every single hair stands straight out from his head.

I reach for his hand and squeeze it tightly. Poor Ray. He's had such a hard time here in Alsberg, Michigan. Alsberg is kind of on the straight-and-narrow, with the emphasis on 'straight'. The one relationship he's had turned out horrendously…that's partially why we applied to San Francisco State. We applied other places too, but SF State was our first choice. For both of us. We wanted someplace on the West Coast, where the populace is a little more accepting of people who are 'out there' (wherever 'there' is. That's the term my annoyingly politically correct parents used to describe me when I decided to dye my hair pink and get a lip ring.).

"Hey…" I check Ray's schedule with my own. "We have the same dorm assignment! Isn't that against the rules?"

"Nope. I checked. Co-ed dorms for us!" He crows. "Maybe I'll meet a hot guy. Maybe he'll be our next door neighbor…."

"Shut up, you tramp!" I slap at him with a pillow. He's about to get me back when Jezebel ambles back into the room and jumps back up onto my bed, meowing loudly, demanding food. I pick her up around her chubby tummy-I really need to stop feeding her anchovies off of my pizza-and aim her at Ray. "Go, Jezebel! Attack! Go for the jugular!"

She purrs and bats Ray's nose with her paw.

"Wow, Jezebel." Ray snorts, rubbing her head, which makes her purring increase until she sound like a lawnmower. "Some attack-cat you are."

"Oh, shut up." I roll my eyes and put my beloved kitty back on the bed. I swing my legs over the edge of my bed and get up, stretching my arms up over my bed.

After I finish my coffee I shuffle out to the kitchen/dining room/living room area. Ray and I share a small apartment in the only complex in town. Six Pines Apartments. I've lived here for almost five months and I haven't seen so much as a pinecone, but whatever. The point is that Ray and I share an apartment, finally away from our respective oppressive parents.

I sit at the table after pouring a bowlful of chicken-flavored Meow Mix for Jezzie. "What are we going to do with Jez when we go away?" I ask Ray.

He shrugs, his shoulders vanishing into his hair and says, "Hell if I know. Maybe the dorms allow pets. I haven't checked yet."

"I hope they do. I can't leave my baby behind. Can I, love-bug?" I coo at my kitty. She looks up from her bowl, flicks her tail, and goes back to inhaling small, fish-shaped kibble-bits.

"You know, maybe it would be better if she gets left behind." Ray offers. I raise my eyebrows.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. I mean, what if she grows up to be abnormal because she's got two mommies?" He snickers.

I just roll my eyes again, but inside I'm glad Ray's comfortable with his sexuality. He struggled with coming to terms with it for years. We've been friends since we were seven, and ever since we were ten or eleven he's been battling between his heart and his head. It put such a strain on our friendship; everyone thought we were dating and he couldn't deny it without someone giving him the third degree. I'm just happy he's accepted being gay. It makes him happier and it makes everything else simpler.

"Please. She'll just grow up being the most spoiled kitty in the world." I scoop Jezebel up and rub her head with the tips of my fingers. She purrs and pushes her head against my hand, obviously wanting more attention. Jezebel is a people-cat. She loves attention.

Ray polishes off his coffee and stand up. "Well, I have to get to work. See you later." He kisses me on the forehead and kisses Jezzie on her nose. She promptly sneezes.

He pulls on a jacket and leaves, slamming the door behind him, as per usual.

"Well, Jez. I could sit here all day…" I say. Jezebel looks up and cocks her head, clearly saying that she would love that. "But I have to get ready for work too. The only record store in Alsberg can't function without me, you know." I stand up, Jezebel jumping off my lap and collapsing to the floor spread-eagled on her tummy.

"Good job, baby." I chuckle. I scoot around her and head to my room.

I throw on the first shirt I find hanging off the end of my bed, grab a pair of drainpipe jeans, slip on my favorite Chucks and smear some eyeliner around my eyes. I pronounce myself presentable to Jezebel, who meows. "Does that mean you agree or disagree?" I ask her. She hops off my bed and pads away to go do whatever. Thanks for the insight, Jez.

I blow a kiss to Jezebel (I know, I treat her like a person, and all the expert pet-people say you shouldn't do that, but whatever) and close and lock the door. I slide down the handrail to the bottom the way I do whenever nobody else is in the stairwell and head to my cramped Toyota Taurus.

I turn the key in the ignition, and after much prompting the old hunk of junk wheezes to life (barely). I turn the wheel, back out of my parking space and putter away to work.

XMXCXRX

I push open the door to the record store and walk in almost an hour late. The guy behind the counter looks up from a copy of the latest Kerrang! and opens his mouth.

"Not my fault, Alec." I wave my hand. "My car died."

"Whatever, it's not my problem Listen, Greg's in the bathroom puking up his intestinal tract. He's got a wicked hangover. I don't know why he decided to come into work, but at any rate, no incredibly loud music until his shift is over, okay?"

"Fine." There's not love lost between me and Alec, but I sit down behind the counter next to him anyway. I flip on the speakers and turn the stereo we've got hooked up to them on. I slip in a mix CD and turn the volume on low. Descending Angels by The Misfits rumbles out.

Alec and I work around each other, rearranging CDs that had been put out of place, changing promotional posters for newly released records, and helping the people (all of whom would be considered 'out there' by my parents) who walk through the doors. I also spent time behind the register when Alec had to go into the bathroom and help Greg clean up after he vomits up some more vital organs.

Greg calls weakly for Alec for the third time. Alec shoves himself off the counter and departs into the back room, grumbling. A minute or so later he comes back out, supporting a weak Greg beside him.

"I'm taking Greg home. I'll be back in a half an hour. Think you can manage?" Alec asks me. I nod, and once he's through the door with Greg I give him the good ol'-fashioned one-finger salute.

XMXCXRX

Twenty minutes I'm alternating between reading a book and watching the clock anxiously, waiting for it to hit twelve thirty so that I can take my break when the door opens. I look up briefly, then back toward my book. Then I do a double take.

Wow.

He's gorgeous.

He pushes his sunglasses further back on his head and looks around the store. He spots me at the register and heads my way.

I tuck my hair behind my ears and smile. "Hi. You need help with anything?"

"I might. Do you have the latest Smashing Pumpkins?" He flashes me a heart-stopping grin. I can't tell if it's calculated to turn my stomach into a pretzel or not, but it does exactly that.

"We do. It's over in the alt section. If you need help, just ask." I say, pointing to the alt/punk section of the store.

"Thank you." He says politely. I blush stupidly, and he turns and disappears into the rows and racks.

I watch him intently, praying that my hair looks decent and that my makeup isn't smudged. I bite my lip as he crouches down to examine a row at the bottom of a stand. His jeans fit perfectly, and…oh my God, I suddenly believe in a higher power. That belongs in the Museum of Modern Art, I think.

He finally selects something, stands up (much to my disappointment) and ambles back over to my spot. He slides a CD across the counter to me and bites his lip, just as I did minutes ago.

"Zeitgeist. Nice." I comment. "Not as good as the original Pumpkins. But pretty good."

He grins widely. "True. But a pretty good Pumpkins album is still damn better then most music out there."

"It's nice to find another Pumpkins fan. This town doesn't offer much of musical diversity…or tolerance. My band shirts stay in the closet until nighttime when the underground clubs in Detroit open." I laugh, handing him a receipt.

"That's unfortunate. I live in New Jersey, and music is practically worshipped in my town." He scribbles a signature in very neat, precise handwriting on the receipt.

"You're a lucky man."

"I'd be luckier if you agreed to have dinner with me sometime." He looks down suddenly at his receipt, his cheeks flushing slightly.

Excuse me?

I cough. "Um…yeah, sure!" I flounder for a moment with an idea, decide it's a bad idea and decide to say it anyway. "Actually, I get off in ten minutes for break. Can you substitute 'lunch' with 'dinner'?" Oh my God. I did not just use air quotes. Sweet holy mother of….Ray should never let me out of the apartment. I'm a hazard to myself and others.

"Absolutely. Know any good places to eat? I'm just a lowly city boy from Detroit, after all."

"Of course. I'm just a walking, talking guide book, waiting around record stores until mysterious strangers ask me out." I reply quickly.

He raises an eyebrow and smirks. "You're a spitfire, aren't you! Quite a poisonous mouth on you."

I shrug, like my acidic tongue just can't be helped. "They tell me it's a disease. Whoever 'they' are."

"Well, I hope it's untreatable, because I like it. I'll be back in ten minutes. See you later, Spitfire." He slides the receipt toward me, picks up his CD and leaves the store, slipping his sunglasses back on. He walks down the street, and I watch him until he disappears around the corner.

I look at the counter in a daze. Oh! The receipt! I stare at his name. Gerard Way. Hmm. Gerard…I match the name to the round eyes and black hair and hazel eyes. It fits him.

I notice something scrawled underneath his name. Holy crap! He wrote his number down too!

I have an apartment with my best friend away from my parents, I'm going away to college across the country in a month and I have a date with a mysterious stranger in about eight minutes. My life officially rocks.