Nate was never any good with computers. He struggled hard enough texting on his cell phone. He'd probably start to hyperventilate if someone asked him to update Connect Three's MySpace.

But I have always been good with technology. I can mix tracks, write javascript and update my Facebook status like a pro. I understand computers almost as much as I thought I understood Nate.

I don't think he ever understood me.

It's not uncommon to meet a cute guy at a summer camp. But it's not all that often that he's famous. He will usually catch your eye with a shy smile, maybe a wink. It's unusual for him to knock you flying when he runs into you backstage at Final Jam. But if he does, he apologizes profusely, while his band-mates snicker and your best friend giggles. And then you might find that he stares at you for the rest of the night, while you're sandwiched in between your new friends Shane and Peggy at the dinner table, sharing a joke like you've all known each other forever. He could possibly shyly avert his gaze when ever you catch him looking at you. You may feel the blush rising in your cheeks, as you ignore that giddy feeling you sense when you start to get a crush on someone.

Because Caitlyn Gellar does not get crushes. She is a tough nut who doesn't take any crap from anybody.

She most certainly did not notice the precise shade of brown Nate's eyes were. They were somewhere between hazelnut liqueur and espresso coffee.

Or the cutely irritating way he corrected Jason's speech.

Or the way his eyebrows drew together when he was concentrating, creating an adorable indent in his forehead.

Nope, she sure as hell didn't notice those things.

Except I'm Caitlyn Gellar, and I did notice them. I didn't want to. I kept telling myself in my mind that I was leaving the next day, there was no way he would even remember you after tonight. You would just be another Connect Three fan to him. Don't even think about liking him, Caitlyn, I told myself. You don't really. You're just caught up because he's a celebrity. You're only attracted to him because he's famous. You don't even know the guy.

But still, as the last straggles of tired campers left the mess hall, to do some last minute packing and get some well-earned rest, I found myself in the position of sitting next to Nate, as the table had shuffled around during dessert. Shane now sat opposite me, his arm slung around Mitchie. Peggy was playing knuckles with Barron. Jason was in deep conversation with Sander about the importance of the tin rule. I tried not to smile as I felt the pressure of his thigh pushed against mine, as I played with the last multicoloured dribbles of ice-cream remaining in my bowl.

He asked me if I was in Final Jam or not, because he didn't remember seeing me.

No, I told him, I was backstage on Mitchie's act. I'm a producer, not a performer. I don't need a spotlight to shine.

He grinned, and then asked me what kind of music I was into.

We launched into an animated talk about Basement Jaxx, which turned into a discussion about George Michael, which turned into an argument about the classification of music into genres. We agreed that the only real music genre was classical, which then led to us listing our favourite composers. I was a Brahms fan, while he liked Tchaikovsky. Half an hour later, right before being kicked out the mess hall by Brown with strict orders to go straight to our cabins, we were talking about the best way to melt cheese and wondering how on earth we got so off-topic.

He called after me as I began to skip down the steps; I stopped halfway and twisted half my body back to face him.

He asked for my phone number, which I wrote on the back of his hand with a wide smile.

I asked him for his email address, and my face twisted into a confused frown when he gave an involuntary shudder.

He explained his hatred for anything that involved a mixture of memory chips, keyboards and the World Wide Web. He suggested he give me his address instead.

I was a little puzzled. Would he even be home half the time, I questioned. Didn't he travel a lot, because of his music?

He said he did, but he was home to for the rest of the summer because Connect Three's summer tour was cancelled, and he would love to have a pen pal.

I giggled as he looked at the ground bashfully. I added my home address to the scribble on the back of his hand, and kissed his cheek before running back to my cabin.

29th August, 2008

To Nate,
I am currently on the beach in Miami, sipping lemonade and listening to an obnoxious rumba blasting out of the speakers. My parent's cruise ship stopped off here, so we're spending a few extra days on vacation here before heading back to Ohio.
As this is my first official letter to you, I think I should include some small souvenirs to remind you of what you a missing over there in California. In the envelope you will find some lovely Tampa Beach sand, along with a small paper umbrella that I stole from the drinks bar. I tried to catch a baby alligator too, but apparently that's kinda dangerous. I don't have enough stamps to send you one anyway. So, unfortunately, you'll have to do without, buddy!
Ugh, do you know how many greased, tanned bodybuilders in Speedos are here? Too many. I don't think it's healthy to have so many muscles bulging out of your back. Oh well, this time next year they'll probably be dead from testicular cancer because of steroid use and the world will be a healthier place. God, I'm a horrible person.
Call you tonight! From Caitlyn.

I don't know why I wrote him that first letter. It was probably because I was bored out of my mind, and trying to avoid the leering gaze of the pre-pubescent, pimply kid sitting a couple of metres away. But I remember I was glad I did it. It made me think about him. I wondered if he'd even reply.

Sure enough, when I got home, there was a thick envelope stashed in my mailbox, with my name on it in cramped, cursive writing. I didn't even realise that it was from him at first. I just got that excited feeling you get when you see a letter address to you, and you know it's not a bill or an advertisement. I only realised it was from Nate after I had torn it open. And that only made my heart pound faster.

16th November, 2008

Hey Nate,
I'm kinda ashamed to admit it, but I miss the sound of your voice. Dude, I haven't spoken to you in THREE DAYS. I simply cannot remember where I left my damn cell phone. Fear not, I think I'm just going to get a new one. So rest easy, I'll be talking to you soon. Why can't you just send stupid emails like everyone else in the 21st century? All this letter writing is making my hand cramp. So don't complain that I write short letters in your freaking marathon letters, what was the last one, like, four pages? I didn't even realise anyone could write that much without their fingers falling off!
I loved the music you sent me. I think they're fantastic, and they go with the hew sound that you guys are going for. What did Shane and Jason say? I bet they thought it was awesome.
But, I was running through the tune on my laptop the other day, and I think it would be better without any backing drums or bass or anything. Just you and the guitar, you know? And in the chorus, I thought the jumble of words didn't really make sense. So I made up a different rhyme for all your 'less' words.

Now I'm speechless, over the edge, I'm just breathless; I'd never thought that I'd catch this love bug again.
Hopeless, head over heels in the moment; I never though that I'd get bit by this love bug again.

I think that's a better order of words, I don't know about you. Anyway, as soon as you get this, give me a call and let me know what you think! And I mean right now, mister!
(heart) Caitlyn.

By this point, we were practically best friends. Shane had Mitchie, Jason had Peggy, who he had really connected with when she was recording with them, and Nate had me. You could say that we were one big, happy, extended family spread all over the country. But whenever one of us would be travelling anywhere within 200 miles of anyone else, it was an unspoken rule that you had to go and see them.

I'd seen Mitchie the month before. I'd gone to see Peggy perform with Connect Three just a week after I wrote it. We all met up in Times Square to party on New Years Eve. We counted down to the new year together. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1… An explosion of sound erupted as the ball finally dropped, and I hugged Mitchie and Shane and Jason and Peggy, and when I reached Nate, I kissed him on the cheek just as he moved his head around to wish me a happy New Year. The corners of our mouths pressed together and we jumped apart in embarrassment. We hugged awkwardly, and he might have kissed me on the forehead. I don't really remember; I was too giddy from my exposure to all the bright lights and loud noise.

We all left New York with the promise to see each other soon at my 17th birthday in February.

12th February 2009

Nate,
I know I only saw you last night at my birthday party, but I just got around to opening my presents. I left yours until last, just like you made me promise. I'm so glad you did. It was the best birthday present ever! I am going to call you in a second to squeal in your ear, but not yet.
First, I am inspired to start writing my thank you cards, starting with you! Ahem - Nathaniel Brown. Thank you very much for the gold Gibson Les Paul that you unnecessarily bought me. I am quite pleased with it, and was even more astonished when I found a guitar pendant necklace of the same golden colour hanging off the strings. Regards, Caitlyn Gellar.
Seriously, Nate, I was only joking when I said I wanted a guitar for my birthday so I could be as cool as you. You're the best!
Caitlyn xo
P.S. I don't need to be as cool as you. I already am. Cooler, even. Ice cold! Beat that, sucker!
P.P.S. Don't think I didn't notice that the guitar on my necklace is the same type as yours. I did.

I'm amazed my writing wasn't illegible, I was shaking that much. Nate's present totally blew me away. I asked Mitchie what the hell he could possibly have been thinking when he bought me that ridiculously expensive guitar. She said she thought I knew exactly what he was thinking. I pretended I didn't know what she was talking about.

I couldn't ignore the overwhelming attraction I felt for Nate. I couldn't breathe when I felt him close to me. I couldn't speak when he asked me a personal question. He made me feel like I was the most wonderful person in the world. I hope I made him feel that way too, because to me, he was the most wonderful person in the world. He was the one I could go to with my secrets, hopes and fears. And he would make all my problems go away with just a flick of a pen or pressing speed dial number 3.

I was terrified of what this meant.

5th July 2009

Dear Nate,
Last night was amazing.
Please don't be angry at me for leaving before you woke up. I'm sorry, I needed to get home before my parents realised I was gone, and you looked so peaceful.
I just want you to know that I don't regret anything that happened. I hope you don't either.
Love Caitlyn.

That wasn't even a real letter. It was scribbled on a hotel notepad, wonky because I was balancing my shoes in one hand, and clutching my dress to my chest in the other. I left it on the pillow I had slept on the night before, next to Nate's snoozing head. I tried to process the events that led up to this moment as I cupped his cheek in my hand.

It was some Independence Day party in Malibu. Both of us had a bit too much to drink in celebration. We were grinding on the dance floor, my hands over his as he rubbed up and down my sides. The sexual energy in the room was palpable. Jason was whispering in Peggy's ear at the bar. Shane and Mitchie were making on one of the chairs. Nate suggested that we go somewhere a bit quieter, and I agreed enthusiastically, tracing circles with my index finger across his collarbone.

The next thing I remember, we were standing in the door to his hotel room, and his face was leaning in closer and closer to mine. I could feel his hot breath on my face. I blurted out that I thought I loved him. He froze, and I could have died, seeing the look on his face. Then he said that he knew he loved me. That was all I needed to hear. I attacked him with my mouth, pushing him further back into the room. He grabbed me by the waist and swung me onto his bed.

I sort of wish I could say I don't remember any of it. Because that way I wouldn't know the gentle touch of his hands, sliding up my thighs and hooking into my underwear, slipping them off my legs. I wouldn't know the taste of his skin as he moaned my name, over and over. I wouldn't know the painful pressure of the first time he entered me. I wouldn't remember him saying he was sorry for hurting me, in the most devastating voice I'd ever heard. I wouldn't remember me kissing him to shut him up.

But I do remember. And all I could think about was the throbbing emotions that hung between us, as I softly kissed him goodbye.

30th November 2009

Nathaniel,
I think this will be the last letter I send you.
You haven't replied to my last three. How desperate do I have to sound before you take notice of me? You won't answer my phone calls, my emails, you didn't even go to Mitchie's birthday party. Why won't you talk to me? You're more than just breaking my heart, Nate. You've broken it. You've broken my entire being.
You know how I said in my last three letters and last billion voicemails, that I have something important to tell you? I was going to tell you in person at Mitchie's. But you weren't there. So it's too late now. It's not important for you anymore.
I was fucking pregnant, Nate. I had a fucking human being in my fucking uterus.
I didn't keep it. I couldn't.
I don't have the money to carry and raise a child by myself. I don't have the strength to go through nine months of shit, just to give our child away for adoption.

I couldn't.

Don't you dare judge me. You could have had your say. If you hadn't just ignored me after what we did, we could be together right now. We could be starting a family. I love you, Nate. You said you loved me. So why the hell did you abandon me, especially when I needed you most?
I gave you so many chances, and you destroyed them all. And now you've destroyed me. And the fucking upshot of everything is that I still love you.
But I can't love you anymore. Not like this.
You know when you're having a shower, and you turn the water up so hot that it's almost cold and it hurts when it hits your skin? This is what loving you feels like. I love you so much I hate you, and it hurts. It hurts so much, Nate. And you don't even care.
You don't care.
Sincerely, Caitlyn.

I only saw him twice after I sent him that. Once was at Mitchie and Shane's wedding. He avoided me the whole night, like I avoided him. I asked Shane if he read my last letter. I needed to know if he knew. Shane grimaced, and told me sadly that he had. They'd all read it. Nate threw it in the trash, then punched a hole in the wall. But he still knew. And he still didn't care enough to talk to me. That's all I needed to know.

The second time was at a music festival in Australia. I was rocking out on my keyboard as Mitchie sung her heart out across the heaving crowds, and then I saw him. He was in the wings of the stage, his head nodding along to the beat, holding the hand of a red-headed girl. I skipped a few beats in shock, but got back on track after a few seconds, Mitchie giving me warning looks. I tried my best not to glare at her. She and her fucking husband must have known he was coming. Why would they do this to me?

They told me later that they didn't know he was bringing his girlfriend, and that they just wanted us to be friends again and everything could go back to the way it was. We were adults, for Christ's sake, so they told us to stop acting like angsty teenagers.

They didn't know what it felt like. They didn't know what it felt like to be in my position. Everything has gotten along swimmingly for them. They had no idea what real heartbreak felt like.

Nothing could ever go back to the way it was.

8th May 2018

Dear Nate,
Do you know how many letters I've written to you over the last nine years? Twenty three.
Did you get any of them? No, of course you didn't. They're all sitting in the shoebox under my bed.
I guess it's just therapeutic for me to write to you, and pretend that you're going to read them, and solve all my problems like you did so long ago.
So to start, I should tell you what going on in my life. I saw you on Access Hollywood the other night. I'm happy for you. Really. I'm glad that you're finally going to have the family you always wanted.
Does she know about me? My boyfriend knows about you. He knows about the baby that could have been but never was.
He's afraid of asking me to marry him because of you. He's terrified he's going to break me like you did.
He doesn't know that nothing could break me like you did.
I used to think it was my fault. My fault for falling in love with you. My fault for getting pregnant. My fault that you didn't want me.
He's made me realise it's not me. You're the coward, Nate. It's your fault that I'm the person I am today.
Not that I don't like myself. It's made me stronger, what you did, or what you didn't do. I don' trust anyone anymore, and it's helped me survive in this business.
But I love my boyfriend, and I will not let you ruin my life again.
Especially when you're not even in it.
Love Caitlyn.

Oh my god, no dialogue nearly killed me. I was trying something atypical to my normal writing, I don't know if I achieved that or not.There are so many Nate/Caitlyn fics out there, but I have yet to read one which actually describes how they meet and acquire feelings. They just elaborate the feelings already formed, and everyone just assumed they met though Shane and Mitchie. Puh-leez! They are really well written, but I find it hard believing the characters because there's no development. Something had to be done. I hope this was a bit different, I tried to move away from the regular Naitlyn clichés.

Review!