Well, I really have nothing to say. I can't find any inspiration anywhere, so I decided to write this. The idea randomly came to me today…And I know there are four parts, it just didn't make as much sense with three…Enjoy, and review!
"Are you ok?"
She fell in love with him with those three words. Maybe it was because it was at least 2 o'clock in the morning, or the vodka was speaking. But, since when did anyone care if she was ok? If they did care she wouldn't be sitting there, would she now? More of a rhetorical question.
"Are you?" He persists when she doesn't respond.
She wants to tell him no.
(DoIFuckingLookLikeI'mOk?)
But instead she says:
"Why would you ask that?"
Well, she meant to say that. Her words were slurred together, and her tongue fell lifelessly in her mouth. He responds something along the lines of 'You're crying.' She can't really tell anymore. Was she crying? All the lights blendblendblend, and the music blaresblaresblares, even though the spinning room seems almost soundless. She could barely make out the lofty, dark haired man in front of her, but she knows she loves him. He watches her drink another one and another one and another one (she doesn't know how many, she got lost after the third). She orders another drink, but before she can take the tiniest little sip, the stranger grabs her hands.
"Come on Tess, let's get you home." How did he know her name? Had she told it to him? She wracks her brain trying to find the answer.
The next morning, she wakes up and finds herself in her bed, with fresh clothes on, and her hair washed, free of all the thrown up alcohol from last night. She starts to wonder if last night even happened. She sits up, only for her head to pound, and her throat feels so dry she can't breathe. A water bottle catches her eye, placed near aspirin and a note. She smiles to herself, as if she didn't know before.
Last night defiantly happened.
----
"Hello, whose calling?"
She feels her heart speed up with those three words. Maybe it was his musky voice, or the fact he made her feel like a giddy school girl again. But, since when did she not know what to say? It's just a guy, right? More of a rhetorical question.
"Are you the one who keeps calling?" He continues when she doesn't speak.
She wants to say yes.
(ThankYouThankYouThankYou.)
But instead she says:
"I got your number from the note."
Well, she meant to say that. Her words are mumbled, making her wish she had just hung up the phone again. He laughs an infectious laugh (which sounds more like angels singing), and says something like 'I'm glad I found you last week.' She wants to say something else. Some witty retort, which normally leaves guys wanting more. But, her heart is beating so loudly she can't think. She listens tolerantly to his seeming mindless chatter, and occasionally throws in a 'yes' or a 'no', which was the least she could do, but the most also. They talk for hour after hour after hour (she doesn't know how many, she got lost after the third). She's about to gather up the courage to thank him, but before she can, he interrupts.
"I have to go now, but Monday night. Six, right?" Monday night at six? Did she agree to that? She wracks her brain trying to find the answer.
She hears noise in the background and the dial tone before she can say yes or no or even say thank you, and she felt as if the phone call went way too quickly. As if it didn't even happen at all. Like those hours upon hours she had just spent talking were imaginary. Her head feels detached from her body, and her mouth is so dry she can't breathe. She can feel her heart beat faster than she thought was possible, she finds herself drawing hearts with their initials while reading fabricated rumors about herself in magazines, and she feels as if she floats rather than walks. She smiles, as if she didn't know already.
That phone call defiantly happened.
----
"You look beautiful."
She feels as if her world is complete with those three words. Maybe it was because he said it with such honesty, or maybe it was because she always looked 'sexy' or 'hot'. But, had she ever been called beautiful? Does it really matter? More of a rhetorical question.
"You're probably sick of me saying that." He sighs when she doesn't respond.
She wants to say never.
(HowCouldAnyoneGetSickOfSomethingTheyAlwaysLongedToHear?)
But instead she says:
"Thank you."
Well, she meant to say that. Her words are faded, as is her confidence. He says something similar to 'Anytime.' She wants to say something. But, she can't put her feelings into words. She should be past the jittery, first date stage. After all, their first date official was nine dates ago. Almost five weeks, three days, and eleven hours! Not that she was counting. They sit in the pleasant silence that echos through the car. He mindlessly runs his fingers through is dark hair. They drive past restaurant after restaurant after restaurant (she doesn't know how many, she got lost after the third). She's about to ask him where they are going, but he stops the car near a nice little café by the beach before she can.
"I hope you like it."How could she not? What should she say? She wracks her brain trying to find an answer.
He drives her home, and she feels like she's flying. She wishes the night never had to end, and it went all too quickly. Her head is filled with fantasies, and her heart is stuck in her throat, making it impossible to breathe. She finds herself lying in her bed smiling, staying up late thinking about him, and watching the phone in case it would ring. She smiles as if she didn't know already.
That night defiantly happened.
----
"I'm so sorry."
She forgave him with those three words. Maybe it was because she was fickle, or maybe because she knew it was her fault. But, does he mean it? Honestly? More of a rhetorical question.
"I really mean it, I love you so much." He begs when she doesn't respond.
She wants to resist, and push him away.
(You'reNotSorryNoOneEverIs.)
But instead she says:
"It's ok."
Well she meant to say that. Her words are camouflaged by her heart wrenching sobs, while her lungs gasp for air that seems to be escaping. He says something similar to 'No, it's not.' She wants to disagree, and explain everything will be fine. She wants to say how it was just a stupid pointless fight, which meant completely everything, and was all her fault. Blame it on herself. But, before she can, he grabs her in his arms. He sits there and shushes her and rubs circles on her back over and over and over again (she doesn't know how many times, she got last after the third). She sits still in his arms, wondering what they are going to do next. She wasn't ready for this, no matter how many times he said she was.
"It will be fine, everything will work out. I love you, Tess." How does he know that? Does he mean it? She wracks her brain trying to find an answer.
He loves her with all his heart, and she knows it. She feels the same way about him. But she's so scared. She almost wishes this wouldn't have happened at all. Any of it. Her head is full of 'what if's?' and her heart aches, as sobs wrack her body. What if he had just left her that night in the bar? What if she never called him? What if that night never happened? What if she didn't love him? She wouldn't be here, that's what. She wouldn't be in his arms, afraid to take the next step, but knowing he would be there to catch her if she were to fall. What would the press say? Screw the press. What will their friends think? They won't care, and they're our friends for a reason. What will her mother think? It's not like I ever listened to her anyway. But, there's nothing that can be done. Finally, a smile breaks across her face.
It did happen, and that's all that matters.
Suckish, again. It's just so hard to find ideas! I think I'm the worst at endings, I can never finish it off. But, oh well…This idea came to me while I was doing nursery at the church (coughhinttowardscoughlastpart). Anyway, who do you think the mystery male is??? And what do you think Tess is scared of??? Wow, I need a life! Anyway, rate and review! Please, I seriously need it, I have a huge Algebra II Test tomorrow :(
-Note-
If anyone can give me ideas/requets/anything, that would be jolly. I can't think of anything but Camp Rock. Oh, and by the way... I will be posting a one-shot series about 25 things you never knew about (insert Camp Rock character here).
Hopefully the first chapter will be up tomorrow. I've almost finished most of the chapters already, I'm just deciding who I want first, and the last five things no one knew for them...
Anyway, hopefully laptop will be fixed soon.