Aww, Katie angst. I seem to like taking confident characters and brutally tearing them down... Anyways, I hope any Jatie fans (as this couple has been aptly named by KaelynnLovesGerard) find this to their liking. I'll leave it up to you to determine whether or not they actually like each other.

P.S. And how about that alliteration in the second sentence, huh? "Mortifying memories to mourn?" Ahaha, yeah, anyways…

I can't remember the last time I felt so disappointed, so humiliated, so utterly disgusted with myself. I think I'm finally out of painful words to cry over, out of mortifying memories to mourn. I suck in a breath, my chest tightening as I do so. "It's okay, Katie," I pant to myself, my voice sounding hoarse and foreign to my ears, "It happens to everyone."

But frankly, this barely helps. In fact, it doesn't help. Because I know it doesn't happen to everyone. But it happened to me. Something like this would never happen to my brother, Kendall, or any of his friends, for that matter. They're all so much better than this. So much better than me.

A knock on my bedroom door makes my body go rigid. The door creaks open before I can shout for the intruder not to enter, and James waltzes in casually. "Hey, Kendall, I was wondering if I could borrow your-whoa," he freezes at the sight of me as I roughly smear the tears from my cheeks.

"Katie, what's wrong?" he whispers, his typically melodious voice taking on a solemn tone.

"Nothing," I snap, praying that maybe I can just disappear, my body transforming into nothing more than mere oxygen, or that he can be struck with a sudden, incurable case of amnesia, or something. Anything but this. He can't see my like this. Nobody can see me like this.

He smiles sadly, in spite of my rude comeback. He sits on my bed beside me, the comforter dropping with his weight, running a quick hand over my head in consolation. If he's trying to get me to open up, it won't work. "Katie, you can trust me," he coaxes. Wow, now he's psychic, too.

"I don't wanna talk about it," I mutter, staring stubbornly at my wall instead of into his curious eyes.

"Maybe you need to though," he suggests quietly, "Maybe you need to get this off of your chest."

I have no clue what happens to me, but I just lose control of myself as his words sink in, letting out a muffled, choked sound. I can feel the heat of my tears as they zigzag down my cheeks. Great. I'm crying again. I don't cry. This is all wrong!

I give in and blurt out, "Th-they said I had no talent! I was auditioning for a commercial, and the director said I wasn't even trying! But I was, and now I've let Mom down and Kendall down and I've just dis-disappointed ev-everybody!"

I'm sobbing now, which is totally degrading. But I feel something warm wrap around me and I instinctively welcome the feeling, snuggling deeper into the comfort engulfing me. "Katie," James' voice echoes in my mind, his hand rubbing my back soothingly as he holds me close, "that director's an idiot. If he thinks you have no talent, then he couldn't be more wrong. I can only hope you realize that. You're one of the most talented people that I have the pleasure of knowing, and I know your mom and Kendall both couldn't be more proud of you, and neither could I."

His whispers calm me, and it's not long before my wails are reduced to sniffles and he's pulling back smoothly. "Promise me you won't forget that?" he smiles at me gently, locking his hazel eyes with my chocolate ones.

I don't trust myself to speak quite yet, so I simply nod, biting my lip. He grins and plants a soft kiss to the top of my head. "There's the Katie Knight I know," he says, ruffling my hair playfully as he stands from the bed.

"H-hey," I call out quickly, and he pauses, turning to glance back at me.

"Wh-what you saw here, y-you don't tell anybody about, okay?" I growl, because really, I do have a reputation to keep up.

He just grins at me and nods. He shuts the door quietly behind him, and I'm so glad he does because now I'm blushing like crazy. I seize a brush and hurriedly set my hair back into place from where he messed it up. My reflection stares back at me with crimson cheeks, and I notice that I'm smiling. I don't have a crush on him, I swear.