"Excuse me! What do you think you are doing?"
"Picking up this guitar. Isn't it obvious?"
"Can't you read the sign? Only employees are allowed to touch the interments! And besides, you aren't picking it up correctly."
"I've been playing guitar since I learned how to hold things; I think I know how to pick them up."
"Well, you may think that, but clearly, you don't know the proper way."
"Okay, if you're such a know it all, then how do you pick it up?"
"By the base, not the neck. If you hold it by the neck, you are putting stress on it, causing it to slowly break."
"...I guess that does make sense..."
She smiles victoriously, snatching the acoustic out of his hands, and hangs it back on the wall, where it belongs.
"Told you. Now if you are just looking, please leave. I don't need busy bodies crowding up the place. This is our busiest hour of the day."
"Where's the guy who normally works here? I think he is also the owner. But he isn't snippy with customers."
"He's my father, for your information. I take over his shifts during the summer to earn a few dollars."
"Well, that sucks."
She raises her eyebrow questionably.
"Sucks for me; this is my favorite music store. I was planning on coming here, like, all the time. Free piano, you know?"
"Uh, it's not free; and if you touch one key of ANY piano, keyboard, or anything else, you are going to pay for it. In full."
"So to clarify, if I come back here tomorrow, you are going to be working?"
"Your coming back tomorrow? Great."
"Thanks. Nice to meet you too."
"No, I didn't mean it to offend you personally."
"Yeah, well, it kinda did."
"I just am frustrated. I'm on over load for everything these days. Book club, work, cloud watching, socializing, and of course, writing songs."
"You write songs? Are they any good?"
"I think so. At least my best friend likes them. Oh, no sir, don't put your used tissue in the trumpets! Ah, sorry, but I have to go."
"Wait a sec! I didn't catch your name."
"Ugh. Fine, if you must know, I'm Ally Dawson."
"Austin Moon. I'm a singer."
"Yeah, yeah, that's great. Bye!"
And she stomps off to the middle aged man that is currently shoving dirty Kleenex into all the brass instruments.
MAYBE I SHOULD GO, GO, GA-GO
OR MAYBE SHOULD I STAY, STAY-AYAY
EITHER WAY, I'LL BE JUMPING UP AND DOWN
SPINNIN' ROUND N' ROUND
AND WHERE WILL YOU BE?
YOU'LL BE LOST WITHOUT ME
LOST WITHOUT ME
DRIVEN CRAZY
BY WANTS AND NEEDS
A-A-OH, A-A-OH, A-A-OH
MAYBE THIS IS ME,
AND MAYBE THAT IS YOU
BUT YOU NEVER SAW ME,
LIKE THIS
SAW ME BEING CONFIDENT,
STRONGER THAN YOU EVER WANTED ME TO BE
YOU NEVER SAW ME,
BEING WHO I REALLY AM!
IM PRETTY SURE I'VE MENTIONED IT
ONCE OR TWICE
BUT I'LL SAY IT A THOUSAND TIMES
YOU'LL BE LOST WITHOUT ME
LOST WITHOUT ME
DRIVEN CRAZY
BY WANTS AND NEEDS
A-A-OH, A-A-OH, A-A-OH
She sings out in a slow tempo, with her voice pouring into the open air. She sits on the bench, and runs a hand through her hair. She grabs a section of her brunette tresses, and gnaws on it furiously. The song just wasn't flowing right. The next note wouldn't reveal itself. And where the inspiration for the song came from, who knows.
The blond haired boy stands secretly in the door frame, caught in a trance over her talent. All the song needed was some lyric adjustments, and a faster tempo. He remembered her from their run in earlier; the know-it-all girl who didn't approve of himself playing the grand piano downstairs. Not an ideal person to work with. But if it means being able to sing the song, post a video, and become famous, who cares he had to spend some extra time with her?
"Speed it up."
Her head snaps around, and her eyes are slits, directed at him.
"you can't be up here! Its a private practice room. As in, no one else allowed."
He merely shrugs, as if the rules are meant to be broken (in his eyes, rules don't even exist).
"The door was open. And like I said, that song would be, like, amazing if you sped it up and changed some of the lyrics."
"Oh, I suppose you are some great song writer?"
"I never said that. Actually, I'm pretty bad at writing songs."
"pretty bad? Austin, you're horrible at writing songs." A gangly red head walks in, eating a frosted doughnut. The brunette girl jumps at the fact another person heard her singing. And that patch of nerves and tingles was working through her veins. A panic attack was on the way, no doubt.
"And who is this?" she chokes out, trying to take in more than enough air.
"Um, Ally, right?" the singer asks for clarification. She simply nods in response.
"Okay, Ally, this is Dez." Dez flips his hair to a side, and stalks toward the piano bench. He sticks his hand down to the petite girls level.
"Yeah, Dez. Hey! Did you know that your voice is all cool! Maybe I could make a music video for you sometime. I'm Austin's official photographer. Here's my card."
The attack has set in. Her breaths are short and shallow, and her complection is completely white, missing the rosy blush that forms on her cheeks. The thought of a music video makes her extremely light headed. Since she lacks the ability to talk, she rips a piece of paper from her song book and writes down a response;
This is a private room! And this card is just a burger stand advertisement!
Dez's face gets flooded with an expression of obviousness. "Well, duh! The make the BEST cheeseburgers ever! And they are even better off the floor!" The red heads friend smiles and nods in agreement, but then becomes more aware of what is happening to Ally. In an impulse decision, he sits down as close as possible to her on the bench, and wraps an arm around her.
"Ally, Ally are you okay?" Her eyes are welling up with tears and her throat is so tight she is beginning to choke. She barely can shake her head left to right in the new coughing fit.
"Ally! What's the matter, what's going on!" Austin is becoming frantic; he doesn't have the slightest clue why, but to see this new girl in this state is making him feel like screaming and crying and destroying the thing that could ever cause her to be in so much discomfort.
"Dude, maybe a zalien came in here and ate her brain! Maybe she is going through the metamorphosis! Oh, she is going to eat us, next! I don't want to die, I don't want to die!" Dez is rambling on, pacing back and fourth. Suddenly, a short Latina girl with perfectly curled hair is in the door way.
"If you want to calm her down, get him to shut up. And get her a bottle of water." she states, and when Dez doesn't stop his rant, she hits him over the head with her purse.
"Uh, hello! I told you she needs water!" The black haired girl shouts, and takes a seat in a near by chair. Austin jumps up, and looks around the room.
"Well, then where is some water!" he really can't shake this feeling of uneasiness. This Dawson girl had a very powerful effect over him, even if he wasn't quite aware of it.
"Down stairs, underneath the counter. There is a mini fridge." The funky girl says, while aimlessly flipping through a magazine. Austin took off down the stairs as soon as she said 'under the counter'. Within seconds he comes flying into the room, handing Ally the water.
"And who exactly are you two?"
"Austin, Dez." Austin says, while pointing to himself and his friend.
"Trish. What set her off?"
"I don't know. I just told her she should speed her song up, and Dez came in and offered to film her in a music video, and-"
"So you both listened to her sing, and she didn't know it?"
"Yeah, but-"
"And then that clown over there asked to make her a video, to post online."
"He never said to post online, but-"
"Well, Austin, Ally hates people watching her preform. Stage fright."
"Why? She has such a great voice."
"Because! Because, okay, Austin? I have my reasons." Ally gasps out, annoyed that the two had been conversing as if she wasn't in the room.
"Are you okay?" he asks in a gentle voice, ignoring the harsh tone she had used.
"I think. I hate those attacks."
"Is this normal?"
"Kinda. They just come and go. I'm used to it." The brown eyed girl shrugs, as if this was a regular routine.
"Um, but, anyway, about the song, I-"
"Oh! Take that, you fat mouse! I just owned you!" The other boy in the room yells out, staring down at his phone. Trish made a point to roll her eyes.
"Look, Austin, thanks for getting me the water, but you shouldn't be up here. And I think you need to get him out before he breaks something." Ally gestures to Dez.
"Uh, okay. See you around?" He asks rather states, because, really, he isn't sure if she wants to ever see him again.
"Bye." She pushes them both out of the door frame, and slams the door. This room is for her and her best friend only; no exceptions.
"Ooooh, Ally, that blond was cute!" Trish exclaimed as soon as Austin was out of earshot.
"Yeah, we'll, I don't think he is anything more than that; just a dumb blond."
"Well, he obviously knows about music, cause he was right about that song."
"You heard me singing too? Oh no, I bet the whole store did! Trish, what am I going to do, they know it was me up here, and-" The raven haired girl sighed dramatically and rolled her eyes, cutting of Ally.
"Will you calm yourself? I heard because I was walking up the stairs. And the guys heard because they were eavesdropping. Just us three."
Ally's breathing rate was finally back to normal, and her vision was back to the sharp 20/20. Even the littlest things were setting her off these days; wether she realized it or not, she needed someone besides Trish to mediate herself out.
"So do you really think the song needs work?"
"Yeah! You always write such sad and slow songs; break out and do something happy!"
"Pshh, I write happy songs! And how would you know if they are slow songs? You've only read the lyrics before!"
"But I know you, Ally. And if that Moon kid says you need to speed it up, listen. The public knows best."
Ally takes a minute to think over her friends words. Since when did Trish give such good advice? And if it was best to listen to the public, well, maybe it would be for the best if that singer Austin Moon helped her with this song-just this once.
"Well, what are you waiting for, chicka! Go chase after that hot blond!"
And the girl went flying down the stairs, in pursuit of the boy she just met; if she really hurried, maybe she could find him at the food court, before he leaves for home.
"Austin! Hy, Austin, wait up!" she yells as she cuts through the crowd; Saturdays are always swarming with people.
It's as if he wouldn't have heard his name being called if she wasn't the one shouting it. But when he voice that he heard for the first time only hours ago, the voice that was suddenly very important to him, mets his ears, his head snaps towards it. His eyes immediately lock with hers, and small, sheepish smiles form on both of their faces. Dez feels uncomfortable, standing next to them; he knows that All was calling for Austin and only Austin for a reason.
"Whats up?" he asks, subconsciously wondering over how they have never seen each other before this afternoon; ever. But now it as if the have been best friends since he dawn of time. A rush of confidence and assurance flows through her. He makes her feel relaxed.
"Well, since you are some big songwriter, I figure you would help me fix the tempo on my latest project." Sarcasm is running beneath every word, except for the end.
Austin would never admit it, but he feels extremely flattered that Ally Dawson is asking him to help her write a song.
"Will I be able to use the piano in the practice room?" He asks in a joking tone. Her smile spreads further up her face.
"I think I can let it slide just this once."
"And can I use that rockin' acoustic guitar I saw earlier? The dark red one?" If it is possible, her smile grows even more.
"Thats my favorite guitar in the store, too." A short moment of silence passes, but only for seconds. It's just the need to stare into each others eyes that creates the silence.
"Well then what are we waiting for?" His smile now matches the size of hers. Caught up in the moment, she wraps her hand around his wrist, but also managing to grab some of his palm (not that he minds the thought of her small fingers intertwining with his own). She drags him through the crowd in a rush of excitement. With each step, it seems her hand falls further down into to his own.
Dez stays behind for awhile, half offended that his best friend didn't officially let him tag along. But the other half knows that Austin only gets that goofy smile on his face when he meets a girl. A girl that he likes as more than a friend (Dez is actually very observant, no matter the stupidity that seems to radiate from him. He notices a lot of things people look over. He can read any emotion from any expression, no matter how vague).
When Austin and Ally make it back to the store, her father is standing in the door way with his arms crossed (Lester decides to ignore the fact that his daughter is full on holding hands with a boy—when she follows his eyes, she drops Austin's hand like it was burning), and instruments are scattered all over the floor: metallic gold trumpets are thrown and broken on the floor in the space right behind the counter, polished violins are in pieces everywhere, with strings here and there as well. The guitars are beyond repair; the chords have been cut, and someone has stabbed holes in the base. Even some of the keyboards keys were ripped out.
"Ally? Care to explain why you weren't working your shift?" Lester is holding back his rage for two reasons: he doesn't want to blow up in front of this new boy, and he is the kind of guy that doesn't dwell in the past. It happened, and he can't change that.
"I'm so sorry dad, I stepped out to go talk to Austin. I wasn't even thinking of what could happen."
"Alls, I think it is pretty obvious that you weren't thinking."
She ducks her head, ashamed. Thousands of dollars, wasted, gone, in less than an hour. If her dad hadn't gotten here when he did, maybe the surviving instruments would have been picked clean. She wonders if the man with the Kleenex helped in ruining the stores inventory.
"How did they even destroy so much?" She asks, while taking baby steps through the rubble, as if a bomb went off, instead of just scavengers.
"I'm not sure how it started. But once the people realized no one was here, they just started stealing, I guess. It must have been a real mad dash in the beginning, to cause this much damage. When I came in, three girls and a boy were fighting over that electric guitar. Told them to put it down, and the boy just cut all the strings. Just 'snip, snip, snip'."
"But this makes no sense. Trish was up stairs when I left. And I was only gone 20 minutes, 30 tops."
Austin has been mute ever since his eyes took in the destruction. He can't imagine dropping an instrument, let alone purposely breaking it. He can't imagine how bad Ally must feel right now. He can't imagine what kind of crazed people would be so chaotic. And above all, he can't figure out what to say to Ally's dad.
"Well, if Trish was still here, why didn't she come down and help with everything."
"Ally! Is that you! I thought I heard my name." The voice of the Latina floats down the stairs.
"Yeah, I'm back." Ally barely yells in response. She knows how bad this is.
"Huh?" Trish sticks her head out the door of the practice room. Her eyes grow wide when they take in the damage. "Whoa! What happened out here? And did someone get it on video!" Trish can't help who she is; and the person she is smiles and laughs about the things other people find horrifying or tragic.
"Trish, this isn't funny." Austin scolds. He wonders how Ally's apparent best friend could be so cruel.
"Look, who ever you are, this is hilarious!"
"We met like half hour ago! How could you forget me!"
"Because the only thing someone could remember you by is your face!"
"What's that suppose to mean?"
"That you're forgettable!" Trish only says the words because she is angry that someone would scold her over something so funny.
Austin knows he shouldn't take offense to her comment, but as a singer, those words are the ones you never want to hear. They are on repeat in his head, nagging, taking him over. They cause him to start thinking that maybe, just maybe, shes right. Maybe his dad is right. Maybe making it the music business really is impossible. If some random girl calls him forgettable, maybe he should listen. Cause this girl really does seem to know a lot. Austin can feel him self deflate from his usual optimistic personality, to a person that can only feel sorry for themselves.
"Ally, this doesn't seem like a good time." And he just walks out, being a drama queen in everyone else's eyes.
"Wow, thanks, Trish. Thanks for everything you have done today; let my store be trampled and destroyed without even checking on the noise. And don't forget hurting Austin's feelings and not even apologizing. That was really great." And then Ally dramatically walks across the room, and up the stairs. The sound of the practice room door slamming shut haunts the downstairs.
"Can you believe them, Mr. Dawson? Such drama queens." Trish rolls her eyes.
Lester just narrows his eyes at her, in a 'you know what you have to do' manor.
"Ugh! Fine, I'll go...go...apologize to them. But who do I start with?"
"Ally will be here when you get back, but who knows when that Austin boy will be. You better find him before he gets away."
Trish sighs, then leaves the store. She thinks she hears someone softly calling Austin's name, but dismisses the idea. This must be what guilt is like.
"Austin! Austin!" Ally calls out quietly into the darkness; how did it get so late so fast? She texted him seconds ago, telling him to come to the window. And he replied seconds ago, telling her he was on his way.
"Ally! I'm here, but how do I get up there?" He answers, almost at normal volume, but not quite.
"Climb up the tree, silly." she says easily; the night before, if some boy was outside this window asking to come up, she most likely would have called the cops, even if she knew the boy well. She can't see more than a foot in front of her, but never the less, her eyes train towards the area in the foliage that is rustling. Her eyes do catch a flash of his golden hair, but briefly.
When he makes his way up the tree, he sits on a branch close to the window.
"Should I come in, or stay out here?" He asks.
"What do you think?" She responds sarcastically. He smiles back at her, and starts climbing into the open window. Ally has a fleeting thought of how this moment is similar to some cheesy romance novel. And then another fleeting thought comes to her about how weird it is that the two of them are already so close, when they have no reason to be.
"I'm sorry about what Trish said. I get why it hurt. She's just...opinionated."
"It's cool."
"Austin, did you know your really bad at lying." He smiles, looks down, and gently shoves her arm in a playful manor.
"Be quiet. I bet you are too."
"Pshhhh, what? No, no way...I'm super good at lying...I lie all the time..."
"Yeah, okay. Don't even try, Ally." They both smile and laugh. The total atmosphere is comfortable.
"So...you still up for working on that song?" Austin says. He is just dying to put an original song up online.
She looks down at her feet. The song has been the last thing on her mind. "I–I think it is beyond help, Austin. And from what I have heard from that Dez kid, you aren't that great at writing songs."
"I'm not. But from what I hear, you're super awesome at writing them, and I can help. The song can work, trust me."
"Well, then I'm going to show you the proper way to write a song. Tell me, have you ever stayed up all night?"
"Oh course! This one time, me and Dez were at my cousins house, and we were watching this movie called Inception, and–"
"It was more of a rhetorical question."
"Oh." Ally can tell by the look in his eyes that Austin thinks of himself as just some dumb blond. And she doesn't like it.
"Come on. Play the piano with me. See, it starts with just a simple C chord, and branches into a an E flat with D sharp."
They continue to work on the song for about half an hour, and the first time their hands bump, it's Austin who wins the unwritten blushing contest. Yes, earlier they were holding hands, but that was a friendly gesture, a guiding gesture. Here, on the piano, their fingers linger just a little too long, and the attraction is everywhere, consuming the whole room. It's Ally who leans in, and Austin follows. When their lips are an inch, inch and a half tops away from each other, the door flies open and Ally springs back in less than a second, falling onto the floor. It doesn't help that her eyes were closed.
"I search for pretty boy here, for over 30 minutes, and then I find him here, about to kiss my best friend! And I was going to apologize!" Trish screams; she really isn't mad about the whole almost kissing thing, but she would rather be sleeping at this time of the day.
"We weren't about to kiss!" They both yell in defense. "Wait, Trish, did you say that you were going to apologize to Austin?"
"And to you. But not anymore! You guys can continue your smooch fest while I go stomp around in the cold night air." Trish turns and treks down the stairs, filling the whole store with noise; but not before she winks at Ally and casually touches her lips. Touching your lip for Ally and Trish is a signal to put on lip gloss, indirectly meaning that you were about to have some lip action. They had only used the signal a total of two times, both for Trish.
"Can you believe her? She thought we were going to kiss. Pshh, yeah right. I don't even know you." Austin says in a shaky yet steady voice, almost like he is telling himself. Ally can't help but feel a little hurt; she had openly admitted to herself mere seconds ago that she did, in fact, want to kiss Austin Moon.
"Pshh, I know, right? Us, kissing? You're, well, you're...you're Austin Moon!"
Austin is taken back by the remark. He doesn't know how he should take it.
"What does that mean?"
"Guys like Austin Moon don't kiss girls like Ally Dawson. It's basic knowledge." Ally says bitterly, after a long period of silence. She thinks that he was deliberately making her admit the social difference between the two. She thinks he wanted her to squirm and feel like a rotten piece of chewed up and spit out gum on a side walk. He can tell by the way her face fell that she took his question the wrong way.
"What type of guy am I? And who says I can't kiss you if I want?" He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. She backs away, seriously hurt now.
"Austin, stop. This isn't funny."
"I'm not trying to be funny!"
"Well, then, stop trying to deliberately hurt me, because it's working and I don't want it to."
"Ally, I would never purposely hurt you. All I'm saying is that I can kiss a girl if I want to, no matter who she is or when we met or who I am."
"You'll regret it."
"I guess we'll find out." Austin leans down to her level, attempting to kiss, but failing. Ally ran to the piano bench and started playing the song again.
"I think we should work again." She says in monotone. Austin rolls his eyes and mutters "of course" to no one in particular.
They mostly work in silence for the rest of the night, debating over good lyrics and tempos that fit and wether or not to add in acoustic guitar with the electric.
"That's it! That's the last lyric!" Austin shouts right after Ally mumbled out a tired suggestion.
"And that's the last note! Eeep!" Ally jumps up, and then jumps up and down, suddenly broken out of her sleepy trance. They hug for a quick moment, but Ally breaks it.
"Let's run it one more time, and then get some sleep." Austin says. He picks up the green electric guitar the managed to find in the ruble down stairs, while she fixes the iPod to play the drum track they had created and sits to play the piano.
HEY, LOOK OVER THERE
LOOK AT THEM,
LOOK AT THEM TRY TO BE COOL
LET'S LAUGH,
ABOUT THAT THING
LET THEM QUESTION,
IF WE'RE SANE
CAN YOU THINK OF A BETTER WAY
TO SPEND THE DAY
CAUSE I SURE CAN'T!
(guitar roll)
MAYBE I SHOULD GO, GO, GA-GO
OR MAYBE SHOULD I STAY, STAY-AYAY
EITHER WAY, I'LL BE
JUMPING UP AND DOWN
SPINNIN' ROUND N' ROUND
AND YOU SHOULD BE
RIGHT BESIDE ME
YOU'D BE LOST WITHOUT ME
I'D BE LOST WITHOUT YOU
SO JUST SING ALONG, A-A-OH
A-A-OH, A-A-OH
CAUSE NOTHING COULD GO WRONG
HEY, THIS IS ME,
AND HEY, THAT IS YOU
DON'T TRY TO BE
ANYTHING YOUR NOT
CAUSE BABE, IT AIN'T COOL
JUST MET, BUT WE'LL IGNORE THAT
I'D BET, WE'LL BE HERE AWHILE
SO JUST STAY, STAY-AHAY
IM PRETTY SURE I'VE MENTIONED IT
ONCE OR TWICE
BUT I'D SAY IT A THOUSAND TIMES
YOU'D BE LOST WITHOUT ME
I'D BE LOST WITHOUT ME
SO JUST SING ALONG, A-A-OH
A-A-OH, A-A-OH
AND NOTHING WILL GO WRONG
FORGET YOUR TROUBLES
JUST STOP YOUR WORRIES
GIRL, YOU'VE ALWAYS HAD A
FIGHTING CHANCE
LET'S BE CRAZY
FOR TONIGHT
TOMORROW WE CAN GO BACK
TO OUR BORING LIVES
JUST BE CRAZY, TONIGHT
WITH ME
ID BE LOST WITHOUT YOU
YOU'D BE LOST WITHOUT ME
LOST WITHOUT YOU
LOST WITHOUT ME
"Austin, that was great!"
"It's only great cause you wrote it."
"Come on, you wrote the whole drum thing, and almost half the guitar."
"But you owned the lyrics and piano."
"I wouldn't have been able too if you hadn't helped me."
"Oh, come on. What did I help you with?"
"My inspiration."
He ducks his head in modesty and blushes. It weird, because Austin has never blushed before. Or been modest.
"You've written songs before you met me. You've had other things for inspiration."
"But still, you were the most effecting."
And another blanket or silence covers them: suffocating and breathless, the kind of disaster that has people fleeing.
"Oh crap, it's almost two thirty! My dads going to kill me! Ally, I–I got to go. Sorry. Bye!" And Austin starts running down the stairs, but Ally chases him.
"Wait! Can't you just stay here?" The down stairs lights are almost off, and there is a note on the counter, most likely from her father.
"There's no way now. It's too late. I really got to go. I'm sorry. I'll–I'll call you. Bye." And he runs out the door, and Ally rushes after him, but not going any further than the door frame.
"But wait! You don't even have my—" She cuts herself off, realizing that it is a little too late to shout after him, that he already left. "—number." She kicks a lone pebble away from the door, saddened that this amazing and charming boy came into her life for a few short hours, but left before anything could really start.
'You've got a friend in me, you've got a friend in me, when the road looks rough ahead, and you're miles and miles from your nice warm bed' wakes Austin up in the morning; it's Dez's ringtone.
"Dude! My mommy got me a new video camera! You ready to film a music video?" The really makes Austin wake up. He sits straight up in his bed, and starts combing his hair with his fingers.
"Awesome! I wrote the song last night, with–" Austin swallows hard, not wanting to think about the crazy girl that he worked with for one night, and one night only–"anyway, just be at my house in 10!" And he hangs up and throws the phone on the bed. His shorts fly on and then he is racing down the stairs while pulling his shirt over his head, so he can eat some pancakes for breakfast.
~oOo~
"And, cut! That was great Austin! But it would have been better with panda bears."
"That's genius! Dez, write that down!"
"But I don't have a pen." Dez says enthusiastically and while smiling, trying to match Austin's behavior. "Well, anyway, I'm going to go edit this through and upload it!"
"But wait! Dez, my laptop is right here and already on!"
"But does your laptop have dancing gingerbread? I think not!" Austin just shrugs the comment off after a few seconds of curiosity. Dez is and always will be irrational.
But with Dez gone, it gives Austin lots of time to slowly strum Ally's original version of the song, and the new one. This Dawson girl really just won't leave his mind alone.
Disclaimer: Don't own, but maybe one day I will (not).
