Disclaimer: I do not own Big Time Rush or anything recognizable in this chapter/story. Thank you and peace out. :)

A/N: So, I wasn't intending on posting this today, but things sort of worked out so here I am. It's been over a year since I've posted a new multi chapter story, so bear with me if my ramblings get to be a bit much. This is one of those ideas that I wasn't expecting to work out, it really isn't. The idea had been stalking me for a few weeks and I finally sat down to write the first couple of chapters. And then I promptly forgot about it. And then I remembered it, only when I went to work on it again I couldn't remember what I'd named it! I spent a few months searching for it until one day I stumbled across it accidentally when I was looking for something else completely different. Amazing how things like that work out, huh? But anyway, I changed the name from something totally generic to a phrase that I noticed kept cropping up in the story.

This story was loosely - very loosely - inspired by All Time Low's song "Coffeeshop Soundtrack". If you don't know the song, it's about a secret, toxic relationship. The idea of the song sort of fascinated me, and I got really obsessed with what would happen after the song ended, after the relationship blew up in everyone's faces. So this is basically what I thought would happen after the aftermath. Like I said, it was loosely inspired by the song, so please don't take it literally :) The song was just something that triggered the idea. Also, this story is part (a small part, seriously...) of the reason that updates for my other stories have been slow. I'll try to work on a story, and then this one is like, "Hey, you should work on me instead. It'll be fun. Also, I'm going to be really obnoxious until you write some more of me so you can't focus on anything else. Muahahahaha!" Seriously. It does that.

This takes place in southern California, in a town that, as far as I know, isn't actually real. If it is, sorry...My bad.

I've also got to thank Jatieluv, who's read a good portion of what I have written and has loved it. She's been urging me to post it, and she even made the gorgeous cover art for it, so take a few minutes to admire it. She worked hard and I love it :) Dana2184...I sent you the first chapter four times and you never read it?! But seriously, this time you get to be surprised by the first chapter, so there ya go :D

Story Warnings: Strong language (seriously, the characters' favorite thing to do is drop the F bomb. It's not even funny), mentions of underage sex, and innuendos. There'll probably be more, but I can't think of anything else.

Enjoy the first chapter :)

James' POV

The first day at a new school was like fighting my way through a fucking zombie apocalypse.

At least, that was what it felt like, even though so far there had been zero bloodshed and I hadn't had to dig out a nonexistent weapon from my backpack. Thank goodness. I was having a hard enough time managing to locate my locker without having to elbow my way through hordes of dead people. Needless to say, I wasn't having much fun so far.

It wasn't like I had expected San Luca High to be a Six Flags amusement park. But damn, it would have been nice if they actually had maps to help new students – like, say, me – find their way around. I was a senior and the very idea of having to ask a sophomore for directions sounded about as appealing as getting my teeth pulled without the aid of laughing gas.

I grinded my teeth together as I moved past a couple of girls who were squealing and hugging each other like they hadn't seen each other since 2002. I hurried by a group of kids who were gossiping about some back-to-school party that was taking place on Saturday. I skirted around even more students who were whispering about who-the-hell-knows-what. I didn't really care. I just wanted to find my locker and get to my first class on time.

The only really good thing about being the new kid was that it was the first day of the fall semester, which meant at least I wasn't going to be walking into Calculus like a china doll on display in an antique store window. People would notice me, they just wouldn't notice me as much. And that was perfectly fine with me. After the last two years I had had, I didn't need to draw a lot of attention to myself.

Through some sort of miracle, I managed to locate my locker, get it open, and drop off the books I didn't need for a few periods before making a dash for calc. I found the classroom and slid into the nearest empty seat just as the bell rang. As the teacher introduced himself as Mr. Hernandez, I found myself glancing around the room curiously. My mom had spent the past couple of weeks encouraging me to go out to some of the local haunts she was sure the teenagers hung out at, all in the name of making friends. The only place I had bothered to stop by in the two weeks I had lived here was Starbucks for a Mocha Cookie Crumble frappuccino. Other than that, I had basically been living as a recluse, keeping to my bedroom with my iPod in hand, earbuds in my ears, and cell phone next to me, blocking out the world raging just outside my bedroom window. It was so much easier than having to face my mom's pursed lipped looks and her suggestions that maybe I should go down to the beach or grab some frozen yogurt.

So this was my first time being around teenagers my own age since my junior year had ended. And as much as I didn't want to admit it, I knew going through senior year alone at a new school was going to be a bitch and a half. I just wasn't sure if I really wanted to go through the trouble of making friends when within a year we would all be going our separate ways. Besides, making friends meant actually having to talk to them and explain why my mom and I moved from northern Minnesota to southern California. The reason my mom and I were giving people was simple enough. The real answer was a lot more complicated.

My eyes landed on a guy with dark blond hair and eyebrows that didn't seem to quite go with his hair. He was wearing a Los Angeles Kings t-shirt and my eyebrows skyrocketed. A hockey fan? I had played center for my high school during my freshman and sophomore years, and I knew that this school had a hockey team as well – something not overly common in southern California, though there were a scatter of high schools in the general area with hockey teams. That being said, I hadn't planned on trying out for the team, though I knew tryouts were tomorrow. I just didn't see the point. I hadn't played for over a year and chances were my technique would suck. Anyway, hockey was something I had been pushing aside and ignoring. What was the point of going back?

The rest of calc dragged by slowly. By the time the bell rang, I was almost falling asleep. But in all honesty, that didn't really surprise me. I had tossed and turned the night before, only getting a couple hours of sleep, and I was in dire need of caffeine. So on my way to my next class, I stopped by a soda vending machine. I paid for a Coke and hit the button for it, but instead of the familiar clang of plastic on metal that signaled that the bottle had slid down the chute, there was a grinding sound, followed by a whirring.

"Come on!" I groaned, smacking the soda machine. "Fucking thing…"

"Need some help?"

I spun around to find a short Latino boy with a friendly face and wide, open brown eyes watching me, an amused smile playing around his mouth.

"Probably…" I admitted reluctantly. I hated to confess when I needed help – it usually sent me on the defensive and I always closed up, but there was something about this boy that kept me from wanting to snap at him.

He smiled again, this time kindly. "That machine is always acting up." He marched right up to it and kicked it a couple of times. The next thing I knew, there was the welcoming sound of the soda bottle slipping through the chute, and I snatched it up as it rolled out.

"Thanks," I said to him. "You want something?" I held up my wallet, signaling that I would be happy to repay him with a soda, but he shook his head.

"I try to stay away from caffeine and sugar. I'm generally hyper enough as it is and I would drive more than a few people nuts if I suddenly ended up on a caffeine high," he laughed. "I'm Carlos, by the way."

"James," I said by way of introduction.

"You new here?"

"Yeah, I just moved here from Minnesota."

"Minnesota? For real? Isn't hockey, like, the state sport or whatever?"

I blinked. "I don't think we have state sports. But yeah, it's pretty popular back there."

"Dude, do you play?" Carlos asked eagerly, brown eyes lighting up with excitement.

"I used to. Not so much now."

He smirked. "Just wait until you meet the captain of the hockey team. He'll stalk you if he has to, but he's determined to put together a strong team this year. If he thinks there's a chance you're going to be good, then he'll force you to try out."

"Uh huh. I wish him the best of luck with that."

He shrugged. "Anyway, which way are you headed?"

"Towards the science wing. I have biology."

"With who?"

"M. Donavan."

"Sweet! Me too! Come on, I'll take you there!" With a sudden burst of energy, he grabbed my arm and dragged me down the hall and out the door onto a stone walkway. Flowers and small plotted plants lined the path and the mid-morning California air tasted of sun and salt. I knew San Luca was pretty close to the ocean, only a couple of miles away, and if I strained my ears I could almost hear the crashing of waves against sand and rocks.

We reached a huge glass building with motion-sensor doors that slid open with a quiet hiss. Carlos led me down a hall to the biology lab. We slid through the door and I veered off towards a quiet table in the back. A lot of students had already arrived and they were milling around, laughing and shouting jokes across the room at each other. The mood in the room was considerably lighter than it had been in the calculus classroom, and I felt a twinge of something – regret? Nostalgia? A part of me was screaming to join in on the conversations and laughter, but I told myself firmly that I was happy where I was, away from the limelight, away from what my old English teacher would have deemed "childish antics". Another twinge shot through me and I closed my eyes, before twisting the cap of the Coke bottle off and taking a long sip.

Carlos plopped down next to me, setting his backpack on the long black table, and pulling out a pen and notebook.

I looked at him in surprise, trying to figure out why he had joined me. "Don't you have other people to hang out with in this class?" I asked.

"I have friends, but I have friends everywhere. You don't. You want me to introduce you to some of the people?"

From anyone else, it would have sounded like a presumptuous and obnoxious comment, like he thought I was a social reject, but Carlos sounded like he was genuinely trying to be friendly and helpful and welcoming, not like he thought I was a social pariah at all.

"Um…" I paused, tracing the logo on my Coke bottle. "If you want to…"

"Nah, don't worry about it, I get it. It's your first day here and you're probably already really overwhelmed. California's probably a lot different from Minnesota, huh?"

"Yeah," I nodded, relieved that I was off the hook for the time being. "Just the school is a huge change. In Minnesota, we generally only have one or two large buildings, we don't have a campus that's so spread out. That's going to take some getting used to."

"I bet." Carlos looked at me sympathetically. "So, why did you move here?"

Before I could open my mouth to even make an attempt at answering his question, the teacher walked into class. After introducing himself as Mr. Donovan and taking roll call, he passed out syllabuses for this semester and explained to us how the class was going to work before adding that we would be partnered with the other people at our table. It was a bit of a relief to hear that since it was just Carlos and me at our table, and that meant that I wasn't going to have to meet or deal with anyone new in this class.

"What does your schedule look like?" Carlos asked after the bell rang and we began packing up.

"Um…I have English next and then lunch. After that I have Spanish, Study Hall, and Drama."

"Rats. My next period is geometry. But I have lunch and Spanish. You're in Spanish IIII, right?"

I nodded. "My last year. Thank goodness."

Carlos laughed. "Tell me about it. I grew up speaking the language, it's the only reason why I took it – I figured it would be an easy A."

"Is it?"

"Nah. My dad's from Brazil and my mom is half Argentinean, though she grew up here, so the Spanish we speak is completely different from the Spanish that's taught here – it's Spain-Spanish, which I think is funny since we're pretty close to the Mexican border."

"Gotcha. That's the kind of Spanish they taught us at my old high school." I swung my backpack over my shoulders and we headed out together.

"You know where the humanities building is?" Carlos asked as we stepped out onto the stone path. I bit my lip, hating to admit that I had no idea where it was, which was pretty unfortunate since that was where my English class was being held. Luckily, he didn't wait for a response. "It's the building between this one and the math and computer building, which is the one we were just in."

"Thanks," I muttered and he gave me a bright smile.

"Not a problem!"

Once we reached the humanities building, we went our separate ways with Carlos continuing on down the path back to the math and computer building, and me walking inside. I found the right room and sat down, thinking about how much I hated feeling lost and helpless. I had never felt lost and helpless in my life, not even after my dad left and it was up to me to make sure that my mom remembered to eat. But living in a completely different town in a completely different state and going to a completely different school was something completely foreign and unfamiliar to me. And I hated it.

I took a seat in the English classroom and dug my phone out of my backpack, checking my messages. I perked up when I saw I had a new text. With trembling fingers I opened it, but my shoulders slumped slightly when my mom's name popped up. Disappointment crashed over me like a tidal wave crashing over a beach, but I forced it back. Feeling eyes on me, I looked up and craned my neck to find a pretty brunette girl sitting a row back and a couple of seats over, watching as she sucked on the end of her pen thoughtfully. Her notebook was spread open in front of her and an iPod was resting on it, earbuds trailing from her ears.

For a split second our eyes locked and I felt a spark of electricity shoot right up my spine as if I had just touched a car door on a dry winter day and was jolted by a shock. I held her gaze, refusing to blink, and she returned it. But then another girl sat down next to her and she quickly looked away, ripping her earbuds out of her ears and closing her notebook before stuffing it into her backpack. It was a strange movement, considering we were in an English classroom, but as I watched she replaced the first notebook with another one.

I turned away, looking at the text from my mom: "How's school going? XOXO Mom."

I sighed, staring down at the text. The words sounded friendly but I couldn't stop myself from reading them in a cool, clipped tone. I knew her question had been asked out of more than just motherly concern, just like it would be asked again for another reason besides parental curiosity.

Nevertheless, I quickly replied to her: "Not too bad." I sent the message and dropped my phone into my backpack, just as the teacher walked into the room.

"Good morning, class," she said cheerfully, setting her briefcase on her desk. "My name is Nancy Howe. I know some of you have already been in my other classes, but I see some new faces here. Those of you who have been in my classes before probably already know the drill, but for those of you who have never taken a class with me I'll give you a quick rundown. I'm going to call on each person and you're going to give me a brief synopsis about who you are or what you're interested in. For example, I'm a thirty-something year old mom with a loving husband, a degree in English and education from Western Washington University, and I enjoy bowling, reading romantic comedies, and drinking way too much coffee with way too much cream and sugar."

There was a flurry of laughter and she smiled, perching herself on her desk. "So, let's begin with the front row." She pointed at the boy on the far end of the front row and he began speaking.

Before long, she had gotten to the third row and it was my cue to introduce myself. Joy.

I looked up at Mrs. Howe as she walked over to me, giving me a friendly smile and my stomach churned as I flashed back to a situation much like this from almost exactly two years ago. Fighting back the nausea and memories that were simultaneously warring for my attention, I cleared my throat. "I'm James Diamond and I'm new here. I'm from Minnesota and I'm a senior. I've only lived here for a couple of weeks."

Mrs. Howe smiled at me. "Well, welcome to San Luca, James. I'm sure we're all very happy to have you here with us."

I managed to smile back, even as I resisted the urge to fold my arms on my desk and bury my face in them. Nostalgia and sadness was threatening to overwhelm me, but I knew once I got out of here I would be fine again. Well, as fine as I possibly could be.

Mrs. Howe moved on to the rest of the students. Before long, she reached the girl I had locked eyes with earlier.

"I'm Katie Knight," she said brightly, tossing her dark hair over her shoulder. "I'm a junior and I know a bunch of you. I'm currently obsessed with The Mortal Instruments, and I take dance as an extracurricular activity. Oh, and my brother is Kendall Knight, the captain of the hockey team, so you should go and see him if you want to join the team. And yes, he's paying me in double chocolate chip cookies to advertise for him."

A smattering of laughter rippled through the classroom and Mrs. Howe chuckled. "That sounds like Kendall."

Katie rolled her eyes. "My darling older brother," she drawled, sarcasm dripping from her words, and I couldn't help it. I found myself liking her, wanting to know more about her. "Always making a positive impression on everyone."

"Always," Mrs. Howe laughed and moved onto the girl who had sat next to Katie.

"I'm Camille Roberts," she said cheerfully. "And I'm an actress – a method actress."

I let out a low whistle. I had done some acting when I was younger, performing in elementary, middle school, my first two years of high school, and church productions. From what I had heard, method actors and actresses were extremely dedicated to their craft. They would have to be, in order to live the lives of their characters the way they did.

"I love old movies and old mystery books," Camille continued on. "And I love shopping a little more than I should." She finished up with a sheepish grin and Mrs. Howe chortled.

"As long as you're not getting yourself deep in debt, I think you'll be okay with the shopping," she assured Camille, before continuing on. Eventually the entire room had introduced themselves, and Mrs. Howe passed out a syllabus for the class, going over what we would be working on.

"Since this is an AP English class," she began, "I'm really hoping everyone will be able to handle the material in a…relatively mature way, since we'll be dealing with some advanced subject material that isn't taught in normal English classes. We'll be tackling Chaucer, Milton, Orwell, Wilde, and Lawrence. That's Geoffrey Chaucer, John Milton, George Orwell, Oscar Wilde, and D.H Lawrence."

I furrowed my brow, recognizing the last name, and before I could even second guess myself, I raised my hand.

She pointed at me. "James?"

"D.H Lawrence? The same D.H Lawrence who wrote Lady Chatterley's Lover?"

She smiled brightly. "The very same. You're familiar with Lady Chatterley's Lover?"

I felt heat creep up the back of my neck. "I…know the story," I said evasively.

"Very interesting. Well, we will be studying several of his works."

Class continued on, and eventually we were dismissed. I headed out, making my way to the cafeteria. It was surprisingly easy to find, considering how hard it had been to locate my classrooms.

The second I stepped into the cafeteria, I was flagged down by Carlos, who was sitting with two boys – one with dark brown hair and fair skin, and the dark blond one I had spotted in my calculus class. I got my food and headed over to them. Carlos grinned up at me. "How was English class?"

"Not bad," I replied, sitting down. "How was geometry?"

"Torturous," he said with an elaborate eye roll. "Anyway, this is Kendall Knight and Logan Mitchell." He pointed to the blond and the dark haired one respectively. "Kendall is the captain of the hockey team," Carlos added, eyes glittering.

Kendall took a bite of his pizza as he surveyed me. "Carlos tells me you played hockey back in Minnesota."

"For a little while," I corrected him, picking a piece of pepperoni off my own slice and popping it in my mouth.

"Define 'a little while'."

"From sixth grade through tenth."

"Why'd you stop?" Logan asked, eyeing me shrewdly as if waiting to see if I would lie or not.

I shrugged, settling on a half-truth. "I got hurt in the last game of the season when I was in tenth grade. I decided to take a break from it."

Logan narrowed his eyes at me, before turning his attention down to his chicken sandwich. "That's too bad," he said as he brought it up to his mouth.

"Yeah," Kendall said with a nod as I took a bite of my pizza. "Maybe you should give it a try again."

I quirked an eyebrow at him. "I'm not trying out for the hockey team."

He chucked aside any pretense he had been hiding behind. "Why not?" he demanded. "You clearly enjoyed it. Why don't you want to go back?"

"I just don't."

"You should give it a try," he pressed. "Come on, please just try out. It'll only take an hour."

"Kendall – "

"You'll probably have a lot of fun. And if you completely suck, I won't put you on the team. It's pretty simple."

"And if I'm good?" I asked, a hint of challenge creeping into my voice. Because I knew I was good. That was something that wasn't even worth arguing about.

"Then you're going to be on the team. We need a strong side this year, our team sucked royally last year." He pounded his fist into the opposite palm. "And I'm not going to stand by and do shit. We're winning, even if I have to conscript people."

"Please don't," Carlos begged. "I think that might be illegal."

"First and foremost we need strong forwards. The left wing, the right wing, and the center." He ticked them off on his fingers. "Because we're lacking in that area. I'm a right wing, you're a left wing," he said to Logan, "and you're a goalie," he added to Carlos. "Jett Stetson is an asshole, but he's a pretty decent left defenseman. So that leaves a center and a right defenseman to find, not to mention other players so that we're not all playing straight through in one game. What position do you play?" he added to me.

"Center…"

"Excellent. I don't give a fuck if I have to kidnap you after your last class, you're going to be at tryouts tomorrow. They start at three-thirty, at the ice rink." He finished off his pizza, humming happily.

Logan rolled his eyes at me. "Don't worry. He always gets a little manic over hockey. If you join the team, you'll get used to it within a week."

I finished off my bottle of Coke. "Not a problem, I get it. I get like that over stuff."

"Like what?" Carlos asked, cutting off a piece of his burrito.

I shrugged. "It used to be hockey. Drama – theater."

"You're into theater?" Logan asked me as he picked up his bottle of Pepsi. "You should talk to Camille Roberts. She's really into drama and performing."

Carlos smirked. "Well, you would be the one to know, huh? What exactly happened between you and Camille this summer?"

Logan's cheeks flushed and his hands shook. "Like I'm going to tell you." He uncapped the soda bottle and yelped as the dark sugary liquid fizzed out like a miniature volcano. "Damn it!" He reached for a bunch of napkins and mopped his hand, the bottle, and the table off.

Kendall, Carlos, and I exchanged amused looks, fighting back the urge to burst out laughing.

Logan glowered at us in irritation. "Thanks for the help."

"It's your own fault," Kendall chortled, passing him another napkin. "You were the one shaking the bottle."

"Not intentionally!" Logan let out a grunt of disgust, before nodding towards a table across the room from us. "Hey, Kendall, your sister's staring over at us."

"Probably heard you yelling," Kendall chuckled, glancing in that direction. I did too and almost did a double take. It was Katie. A light bulb flicked on in my head and I realized that Katie was Kendall's younger sister. She had said it herself in English.

She realized she had been caught by both Kendall and me and she quickly spun around.

"Or else she was wondering if you had managed to force the new kid onto the hockey team," Logan retorted.

"She's in my English class," I said in an offhand voice.

"AP English?" Kendall asked and I nodded. "Gotcha. Yeah, it's a subject she's good at. Math, not so much, but she excels at reading and writing. Have you officially met her yet?"

I shook my head. "Not yet."

"You want me to introduce her?"

"Nah, it's cool. I'll probably meet her on my own."

"More than likely."

We finished eating and balled our trash up, tossing it into a nearby trashcan. We headed out and I made my way to Spanish with the others. According to Carlos, it was the one class we all had together.

After Spanish, I made my way to the library for Study Hall with Logan, where I once more spotted Katie with a couple of her friends.

Logan and I took a quiet table in the back corner of the room and began to slog through the homework that had accumulated so far. Once the hour was up, we headed back out and I walked towards my locker so that I could drop my textbooks off at my locker and grab my drama one.

As I made my way towards my locker, I spotted a small figure with golden brown hair tumbling down her back, standing on her tip-toes as she struggled to push books up on the top shelf of her own locker.

Katie let out a squeal as the books tumbled out of her hands, crashing to the floor. "Damn it!" She dropped to her knees, tucking her hair behind her ear.

I hurried over to her, kneeling down beside her. "You okay?"

She glanced up at me, hesitating before nodding. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just one of the perks of being short. It's always a pain in the ass, trying to get books up on the top shelf and trying to get books down." She threw a glare at the locker. I could see a familiar book lying on the upper shelf.

"You're taking drama?"

"Yeah," she replied. "With Ms. Finnegan."

"Next period?"

Another nod.

"I'm taking that one. Here," I added, scooping her books up and parading them over to her locker, sliding them onto the top shelf and getting her drama textbook for her. "Here you go." I presented it to her and she smiled a little.

"Thanks. So, you're new here?"

"Unfortunately." I blinked as I realized where I was. "Oh. You have the locker right next to mine." I walked over to mine and dialed the combination, opening it.

"How about that? Well, it's better than the girl who had the locker next to mine the last couple of years," Katie said with a shrug. "Her boyfriend would always stop by between classes and they'd end up making up against my locker. That was disgusting to watch."

I chuckled, placing my books in my locker and grabbing the one I was going to need. "So, any chance you could show me where the theater is?"

She smiled again. "Depends. Are you going to pay me?"

"I hear I make really good chocolate cupcakes."

A mischievous grin played around her mouth. "I'm going to hold you to it. I'm Katie, by the way."

"I know who you are, thanks to Mrs. Howe. I'm James," I added.

"Nice to meet you. Come on, the theater's this way." And with that she led me out of the building and down the path, towards a large building nestled between jacaranda trees, the entrance flanked with honeysuckle bushes. We climbed the stairs and pushed through the double doors. I followed her down a long hallway, the walls hung with pictures from previous years' productions. I spotted Camille Roberts in a couple of the photographs.

We walked into the arena and I paused, smiling slightly. It had been over a year since I had been inside a theater and I hadn't realized I had missed it until I had stepped into this one. The stage was huge with scrubbed wood and steps leading up to it. Rows and rows of black folding seats slowly climbed up, and balconies protruded from the wall like a bird's beak jutting out from its face. Deep red hangings were draped from the walls, matching the carpet.

Katie glanced at me, her lips twitching. "You like it?"

I nodded, shoving my hands into my jeans pockets. "Yeah, it's nice."

"That it is. Come on." We climbed the stairs, sliding into the third level row and sitting down. "Have you done any acting before?" she asked curiously as we settled in.

"Some," I replied. "You?"

"A little bit. Mostly in middle school. So, you're from Minnesota?"

I nodded.

"Where?"

"Excuse me?" I looked at her in surprise. I had been expecting her to ask me why I had moved out here.

"Where in Minnesota are you from?"

"The northern area. Sherwood. Have you heard of it?"

"No, but I'm not really familiar with northern Minnesota. I just know about the Mall of America."

I laughed. "Yeah, that one's pretty famous."

"How about instead of baking me cupcakes, you fly me to the mall."

"I'm not paying for a plane ticket. You're stuck with the cupcakes."

"Cheapskate."

"I have to be, considering how fucking expensive everything is out here. Almost two dollars for a bottle of Coke? That's outrageous."

She sniffed. "It's attitudes like that that lead to a life of crime."

"Yeah. One day I'm just sitting around, bitching about the price of soda, and the next I'm throwing bricks at windows and refusing to help old ladies across the street."

"And refusing to take me to the Mall of America."

"The horror. The absolute horror."

"Damn straight."

Drama went much like the other classes, with the teacher taking roll call and passing around a syllabus, going over the main points.

"So," Katie said once the bell had rung and we had been dismissed, "what're your plans for this afternoon?"

"Homework and unpacking." I made a face as we headed out of the theater. "Fun stuff."

"Yeah, sounds like it. How long ago did you move here?"

"Two weeks."

"Oh, wow. You really are new."

I nodded, fiddling with my backpack strap as a crazy, completely insane idea took over me. "Hey, I don't suppose you'd want to come over and help me unpack…I mean, it won't be any fun, but I could make you your cupcakes."

She opened her mouth, looking up at me. I could see in her eyes how much she wanted to say yes, and regret momentarily flashed across her face. "I can't," she said after a long pause. "I have dance. But could I get a rain check on that?"

"Yeah, definitely. Have fun at dance."

"Thanks, I'll do my best. I'll probably be really sore tomorrow, my muscles are going to be so overworked."

"Try Arnica Montana or Biofreeze or Icy Hot or something," I said, throwing out a few different things I had used when I had been playing hockey. We had reached our lockers by now and we opened them, beginning to pull out textbooks.

"I have Biofreeze and Icy Hot, courtesy of a hockey playing brother, so I'll see what I can do." She smiled at me again as she closed her locker. "So, I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, definitely."

"Cool." We headed our separate ways and I let out a deep breath as I reached the parking lot, making my way to my car and thoughts of hockey, dance, and Katie's smile swirling around in my head.

So, there it is :) I know, I know, nothing exciting, but things'll get more interesting in future chapters.

Anyway, if you enjoyed it, please review! I love hearing your feelings or opinions on the story! It helps me to further shape the story, and it's always nice to know that people like it so far. Have a good rest of your night, everyone :)