Authors Notes: Hey. A new story! Brand new, in fact. This whole story is a very personal subject. Im not claiming to have written the story at the end... it just inspired me to write this. My brothers friend wrote it, and I thought "What if it was about someone my age?" and this came out of my over active Jonas imagination. Oh how I need a life. But yeah, The story isn't about me or anyone I know, just working from what Nick (happens to be the guys name, hah) wrote because it was so pretty.

Disclaimer: I don't own JB or the short story at the end!

Subject: Oh god. I'm liked.

I know what your thinking. Someone having a crush on you is never a bad thing. But it is when he's three years older, and I'm dating his brother. Its a stupid thing to assume, and I'm probably making an ass of you and me but... Honestly, I'm scared shit-less. Maybe I should go into some details for you, starting with mine. My name is Tanner Comings, I'm fifteen, with chocolate brown hair and violet eyes, and I think my boyfriends brother, Joe Jonas, likes me.

My sister. HOW can I do this to her? She's had a crush on Joe for like, a month. Maybe two. How DARE I do this to her? She's completely infatuated with him.

And then, there's the part of me saying that I need to be calm. That it doesn't have to be about me. Its just likely. Not even likely, Unlikely. The girl he likes must just... have a lot of things in common with me. Hell, I'm not even sure if he likes her. It was a STORY. Meaning it could be fictional. But, no. It seems to real. I hope its fiction. I'll have dodged a big one. You wouldn't guess Joe to be a writer, or amazing at getting feelings out, would you? But both are true. He blogs a lot (under a fake name, of course) and recently he posted a short story. It just... I can't explain. I'll attach it at the end of this email.

Mia, I know we don't know each other. I know I've only met you once... we didn't exchange anything but names and emails, but for some reason I felt the NEED to send to you. Maybe it's because we don't know each other, that I'm sending this. That factor, that key factor, that if you judged it wouldn't matter because we aren't friends seems to take place in my mind and I can not shake it. This whole thing is weird and personal, and I hate it.

I suppose I'll give you more details. Nick Jonas and I have been dating for a year. We're happy, honestly. He's the sweetest boy I've ever met, and he always seems to know when I'm down or worried. Which makes this harder. I don't hide things from him. Its just not how I roll. How in the world am I going to get away with this? I feel dirty and guilty and I've lost my train of thought. Oh right-- how perfect Nick is. I'm not sure why I feel guilty about this. Its not my fault. But I feel like it is. Okay, now on to Joe. Though Nick and I are dating, I'm close to his brothers. And Joe and I are closer than the others (minus Nick, of course), we just seem to click, personality wise. We can joke around and be stupid, and whatnot. I've always thought of him as a big brother.

He always steals my Sidekick, but the key guard is always on. And he complains. He tells me its stupid, and I should let him see it. I just smile. There's nothing on my phone I don't want him to see, but for me, my phone is personal. I don't share it with others often. Not even my sister gets to see it. Actually, the only person I've let play with it is Nick. Its just... like a part of me. And Joe is a total idiot. He'll play with anything in my room, including my cheap rip off aviator sunglasses (he has many pictures in them) and its just strange. He's like my older brother. NOT a... crush. If you could see me, a look of sadness came upon my face upon typing that. Crush. What an awful word. Crush –verb (used with object)

1. to press or squeeze with a force that destroys or deforms.

2. to squeeze or pound into small fragments or particles, as ore, stone, etc.

3. to force out by pressing or squeezing; extract: to crush cottonseeds in order to produce oil.

4. to rumple; wrinkle; crease.

5. to smooth or flatten by pressure: to crush leather.

6. to hug or embrace forcibly or strongly: He crushed her in his arms.

7. to destroy, subdue, or suppress utterly: to crush a revolt.

8. to overwhelm with confusion, chagrin, or humiliation, as by argumentation or a slighting action or remark; squelch.

9. to oppress grievously.

10. Archaic. to finish drinking (wine, ale, etc.).

–verb (used without object)

11. to become crushed.

–noun

12. the act of crushing; state of being crushed.

13. a great crowd: a crush of shoppers.

So, you see, it's an ugly word. It's a word I don't want to be a part of, not since I have Nick. Its a word that makes me want to cringe.

Here, is the story that's made me so mentally freaked. Do with it what you may, but please don't crush me with your word, Mia. I'm stupid and I'm jumping to assumptions.

I've been toiling away in the holes of my mind trying to find some way to answer your message. I've come close to just saying to leave me alone, but for some unforeseen reason, I cannot bring myself to do such a thing. This is a story to you, interpret it as you will. As I am sure you will and I'll always hold the true meaning of this story to myself. You, however, will never know the true meaning unless by some chance you stumble upon it whilst looking through the window of your old folks home when you are old and have a sudden epiphany. It will be to late, of course, for I will be long dead. But I shall not dwell on that. This is a story I developed when we were together. It's been in my mind all of this time, and for the first time, I am writing it down.

Waking up for the first time, sheltered, cold, and in a completely euphoric state. I rise to the sound of nothing in a room I don't quite recognize, had this place been the same the night before? Had some magical fairy maids come in while we were asleep and redecorated the once decent room into some floral nightmare? It is quite possible, we know magic exists, we know. But for all of this, I don't care. I'm here, you're here, it doesn't matter. I lightly place my arm across your falsely smooth naked body as to not wake the vengeful gods above and drift back to sleep.

In my sleep I see simply the many colors of the world. The shades of purples and blues dancing in your eyes across to the dark empty shades of mine. I hear nothing, just see. I don't need to hear, we don't need to hear. But from this reality I am stolen by the ringing of a telephone, not just any telephone, your elusive cellular phone. I'll never quite understand what was hiding behind those tacky aviator shades that that particular cellular device seemed to always wear, but I bet it was up to no good. Never seemed to be anyway. You answer, it's a friend, he's coming to get you. We drift back to sleep, but this time we put our clothes back on.

The room shakes as though it's signaling the end of times. You let your friend in, he crashes on the bed next to us. He's jealous, he doesn't have what we have or maybe not what we have, but what we stand for. In that moment we stand for love, not only sex, not only the uproarious bullshit that is the monotony of the day, but love. It's a funny feeling, love. Not at all what the movies describe, I didn't have butterflies, I did not have have that feeling of uneasiness or uncertainty. I was more confident than ever, I was more aware than ever, but not to you only to what surrounded me. Was it love then? We drift back to sleep.

At the end of it all, a glance that could change the world and a handshake were exchanged. If only that glance landed accurately, things might have been different. Things might have been different. We drift back to sleep.

I hope you see the problem, Mia.

Xoxo,

Tanner.