(A/N: New story! Yay! So, I know I've put this off for the longest time--I'm sorry! But I had trouble thinking of ideas of how to get started; I always have trouble with the beginnings of stories.

This story will feature a few of my favorite people here on Fanfiction, and they've done nothing but make me thrive as a writer, no matter the reason. They will appear at least twice each, so keep an eye out for those fabulous people. This first chapter, I regret to say, however, will not be graced by their person(alities) as of yet, because I must still introduce Jason and the OC's story beforehand. From there, the story will unfold at their revealing.

But without further ado, here is Degrees, a story dedicated to Jason. =) One for Nate, one for Shane, and now, one for Jason. I have now a story for each special guy. A complete Trilogy, if you may.)

Degrees

Of Separation.

It's to be said that if you know someone, then that person knows someone else. Maybe a sister, the paper boy, a best friend, or even that stranger walking down the street at that very moment you look. A human web, they say.

Then...is it possible? Is it possible for that special person, the soulmate, the one, to be only a few 'degrees' away?

Maybe.

But just how many 'degrees' will it take until the two of you meet?

...or will you even cross paths at all?

Jason's P.O.V

"You guys are going to love it," the polite man promised as he ushered us down the long, winding hallway. His deep voice echoed and bounced off the walls, which was helpful since it traveled to the farthest person trailing behind in the group. "The Texas Stadium seats about sixty-six thousand, but even the farthest row has a good view of center stage. You can choose to either have the roof on, or if you'd like an open stadium. So, rain or shine, we could--"

"I'm sorry," I spoke up. His fast pace slowed, but did not stop leading us the way. I held out my hand. "We didn't catch your name before."

"Oh, yeah," he realized, laughing, "Skyler."

"Jason," I introduced myself.

The youngest, but also the wisest of the band, followed suit. "Nate."

"I'm Shane." The timing was perfect when Skyler and Shane released their handshake, and Skyler pushed two bars on a set of doors open. They swung open, and remained propped wide in order to fully showcase the unbelievable sight before us.

Countless row seats sloped down from where I stood, only to come to an end by a simple--but safe, I'm sure--railing. The aisles, however, stretched narrow flights of stairs farther than the railings, splitting down the middle and led to the lower level of the seats. To reach the floor seats, or standing room as I'd like to call it, people would only have to enter from either side of the stadium. The seats placed near the stage were merely there to give comfort to the fans while they patiently wait for the concert to begin. And once the stage lights up, no one should be sitting down.

But for now, the stage was a blank canvas. It was for me and my brothers to enjoy constructing bonus platforms and adding other pyro machines that would make for one awesome concert.

"Race you!"

We wasted no more time at the very top of the stadium to begin placing all the band equipment on stage. …I so won with the help of a Segway parked nearby. Oh, the looks on my brothers' faces when I rolled by them--priceless.

But I couldn't wait for them to catch up. I hopped off the two-wheeled vehicle and went straight to work. "Great, great," I said. I looked through the small frame I had created with my two hands and backed up a few steps. There was just enough space to place the column of strobe lights. "If you could move it a little to the left, it would be perfect."

"You got it." The crane emitted a loud whirring sound and a groan, lifting the lighting equipment. I hopped off the stage and jogged up to the guy working the contraption to offer him a handshake.

"Hey, thanks man, I really appreciate it." I had to step up on a ladder to reach his hand. "Thanks for all your help…" I trailed off, fishing for his name.

"Ivan," he replied. "Hey, you know my girls love your band."

"Then we need to get you guys some tickets, don't we?"

"Hey, Jason!" Shane called me from across the stadium. He didn't need to call more than once, because the echoes did that for him. I thanked the man once more, and told him to keep up the good work. When I met up with Shane, he was talking with one of the set crew. "Jason, this is Odie, the man with the fire," Shane said.

"Hey man, nice to meet you," I said. "Nice to have you on board. Now, will it be possible to create a ring of fire for all of us to, like, jump through during the show?"

Odie barked a laugh. "Are you serious? That's a death hazard written all over it." Shane and I just stood there, looking at him like there was nothing wrong. A second later, Odie's face smoothed over with a wicked grin and slowly nodded. "I thought you'd never ask. I'll get right on it."

"Thanks, man." Shane patted his shoulder, and I could already tell he was planning on doing some daredevil aerial in his mind.

"Guys!" Nate yelled from yet the other end of the stadium. "Pre-show meet-and-greet. Five minutes!"

Shane and I sprinted for the exit, hurdling over seats like we were Olympians. …Well, okay, not exactly hurdling, but we were in a pretty big hurry. On the way, walking in quick strides to the area outside where I heard a vast crowd of fans were waiting, we went over the rest of today's agenda.

"Oh, man." Shane snapped his fingers, and scolded himself. "I forgot to get that one guy's number about the--"

"The one whose car you scratched you sat on it?" I asked. "Didn't you leave a note already?"

"No, not him."

Nate patted my arm for attention. "He's probably talking about the guy who he hit with the wiffle ball when we were playing earlier in the parking lot. He wants to apologize for the second time that ball came around," he laughed. "Should've let me bat, dude."

"Hey, on the bright side, though," I said, "it would've totally been a home run and our team would've scored if the ball didn't…hit…that guy."

"Thank you, Jason," Shane said sincerely, knuckle-punching for support. "No, the one guy who was going to set me up with that awesome mike stand for tonight's concert. Nate, do you remember what his name was?"

"Jude? Ozzy?" Nate guessed. "Simon? Percy, Theo, Cris? I'm just throwing out names out there; I have no idea. Am I close?"

After a long thought, Shane shook his head. "No, nothing's clicking. What about you, Jason? Do you remember that guy we met, the one we met a few hours ago?"

I scoffed. "Are you kidding me? Do you have any idea how many people we meet everyday?"

Vera's P.O.V.

I pulled my cap over my head and secured it there, satisfied with the way it mussed up my hair from where it hugged my head. A quick look in the cracked, but useful, mirror hanging on the wall, I checked my card into the sign-in machine--the ancient hole-punching kind--positioned right beside it. My keys clinked in my pocket as I sauntered over to the table and poured myself some steaming, good, old--day-old, if specifics mattered--cup of joe.

"Yo, Vera! Let's go!"

"What?" I called over my shoulder through the grate in the cement wall, but with my eye on that stale donut.

HONK

Obviously rushed, I reached for the fritter and stuffed it into my mouth before making a mad dash for the garage.

"Forget something?" Kendal stood there, impatient in her pointlessly 'stylish' suspenders, and waiting for me to grab my other set of keys that must have slipped my mind back at the apartment we share. Being best friends with an overly and obnoxiously organized person had its perks sometimes. The messenger cap I was donning was her kooky idea of making me look good for the job, which seemed worthless to even attempt, taking into consideration what our job was.

Underneath Kendal's smirk of a grin, the left--well, my left, her right--corner of her lip was always a little bit higher, an unspeakable indicator of mischief. Her innocent peach blush on the touch of her cheeks was just a distraction, and that's what I try to tell people. But who cares what I have to say once people get the sight of her long, chestnut hair that shined in a way that couldn't be natural, even though I knew it was. She always told me, despite her own beautiful untreated hair, she would wish for my polished, shoulder-length, and average in more ways than one, auburn hair.

She was unknowingly wishing for an hour minimum a day to tame this thing on my head into what it looks like in the daylight. Today, the monster wasn't entirely willing to cooperate after a shower, so I literally threw in the towel and went with the hat.

"Don't look at me like that," I complained, swiping my keys from her twirling fingers.

We walked down the line of vehicles and we kept an eye out for our beauties. "Just a 'thank you' would be nice," she objected.

"How about I let you out of the garage first this morning?" I offered once I strolled up to my car. My hand swept across its glossy, yellow curves, its fine checkered print stripped from one end to the other, the bulbous ends that had newly installed lights. My very own unit number that I was particularly proud of since it was my birth date, 61987, flickered on when I turned the engine over and my beauty purred something pleasant. The counter was set to zero automatically, and it was ready for me to start collecting once I hit the pavement.

Kendal pulled out before me, as I promised, and I followed close behind, honking at her just for the fun of it. I laughed when she flipped me the bird from out her window, and then I replied with two of my fingers crossed as a traditional departing gesture.

"I take it you're rollin' out, ladies?" Sal asked. He yanked on the chains and rose the garage doors, sending us on our way as taxi drivers.

Kendal drove off towards her own assigned district, and I veered in the opposite direction to mine. It didn't matter what section we took care of; New York was always hailing for cabs every other second.

Business was always just around the corner. I pulled over to the curb after driving just half a block from the garage. A pair of women climbed in from either side of the car from what I saw in my rearview mirror. "Fifty-eighth and Park," one of them said into the open square slot.

"West New York--sure thing." With a push of a button, I was charging them a fair quarter per mile with the additional standard of two-fifty for the first ninth of a mile. By the end of this, I was sure to have at least forty dollars.

When we arrived at the location, an arm stuck through my open driver's side window. And like most New Yorkers that were in a rush to get somewhere, "Keep the change" was absolutely divine music to my ears from above.

The meter continued to run until I beat another cab driver to a new client waving for attention in the middle of the road. As the competition's car slowly drove by, I prepared and composed a face that gloated innocently. It was a middle-aged man that was driving his run-of-the-mill regular taxis, and his wasn't nearly as spick and span as mine was. Good thing he couldn't see the interior my beauty. It wasn't pretty from where I sat. Garbage. Everywhere.

"Just drive," the man said the moment he planted himself into the back seat. I nodded and lightly pulled the tip of my hat down to comply.

No names--that's my rule. What point was there in trying to get to know these wackos, especially this one sitting behind me with no destination in mind? On average, I was going to meet five more people like him before the day's end. That plastic wall between the front seat and the back seat served for more than a simple security and germ guard.

I didn't want to get to know him.

"Vera Sharpton," the man randomly read aloud my ID, which was printed in the backseat for the passenger's knowledge. We made eye contact from the rear view mirror, and he was shocked. "You're a cab driver?"

"Um, is that supposed to mean something to me?"

"No--well, yes. No and yes," he decided somewhat. "It's just that you're a very…attractive--too attractive to have a job like this." My concentration averted to the road when the creepy guy kept on staring. I think the glasses he wore were getting foggy, or it was just my rearview mirror misting up. "Oh, turn left here."

Signaling and turning after a rolling stop at the corner, I later replied with, "Thanks, sir."

"What am I talking about? You must meet too many people that say that to you a hundred times a day," he said with a laugh. "You pick up all the guys, I'm guessing."

"And I've heard that pun just as many times from guys like you," I said. I pulled the car to a full stop, caring less for the fuming and honking cars jammed behind me. My arm swung over, and I peered through the scratched up plastic window. "Listen, guy, do you have a place to go or what? Because I don't want to find out that you can't spot whatever number ends up on the meter…and that you're weird." He blinked at me. His glasses were foggy, and he even pulled out a hanky to pat his forehead. "Now, where to?"

"Town Square," he said.

Contented, I sat back and put the car in drive, and went on my way before a cop could reach through all this traffic. "And you're right," I said, "I do meet too many people in this job."

Jason's P.O.V.

"Thank you, Jason!"

"You're very welcome, Dilan 'with an A'" I told the little girl once I'd handed her a signed poster. "Give me a high five!" She had to jump to reach my hand from across the table. "Alright, you take care now!"

"Bye, Jason!"

"And to who do I make this out to?" Shane asked. "Carrie?" He signed the back of her shirt like she had asked him to.

"Here you go." Nate gave a squealing girl an autographed tour book.

And this process repeated for quite some time. Someone was bound to get a phone call during the meet-and-greet.

"Excuse me for a minute," Shane said to a new fan. He leaned over to me and whispered, "It's Mitchie." He walked off and went around the backdrop to get some privacy.

And someone else got a phone call, too. …It wasn't me. "Yeah, hi, Cait?" Nate whispered, simply turning his back on the table.

A quiet girl approached the table with a bashful smile on her face. "Hi, what's your name?" I asked for the umpteenth time. While I continued to sign, I had to listen to my brothers murmur "I love you's" and "I miss you's."

I looked out to the gigantic crowd patiently waiting, studying each face carefully, hopeful. Unquestionably, without a doubt hopeful that someone, maybe not from this crowd, is for me. She's perfect, everything that I could wish for a girl. One to call while I'm in the middle of something, just because I thought of her. I've set myself up with high expectations, and I know that's going to ruin me in the end, but I will eventually find her.

I know you're out there, somewhere.

Vera's P.O.V.

"I will never have an ass," Kendal complained, speculating her reflection in the mirror. "And that's because I spend almost the entire day on it." She sighed frustratingly. "At least this dress and these heels make it look like something's there."

"Your boyfriend sure admires the hell out of it," I challenged, referring to the brave soul that's been with her for a year now. "So there's nothing to be whine about." I rolled my eyes. I strutted across the apartment floor in my simple purple ruffled halter dress to hook on my hoop earrings to finish putting my image together. "Ready to go?"

"Shoot, I've been ready!" Kendal giddily traipsed out the door and we walked to the nearest club, gauging how loud the music was bumping from afar. The louder the music, the more people dancing.

Keeping our daytime appearances under wraps, we were able to slip by the green velvet ropes. Eyes were on us the entire time as Kendal and I sauntered through the dance floor, absolutely clueless about who we were, curious. And so was I.

I was skimming through the room, sifting, deciding, choosing. But it was just so damn difficult. Although I don't remember any of these faces--round, thin, long, angular, olive, tan, brown--I was so sure I've seen them at least once in my life from a glimpse in the rearview mirror. Granted, I've never had any other connection with them but a swap of cash and change, but I was so good at reading people.

Easily irritable, wretchedly happy-go-lucky, indescribably kept-to-oneself--it's like a pastime that's been forced upon me whenever I wait for a red light go green.

I just wanted to know when that perfect guy was going to hail my cab, signal down my taxi for a lift. I only needed one glance at him to determine everything--his personality, his laugh, his weakness, his heart. He'll even love me for my nonexistent derriere. And if, or when, I meet him, I will know it.

But I've been wrong before, I admit. So it was a bad call on this old lady and her six cats. Excuse me if she really had four, and she had two dogs. I got that she was an animal keeper since she stunk up my backseat for a week with her smell.

But you're going to be amazing. I know it.

And I will know your name eventually.

(A/N: Okay, just tell me: Do you like it? Dislike it? Or, dare I say...hate it? I need to know.

I'm pretty sure this story will be a short one, but it will be funny and full of adventure, I promise. Jason and Vera are bound to meet some...er, unique individuals before they come across each other. And when will that be? Who knows how many 'degrees' will it take for me to put them together. But I know it will be fun to write it. =)

Please review this story. It would mean the world to me if you gave me some feedback. And again, I must remind you all that I'm not giving up on Video Girl, and although there's been a definite lack of update on Unaffordable, I'm not dead with that either. If I'm on a roll, I hope to have all three updates posted on one day. ...Psh, highly unlikely, but hey--wishful thinking.)