FANCY MEETIN' YOU HERE. I hope you guys like this chapter as much as I do and don't forget to review and things of that nature because I really would like to hear your guys' opinions on this. As for updating, we'll probably crank out a new chapter at least every week. Thank you so much for reading! - sprinkleofgold :)

Peace, love, Snoop Kero.

Disclaimer: Don't own A&A.


Today was going to be a good day, I've decided. For one, my favorite band in the entire world, Forbidden Tears, was holding a small concert, standing space only, in town tonight that I just so happen to have VIP passes and all of their glory to. And two, no one has littered even the tiniest piece of trash on campus that I've seen. I felt swollen with pride and not to mention a dash of success because it sounds as if I have single-handedly defeated the littering man-beast/vampire known as Austin Moon in just one sitting. But what I couldn't wrap my head around was why everyone found him so excruciatingly intimidating - Oh gee willickers, he's wearing a ripped up leather jacket, let's all scurry away before he mass murders us all. Sarcasm is intended. I mentally scolded myself - again - for even giving that creature any recognition at all. I couldn't be bothered by that right now because this - was an Ally day. This was the day that I was going to flaunt my brand new limited edition Forbidden Tears shirt at school and not worry about the list of possible irritating things and people that I could come across, and trust me that list was expansive.

"Hey Jane Goodall, you're gonna love this."

Speak of the devil.

Let me get this straight, because I "shared" my orange with him he thinks he can actually talk to me like a semi-normal person now? It was, however, refreshing to see him without that godforsaken leather jacket that everyone else was so terrified of. He stood in front of me and began pulling his holey black sweatshirt over his head without him noticing the shirt he had on underneath sticking to it, revealing an itsy bitsy peek of his bare - toned - stomach. Welp.

"Same shirt." His voice was husky, enticing even, and it took me a good five seconds to process what he had actually said as he looked down at of our identical shirts. I followed his line of sight. No, no, no. This was my shirt. And this was my band. We can't have something in common. Remind me to sue the shack that sold me this tarnishing piece of polyester later. Next thing you know, the whole freshmen female student body will be blogging about who wore it better. I'm mentally throwing up.

"Wow, I'm impressed. You actually know how to match things, pretty soon you'll be adding and subtracting. By the way, Neanderthal, my name's Ally, Ally Dawson," I spit out with enough force and fake enthusiasm to gain my slightly punctured confidence back. And with that I turned on my heel and walked towards the parking lot of the school. Sweet, sweet satisfaction. Countdown to Forbidden Tears heaven begins now, Ally D.

As I approached my car, aka my prized piece of dinosaur crap, I was jingling my keys through my fingers when my eyes landed on him getting into his car across the lot. A bubble of happiness rose within me when I noticed that his car didn't place too much farther up on the crap scale compared to mine. As I put my bag in the passenger's seat, I felt a pair of eyes boring into every contour of my face as if someone was... examining me, and sure enough there Austin was sporting an annoying smirk while sitting in the front seat of his faded green Toyota. Eye contact was made and he must have been feeling a little more badass than usual as he flirtatiously winked at me, started his car, and then proceeded to drive off in the opposite direction. Asshole. Did he think we were starring in one of those horribly cliche romantic comedies where the girl immediately falls head over freakin' heels for the guy that gave her a subtle, cute wink and left her begging for more? He had another thing coming for him if he thought that was how our relationship, or whatever it was, was going to work.

Why am I even thinking about this, again? I turned the keys in the ignition. No worries, because in less than 4 hours I was going to be belting out all of my favorite Forbidden Tears ballads at the top of my lungs and with any luck, my life would make sense again.


Exhilarating. Pure bliss. You know how earlier I had said I was passionate about a lot of things? Well, Forbidden Tears was one of those things. The way their music captivates you and brings you into your own little perfect world is mind boggling to me. Much better than that bubblegum pop junk most other high schoolers were listening to nowadays. And the fact that the lead singer was incredibly gorgeous was quite possibly the cherry on top. I bobbed my head in sync with every beat the bass created when suddenly my line of sight was snagged by a messy mop of familiar blonde hair. I knew exactly who it was, no second thought needed. I ducked my head down because, really? Did he have the audacity to make an appearance to every place I go to now? Pushing my way through the crowd, I finally reached him, hands in his pockets, slowly swaying to the music. I tapped his shoulder to get his attention, ready to boil over and confront him about this oh so lovely friendship we have going on, when a face that was definitely not Austin Moon's turned around, obviously annoyed that I had interrupted him from his extreme focus on the concert. Oops.

"I-I m so sorry, I thought you were someone else," I managed to squeak out as I looked down to the floor, not even bothering to make eye contact with the complete stranger. It's now officially official though. That boy has got me brainwashed. I stepped back, letting the music and crowd swallow me whole once again. The lead guitarist hit the last note of the song they were performing and the crowd erupted with screams, declarations of their love and deafening applauses. Me, I clapped lightly, already preoccupied with thoughts of, as much as I hated to admit it, why Moon was being played on a permanent loop in my brain. Drowned up in myself, I heard the muffled crowd around me demand an encore, and the lead singer merely chuckled and began singing the lines of yet another one of the band's songs as a response. A tap on my shoulder shot me out of my trance and I turned around to see who this finger belonged to.

"Are you head of some psycho anti-littering committee that decided to audit me this week, or are you just obsessed with me?" He yelled over the booming musical instruments that I was supposed to be enjoying right about now. Ladies and gentlemen, the one and only, Austin Moon.

Really, God. What did I do to deserve this?

The amount of strength I had to muster up to hold myself back from slapping that smirk clean off his face was truly ridiculous. Oh, the potentially violent things I could do to him right now, but instead I played the "I'm a mature adult" card, and said in the calmest voice I could possibly produce, "Alright listen here, Austin Moon. I may be a lot of things, but I'm not psycho and I am definitely not obsessed with you. In fact, you're psycho for even thinking that!" I waved my arms in a flailing manor as I argued my point to keep me from actually exploding in his face, curse words and all. "And I'm not a part of any club but the environment is very important to me. Did you know that littered trash is the leading cause of-"

"Shh." He puts his index finger over my lips immediately making my eyes widen. "I like this song." Pushing his meaty finger, God knows where it's been, away from my face, I start to hum the chorus of the song playing softly to myself, desperately trying to ignore my aggravating surroundings. My eyes close shut and I'm instantly pulled off to an Austin and litter-free paradise; that is until I feel his arm snake across my lower back so that his hand is lightly grasping my hip on the other side. Cue unwanted tingly sensation.

"What are you doing?" My eyes were most likely the size of saucers as I stared at him disbelievingly, yet he still hadn t removed his stupid hand from my now suffocating hip.

"I can't put my arm around a cute girl that's obsessed with me without having my motives questioned?" Smirk.

Okay, Trish, you're allowed to pop up now and say that I ve been Punk'd, go ahead.

"No, you can't." I turned my head to see that he's enjoying this whole "annoy the heck out of Ally just for kicks" game. "And I'm not obsessed with you." I added with a scoff.

He looked strangely taken aback and let out a deep exhale. "And why can't I?" His hand still hadn't moved the slightest bit. I tried to think of a witty comeback; usually one was sitting, waiting on my tongue to be flung to its victim. And usually this was where Austin would be walking away with his head down signifying his defeat. But this was something new to me, I didn't know what was safe to say and what was not. In other words, this was uncharted territory and I didn't like it.

"Ah, did I really leave the Ally Dawson speechless?" He lowered his head to mumble the last word in my ear making the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand up. No way was I going to let him win this.

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Do you think you're smooth or something?" Hand still hadn't moved from its comfortable position on me.

"Do you think I'm smooth?" Stupid question. The sides of his mouth turned up into a grin and despite the low contrast of the room, I got a good look of his glazed hazel eyes. How people find this guy so threatening is a mystery to be solved by the professionals.

I folded my arms over my chest, trying to concentrate on something other than his stupid eyes. "You must be joking. What do you want from me, anyways? A nice thirty minute booty call in the back of a concert? A female distraction from your supposed occupation of murdering people left and right?" He threw his head back in laughter at this and said in a low voice with that annoying grin still plastered on his face, "I don t want anything from you. I just find you interesting." He kept his eyes on me, waiting for my next move, waiting for this sarcastic remark cycle of a conversation to continue.

Then the last chorus of the last song was sung.

I blinked up at this boy who I couldn't seem to even somewhat figure out. Not that I cared, he can go sleep with the whole girls volleyball team and be on America's Most Wanted with someone else on his own time. The concert venue was being cleared, a good half of the people already gone.

Now his nose was perfectly parallel with the tip of my forehead, and he appeared to be inching his face closer and closer to mine. I was allured. I was mirroring his body, leaning in so that our foreheads could practically brush.

And just as our lips were only centimeters away, a man with a clipboard and bullhorn turned towards us, glaring. "Go home, everyone, the concert's over - make out somewhere else, delinquents," he shouted, trying to mutter the last part, with his voice still enhanced by the megaphone. The noise was so abrupt, piercing into our "moment", thank God, that Austin and I bumped foreheads, the pain immediate and nearly excruciating.

Despite the fact that we both backed away a few inches, rubbing our temples, I could see a smirk being worn by Austin - was that look permanent? "What?" I bit out, presenting him with one of my best glares, daring him to say something about what just happened.

To my annoyance, he only smiled at this. "Nothing," he said easily, nodding his head towards the clipboard man, who was now angrily making his way back towards us. "Come on, let's get out of here before megaphone blows his top."

I nodded, and a few minutes later, we were standing outside of the venue, entering the parking lot which by now, was nearly abandoned. I glanced up at Austin, who instead of wearing his typical smirk, was smiling easily, glancing at our surroundings, as if taking in the moment. "Well, see you, I guess," I mumbled, admittedly, a bit awkwardly. But, hey, what else was I supposed to say? I started off in the direction of my car, only to hear footsteps behind me, matching mine. I glanced over my shoulder, noticing that Austin was just a few steps behind me. "Why are you following me?" I asked, exhaling deeply as I spun around.

And his trademarked smirk makes yet another appearance. "Who says I'm following you?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow. "Did you ever think that my car could be parked over here, as well?"

"Is it?" I countered, shooting him a pointed look.

His hand went to the back of his neck, but only briefly, before that casual smile came back. "Well, no," he admitted, and I, forgetting about not caring about this boy, grinned and did a small victory dance. This made him chuckle, and I quickly dropped back into my act of indifference. "Dawson, I know you're not that naive - you and I are both aware that bad things can happen at this time of night in parking lots. And no matter how irritating we find each other, if something bad did happen to you tonight, and I didn't do my best to prevent it, it wouldn't sit well with me."

I let my guard down a second, even going as far as letting out a quiet aww for his short speech of sorts, before realizing what I was doing, and righting myself. "And how do I know that you won't be the one performing these so called acts of injustice in this very parking lot?" I asked. And the witty comebacks have returned - better late than never.

Moon rolled his eyes, a grin plastered on his face as he began walking off in the direction of my car, keeping his eyes locked on me for a few unnecessary seconds. "Because I'm not that kind of guy," he said, and something in his tone made me silently believe him. "Are you coming?" I glanced up to see that he was now several paces ahead of me, and hustled to catch up. The rest of the walk to my car was silent - I wouldn't call it comfortable, but surprisingly, it wasn't awkward either.

When we finally reached my old, beat up Honda, Austin gave a low whistle, gesturing towards it. "Nice Porsche," he joked, and I couldn't fight the smile that formed on my face immediately afterwards. So much for this whole stone-cold guard not being let down.

"Hey, it may not be brand new, but it has character," I said, defending my prized combination of scrap metal and used auto parts. I remembered his own washed out vehicle from earlier this morning. "Besides, yours isn't much of a step up."

"So, you were checking out my car," he mused, raising a suggestive eyebrow. Lowering his head a bit, he whispered into my ear, "I knew you were obsessed with me." With that, he pulled back, contently smiling, before sending me yet another coy wink. "Catch you later, Dawson." If we were in a movie, I swear, this would be the moment that a blink-182 song would be playing in the background. He then spun around and paced across the lot to his own car, leaving me slouching in my seat, wondering what the hell just happened.


Review, you shall. - sprinkleofgold

^ Or you will grow seven toes. -Heyitsme517