a/n: The chapters get longer as the story goes. Anyways, thank you so much for the first reviews :)
You're My Favorite Song
by overdramatical
"What the hell are you doing?!" Sierra scolded me once we walked out of the apartment.
Actually, even I didn't know how to answer that. But knowing Sierra, I would need to give her an answer -and fast. You see, this whole entire misunderstanding was just a mistake in the universe. I guess fate decided one day that Shane Gray was going to be hit by a crappy, old Honda (owned by yours truly) since his conceited mind thought that traffic would stop for him. Apparently, Shane was wrong, and fate was trying to find more ways to torture me.
Sierra and I were horrified when we felt the jolt. And we were even more pain stricken once we hurried outside to see the poor victim I hit. God, why did it have to be Shane Gray out of all the men in the world? Please answer this question right now.
As I heard my heart pound erratically while I stared at Shane's practically lifeless body, I could just see how this was going to end up. Shane was somehow going to send me and Sierra into prison for at least ten years, making sure that we would never get to see the light of day for a very, very long time. I didn't need another reason for my parents to hate me for not attending college. I didn't need another reason to make Broadway regret taking me in without any real experience.
I immediately told Sierra to help me grab him, and we pulled him into the backseat. Luckily, there were no cars there at the time. (Thank God.) We were at the corner of the street, a complete dead end. I never thought I would be so happy for all of those stupid, oblivious people in the world whom normally irritated me.
And as of right now, I have a bratty celebrity on my couch who doesn't remember a single thing.
So what the hell am I doing, really?
I bit my lip nervously, taking one quick glance behind me before giving my friend a helpless look. "I was panicking, okay? I didn't know what I was saying. I just had to tell him that we were dating in order to save our butts. You see, the real Shane Gray would brutally murder us the moment he recovers his memory. But this one is actually nice. If we nurse him back to health, he wouldn't have the heart to sue us even when he does get his memory back." I explained, even though I somehow made that all up on the spot.
Sierra frowned at me. She gave me that frustrated look, her way of admitting that I was being reasonable. "I know your idea is pretty good ..but why did you have to say that you were dating him?!" She whined.
I rolled my eyes and let out a frustrated sigh. Of course she would be arguing over this instead of how we're going to keep Shane clueless for the longest time possible. It's sad to say that she is my Connect 3 obsessing friend who should really move onto better taste of music instead of those pathetic pop singers in skinny jeans.
"I was just thinking on the spot. Plus, if I would have said that you were dating him, then he would be really suspicious to why you freak out whenever you're in his presence or why you ask to touch him so often." I replied.
"Pft." Sierra rolled her eyes. "I would not freak out or ask to touch him."
"Puh-lease. You just did when we were up there." I snorted, smacking her arm lightly. "Now, let's get back to the studio before Donna decides to give us hell." I said, dragging Sierra back to our work.
Broadway.
Yes, I've finally managed to get onto Broadway. When I graduated high school, I was accepted to Julliard for my voice, but I felt like Broadway was calling me. Instead of going to college like my parents would have liked, I went straight to Broadway (to their utter disappointment), and with luck, I managed to get a key role. Sierra, on the other hand, works backstage. She doesn't like the spotlight -or any light for the matter- and so she works with Donna, our director, and has a part time job at a coffee shop.
"If we tell her our story then maybe she'll be more understanding-"
"No! We cannot tell her or anybody what's going on! If we do then it's bound to get out, and someone is going to have our heads!" I whispered in a terrified tone. I pulled Sierra closer as we neared the building. "This stays between you and me, okay?"
"Fine, fine." Sierra promised with another eye roll. "But only if you let me visit everyday! You have a freaking celebrity in your room! And it's Shane Gray!" She squealed as quietly as she could.
"Yes, every American tween's dream husband is locked in my room. Now shh! We're here." I said.
"Where the hell have you two been?" Donna asked. She eyed us curiously with a glare, like she had every intention of making us cower. "You're two hours late. I don't know where you two were raised, but in New York, that is way too late. Now get your asses to work or else you two will never see these red curtains ever again." She threatened, pointing at the stage.
Sierra and I scurried to our usual positions in an instant. Broadway may be amazing, but Donna is a downright bitch.
As we were rehearsing for the umpteenth time, my cell phone began to ring, blasting out the annoying, "Pick up the damn phone!" ring-tone and distracting every person on stage. They all turned to me, half of them amused and the other half annoyed. I gave them an innocent look before I hurried to my phone, ready to yell at the person whom dared to call me in the middle of an important rehearsal.
"This will just take a minute!" I promised with a lighthearted laugh.
Donna shook her head. "Forget it. Just take five, people!" She ordered, sending me an irritated glower.
"What?" I whispered into the phone furiously.
"Uh, Mitchie?"
Oh crap.
"Yeah, Shane?" I asked, my voice shaking in fear. I could feel blood rushing through my veins as my adrenaline pumped. I prayed that something terrible didn't happen. Pray, pray, pray. It's been only three hours that I've left Shane alone to himself. He couldn't have done too much damage, could he?
"I'm not sure if this is too much to ask, but could you get me something to eat possibly? I mean, I checked your fridge, and all you have is leftover take-out. Don't you have ..lobster or something?" Shane asked.
Lobster? Okay, clueless or not, this guy is still a spoiled brat.
"No, I can't even afford lobster, Shane. Just heat something up. Don't hurt yourself though."
"Sorry, sorry. I don't even know why I even asked for lobster." He chuckled. "Don't worry about me. The pain isn't ..agonizing anymore, that's for sure. You made me feel all better, Mitch." He said sweetly.
I was horrified to hear a giggle escape my lips.
What was this? Were my heartstrings actually getting pulled by this jerk of a popstar? No wonder people say that he's 'irresistible'. (Or at least that's what Sierra claims.) How in the world does Shane Gray of all men manage to make me, the world's biggest pop-culture hater, giggle. Isn't he, like, the leader of pop-culture? His face is on every single thing you could possibly print your face on whenever I go to Target, the Internet and TV basically talks about nothing but him and his stupid band, and he's ruining good music. I'd hate to admit it, but if Shane Gray could make me giggle (I am so ashamed.), then he is the perfect definition for irresistible.
"I gotta get back to rehearsal. People are getting impatient. I'll be home in an hour." I informed, trying my very best to fight up an upcoming blush.
"Okay, can't wait."
And you know what the scary part was? I could feel Shane smiling on the other line, grinning like a fool stricken with love. You could say that I was kind of spazzing out on some degree. I mean, we weren't in middle school anymore, now are we? And Shane -well apparently, I knocked a few years back into him because he's acting like an idiot who's dealing with his very first relationship. Knowing these rockstar wannabes, I'm sure that this is not his first relationship, emotional or sexual.
I hung up with a shiver running down my spine. Well that was definitely uncomfortable. And awkward.
"What was that?" Sierra whispered.
"Mr. Popstar called me. He's hungry." I said with a silent groan.
"Well, I wouldn't blame him. You practically have no food in your house. That fridge is just a waste of space." Sierra chuckled.
"Oh, ha-ha." I laughed sarcastically. "I'll just stop by the grocery store and then cook him something when I get home."
"Ooh! Can I come over! Please?" Sierra begged.
"No, you have your shift to work. I don't want you fired because a stupid guy is breathing in my living room. Just come tomorrow morning. If I survive by that time, that is." I frowned.
"You act as if Shane is a terrible person. Did you see the way he comforted you when you were 'crying'? By the way, props to the fake tears, Mitchie. You're getting better at acting everyday. I almost believed it myself." She complimented.
"Thanks. Good thing he bought it, though, or else we would have been faced with even more questions." I sighed in relief.
"Well you better get finishing with your rehearsal. Shane is waiting for his girlfriend to bring his food back." Sierra snorted.
"You over the fact that I said we were dating?" I smiled hoping she'd say yes so her complaints would finally cease.
"Pft no. But I realized that I would much rather date Jason." Sierra smirked.
I rolled my eyes and scoffed. "Oh dear God, why is my best friend an obsessive freak who worships a lame pop band?" I asked, looking up at the ceiling.
"You know you love me." She winked before skipping off back to the director's assistant's seat, right besides Bitchy Donna.
I walked through my front door quietly, carrying a handful of newly bought groceries. I don't think I've been grocery shopping since ..well, forever, I guess. (I was actually capable of getting lost like a freaking five-year-old in the most simplest grocery store ever. The front desk even offered to call my parents. That was just epically sad.) But anyways, I completed my task, and now I can cook the whiny brat his food. And yes, I can cook for your information.
"Mitchie!" Shane greeted me with a crushing hug.
"Oh -hi, Shane." I peeped awkwardly, surprised by the fact that a so-called heartless, conceited popstar was wrapping his arms around me.
"And you brought food! Sweet!" He grinned, grabbing the bags for me and bringing them to my kitchen like a gentleman. Well, attempting that is. The poor guy is still aching due to the fact that I, erm, hit him with a car. I swiftly grabbed the heaviest bags and pulled them onto the kitchen counter. I smiled at him as he frowned, his manhood pride probably throbbing for a moment. Hey, I'm just concerned. Shouldn't he be in bed? Hello -people who get hit by cars stay in bed!
"You hungry?" I asked with a cheesy grin brushing off his saddened face.
I swear I think he has ADD, because he immediately, and enthusiastically might I add, lunged himself into the plastic bags. "Let's see what you got. Mac and cheese, a bottle of Mountain Dew, chicken, ketchup, bread, PP&J, and -salt and vinegar chips! Score! You rock, baby." He smiled.
Baby? Did he just call me baby? Normally, I would have slapped any douche whom dared to call me 'baby', 'babe', 'hot stuff', or any towards that category, but seeing that innocent and, dare I say it, lovesick look on Shane's face prevented me from even glaring at him. It was almost like he really loves me.
Which he most certainly doesn't.
He's just ..confused. He doesn't know what he's saying or doing. I'm sure the real Shane Gray would never act this way. He lost his memory, remember?
And gross. Just the thought of Shane Gray loving you .. Oh gag me.
"Yeah, just let me cook you the goods, and you'll be well fed in about thirty minutes." I forced a smile.
"Sounds cool. Oh by the way, where is your TV? I've been looking for it the whole day." Shane said. "And you have no freaking idea how painful it is to walk around this place, looking for a damn television set." He added with a raised eyebrow.
"Oh ..sorry to disappoint you, but I don't have a TV." I frowned apologetically. Don't mock me. It's not my fault I can't afford it. If you have a rent and all these stupid bills to pay, you'd understand why I can't get a TV. Plus, I realized that this was a good thing. Shane was most likely going to appear on the news any time soon.
"You're kidding." Shane said, wide-eyed. I simply shook my head in return. "Whoa, that's sad. But you have Internet, right?"
"Yeah -no." I quickly changed my answer. If Shane gets onto the Internet, there's bound to be news about a missing Shane Gray by tomorrow morning. I so do not need him barging in through my door, demanding an explanation to why his name is all over the Internet, and why everyone is saying that he's gone 'missing'.
"No?"
"Yes."
"Yes!"
"No!"
"No?"
"Yes -don't start with me, Shane." I warned.
"Why don't you have Internet? Doesn't every teenager have access to Internet?" He asked, trying to hide that boyish grin of his.
"Teenager? I am a technically an adult." I said.
"Eighteen is hardly an adult." Shane smirked.
"I'm almost nineteen for your information! And it's not like you're an honorary adult either! How old are you actually?!"
"I'm -well, I honestly don't know. How old am I?" Shane asked.
And it took me a whole lot of self-control not to say, 'Ten years old the most.' Really, he's acting like a ten-year-old ..or five.
"I don't know." I shrugged lamely.
"Well aren't we dating? Shouldn't you know this stuff?" Shane asked, almost incredulously even.
Shit!
"Unless we just started dating." Shane shrugged.
Phew.
"But still, shouldn't you still know this kind of information?"
Damn it! Pick a side, Gray!
"Of course I know how old you are." I laughed as if I was joking all along. "You're .." If only Sierra was here to help me. She would be able to tell me everything about Shane, from his birthday to what his favorite brand of shoe is. "You're young." I nodded pathetically. WTF?! You're young?! That's the best you could think of, Torres?!
"I can see that." Shane said suspiciously.
"You're .. you're hungry, and if you're still talking to me, you'll starve to death." I quickly (and stupidly) saved myself. "I'll start cooking now."
"Okaaay? But I still would like to know my age. Or who my parents are. Or how we were even a couple in the start." He listed, hovering over me as I started the macaroni and cheese.
"You're, uh, twenty." I guessed. He does look twenty, doesn't he? "And you have never spoken to me about your parents, which I'm not sure why, but I respect your privacy." Nice save, Mitchie. "And we met .." in front of my car, you unconscious and me hyperventilating and worrying whether I killed you or not, "right here in New York." Okay, that sounds decent enough.
"That was, uh, vague." Shane said, clearly not liking my failed attempt of an answer. "Tell me how I asked you out. Or why I even chose to ask you out."
"Do you ever shut up or do you just keep on asking questions?" I asked while hiding the fact that I was offended. Why wouldn't he ask me out?! There's nothing wrong with me!
"God, are you always this moody?"
I took in a deep, long sigh, trying my very best to calm down, so I wouldn't have to explode on pretty boy over here. "Can you please wait in the living room until I'm done?" I asked. I even batted my eye lashes sweetly for him.
Shane rolled his eyes but smiled at me. "Okay, fine." He gave up.
And he kissed my forehead before heading back to the living room.
I blushed once again as I tried to concentrate on finishing the macaroni and cheese.
I thought dealing with Shane was going to be hard. I'm sad to say that I was right.