A/N: Oh my GOSH, 17 reviews in less than a week?! Y'all are amazing. I'm sooo glad you like this. :)

Disclaimer: Lyrics used are from "Heels Over Head" by Boys Like Girls. I own Shay, Lizzy, Ty, and my plot. Nothing else.

Note2: I'm currently listening to "Dark Blue" by Jack's Mannequin, which I adore. It is so awesome.

Chapter Two
"In Which Shay Pretends To Be Straight"

It was now Saturday, and I was forcing myself out of bed. (I really liked to sleep in. There's just not much appeal in waking up on a Saturday morning for no good reason. Of course, now I had a reason—I had to get Shay to show me where Tommy would be, the little stalker.)

Anyway, the light was shining in through the windows of the bedroom the three of us shared, and I was half-dead, or, if you would rather call it, half-asleep.

Of course, if I'm going to be awake, so is Shay. I grab my pillow and beam Shay over the head with it. Shay groaned and pulled his own pillow over his head. He was lying on his stomach. I've always wondered how he managed to sleep like that without suffocating. "Shayla! Up!" I hit him with the pillow again. He whimpered pathetically. "C'mon, you gotta show me where Tommy is!"

I got no response. "Shay, don't make me hide your straightener again."

Shay shot up so fast that his covers tangled around him and caused him to fall to the floor with a thud. Seeing that he wasn't hurt, I laughed at him. What a dork! Shay was rather clumsy at times. He had been known to trip over the shoelaces of his Vans. (…Vans don't have shoelaces. See my point?)

Finally pulling out of my giggling fit, I offered Shay my hand and yanked him to his feet. I reached out my other hand and messed up his hair playfully.

"Stop," he whined, swatting my hand away. "It's hard enough that you're waking me up, but now you're gonna screw with my hair? Low, Harrison."

I grinned at him. "It's your fault for stalking Tommy, Shay. I can't help it if I need you!"

"I do not stalk him," Shay grumbled, crossing his arms. I raised an eyebrow at him. He sighed and unfolded his arms. "I stalk one of his friends, who is a hot piece of (arse)."

I giggled, "Tommy Q can wait—who's his friend?"

Shay smiled dreamily and said, "He looks just like Ryan." (Shay had a strange obsession with Ryan Ross. One of the many things we had in common.) "His name's Ty. He's got these, like, huge brown eyes and really soft looking brown hair and he's so poetic and he plays guitar, and he's in my music class and—" The smile crumpled. "—he's totally straight."

I scoffed, "Like that's ever stopped you before."

This was true—since the two of us had come to school (earlier, in the first week of June), Shay had, ah, helped quite a few guys on campus figure out their, erm, sexuality. I, on the other hand, had not been able to get one guy to ask me out.

Anyway, the point is that no guy is completely straight in the presence of Shay. He just had to push them a bit to make them realize it.

Shay's smile was back as he hugged me. "Thanks, Jude. You're the best."

Then he ran off to get ready.

The first day I met Shay is a day that I doubt I'll ever forget.

I walked into the housing office, annoyed because I didn't have a place to stay. (My original roommate, Kat something, had had someone hack the rooming map and switch me out of it. Btch.)

"Excuse me?" I called, glancing around the room. The only person in there was a gorgeous emo boy flipping through a Spin magazine with Panic! at the Disco on the cover. He looked up at me as I looked around helplessly. "They'll be back in a minute," he said, his voice carrying a slight lit that vaguely reminded me of Marco Delrossi. He paused and then rolled his eyes. "At least that's what they told me two fuh-riggin' hours ago. I mean, dmn, if the girl's gonna bang the dude to get a different roommate, she should do it on her own time."

I was a bit surprised that this guy was talking to me, but he seemed all right, so I sat down beside him. From this angle, I could see that the magazine was open to the first page of the Panic! article. "I love them," I said quietly, without really thinking.

He grinned at me, teeth and lip rings gleaming. "They're awesome," he said, eyes twinkling. "What's your favorite song?"

Without hesitation, I replied, "'Time To Dance'."

"Me too!" He was very excitable, that was for sure. "Have you read Invisible Monsters?"

"Yes!" Okay, maybe I was a bit excitable as well. "It's one of my favorite books!"

"Mine too! Brandy Alexander is just the most amazing character ever."

We babbled about Invisible Monsters for a while, excited to find another fan, before finally switching the topic to why we're here.

"My dad didn't want me in the dorms," he said, rolling his eyes again. "He was like, 'Shane, you don't need to be rooming with other guys. Just use this money and rent a house or something.' So, now I get to live by myself twenty minutes off campus, which really sucks."

"Why doesn't he want you rooming with other guys?" I asked, completely confused.

"Cuz I'm gay," he explained, "and he doesn't like it. That's why I'm here so early—my dad made me leave."

"Ugh, welcome to the club," I replied, getting over the shock of his first few words. "My parents kicked me out the day after my eighteenth. I'm just lucky to get a full ride."

"That really sucks," he nodded. We were silent for a moment before he burst, "Hey—I have a way to solve both of our problems!"

"And what would that be?"

"Well, you need a place to stay and I need a roommate! You could stay with me, if you want." He seemed very excited about this idea.

"I don't know your name," I said as a reply. I trusted him, yeah, but I'd only known him for like, forty-five minutes.

"Oh, duh. I'm totes rude," he said, smiling again. He held out his hand, which I shook. "I'm Shane Morgans, like, Shane McFarland but not, but you can just call me Shay."

I giggled. "Like the rapper?"

Shay giggled a bit as well. (Yep, he was definitely straight as a circle.) "He's fine," he said, smirking. "But not as fine as my first love." He held up his magazine and tapped a black and white picture of Ryan Ross.

"I'm Jude," I told him, realizing I hadn't introduced myself either. "Jude Harrison."

"Like the Beatles song?"

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, like the Beatles song."

"So, Miss Jude Harrison, would you like a place to stay?"

"That I would, Mr. Shay Morgans, that I would."

"Okay, let's go," Shay said, now in present time. He tilted his head to one side and looked at me strangely. "What's wrong?"

Give me remembrance.

Flash.

Give me nostalgia.

Flash.

"Huh? Nothing. Why?"

Shay shrugged. "You were spaced out. Like…majorly."

"Meh, whatever. I was just thinking. Nice shirt," I added as an afterthought.

He was wearing a slim-fit black t-shirt that said "You are cordially invited to go screw yourself" on the front in white, cursive-like text. I was gonna have to borrow that from him one day.

"Heh…it was going to be your birthday present, but then I realized that 'oh four dash oh nine' meant April 9th, not September 4th, so…" He paused and shook his head, his now-straightened hair swooshing around with it. "Mmkay, so, like I said, let's go."

Lizzy would normally be coming with us on something as crazy as this, but she had an early lecture on Saturdays. (Oh, well, sucks to be her.)

I grabbed my camera—a Canon SRL 20d, my most prized possession—and followed Shay out of our small house. (And yes, I say "our"—the three of us split the rent, after all.)

It was, as Shay had mentioned that first day, a twenty minute drive from the house to the school and the small college town surrounding it. Thankfully, all three of us had cars, so our conflicting schedules didn't make anyone late.

Now, me and Shay got into his Mercedes, Shay driving, me in the passenger seat, and Shay shoved the keys into the ignition. Immediately, the stereo started blasting "Heels Over Head" by Boys Like Girls. Shay and I sang along, loud and obnoxious, our windows rolled down to increase our annoying factor. We drove down the road belting, "Now I'm heels over head! I'm hanging upside down! Thinking how you left me for dead, California-bound!"

It was always like this—Shay was my twin when it came to musical taste. He loved the same obscure, underrated bands no one's ever heard of, as I do, and that—well, that's a first. He's the first person I've met that hasn't said, "The Academy Is…what?" or "Boys like girls? Uh, unless they like guys?"

Anyway, it was a pretty mild day here. Sunny, breezy, just warm enough, and peacefully quiet. Well, except for me and Shay being btches and ruining that quiet thing with our screaming, of course.

I remember Shay mentioning that some guy in his music class had overheard me singing and had loved it. I had gone red as a rose—my voice was really nothing special at all. I just like to sing; that didn't make me good at it.

"Here we are!" Shay exclaimed two songs later, pulling into a parking lot of a movie theater. "They're gonna be seeing some movie here around now…"

I did not bother asking how he knew this—it was like our pasts…you didn't bring it up. You just assumed that Shay knew because he's…well, he's Shay and he knows everything about everyone everywhere.

We walked into the theater after I had placed my camera in my purse. (There was no need to look suspicious, eh?)

Sure enough, three guys were hanging out by the doors to the main theaters. One of them was a guy with darker skin and black hair that was cut close to his scalp. His last name was West, and his first name was Kyle or Kory or something with a 'K'. Everyone just calls him Kwest.

The second guy was the guy Shay had told me about—Ty. It was insanely freakish how much he looked like Ryan Ross—if it weren't for his lack of eyeliner and pinstripes, I would probably have run up for an autograph. As it was, I refrained from doing so.

The last guy was him—Tom Quincy. He had short, styled brown hair and blue eyes that were piercing me from here, even when he was not looking my way. He wore normal jeans, a white t-shirt, and a leather bomber jacket. His image screamed "bad boy", but for some reason, his smile made me think differently. He was beyond hot.

"I'll go get us tickets," Shay said before disappearing off to the ticket booth.

Knowing Shay, he would probably get us into the same theater as Tommy, Kwest, and Ty. It was a bit strange that he knew all of this stuff, but it did come in handy.

While I waited for Shay to come back, I walked over to the concession counter and bought a medium popcorn, a small Coke, and a small Sprite. By the time the bimbo behind the counter—her nametag read "Eden"—finally got my order to me, Shay was standing beside me again, repeatedly poking me just below my ribcage on my side.

"So what're we going to be watching?" I asked as we back away from the counter. "Or, what're they watching, I should ask."

"Hannibal Rising," Shay said, cringing a bit. Both of us stopped, looked at each other, looked at Tommy and Co., and shuddered. Neither of us were big fans of gore.

Oh, well…you gotta do what you gotta do. I'm sure we would survive.

"Hey, Shay!"

Ty was waving over at us. I raised an eyebrow at Shay, smirking slightly. "I didn't know that you've talked to him," I whispered.

Shay's pale face was now tinted with pink. "Heh…I didn't mention that we're kind of friends?" He waved the straightest wave I've ever seen him wave.

"Uh, nope."

Ty walked up to us, smiling under his tan pageboy hat. "Hey! 'Sup, man?"

"Not much, dude."

I raised my eyebrow even higher. Shay was acting not-Shayish. It was so…strange.

"Are you Shay's girlfriend?" Ty asked me. I blinked at Shay, not quite sure what to say.

"No, dude, this is Jude, one of my roommates," Shay answered, to my relief.

"Oh! So you're the Almighty Jude," Ty said, smiling even wider. "Shay never shut up about you!"

"Ha, really?" I wasn't looking at him, as cute as he was. I was giving Shay a 'why are you faking? We're gonna talk about this later, boy PLEASE' look. Shay shot me a look in return.

Give me guilt, baby.

Flash.

Give me shame.

Flash.

Give me need.

Flash.

"So, what're you guys seeing?"

Shay flashed up our tickets, bring a surprised look from Ty. "Whoa—dude, you're going to see Hannibal?"

Shay nodded, a hint of smugness coming in. "Yeah, it looked good. Silence of the Lambs was pretty awesome."

"I love that movie," Ty replied. "Hey—you guys can come sit with us!"

Shay's face lit up. "Okay!"

So this, my friends, is how I ended up sitting between Shay and—you guessed it—Tommy, watching some guy eat people. Un. Be. Lievable.

I never did well with scary movies. Back before my dad had "toured his travel agent" (to quote my mother), leading to their divorce, he had taken me to all sorts of scary movies. Slash flicks were always the worse.

I let out a gasp and grabbed the hand closest to mine—Tommy's. Oops. He glanced over at me, raising an eyebrow in my direction. I quickly moved my hand, blushing. (Strange, though, how my hand suddenly felt so cold.) For once, I was glad for the darkness—he couldn't see how dark my face had surely become.

"Don't like scary movies?" he asked me, amusement clear in his voice.

"No…don't like scary movies," I replied in a whisper. (Neither, just for the record, did Shay, who was cutting off circulation to my other hand while pretending to Ty that it didn't bother him.)

Tommy then did something that surprised me—he took my hand and squeezed it. "It's not so bad once you realize how fake it is," he said quietly. "I mean, look—do you really think that there's some French guy with a British accent running around eating people?"

This made me laugh softly. "No—no, probably not." It did seem rather ridiculous now that I really thought about it. Suddenly the movie was insanely cheesy.

This didn't really help Shay, though, who was staring straight at the screen, somehow managing to bite his lip, rings and all. His eyes were huge, and he flinched every time something bad happened. Maybe that'll teach him to be something he's not. It only gets you unable to freak out, which scares you even more.

The movie ended a while later, and Shay let go of my hand. As I was about to stand up, I realized that Tommy had not.

Give me confusion.

Flash.

Give me some happiness I'm unable to describe.

Flash.

A/N: THERE IS YOUR CHAPTER! WOOT!