He Wrote it on a Napkin (Part 3/5), an Austin & Ally fiction
I do not own Austin & Ally. This is for 12It'sMyLife21, who's review was very helpful in figuring out what I wanted to do for this chapter. So keep them coming! And as always, requests are open.
Thoughts are still coursing through his brain. There is so much he wants to say, but now she's reached the register, and there is no way he's risking her seeing the napkin. He balances the pen on the back of his ear.
She cashes out the violin, along with a few other people who have formed a line. He could make a break for the practice room. There he could write and she wouldn't know. But she's struggling to take care of all the customers, and he'd be a bad friend if he didn't help her out.
If he wants to prove to he'd make a good boyfriend, he has to be a good friend first. It doesn't matter how romantic his song is. If he wants to win her over, he has to be the full package. Cute, sweet, talented and helpful.
He knows that she thinks he's sweet. He's always bringing her bubble gum after lunch. His grandma had sent him a tub of Dubble Bubble for his birthday. He loves her to pieces, but she isn't the best when it comes to buying presents. He's still trying to convince her that socks are not a sufficient Christmas present.
So when he found himself stuck with 380 pieces of bubble gum, he decided to share. He had watched with amazement as her tongue worked the gum, blowing a bubble. It was so big all he could see was her eyes peeking out behind it. She looked so cute and innocent. He'd been giving her bubble gum ever since.
One of these days it's going to pop and get stuck in her hair. And then he'll be upset, because she has really pretty hair.
If he's being honest, it's not just her hair he finds pretty.
He knows that she thinks he's talented. Otherwise she wouldn't keep writing him songs. Songs that he's jealous of, because she makes it look like it's the easiest thing in the world.
He's been working all day, and all he has to show for it is two measly verses.
Two measly verses that he worked his butt off for and thinks are pretty fantastic.
For him anyway.
It doesn't matter if they're perfect. It matters if they're from his heart. He knows Ally, and he knows that's all that'll matter.
It still doesn't make it any easier to write this darn song.
He hasn't a clue if she thinks he is cute. He's caught those lingering looks sometimes.
It's probably his imagination. There's nothing beyond friendship in those looks. Nothing that says, 'wow, Austin really is a stud muffin.'
For one, it's not in her vocabulary to say 'stud muffin.'
For another, he'd rather not get compared to a muffin. If anything, he's a cupcake. A fun, sugar rushed cupcake.
Not some bran filled, boring old muffin.
He shakes the bag open. She slides in the headphones.
See, he's helpful too. He can hit all four parts of her quotient. And every other factor, because he's sure it's more than these basics. She's a complex girl, and she's not going to settle. It's one of the things he loves about her. She's not one of those stupid pretty girls that he has to explain his jokes to or talk down to. That's not to say all girls he likes are like that. But with Ally, he can hold a conversation and she can hold her own. She isn't afraid to disagree and push his buttons.
As much as he'd rather not admit it, he likes when she pushes his buttons.
If things were always easy, where would be the fun in it? She's a challenge. One that he hopes to succeed at. There's no room for failure.
Or if there is, he hopes that it is locked, and that the key is thrown somewhere far, far away where nobody can unlock the door and let it out. Because unlike crushes, love can break a heart.
Sure, a crush can create a crack. Love on the other hand, well, that's a different story. It's like taking a sledgehammer to his heart and letting the pieces shatter to the floor.
There's no way he could ever fix that.
(the page breaks here)
Trish comes into the store, followed by Dez. Shopping bags line his arms.
"You're having him carry your bags?" Ally asks, accepting the offered piece of bubble gum.
"Those aren't my bags. I just ran into him on my way here." She sits down on the bench.
Dez drops all the bags in a heap on the floor. "You could have helped, y'know."
She stretches out and lies on her back.
"Are you kidding me? I've been on my feet all day!" Her feet flex, just enough to accidentally kick him. He gives her a dirty look.
To think, she actually kept her job. Normally she would have been fired or quit by now.
"I'm impressed Trish. You survived the sale and kept your job."
"Oh no," she explains. "I quit. But it was so crowded I couldn't get out and had to stand around waiting until the crowd cleared."
Ally smiles. Then, taking a few final chews, she puckers her lips and blows a bubble.
One of these days, those lips are going to pucker, and he's going to steal the chance while he can.
He may have to steal her gum while he's at it.
No, he doesn't think he will. He doesn't want things to move too fast. A bit faster than this though, that'd be nice. He's been stuck on this friend-ship for far too long, and he'd like to disembark.
He'd be happy to captain the relation-ship. Provided she was on board of course.
Except for now, as far as he knows, she's not on board with the idea. So here he stays, on this friend-ship, with his life jacket ready in case she decides to take the plunge.
The bubble bursts. She reaches for the garbage can.
It's always the same routine. Chew, blow, pop and trash. She's chewed and blown and popped, and now she wants to trash. Except he's staring at her. And she can't just pluck it out of her mouth with her fingers because they've run out of hand sanitizer and she can't leave the store to wash her hands. She needs to spit it out, as it is getting stale.
"Could you look away? This isn't the most attractive thing to watch," she tells him.
She could be scratching poison ivy and he'd find it attractive. (Which it was when they went camping earlier this summer and she had chased him down as he ran away with her book, straight through the patch. Not their greatest moment.)
Still, he humors her, covering his eyes. He hears the gum wad hit the bottom of the waste basket. He waits for permission to open his eyes.
She takes his wrists, removing his hands from his eyes.
"You could've just told me I could uncover my eyes."
"I did, but you didn't hear me. You were thinking about that girl again."
"Dude, you told her about that?" Dez asks, eyes wide.
Austin comes out from behind the counter.
"She caught me writing a love song about the girl." He raises his eyebrows at Dez. He hopes he catches the hint.
"Oh," he responds. He winks very obviously.
Ally looks at him questionably. But a customer comes up to the counter and diverts her attention.
They wait for her. She keeps sending asking glances to Austin. He tries to ignore them, nervously running his hand through his hair. He knocks the pen off his ear.
It clatters to the ground.
He bends down to pick it up, her eyes following him. He's body starts to tingle.
Is it getting hot in here, or is it just him?
(the page breaks here)
Austin's dad come to pick him and Dez up at the end of the day. Usually they walk, but there are way too many bags to lug to his house. They get crammed into the trunk. Some have to be put in the backseat.
"Shotgun!" Dez cries, sliding in next to Mr. Moon.
He doesn't argue. He just slides into the back, pushing aside a bag to buckle himself in. He reaches into the center console for a pen.
They back out of the parking space. "Dez, would you like to hear about the history of bunk beds?"
"Finally!" He's been waiting to find out. He leans back as the story begins.
Austin takes the free time to write. He pulls the napkin out of his pocket, flipping it over.
Well you can call it a crush, but it isn't the same
Cause when it comes to you, it isn't a game
My heart you did steal, that is how I know it's real
There's not another who can make me feel
The room get hotter by one hundred degrees
I swear I wasn't one to wobble my knees
Super suave and confident, that's not me anymore
So quit tugging at my heart strings, cause they're getting sore
"Do you need a hand with those?" his dad asks. They've reached Dez's house.
"I'll help him," Austin offers, shoving the napkin in his pocket.
The bridge: complete.