Hello dear readers of this story! Are you liking it so far?

Here is chapter three—well, two, if you don't count the prologue. Please do review at the end, and furthermore, enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own anything in the story, therefore you cannot sue me. Your argument is invalid.


They had a dance every year at Marino High. Every January.

It wasn't, like, prom or anything. It was something that probably wouldn't even be remembered in a few years, if it weren't for the highly embarrassing photos pasted in every years' yearbook. But in the moment, in that special month, it was that type of event that really just knocked everything else out of the ballpark; the topic was shooting up in like, every single conversation Ally had had that week. She didn't give a damn who was going with who, who was wearing what, and yet she still got sucked into it all like leaf into a tornado or something.

It was just a goddamn dance.

And for her it was, frankly, depressing as hell.

In her years at Marino she had learned to come to terms with the fact that a) no one was going to ask her; b) she was a loser; and c) while the rest of the school was out partying and likely drinking their butts off, she was curling up in a corner, drinking warm milk and snuggling with her pajamas.

Because that was how it went. Every. Goddamn. Year.

Okay, well. Not every year. She had gone once, in her ninth grade year. With Austin. His date had bailed on him half an hour before they were set to leave ("sick," she had been coughing into the phone) and the puppy dog thing he did with those eyes when he pleaded her to go with him instead…well.

And maybe she'd enjoyed herself.

A little. A lot.

Even though she was boycotting dances on principle. And really, it was fun with Austin, laughing and teasing and hyper from their giggles, like they were writing a song drunk or something (Ally had never been drunk, but she assumed that was what it felt like). They'd even danced once. And maybe even that hadn't been so bad. Honestly.

Fact was, they had been friends. Just friends. Frankly just.

But now…god, the boy had jumped at the chance to take his new girlfriend to the biggest thing of the year.

"I don't know," she'd replied nervously when he asked her to go with him. Then (looking back it was totally stupid excuse) she'd been like "I'm not…like…a dance person." Honestly, what was she supposed to say? Yeah, no, you're awesome and all, but I'm going to have to abandon you in this. She didn't want to do that to him.

"Aw, come on." He had taken her hand—her left one—in his own (he had those ridiculously big hands. He kind of ended up completely engulfing hers with his fingers) and stared into her eyes. Like he was trying to open up a window into her soul or something.

Oh no. Not the puppy dog eyes. Hell no.

Nonononononononono—too late.

She had given in, reluctantly, and he had whooped and kissed her forehead and it sort of broke her heart—like, how happy he was. She didn't really know why. She was pretty sure happiness wasn't actually supposed to be allowed to break hearts.

And now, two hours before this dance, she was sitting on her bed. Staring at her feet (she thought she had ugly feet). In front of her—on her dresser—her planned outfit was staring back at her, dangling neatly from a plastic coathanger she had hung up on a knob. It was a pretty outfit. Blue, and short. A little silvery. Simple (Trish had somewhat restrained herself when they were picking it out).

She loved her dress. But she felt like there was something inside her bugging her not to wear it.

Why? Because she didn't want to screw up.

(She was actually really good a screwing up. It was a life skill of hers.)

Austin…this whole thing with him. The relationship. The being-one stuff. It was just so delicate to her, and special, like she didn't want to accidentally reach out and snap it. Ruin it.

It had been a month now. Since he asked her out. They were okay.

Ally unstuck her eyes from her feet. She stood up, shuffled to her bathroom, and reluctantly plugged in her hair curler.

It was tedious work.


She was pretty sure Austin was driving this car way, way past the speed limit.

Every slam on the brakes sent her flying into her seatbelt, and as they skidded to a halt in front of a stoplight, Ally found herself questioning who the hell gave this kid his driver's license. Then she politely informed him that he stunk at driving.

"So do you," he pointed out [insert brake skidding noise]. "You asked me to drive because I'm better than you."

Ally raised her eyebrows. "I most certainly did not!" she countered (it sounded less defensive in her head. Honestly). "It's custom for the guy to bring the lady!"

"The words guy and lady don't fit in the same sentence. That's like two different time periods."

"What?"

"What?"

"You what?"

"I what what?"

"You—ah, stoplight, Austin!"

His foot collided with the brake. A sheepish-like oops rolled off his tongue as their car screeched to halt, followed by curse at the driver in front of him and an angry slap on the horn. This was a very old car, a truck, beat up and dented. Austin's parents had gotten it for him from a second-hand car thing for his…what, like, sixteenth birthday? They had refused to let him get his learner's permit before that—ah, their tenth grade year. Those few months that Ally had her permit and he didn't, which resulted in her driving him everywhere.

(Austin was a sucky biker. He needed some type of independent transportation.)

The Moons were extremely uptight people, and protective of their only son. They'd handed the keys to Austin probably twenty seconds before rethinking themselves.

She chuckled inside. They were so frightened to see their boy grow up, those Moons; somehow, she couldn't picture them letting Austin go to college before his, like, twenty-first birthday. They'd probably freak out about under-age drinking or something stupid like that.

Ally's heart skipped a beat. College.

She was eighteen in February—less than a month to go. This was her last year of high school, and graduation was in June…but after that…wow.

She'd spent most of the last year sending in college applications—Harvard, Yale, Brown, anything prestigious. She hadn't gotten any acceptance news yet; god, it the thought freaked her out and filled her up at the same time. College.

She glanced over at Austin. And realized she was probably grinning like a madman.

They could go to college together, she thought. That could be fun. They could study music…and they could room together and have classes together…and someday, the might even get married…

"Ally?" Austin's voice broke her giddy train of thought. "You okay?"

She managed to kill her smile—or at least, she hope she had—and nodded. "Fine"

"Well…" Austin cleared his throat. She noticed he almost sounded kind of nervous. "My beautiful lady, it seems we have arrived."


Would you like me to keep going with the story?

Tell me in your review—continue? Favorite part? Longer chapters? Would you like to see the dance or no? Review review review PLEASE.

Can we get 26 reviews? Come on, that's less than I got the first time. 26 reviews and I'll update.

Thanks for reading—I'm out.

~Mia