I love you all so much, I posted two in one night for the hell of it. And plus, I want to get these nonsense chapters out of the way to the story can...er, unfold, or whatever you'd like to call it.

- Veg :)


"But, girl, can't you see, there's no one more important to me; So, darling, can't you please see through me, 'cause we're alone now, and I'm singing my song for you..."

"Can you turn that off?" I ask Carlos while we're in the car. I didn't mean to sound annoyed, but apparently, I did. Carlos reaches over to turn the radio off.

"Song for You" was the same song playing when I met Brooklyn at the coffee shop on Saturday. It felt really weird hearing it again- and plus, I really needed to get her out of my head. My mind was infested with the Brooklyn plague- and trust me, it's more uncomfortable than it sounds.

"Why are you so...?" Carlos started, but couldn't think of the word to finish.

"Anxious?" James finishes for him.

"Yeah."

"I'm not anxious," I lie. Truth is, I've been thinking about this all day.

I was currently on my way to the LACHSA "Save The Music" concert, and James and Carlos were joining me. Originally, I asked Kendall to come with me, 1. Because I'd look weird going alone, and 2. Because he was the least weird one out of my three best friends. But, of course, he was busy, being the only one with a girlfriend, and my other two friends insisted on tagging along.

"Does she know you're coming?" James asks, suspiciously. I bite my lower lip, nervously.

"Uh, not exactly." Just as they've been doing all week, Carlos and James laugh at me.

"So, basically, what you're saying is that we're just gonna show up at some school we've never even heard of to go creep on your future girlfriend that beats you...and she doesn't even know you're coming?" I ignored the beginning of his question.

"Well...yeah?"

"You're stupid." For once, James was being the reasonable one.

"I know."


Today has been absolute torture- in other words, it was performance night.

"Brooklyn! Where the hell is our sheet music?" Pat shouts, clearly frustrated. Everyone was running around backstage and in the choir room like chickens with their heads cut off.

"Chill, dude," I say, mid-yawn. I tried not to stress over little things like this; theatre was a whole different story, but this performance was only for one night. "It's over in my folder on the piano." Pat was pacing back and fourth, probably trying to think of more pointless things to worry about. The kid was practically born on stage, yet he still freaks out before everything he does.

"Do you think this tie matches you enough?" He asks, holding his red tie up next to the red bow on my dress. "Should I have worn the other one?"

"PAT, SHUT THE FUCK UP. You're really annoying." Obviously, he didn't hear me.

"How many people are out there? Can you go check? I'll get all freaked out if I look, and-"

"Okay, okay- just shut up." I remove my heels, throw them on a chair, and quietly make my way backstage. I tiptoe behind the curtain, and then head down the stairs and out the side door, getting a good look at the audience. It was just how I expected it to be- huge. People were standing in the back, attempting to find empty seats. I scan the audience for anyone worth saying hi to afterward- just a bunch of kids I see everyday, some parents, and..."What the hell?" I whisper to myself.

There he was- middle section, last in the row, three rows back, sitting with two other friends I'm sure I met the other day. I wasn't really sure how to even react to the situation, so I calmly make my way back across the stage and into the choir room, where Pat was still nervously walking back and fourth. "How does it look?" He bites his lower lip as he waits for my answer. God, what a fucking diva. I just shrug, fighting my urge to mess with him.

"No bigger than any other crowd we've sung for." That seemed to calm him down.

"See anyone relatively important?" Yeah, some random guy from the coffee shop who's helping me with math decided to practically stalk me without saying anything about it.

Shut up, he's not stalking you- you hung up the fucking sign right in front of him, stupid.

"No, not really."