I would really quick like to say thanks to everyone who didn't get mad cause of my lack of updating.

...

Jo and I haven't spoken in the past two days.

And it's really bothering Kendall; I can tell from the look on his face when I make the excuse of 'having to go to work' when he tells me Jo is coming to the apartment. The truth is, I did get a job last month. But my shift doesn't begin until four, and it's only one o'clock.

As I walk idly through the mall's first floor, I can't help but want to talk to Jo; Carlos has been off with Emma for the past two days, and I really don't have anyone else to discuss things with. Usually, whenever I have a meltdown, I go either to her or Carlos; but now, with her not speaking to me, and him hanging out with his new girlfriend, I don't have anyone to talk to.

I don't like it at all.

…

There are a few good things about working at Hot Topic. Coming in first would probably have to be the loud, anti-love music and scary customers; it's almost impossible to think about what happened four months ago, and I am slowly becoming more comfortable in the small store than I am in my own home.

"Katie," my supervisor says, causing my train of thought to derail and go crashing into the floor. I snap to attention; Bradley doesn't like when I slack, and I'm terrified that he'll tell our manager. Even though he's quite the slacker himself, I don't dare say anything to him, for fear of being fired. If I didn't get to come here everyday, I'd lose my mind, so I really don't want to be trying to escape reality while standing in the unemployment line.

"Yeah?" I ask, and he raises an eyebrow at my quick answer.

He brushes his red fringe out of his eyes. "Can you go re-fold the Never Shout Never t-shirts? And then arrange them by price, okay? Thanks." Turning back to his book, Bradley takes a sip from his large coffee mug with a haughty smile on his pierced face. I grit my teeth against a million smartass remarks that pop into my brain at that moment.

"Yes, master," I mutter on my way to the t-shirt wall.

"What was that?" he asks, cocking his eyebrow again, and pursing his lips in disapproval.

"I said, 'you're a bastard'," I quip. Screw my job, I think. This is the best I've felt about myself in six months.

"Hey!" Bradley exclaims in anger. He stands up quickly, knocking over his coffee mug and swearing. I laugh on the inside, because the dark liquid is seeping into the box of leather skull belts that was delivered yesterday; the manager will almost certainly be taking that out of his pay. I make my way back over to the shirts, dreading the process of arranging them by price.

Ten minutes later, I am knee-deep in alternative band t-shirts, frantically trying to put them in order by glancing at price tags. I sift through the piles of clothing, getting all riled up and about to scream. My face is as red as a beet, and if I weren't so stressed I'd be laughing at the hopeless expression that I can picture on my features right now.

Thankfully, my phone vibrates in my pocket, saving me from this cotton hell, and I pull it out. I am happy to see that it is Logan texting me, asking if I want to play beach volleyball with Haile and himself later. I nod to myself, typing in a quick reply that accepts their offer.

I go into a sort of daze right after that, actually starting to get some work done and moving like a robot. I've been doing that a lot lately, going all KatieBot and into autopilot mode. In these dazes, much like the moments after I wake up at night, I tend to go off and think about everything that's happened in the past year, my heart stinging a bit more each time I conjure up a crystal-clear image of my former love.

After James left, my social life took a complete dive, which is probably why I'm standing knee-deep in t-shirts. I stopped going out, unless it was with one of the guys. I graduated, and many of the people I went to school with have moved on with their lives and left the Palm Woods. And now I work at a Hot Topic, with a jackass for a supervisor.

In all honesty, I'm miserable.

…

After my shift is over, I decide not to risk going home and seeing Jo, so I decide to walk around the mall. I do this a lot nowadays, even though it's probably not good for my fragile sanity to watch sickeningly-sweet couples walk around with their fingers intertwined.

I wonder around in front of the escalator, trying to decide where to go. I figure that, since I've been working for over a month now, I should treat myself. So I walk into the bright record store beside Hot Topic and peruse the shelves for some good, loud, angsty rock.

Annoyingly enough, some kid has picked up a Big Time Rush CD and left it carelessly in the rock section. I roll my eyes and toss it on the floor, trying to keep from glancing down at it every few minutes and seeing James's face. The employee who is shelving CDs a few feet away looks at me as if I've lost my mind, but I just roll my eyes and kick it under the rack behind me.

"Excuse me, miss?" the employee asks with an uneasy smile on his face. "Could you pick that up and put it in the designated place?"

I feel slightly ashamed for the childish fit I just threw, and smile at him. "Yes, I'm sorry. I've just had a…bad day." More like a bad year, my mind quips, but I pick up the CD anyways and walk over to the pop section.

As I place it carefully with the other Big Time Rush records, a hand is extended to me, and at the end of it is a CD with two bloody people on it.

"Here," the employee says. He brushes his slightly shaggy blonde hair out of his face. "This is kind of my go-to when I'm angry. Helps me get out all my rage." The emphasis he puts on the last word is hilarious, and I giggly lightly.

"Thanks," I say. "But I have this." I hand 'Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge' back to him, trying to come up with the odds of him giving me my go-to when I'm angry.

"Oh," he says, slightly deflated. "Well, I am usually good at trying to predict what kind of music people will like."

"Probably because of the section they're standing in."

He furrows his brow, crossing his muscular arms over his polo and blue smock. "I never thought about it that way. Damn it, that means I'm not psychic!" He seems honestly upset with this revelation, and I laugh.

"Not necessarily," I tell him. I'm getting dangerously close to flirting with him, so I tone down my cutesy attitude. "Maybe you are. Try to read my mind."

"Hmmm." Putting a finger to his chin, he smiles wryly. "You are thinking about how handsome I am, and how you'd like to go to dinner with me."

I inwardly groan. "No, actually. I'm not really dating right now," I say coldly, the atmosphere dramatically different. I wonder if I can possibly talk to any guy without him coming onto me.

"Oh, I'm not interested, honey," he says with a laugh. "Believe me, you aren't my type."

Bristling slightly at that, I run my tongue along the inside of my cheek. "Oh, yeah? Then what is?"

"Tall. Muscular. Usually has a flat chest, as opposed to breasts."

I crinkle my eyebrows, before widening my eyes in realization.

"Oh," is all I say.

"Yeah," he begins. "Sorry if I made you uncomfortable, there. You're gorgeous, of course, but once again…"

"Boobs," I finish inelegantly. "Right."

"Right."

We stand there, the air thick with awkwardness. I shift uncomfortably, crossing my arms in front of my chest.

"Well, this is quite uncomfortable," he says, and holds out a hand. "My name is Reed. I am nineteen years old, with a passion for music. In my spare time I obsess over several artists including but not limited to John Mayer and Panic At The Disco."

"Wow, I'm pretty sure you just made an outline for your autobiography." Reed laughs at this, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement, as I shake his hand. "I'm Katie. I am currently seventeen years of age, and live here in Los Angeles. I also have a passion for music, and hate John Mayer."

Laughing, Reed pulls his hand away. "Would you like to come to the food court with me? My shift is over and I'm starving."

…..

Reed turns out to be everything I need right now.

As we sit at the food court, eating cheese fries, he talks to me like I'm a human being, and not some fragile piece of glass who will erupt at the slightest mention of James, (though, admittedly, I did throw a tantrum over a song he used to sing). He doesn't shoot furtive glances my way when I'm not looking. He doesn't tiptoe around the subject of love.

All in all, he treats me like I'm normal.

Reed tells me that he wants to eventually become a musician or writer; I tell him that I am planning on becoming a record producer, though I've never told anyone this before. We discuss music more than anything, though, and I discover that, while our tastes are slightly different, he likes some decent artists.

Somehow, we end up on the topic of past loves. He admits that he's never had a boyfriend, and that he was in the closet until age seventeen, when his parents tried to set him up on a date with a family friend. I sympathize with him in my head; I know to some extent what it's like to have to hide who you love.

"So you've never been on a date?" I ask in disbelief.

"Actually, I've had a girlfriend." When I gape, Reed smiles at me and says, seriously, "But when I told her that her Prada bag was totally last season, she broke things off."

I already know him well enough to realize that he's joking by his sudden girly tone, and I punch his arm lightly from across the table, laughing.

"But, seriously," he clears his throat. "I have had several girlfriends. In high school, you know? I didn't want to be excluded from the popular crowd, so I went through more girls than Heidi Montag has gone through surgeries. I was a jock; you know, star football, basketball, and baseball player. I was student council president from freshman until junior year, so I had to keep up my reputation. That's why I didn't come out to my parents until I was seventeen."

"Gosh, I'm sorry. That's gotta be rough."

"Yeah," he sighs, rubbing his temple. "When the school found out, at the beginning of my senior year, I was mortified. Turns out the family friend had spilled my secret, after she heard me tell my parents, which, yeah, that was kind of my fault for coming out in front of her. All my buddies stopped hanging around me, and started calling me 'fag' and 'queer'. Girls wouldn't hang out with me, either."

"I know what it's like to keep a secret about who you love," I say compassionately. "Well, my brother's girlfriend and his friend Carlos knew. So I had someone to talk to, at least."

Reed raises his eyebrows and makes a gesture with his hands. "Well, go on."

I furrow my brow. "Go on and what?"

"I spilled my guts all over the table for you to poke and prod at, now it's your turn."

"Nice visual," I say, smiling grimly and pushing my cheese fries away. "I don't know if I can tell you…"

"Come on, you can trust me. Tell me about him."

"It's not that I can't trust you, it's that I can't trust myself. I might break down and weep in the middle of the mall."

Reed looks around himself, at the people eating at nearby tables. "And that would just ruin their dinner, right?" He smiles at me, with a wicked glint in his eye.

I roll my eyes and laugh. "Fine. I might be able to choke it out. But don't be alarmed when I just start sobbing, okay?"

Nonplussed, he nods. I take a deep breath and launch into my story.

I don't use really specific details, but I find myself telling it all. From the first night, to the Fall Ball, I tell him everything, pausing to wipe tears when I get to the Zack part. Reed's face clouds over when I describe the night that Zack attacked me, and he gives a little triumphant cheer when I explain how James walked in and kicked his ass. When I recount the events of the Fall Ball, he nearly swoons, and tells me that my life sounds like a movie. I laugh at this, wiping a few stray tears.

I tell Reed about the letters, and Valentine's Day, and I think I actually see tears in his eyes when I relate the story of how I went up to James's room and found the letter. He swears under his breath when I mention that James hung up while Kendall talked to him on the phone.

I break down as I talk about James leaving. Reed comes to my side and hugs me, and, though I've only known him for an hour and a half, there's more comfort in that hug than Jo or Carlos has ever given me. Because Reed knows what it's like to have a dramatic life, he knows what it's like to lie awake crying because of the person or gender you love, just because you know that it'll never happen. Just like me, he's had a rough go of it.

"Hey, hey," he says, swiping a tear from my face with his thumb when I blubber something about my crying being embarrassing. "It's okay, you don't have to worry about what these people think. They're losers, just forget 'em."

I laugh. "But seriously, you know the worst thing, Reed? I'm still in love -with James freakin' Diamond, and there's no-"

Reed, who has just taken a sip of his drink, interrupts me by spraying said gulp of liquid all over the table. I jump backward before the soda can hit me, and he wipes off his mouth.

"Excuse me?" he asks breathlessly. "Did you just say James Diamond?"

"I told you James's name," I say, like it's obvious.

"You neglected to mention his last name. Are you talking about the James freakin' Diamond, of Big Time Rush?"

I sigh. "Yes."

"Is your brother…?" Reed trails off, raising his eyebrows.

"Kendall Knight," I finish for him.

"Wow," he says, his eyes wide. "This might weird you out, but I used to have a huge crush on your brother."

"You think that weirds me out?" I ask, snorting. "I still get emails from crazy fans who tell me to ask Kendall to marry them. Though, now that I think of it, I don't really know how they got my email address…"

Reed perks up suddenly, as if in realization. "Wait…I remember reading an article about that kiss from that- the scandal- yeah- oh my gosh! I thought I recognized you!" I chuckle as he is tripping over his words, and roll my eyes.

"Yeah, a lot of people read those magazines." I sigh. "That's how my mom found out, you know." I left that part out of the story, and wince when a wild laugh escapes his mouth.

"Sorry," Reed says, trying to stifle giggles. "It's just- wow. I'm not gonna lie, that's pretty damn awkward."

"I know. I was there."

He doesn't miss the steel in my voice, and rubs my arm. "Hey, I'm sorry for laughing. The guy's a huge douche for doing all that stuff to you and then leaving."

"Well, he got a modeling job. He's the new spokesperson for some company-"

"I don't care if it was for Calvin-motherfrikkin-Klein!" he exclaims, and something inside my brain stirs feebly. Before I can hold onto the thought, however, Reed pulls me up out of my chair.

"Come on," he says, tugging me away from the table. "I've got an idea."

First of all:

I figured I needed to give Katie someone, so please don't be mad! At least I eliminated the thought of her getting with Reed.

I thought since Jo's busy with the wedding and Carlos has a girlfriend, that I should give Katie someone to talk to and be friends with.

I didn't originally have Reed planned. I just kind of...I don't know, when I wrote the employee asking her to pick up the CD...it just kind of hit me.

I stole his name from CP Coulter's amazing fic, Dalton. The Reed in that fic is possibly gay, but I'm not making a carbon copy. I just really like that name anyways.

I imagine him as looking like Chord Overstreet (from Glee). Look him up, he's frikkin' gorgeous.

SECOND OF ALL: IMPORTANT MY BRUTHAS:

If you realized something in this chapter about James's modeling job, DO NOT SAY SO IN THE REVIEWS! Don't spoil it for everyone!