"And what we were doing
was the only thing that mattered
and how good it felt
to kill the memory of nights spent
holding your shirt for the smell" – Against Me!

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The rain pelted the windshield aimlessly, almost in a droning tone. Almost like music.

"Did he say 'Spanish Eyes' or 'Spanish Ass'?" Andrew asked, hands clenched on the steering wheel due to the slick roads.

I sighed, "He said 'Spanish Ass.' If I have to hear this song one more time, I'm strangling you Bart Simpson style."

He gave me a swift sideways glance and grumbled an obscenity or two, then turned the blinker on to head down the road to the Victorian style house. Finally, he pulled into the driveway, killing the engine, the music still playing. I was amazed the car could even do that.

He looked over at me and then out the windshield, "Well, we can either sit and waste gas, which is almost three bucks a gallon, or we can make a run for the porch."

I just pulled my hood over my head and exhaled, "Well, you're the one with the leather jacket." I said indifferently and shoved my hands into the hoodie pocket. It was plain, dark blue, and had large lettering that said 'SEATTLE ZOO Seattle, WA' on it.

It was one of Andrew and I's numerous trips over the past three weeks, which always ended up sitting on the hood of his car in this very driveway and talking about life. Except when it was raining, like now. I quickly opened the car door and slammed it, dashing towards the white painted porch.

I made it. Without tripping. Or falling. Or anything. I smiled triumphantly as I stepped into the covered porch and collapsed onto the equally white porch swing, immediately took out my cell phone and checked the time.

Finally, after a good two minutes of waiting, he showed up on the porch, shaking out his leather jacket. I just laughed loudly, the sound of it echoing throughout the porch walls.

"Maybe you'll get a new one for Graduation?" I asked, rolling my eyes.

He just gave me a look and I held my hands up, then shook my head.

"Tengo un llave?" I asked quietly, gesturing to the door.

He pulled his key clasp off the belt loop of his jeans and began slowly picking through them, finding the house one, mumbling "house key" a few times over and over again until he found the right one.

I just shook my head and walked in, only to find Alexa watching an old episode Winnie the Pooh, the good ones.

"Hey kiddo," I said, yanking my hoodie off and tossing it on the love seat couch and plopping down next to her on the light tan carpet. Andrew had stayed outside for a little longer, probably setting his precious jacket on the porch swing to dry, if it ever became sunny here.

Finally, after a few minutes, he walked in, absolutely soaking.

"Hey guys," he said, standing in front of Alexa and I, then began shaking his mess of wet curly hair at Alexa and I like some sort of dog.

She giggled hysterically and swatted at him, while I just wrinkled my nose.

"You're gross, Kingston."

"You're car-less, Swan, so I suggest you be nice unless you want to walk home."

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Later that night, I was preoccupied with my Calculus homework that I had been putting off for the entire weekend, and which Andrew, Ryan, and Dylan had already done. So naturally, band practice was in full swing.

I just nodded my head to the beat of the Clash song they were covering and worked on checking over all my work

"You guys should do Panic! At The Disco covers," I yelled to Andrew, causing him to roll his eyes and glare, mid-chord.

"Why? You hate them as much as I do. I mean, unless you want to see me gel my hair all scene-like and start wearing your clothes."

I snorted and closed my Calculus book and picked up my copy of Naked Lunch that we were reading for English. You have no idea how happy I was that we weren't doing romance novels. I was much more content with William S. Burroughs and Junkies than I was with Shakespeare and Othello/Desdemona.

Then, he did it. He began fumbling for the chords of a song by Nirvana. He knew I hated Nirvana. Because he liked Nirvana. And I never wanted to hear Radio Friendly Unit Shifter again, because it was one of his favorite songs. I just glared over my copy of Naked Lunch.

I glowered at him and put the book on my lap, crossed my arms over my chest and began packing my stuff up.

Fine. I'll walk home.

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Around 12:36 that night I got a phone call.

He sighed, "I'm sorry."

I smirked smugly in the dark.

Bella: 1.

Andrew: 0.

He was always the type to apologize first.

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PLAYLIST: The Ballad of Big Poppa and Diamond Girl by Cobra Starship; New Slang by the Shins; Every You Every Me by Placebo; Classifieds by the Academy Is…; Don't Wake Me Up/Wine Red by the Hush Sound; The Guns of Brixton by the Clash; Nice Guys Finish Last by Green Day (Old school Green Day, not the new 'American Idiot' album. That one sucked.); Diamonds and Guns by The Transplants.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Update number one out of three. Sorry I never updated once I got back from Hotlanta. Hopefully this makes up for it. :)

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