Taylor's Video Diary:

Ok, so apparently my flirting isn't going too well. I practically gave him more than enough opportunities to make a move, but he hasn't done anything! Nothing! Zip! (sighs) Alright, he likes – or is it liked – Melissa. So maybe I should try to be like Melissa? Fine . . . I like challenges. Goodbye, Taylor. Hello, Melissa. Well, Melissa-like, I can't totally be like Melissa that'd be . . . weird.

Jackson's POV:

After I finished cleaning the gruesome insides of the fish, I headed back to camp. I plopped the fish onto a piece of wood and took a bottle of water. In front of me, was Melissa, hanging the laundry on the newly-finished shelter. I watched her carefully lay the clothes about an inch away from each other. Then she got to my grey shirt. She folded it halfway and laid it on the string. She smoothed it out on both sides and even checked the folded part for any wrinkles. After it was of enough quality for her, she placed her hands on her hips and smiled. I saw her feet slightly turning so I immediately took my gaze off of her and drunk my water. "Oh, hi, Jackson," she greeted when she finally saw me. I turned around and faced her. "Hey, Melissa."

"I see the fishing was good today," she remarked.

"Yeah," I said, drinking another sip of water.

"But, where's the fishing pole?" she asked.

"The line got stuck out in the ocean."

"Oh, want me to go out there and get it?"

"Nah, Taylor and I are going to do that," right after I said that I felt an uneasiness stir from Melissa. Her face that was lit up with joy mutated into an exact opposite. She looked to the ground, her feet shuffled a bit, and there was a tinge of sadness from her that I could feel even though we were about a yard away. "Oh," she sighed. Right after she said that one word, I felt a sinking in my stomach. I had to do something. "You know," I began, "The guitar hasn't been fooled around with for a while now." She looked up at me quickly with surprised eyes. "Umm . . . . Yeah . . ." I could feel she wanted to say something, but didn't say it. I smiled. Do I make her THAT nervous? "You know, it's not my guitar to begin with. So if you want to play it, go ahead. I'm sure the pilot wouldn't mind," I commented.

"Well, it's kind of hard to play the guitar when you only know how to do one thing," she replied.

"I could teach you if you want," those words shot out of my mouth so fast I didn't even know what I said until they came out.

"You'd teach me how to play guitar?" she asked, enunciating each word carefully like she was trying to understand it herself.

"Sure," I shrugged, "I'm kind of tired of hearing the same chord being played over and over again anyways." She smiled and looked down meekly. "Umm . . . ok," she nodded, "When should we start?" I looked up at the sky. By where the sun was, I guessed we had about a couple hours of sunlight left. "How about now?" I offered. Her mouth opened slightly and her eyes expanded just a bit. "Uhh . . . sure," she said, still trying to understand what I just said. Honestly, I was trying to understand what I was doing too. But it all felt so natural, like it was just instinct, that I let it go. "Come on then," I said, leading her into the thick jungle brush.

Melissa's Video Diary:

I'm going to learn guitar. (Smiles widely) From Jackson. (Smile fades slightly and she bit her lip in worry.)

Melissa's POV:

"What if I make a total fool out of myself? What if I say something embarrassing? What if I mess up? Oh gosh, what if I call him mom again?" I thought as I followed Jackson though some trees and bushes. I saw him disappear through some overgrown trees, bushes, and ferns. I carefully pushed the leaves and I saw an open, enclosed, clearing. I gasped at how perfect the scenery was. Light cascaded gently from above and there was a small side of the clearing that was covered by shade. There was a log on the light side and a rock formation in the shade. On the shaded side, by the rock, I saw a large brown bump coming from the greenery behind it. The brown object was smoothed out and polished, obviously not a tree. Jackson walked over to the brown object and reached his hand into a tall shrub. He pulled out the red-mahogany instrument and cleared any leaves from it. He sat down on the rock formation and placed the guitar in his lap. "You know, it's going to be hard to teach you if we're this far away," he remarked. I smiled and walked over to him.

He began tuning his guitar slightly. I heard notes escape the string of the guitar. They increased and decreased until he was satisfied with the way it sounded. He looked up at me then snapped his fingers as if he just remembered something. He quickly got up and went to the other side of the clearing. "Umm . . . Jackson?" I hesitantly asked, as he walked to the other side. He didn't reply to me. I decided to just keep my mouth shut and watch for once. He bent down and picked up the log. As he walked towards me, I saw his arms bulge slightly. "Whoa . . ." I breathed silently. I'm not going to lie, my inner girl was going "eep," when I saw that. He bent back down again and laid the log on the floor. "There," he said with satisfaction. When he turned around to sit back on the rock, I tried to lift the heavy log just to see how heavy it was. I pulled as hard as possible and it only got up to a couple inches. "It's pretty heavy," he commented from behind me. I whipped around quickly but then I lost my balance. Lucky for me, I landed on the log. "Oww . . ." I groaned as pain shot up my butt. I rubbed my lower back instead because no matter what I WILL NOT rub my butt in front of Jackson, no matter how much it hurts. He smiled a bit and that caused me to blush slightly. "Gravity isn't really your friend is it?" he asked.

"It is too!" I exclaimed, about to get up but my sore butt didn't let me. I sat back down quickly with a scrunched up face. He smiled and said, "Yeah . . . right . . ." sarcastically.

"Hey, I thought you were going to teach me how to play guitar. Not poke fun at my bad coordination," I replied.

"Ok, fine." he surrendered.

I wouldn't have ever thought that Jackson was such a good teacher. Despite how many times I said, "Could you please repeat that?" he was nothing but patient with me. He didn't lose his temper once. He played the A chord for the fifth time and asked me, "Got it?"

"Um . . . I think so," I tried remembering where his hands were placed.

"Ok, here," he handed me the guitar. I hesitantly took it out of his hands and made sure I didn't drop it. I placed it on my lap and placed my hands over the strings. I carefully lined up my fingers and strummed the guitar. It didn't sound right. "Try moving your middle finger slightly to the left," he replied. I tried to follow his instructions. I strummed again and it still didn't sound right. "No, here," he said. He got up and went behind me. He moved my fingers so that they were directly where they were supposed to be. "Calm down, Melissa," I thought to myself, "Calm down!" I didn't want to hyperventilate, I had to be calm. So I swallowed the scream down and CALMLY looked at my fingering.

"Ok, there," he said. I nodded and strummed the guitar again. It sounded perfect. I smiled widely and tried to do it again. I repeated strumming for about three times. "I think I got it," I replied.

"Good," he said. I handed him back the guitar and he sat down on the rock. "Now, this is E." He looked at the neck of the guitar and placed his fingers above some strings and played the chord. The chord was sweetness in my ears. I loved the sound of the guitar. If I didn't love choir so much, I might have taken guitar. "Got it?" he asked.

"I think so . . ." I said hesitantly after every word. He placed the guitar in front of me and I took it out of his calloused hands. I once again placed the guitar on my lap and tried to position my fingers. Before I could even touch the guitar even more, Jackson spoke. "Move a little closer to the body," he said. "Body?" I thought, "Well, he IS the teacher." I pulled the guitar closer to me. He smiled then said, "No, I mean like this." He took my left hand and moved it closer the "body" of the guitar. "Ohh . . ." I replied, "Got it." I strummed the strings and it sounded pretty good, but something was off.

"Good, but, try moving your middle finger a bit farther from the fret," he commented. Fret? What in the world is a fret? He must've decoded from my face that I was absolutely baffled at what he said because he smiled, leaned forward and placed my middle finger a little farther from the silver line. "That's a fret," he said, pointing to the silver bump.

"Ohh . . ." I replied.

"Try again," he commanded.

"Ok," I said and followed his commands. It sounded alright but it still sounded a bit off. He went behind me again and I nearly went into panic mode. "CALM DOWN!" ordered mean Mel.

"Ok, ok, ok," I chanted in my head, "Just relax, Melissa." He placed his left hand right above mine and gripped my right hand. He placed pressure on certain fingers and moved my now limp right hand over the hole of the guitar. I swallowed the panic and hyperventilation down my throat and took a deep breath. Sound came out and it sounded . . . well . . . perfect. "You think you have it now?" he asked in my ear. I tried to say something but my voice stopped halfway up my throat. Instead, I just nodded and said, "Mhmm." His head just hovered above my left shoulder for a bit. Then I felt the warmth of his hands and coldness entered. I shook my head to get back into the present day. I was just about to pluck the cords once more until a voice filled the air. "Jackson!" it yelled. Taylor.

I gasped quietly. I was split. One side (mean Mel) was angry at Taylor for barging in at this moment. And the other (sweet Mel) was relieved to hear Taylor's voice because if she came, I wouldn't have to worry anymore. I gulped down a knot in my throat and looked at Jackson. He just sat there, staring fiercely at the ground. "Jackson!" she yelled again, "Jackson!" I turned my gaze from where I thought Taylor was and looked back at Jackson. His gaze hadn't moved an inch. "Jackson1" she yelled. I decided it was time to butt in. "Um . . . Jackson?" I asked, worriedly. I don't know why I sounded a bit scared. I guess . . . I don't know. I just didn't want to ruin his thought, the gaze he had was so intensified that I was scared to break it. "Jackson?" I asked again. He looked up at me and I couldn't make out the emotion in his eyes. Why do they have to be so darn hard to read? "Taylor's calling you," I informed him. He stared at me a little then nodded. "Ok, I guess we'll just have to resume this tomorrow," he said. I smiled slightly and nodded my head. "Ok," I agreed. I picked up the log and tried to move it back to the lighter part of the clearing. "Leave it," he commanded after he saw me struggle to pick it up. I released the log and turned to him. "Thanks for the lesson," I thanked him.

"No problem," he shrugged. Our stares were entwined until Taylor's voice broke it.

"Jackson!" she yelled, closer now. I sighed. I followed him to a part of the clearing. From there, I could hear Taylor's exasperated breath. "Where is he?" she asked herself. Then I felt him leave my side and walk through the bush. "Oh, there you are," she said. I looked through the bush and saw Taylor, looking really pretty under the rays of sunlight that passed through the tree's leaves. "You called me, Taylor?" he asked, no real emotion.

"Yeah," she paused, as if she was trying to think about why she was yelling his name in the first place.

"I thought we could go and get the line now," she replied.

"It's getting kind of dark," he commented.

"Oh yeah," she said, kind of sadly. She slumped down a bit but then her posture quickly straightened up. "In that case, I should get you back to camp," she chirped.

"Yeah . . ." he said. I saw him look towards the bush. I quickly turned away to avoid his gaze. "Come on then," she said, eagerly.

"Yeah, ok, Taylor," he replied to her. Then I heard the shuffling of footsteps and I could feel that they're presence was gone. I looked through the bush once more and saw no sign of life. I heard a bird chirp overhead. "Yeah . . ." I sighed to myself, "I know. They're gone." I looked at the guitar leaned against the rock formation. I closed my eyes and shook my head. "It's getting late," I told myself and walked through the bush Jackson and I entered in.

(A/N: Alright, so Read and Review please. I'm anxious to hear you're thoughts about this. I had a lot of hesitation writing the previous chapter and this chapter. It seems kind of drama-y to me, but that's what happens when my mom finds a new Asian drama to obsess over and constantly talks about it with me. So thoughts are VERY much appreciated.)