IMPORTANT: Okay, I know it's been forever, but I just completely redid this story now that I have time this summer. I rewrote what didn't work, changed the tense and added scenes and characters, so if you have any interest in this story at all, it's a smart decision to go back and re-read it from the beginning. If not, this chapter will not make any sense at all.

Thank you.

Temporary Insanity

Chapter Thirteen: To Yourself

Phoebe North is chipper and everyone notices.

It feels great to go through a day without any nail biting, fidgeting and getting lost in anxious thoughts every few minutes. She's still anxious though it's more exciting now that she knows where she stands with Dylan. She might have no idea what's going on, but she likes it. She likes Dylan and that's all that seems to matter. Phoebe feels as if a heavy weight has been lifted from her shoulders and she loves this new feel of freedom.

New London High School is simply buzzing with post-football game excitement. Everyone with an ounce of school spirit in them is wearing the school colors and wide grins. After all, New London is the new football state champions thanks to an amazing tie-breaking touchdown pass delivered by the one and only Hunter Montgomery.

Attempting to avoid the after school parade in the main administration building, Phoebe travels a path less taken around the back, heading to the performing arts building where her locker is located. It's practically empty this time of day besides the occasional chain smokers and horny couples looking for a little face time away from the public.

Her green high-tops squeak against the wet concrete as she leisurely walks through the alley, the walls stained with spray paint, one or two she recognizes as Dylan's. She notices how he likes shades of hot pink and navy blue, sunshine yellow and forest green. He's so fucking talented that it's indescribable. It's hard to believe he hasn't taken an art class in his life.

Phoebe isn't exactly jumping at the idea of calling herself his girlfriend because she really doesn't know how appropriate that is or how Dylan will react. All she knows is that she's traded in fighting for kissing and glaring for smiling. She's content in the direction they're heading and she feels foolish for denying something so beautiful for so long.

"Looks like we meet again, love…"

"Newsflash, Jason, you aren't British," Phoebe says coldly and keeps walking. It's annoying how her ex-boyfriend always seems to pop up in the worst moments. "What are you doing here? I thought you were suspended for the rest of the week?"

"I am," he nods, almost proud of the fact that he got tossed out for fighting. "I just came to pick up books and shit. Not graduating because I forgot to do a little homework would be a bitch, eh?"

Phoebe ignores him and begins walking faster down the alley, hugging her binder tight to her chest. Grunting irritably, Jason matches her speed, fingering the cigarette once resting behind his ear. She refuses to talk to him like everything that happened between them never went down. He cheated on her multiple times with multiple girls and not to mention what he did to Dylan.

"Aw, Bee, you're not still mad, are you?" Jason asks and Phoebe scowls at such a ridiculous question. She's downright pissed off. "Aww, c'mon, your scrawny little brother threw the first punch. It ain't my fault that he's a stupid ass punk who thinks he's tough."

"Of course it's your fault," Phoebe hisses, suddenly turning to him, unafraid to get up in Jason's face. "You could practice some self-control, Jason. You were harassing me. He was defending me. You could have walked away, but no! You sent him to the hospital!"

Jason chuckles. "You should tell little boy Dylan to drink some milk. He's like a little girl with Brittle Bone Disease."

Phoebe glares. "You aren't funny."

"God, you're so fucking hot when you're pissed off at me," Jason whispers gruffly, grabbing her firmly and presses her hard up against a brick wall of graffiti. Phoebe flails and fights him, snarling like an angry, wild animal. If anything, Jason finds it attractive, grinding his body against hers.

"Let go of me, you disgusting son of a bitch!"

"Heh, you know I love it when you talk dirty to me," he continues, disregarding her words entirely. Jason looks her up and down, licking his dry lips. "Now we've been broken up for way too long. I played your little game, Phoebe, but I gotta admit it's getting old. How about we skip the whole resisting part and get straight to the making up?"

"How hard is it to get through your empty head that we're never getting back together?!" Phoebe yells right in his face, sure to emphasize every syllable. "You're an asshole, Jason, and I've already wasted too much of my precious time dealing with you and lying to myself. This relationship is over so I suggest you fuck off before you come off as a bigger jackass than you already have!"

Phoebe North has just ripped him a new one and Jason Bobby isn't pleased.

"Now you're just being hurtful." His expression darkness and he shoves her hard against the wall. "Who's the poor bastard?"

Phoebe deadpans. "What?"

"Who the fuck is feeding you all this bullshit?" he demands, snarling. "I swear, Phoebe, when I find out who he is, which I will, I'm gonna fuck him up so bad a shallow bitch like you wouldn't even give him a second glance."

"Go to hell, Jason."

Jason chuckles, "not without you, babe…"

Phoebe propels forward to no gain. She can't move with his full weight pressed against her and his anaconda-like hand tightly gripping his forearm. He's too strong and so much bigger than her. Even if she could reach forward enough to bite any exposed skin, she would, but Phoebe is completely immobile. She can smell him, his musty cologne and this scene feels all too familiar.

"Phoebe?"

At the unexpected voice, Jason Bobby jerks back with alarm and the distraction is enough for Phoebe to slide out from between her ex-boyfriend and the wall, sure to slap him hard across the face. Jason curses aloud, holding his throbbing cheek and looking to Phoebe, practically foaming at the mouth is a frenzy state.

"What the hell is going on?"

Phoebe turns to see Hunter walking towards her with his hands tucked into the pockets of his loose jeans. He's sporting his New London High letterman jacket as always and already his smoldering eyes are attacking Jason Bobby. Standing tall, Hunter arrives at Phoebe's side and she's finally allowed a moment where she doesn't have to be so on edge. She knows for a fact that Hunter would never let anything happen to her.

"Look, babe, it's your brother's boyfriend," Jason smirks, throwing Phoebe a look before focusing on the quarterback of the varsity football team. "What's up, Fag Face?"

Hunter grits his teeth. "Pheebs, is there a problem here?"

"None of your business," Jason cuts in. "Since when is chatting with my girlfriend a crime?"

"Ex-girlfriend," Phoebe corrects, "And it is considering your definition of chatting is sexual harassment."

Jason growls, "cry me a river."

"Come on, Hunter. Let's get out of here," Phoebe calls with her hand on the tight muscle of his bicep. The look on Hunter's face is predominantly antipathy and if it wasn't for her hold him, back, Phoebe's sure Hunter would be confronting Jason as we speak.

"Chicken shit, much?" Jason verbally jabs, cracking his knuckles in anticipation of a fight. "The thing is that I've got this theory that the school's king jock isn't as tough as you've got everyone believing. I'm already suspended. I've got nothing to lose."

"But you have everything to lose," Phoebe warns Hunter in a hushed whisper, pulling on his arm. "Hunter, he's not worth it."

"No, but you are," Hunter contradicts, looking deep into her eyes. Phoebe is instantly stunned by his words, her hand losing its grip on his arm. It's like letting a guard dog off its leash. Hunter quickly moves toward Jason Bobby who's already ready with his fists up.

Jason's the first to throw a punch and all of Hunter's football training goes to work as he easily evades the attack. Jason stumbles forward and Hunter's large hand clamps down on Bobby's neck, slamming his scruffy face into the brick wall. Grunting and grimacing, Jason thrashes though Hunter has him pinned and powerless with his arm twisted behind his back.

"You leave Phoebe the fuck alone," Hunter menacingly orders, digging Jason's face into the rough brick of the wall. "If you see her around school or around town you walk in the other direction. You don't talk to her; you don't even look at her. You feel me?"

"Fuck off," Jason growls and Hunter pulls his face forward just to slam it back against the wall, crimson blood spilling from his nose. "Shit. I feel you, ight? Just let me the fuck go."

Hunter easily pulls Jason back, crushing his face into the wall one last time for good measure before throwing him to the ground. It all looks so effortless and simple yet Jason Bobby, self-proclaimed badass is on the ground, spitting up blood. Hunter then takes Phoebe gently yet firmly by the elbow and rushes her down the alley and out by the football field.

"You okay, Phoebe?"

"A little bruised, but it could have been worse. Thanks to you, it wasn't," Phoebe says quietly. Once they're out in the open, Hunter releases her from his light hold and Phoebe inspects the darkening skin of her wrist.

Hunter frowns, looking at her swelling wrist. "I should have broken his wrist for that."

"What are you, in the mafia? So that's why when we eat out you can never sit with your back to the door." Phoebe finds her voice to joke even after such a terrifying encounter with a guy she once convinced herself to care about. That signature grin appears on Hunter's face and Phoebe's relieved. A scowl doesn't suit his gorgeous face.

"Phoebe," he whines, looking from side to side with mock paranoia. "What did I tell you about talking about my business out in the open?"

Phoebe laughs, "I'll try to remember that next time."

"For someone who was assaulted in an alleyway, you're strangely cheery," Hunter observes, thrown off by the smile on Phoebe's face. "What's going on?"

"Well, before Jason Bobby snuck back into my life, it was a pretty good day," Phoebe admits. "Seriously, you come to the rescue like you're Superman, your SAT score wasn't as high as mine, of course, but you did fairly well and you're a football superstar. What can't you do?"

"Well, people tell me I'm a horrible liar," the jock smiles and Phoebe laughs lightly. "Um, I can't cook to save my life and as pathetic as it sounds I am admittedly a pushover especially when it comes to pretty girls."

Phoebe smiles, knowing it's true.

"Well, thank you," Phoebe says and Hunter feels flattered, knowing girls as strong as Phoebe North don't often show their gratitude. "What were you doing back here anyways?"

"Trying to avoid that parade thing," Hunter replies, looking up with indifference. "Ahh, I decided to let Jordan have his moment. I mean, he is the receiver. If he didn't catch that throw which was the furthest thing from perfect, we wouldn't be celebrating right now."

"Sweet, talented and modest," Phoebe sings his praise. "If I didn't know you so well, I'd think you were perfect, Hunt."

"Far from it actually," he chuckles vaguely. "Another thing I can't seem to do is pick a college. My dad's been pushing Penn State, you know." Hunter clears his throat, making his voice sound deeper, older. "C'mon, son, don't you wanna follow in your old man's footsteps?"

Phoebe raises an eyebrow. "What do you want, Hunt?"

"I don't know," he confesses with a sigh. "You know, people think that I have it so easy, being super jock and having colleges offer me sports cars and fruit baskets. The truth is it's not. If anything, it's harder. Do I want to keep making dear ol' dad proud, go to Penn State like he did, just to blow out my knee and end up selling cars or do I want to escape to sunny Southern California, where no one knows me?"

"USC, that's awesome," Phoebe says knowingly. "But, Hunt, California's so…so far."

"I know," Hunter nods. "This place has been my home for so long, I don't know if I can leave it all behind, especially my mom…and Rodge."

"God, I hate talking about the future," Phoebe groans and leans her head against Hunter's broad shoulder. She turns to him with excitement flashing across her face. "Why don't we drive down to Bliss Bakery and I buy you pie?"

"Phoebe−"

"Aww, come on, Hunter," she pushes, linking her arm with his. "It's the least I could do after you kicked the crap out of my stupid ex and when you pulled him off of Dylan the other day. Plus, I'm totally craving key lime pie and I need to put in a cake order for Aldo's birthday which you're expected to attend by the way."

"Well, since Bliss Bakery cake is being served," Hunter deducts, licking his lips. "I'm in. You think I could get away with giving the kid my autograph as a present?"

Phoebe laughs, "No chance."

"Can't say that I didn't try," Hunter sighs while running his hand down the side of his neck. "Hey, while we're at Bliss, we should pick something up for D. Poor sap must be going insane trapped in that lighthouse all day long."

Phoebe smiles to herself; the only thing sweeter than key lime pie is going home to Dylan.

…

Christina's absolutely exhausted.

She walks down the halls of New London High and everyone's still high on school pride with their wide grins especially since New London is the new football state champions. It's rather infectious and she wears a smile herself, but inside she's dying to find an empty corner of the library and sleep until the yellow school bus pulls up to pick her up along with her siblings.

Christina rounds the corner and that's when she sees him.

Rodge Montgomery

She can feel her heart leap in her chest though she desperately tries to ignore it. Christina decides that it's better to walk away before he spots her, but it's too late seeing as he's already waving her over, smiling that damn smile she finds irresistible. Christina takes a deep breath when she sees him coming over, knowing that when he's too close she loses the ability to breathe.

"Hey Christina," he smiles, so cool and collected. "I didn't see you at Devin's after the game."

"Yeah, stuffy room filled with sloppy drunks, not exactly my idea of a good time," Christina says, knowing that's a regular evening for Rodge Montgomery. "Plus, with all the drama at home, I couldn't leave even if I wanted to."

Rodge nods understandingly. "So thanks again for yesterday. I, um, I was falling apart."

"It's not a problem, Rodge, really," Christina smiles brightly. "I'm glad to help."

"So I came to school late today because I, uhhh, I went to see Silver this morning," Rodge explains and Christina feels her body tense. It's moments like this where Christina thinks Rodge can't possibly feel the way Phoebe and Dylan assume he does. If he has the slightest idea that she likes him, he wouldn't be telling her this. He has to know it hurts like hell.

"Oh," Christina manages to squeak, "What happened?"

"We talked. I apologized and," Rodge takes a deep breath, "we got back together."

In spite of the way she hides it so well, Christina suddenly feels sick and frustrated beneath her bright smile. She wants nothing more than to smack him across the head and ask what the hell he was thinking. She reconsiders though, choosing silence, continuing to walk towards her locker down the hall. Rodge follows right behind.

"So you talked to her?" Christina asks. "You talked to, um, Silver about college and the future and you hanging out with Devin and his friends again?"

"More or less," Rodge mumbles and Christina takes that as a no. "Look, Silver and I have always been this way, alright? We ignore what doesn't work and we live in the moment. It's what we do, how we are. I don't expect you to understand. I just thought I'd let you know."

"You know what, Rodge?" Christina asks, turning to him with an expression on her face that can only be described as heated. "Next time you need a shoulder to cry on, go to someone else, okay?"

His face looks puzzled, almost hurt. "Tina−"

"No, don't 'Tina' me," Christina snaps, using her father constantly referred to as 'tough love'. "I listened to you and talked you through it and I was hoping that maybe I helped you, but no. You just go right back to your old ways. You don't even try, Rodge."

"How can you say that?"

"Because it's true," Christina argues, staggering away from him. "This is just going to keep happening over and over again because you're too scared to actually talk about your issues with your girlfriend. Well, I refuse to listen to you bitch and moan, but not do anything to try and fix it. Call me a bad friend, I don't care. I'm done."

"Christina," Rodge says, so soft and damn tragic. Her back is facing him, but she can feel his eyes burning into her. He isn't touching her, but she knows his fingers are reaching out to her, but hesitating to touch.

"We can't be friends or whatever it is we are," Christina says strongly, glancing at Rodge over her shoulder. She feels the tears stinging at her eyes and feels foolish because of it. "Not until you grow up."

Christina doesn't wait for a response and starts walking.

"Has anyone ever told you that you look like Joe Jonas?"

The voice is feminine and sweet and it makes Christina feel so cold.

"Only this emo gothic bitch I sometimes call my girlfriend," Rodge jokes only to cry out in pain. "Ow, Silver, fine, I meant emo gothic bitch with pretty eyes and a mean left hook."

"Wow," a sarcastic female voice deadpans. "My boyfriend is so good with words."

"Love yah too, pretty girl," Rodge replies. "Now what're you doing here?"

"I missed you," his girlfriend replies. "And we need to go buy a gift for Aldo little boy North. The birthday party's on Saturday and I already promised Dylan that we'd go."

"Sweet," Rodge agrees, "because Hunter's got the Jeep today and I've been dying to get behind the wheel of your pretty little Silver Mercedes."

"Yeah…no way are you driving my car."

The two go on bickering and Christina can't listen anymore. Her heart can't take it. She's tempted to glance back and finally see this Silver with her own eyes. Ultimately, Christina decides against it. From her eavesdropping, it seems that the dysfunctional couple will be at Aldo's party and Christina has a feeling she'll spend the entire time avoiding them. Christina expects Silver to be gorgeous. For Rodge to be so attached to her, she must be flawless.

Christina laughs bitterly to herself, having bypassed the dating and gone straight to the heartache.

…

It's plain and simply the sweetest thing to meet his ears. The humidity of the air causes the material of his Beatles t-shirt to stick to his pale skin. Condensation blurs the mirrors he sits beside. Dylan randomly runs his finger across the perspiring surface, drawing random trails that swirl and cross over and over again. The heat of the enclosed space would have driven him insane if it wasn't for the voice of an angel lulling him into euphoria.

Suddenly, the voice along with the sound of running water ceases. Dylan blinks and runs the back of his damp hand across his forehead. He purses his lips and shifts atop the counter, his long legs dangling over the edge. Now free from his earlier trance, Dylan's face contorts uncomfortably.

"So…when you shower here do you always have to have someone with you?"

"Yes," Brooke's frantic voice bounces off the walls of the room filled with individual showering stalls. She appears, wrapped in nothing but a towel and drenched from head to toe. "This place is frickin' creepy and not to mention haunted! I usually bring Joey, my drummer, he's gay, but he isn't here and you're here and practically married so yeah, lucky you, Lennon."

"Like I'd try something," Dylan scoffs, swinging his legs back and forth. "Your boyfriend who's built like a linebacker would kick my ass and then I'd go home to Phoebe who'd then continue the ass-kicking."

Brooke smirks, "and people think you're stupid."

Dylan's face is one of a boy in the aftermath of a trance, blinking, still unable to believe his ears. He's heard her voice all day when they were in a recording studio playing around and just now when she was singing in the shower. Still, he can't believe his ears. "God, sometimes I forget how good you are."

"I'm Brooke," she says with a giggle. "Good's all you got?"

"Would you rather amazing, awesome, super duper?" Dylan lists for the girl with the cheeky smile, skin still moist from her shower.

"Hmm, where's the 'all of thee above' option?" Brooke asks cockily, winding a lock of her wet hair around her finger. Laughing, she throws him a sharp look. "Now close your eyes so I can change. I swear, Dylan, if you pull a peeping Tom−"

"B, breathe," Dylan interrupts. He feels his phone vibrate in his pocket and sees Phoebe's name flash across the front screen. "Brooke, I'll be right outside…"

She pouts, "Dylan…"

"Brooke, Phoebe's calling," Dylan whines and motions to the phone. Sighing and stomping, Brooke shoos him away with her hands and Dylan happily answers the call. "Hey Pheebs, yeah, I'm not home. I'm with Brooke Ferris…in the shower."

Dylan feels something hard thump him in the head and he cries out in unsuspected pain.

"You were so asking for that, Dylan North!"

Rubbing his head, he escapes the sauna-like room, relieved by the hallway's air condition.

"Yeah, I wasn't kidding," Dylan goes back to his conversation. "Oh, you're having a Bliss Bakery pie fight with my drummer? You whore."

"No, well, Brooke invited me to the studio and I was curious so…here I am. Yeah, I'll be home soon. Ehh, we just recorded some crappy three-minute collaboration and got the personal chef to grill us paninis," Dylan explains. "Yup, music and food, that's pretty much the extent of my day. Hmm, I'll see you in a bit and yeah, I invited B to the party. Okay, bye Pheebs."

Even after hanging up, Dylan stares at her name across the screen of his phone. The smile on his face just won't fade and Dylan wouldn't try to stop smiling even if he could. Sometimes, moments like this, how good it is to simply hear her voice, makes all of the lying and sneaking around they're going to have to do worth it.

"Oh, good, you're still here," Nate comes walking down the hallway, walking with such swagger that Dylan's even more intimidated by the young man than Jason Bobby, Hunter and Devin all put together. "Hey, some of the guys told me Brooke and you were recording."

"Yeah," Dylan admits a bit nervously. "Well, the studio was empty and Brooke and the sound guys said it was okay so we started playing around. Look, Nate, I didn't mean any disrespect−"

"Whoa, kid, save it," Nate chuckles, amused. "The guys said you're a good kid and B vouches for you so I know you can't be half bad. You stay good to Brooke and you're alright in my book. We cool?"

"Yeah," Dylan nods. "Cool."

"Now, about that Beatles 'I Wanna Hold Your Hand' cover you did with Brooke," Nate reminds Dylan who inwardly cringes, hoping he hasn't put his all time favorite musical inspiration to shame.

"We did it a lot slower than the original, heavy on the bass and the acoustics," Dylan confesses, tapping his fingers against his thigh with his racking nerves. "Listen, if I butchered a Beatles classic−"

"No way, kid," Nate grins and Dylan's ears perk. "Being a diehard Beatles fan myself, I'm damn critical on every cover and yours wasn't that horrible. And I'm not just saying this because it was a duel with my Brooke either. You really held your own on the track. Congrats, D, I liked it."

Dylan has to lean against the hallway wall to keep from falling over after being praised by a professional producer. Nate continues, "If it was up to me, man, I'd sign you on the spot."

"R-really?" Dylan stutters in disbelief.

"Yeah, with your sound and your look, I can see all the crazed teenage girls eating it up," Nate nods, so sure of himself. "Brooke tells me you're signed up to do the battle of the bands thing. If I can get you in the studio to record with me and get the boss to check it out, I'm sure I can get you a record deal. Battle of the bands isn't necessary. You're that good, kid."

"Wow," Dylan's eyes widen. He's skeptical.

"Oh crap, Dylan, we lost track of time! You gotta get home now!" Brooke shouts urgently, bursting into the conversation. "Hello, Earth to boy who's supposedly grounded! It's almost four."

"Oh shit," Dylan murmurs, suddenly panicking. "Frank is going to kill me. Shit."

"Take my car," Nate directs, tossing a set of keys to Brooke who easily catches it. She kisses him sweetly and the older guy smiles against his girlfriend's lips. He then turns to Dylan, his extended hand holding out a little card. "Give me a call sometime next week and we can talk."

"Thanks for everything, Nate."

"No problem, D," Nate smirks, the two pounding fists. "A kid as talented as you is always welcomed here."

Dylan nods and grins before being pulled out of the room by an anxious Brooke Ferris. As he walks down the halls of the recording studio, Dylan stares down at the little card in his hands, his mind reeling with all the possibilities, all the doors to the future that can be opened with a simple dial of the number printed on the business card.

Brooke smiles, "What did I tell you? Nate's amazing, right?"

Dylan grins to himself; his mind running wild with what the future has in store − both with his music career and with Phoebe.

Author's note:

Okay, so how do you like the new and improved Temporary Insanity? I like to think that my writing has improved from way back when. How to you like my additional characters? They're mostly there to show how their actions affect Phoebe and Dylan's relationship. Also how's my characterization of the cannon characters?

I'd love some feedback if you really want me to continue this story. Thanks for reading and don't forget to review!