The Tenor by SparkHiggins
Disclaimer: I don't own Racetrack or any of the other original newsies. I don't own Slider, Fingers, Firecracker, or Mouth, they own themselves. I own Spark..
"Shit," I swore as I fell off the bunk I was laying on. My head clunked on the floor and the person who had been below me looked down at me.
"You alright?" I heard the girl ask. She had long dirty blonde hair and dark brown eyes.
"Yeah, Slider, I'm fine. You should know that. It happens to me almost once a week," I told her as I stood up. I brushed the dust from the ground off my shirt and headed to the washroom.
A girl greeted me instantly with, "Hey there, Spark." I looked over to my friend Mouth, with a tangle of red hair circling her head like a mane. I grinned.
"Nice look," I told her playfully. This earned me a punch in the stomach, but I was used to it. This was just another routine thing in my life as a newsgirl. And I had no complaints about that.
"Ready to go?" Another girl asked the two of us.
"Does it look like we're ready to go?" Mouth said, forcing a comb through her chaotic web of curls.
"Fingers, just wait a while, alright? Go wake Firecracker up or something," I told the girl. She turned around and walked off. Firecracker walked in a minute later.
"Hey Spark. Mouth," she offered and splashed the water from the washbasin onto her face. "Ready to sell?" she asked with a level of energy and excitement that never ceased to amaze me. I nodded and all five of us headed downstairs.
"Be careful!" a housewife-y woman yelled after us. I looked back at her. It was Miss Maldives, the owner of Manhattan's only newsgirls lodging house. We all yelled back that we would and walked to the distribution office for our papers.
That was when I first caught a glimpse of him. I saw a shock of curly brown hair behind Jack before he got pulled off to the side and I lost sight of him.
"Spark, you coming?" Slider asked me as I stared in the direction where I'd seen the boy.
"Yeah, sure," I told her and followed her down to Central Park. Sure, it wasn't the most challenging spot, but it was a guarantee all right. No trouble selling our papers that day, that's for sure. I peddled my eighty without breaking a sweat. I did have experience behind me, though. I'd been a newsgirl since a year after I ran away from home at the age of twelve.
"You all right? You seemed a little distracted today," Mouth asked when we settled down for a game of poker at Tibby's that night.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just been doing some thinking," I told her.
"Got anyone in particular on my mind?" she asked. She knew me too well, I determined. Without my saying anything she asked, "Who?" When I didn't reply she repeated the question.
"I don't know," I muttered softly.
"You don't know the name of the guy that's been on your mind all day?" she asked surprised.
"He's new with the boys. Just caught a glimpse of him today. I have to head off to the Hall for now. Come with me. I'll get you some free seats," I offered, standing up.
"Okay, fine," Mouth said, though we both knew she wanted to come. She grabbed Slider and the three of us walked happily towards Irving Hall where I had my night job. I've never really liked the term night job. It makes me sound like a prostitute. However, it was literally a night job. It was a job, and I did it at night.
"What took you so long?" Medda asked me as she scurried around getting the other performers dressed.
"Never mind that," I told her calmly, "I'm ready anyway. Just give me a cleaner shirt. Its not like I have to squeeze into that," I told her, gesturing to the corset another girl was slipping into painfully.
"Spark," she told me with a smile on her face, "you are impossible. Go get a shirt and get on that stage!" She walked out onto the stage herself and started in with her usual song, "My Lovey-Dovey Baby".
"Now, for a special treat, the fabulous Spark Carraba," Medda introduced me and I walked out on the stage, the adrenaline rush taking over as I fearlessly stared down the crowd. I looked at the guitar strapped across my body, a grin plastered on my face.
I started in with my playing while another girl started singing. I followed the words in my head, wishing I had the ability to sing like Susan, the girl up front. I almost faltered on the C chord as I noticed a new head bobbing in the audience. As always, a few of the newsies had snuck in and were watching me, but the new boy had come with them. He grinned up at me and I kept playing.
After performing the third song, I stood up and walked off. Medda praised me quickly and walked off to introduce John the ventriloquist. Jack walked over to me, "Great job, Spark. Now I have someone I want you to meet," he told me and dragged me towards a huddle of newsies. "This here is Anthony "Racetrack" Higgins. He just came here today. We want you to show him the ropes."
"Why me?" I asked, and looked at the boy. Shocked I saw it was the same boy from earlier that morning.
"Because you're the best female newsie, and I think you'd be good for him. Besides, I already have a new recruit, and he's hard enough as it is. Slider is busy helping some new girls, so you're the best of what's left," Jack explained.
"Thanks for putting me third," I joked, then looked over to Racetrack, "Well, Higgins, looks like you're my new selling partner," I told him, offering my palm for a spit-shake.
"Call me Race," he said, then put on his hat and walked off to follow the rest of the boys that had already left.
"Goodbye," I whispered into the night and turned around to walk home with Slider and Mouth. They both looked at me with knowing grins.
"So," Mouth spoke up, "You get a name this time?"
I swatted her with the palm of my hand then answered, "Racetrack. Anthony Racetrack Higgins," I repeated, liking the sound of the name.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*
I woke up the next morning grinning with the events of last night. I grabbed a new shirt and my nicer pants and pulled them on. I took extra time washing my face and brushing my hair.
"Selling with Race today?" Mouth asked, noticing my sudden increased interest in cleanliness.
"Not that it's any of your business, but I am. He's new and I got assigned to help him start out," I told her, pretending to be angry.
"You're not good at faking anger you know. Well, I hope Jack knew what he was doing, putting him with you," was all she said as she walked out the door. I followed her to the distribution office where I found Racetrack talking with Mush and Kid Blink.
"Hey, Spark," Blink said as I approached. I nodded in acknowledgement to the three of them and walked over. "So, you're Race's selling partner?" he asked.
"Yeah, there a problem with that?" I asked.
"No, I'm jealous actually. You're not a half bad seller," he told me.
"Oh, thanks," I said, but I knew he meant it as a compliment, and he knew I took it as one. I looked at Race one more time before speaking to him, "Well, let's get you outfitted with some papes and go sell. We'll start off in Central Park, there's enough rich men there to last a lifetime."
"Alright," he agreed and went to buy his papers. He looked over the headlines and smirked, obviously thinking of some private joke with himself. When I asked him what he was thinking, he wouldn't say. I got irritated with him and he asked, "What? Don't you like the strong silent type?"
"No," I joked. "I'm more into tall, dark, and handsome. And it seems you only fit one of those descriptions, shorty."
"At least I can sing," he offered, evidently remembering that I wasn't the singer for Irving Hall. He burst out into a beautiful tenor solo, proving his Irish roots to be true, despite his obvious Italian appearance.
"We'll have to get you a job at Irving Hall," I told him as we walked. "Want me to talk to Medda for you? You'll still get to sell during the day, and it helps keep bread in your stomach." He nodded in agreement while he sold a paper to an old woman. I looked at his still full pile of papers. "You need an angle," I told him, and he gave me a puzzled look. I tried to explain, "An angle is a reason for people to buy your papers from you. Crutchy has his limp, and Blink his patch. I just pretend to cry and it gets their attention right away. You have anything you can rely on?"
"This work?" he asked, his voice shifted into a perfect imitation of a lost, stuttering boy. I looked at him in amazement.
"How can you do that?"
"What? This?" he asked in a crisp British accent. "Or this?" he said, sounding Western. "Or perhaps this?" he asked, a heavy Irish accent present.
"All of it. How can you do that?" I asked him, staring in awe.
"I lived with a camp of gypsies for a year after I ran off," he told me. "You picked up on things like that. Hablo español, et je parle français aussi. Sogar etwas Deutscher. (a/n: This is supposed to say "I speak Spanish, and I speak French too. Even some German." However, I had to use an online translation service because I only speak French and English.
"Whoa," I said amazed. "You've got a bright future ahead of you. Both here and onstage," I told him and we went to selling. After only an hour, Race's twenty papers were finished off, as were the leftover thirty I had before.
"I've got to get over to Irving Hall, but do you want to come with me? I'll talk to Medda for you if you still want me to," I offered.
"Alright, I wouldn't mind having another way to get some money," he agreed and we walked to Irving Hall.
"Medda, have I got a surprise for you!" I called as I barreled through the doors, Race walked behind me. "Listen to this boy sing!" I told her, and beckoned Race out of the shadows.
"Well, sing something boy," Medda said looking down at him. "Come on, don't be afraid."
"All right. Here goes nothing," he muttered under his breath before breaking out into song. I hadn't heard the song before, and I assumed it was something from his homeland. Medda gasped and he stopped. "What, that bad?"
"Completely the opposite. We need you. You've got yourself a job, boy," Medda told him with a big smile on her face. "Now excuse me, but I have a show to start."
"I have to go tune my guitar, but I'll see you when I'm done, right?" I asked him.
"Yeah. Thank you," he said and I walked off towards the room where I stored my precious instrument. I started turning the knobs on the neck until the instrument sounded just right. I smiled, I always loved the sound the strings made when they were at just the right point. I heard Medda's song finishing up, so I hurried to get to my entrance point. She announced me once again and I walked out on stage. I started playing, and the girl once again sung my lines. After playing four songs I walked back offstage.
"How was I?" I asked Racetrack nervously.
"You know how Jack is at selling?" he asked. I nodded, not sure where he was going with this. "That's how you are on guitar," he said.
"That's got to be the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me," I said blushing. I hated blushing. It made me feel very girlish like the performers that wore the corsets I despised so much.
"Well, its true," he said, and with that he disappeared into the night. Well, actually, I knew exactly where he was going: the newsboys lodging house. But it felt like he had disappeared into the night. Or maybe I'm just too poetic for my own good. Who knows?
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*
I woke up tired the next morning. I yawned as I woke up, since wearing the clothes from yesterday. All the girls stared at me as I yawned away.
"Late night last night?" Mouth joked.
"Ugh!" I grunted, swatting at her with the towel I was holding, but missing her head completely. Slider laughed at my lack of aim.
"I'll say," she said, and walked off while I shook my fist menacingly.
"Alex, how could you?" Firecracker joked.
"Hey, do I look like Fingers to you?" I asked. Her name had always been a source of amusement to all of us at the lodging house.
"I heard that!" Fingers yelled from inside the bunkroom.
All of us laughed as we walked downstairs and out to the distribution office. I smiled at Race when I saw that he was already waiting with both our papers. I handed him enough coins to pay him back and we were off. We tried a few different districts, mostly ones where the people didn't speak English. Race was fluent enough for the both of us.
"Il fuoco esige molte vite!" (a/n: That supposedly says, "Fire claims many lives!" in Italian) Racetrack called out about the article on a barbecue that was held the day before. I laughed, Race definitely had a handle on it. We sold all of a hundred and ten papers in under six hours.
We headed off to Irving Hall for my performance. Race was supposed to sing tonight, and I was looking forward to listening to him. He started off with some Irish folk songs that I hadn't heard before. Some were sad, and some were happy, but all were gorgeous. Then, Medda handed me some music for my guitar and pushed me onto the stage. She told me to play, and that Racetrack already knew the song. I started playing and he broke into song:
"Every time our eyes meet
This feeling inside me
Is almost more than I can take
Baby when you touch me
I can feel how much you love me
And it just blows me away
I've never been this close to anyone or anything
I can hear your thoughts
I can see your dreams
I don't know how you do what you do
I'm so in love with you
It just keeps getting better
I wanna spend the rest of my life
With you by my side
Forever and ever
Every little thing that you do
Baby I'm amazed by you
The smell of your skin
The taste of your kiss
The way you whisper in the dark
Your hair all around me
Baby you surround me
You touch every place in my heart
Oh it feels like the first time every time
I wanna spend the whole night in your eyes
I don't know how you do what you do
I'm so in love with you
It just keeps getting better
I wanna spend the rest of my life
With you by my side
Forever and ever
Every little thing that you do
Baby I'm amazed by you
Every little thing that you do
I'm so in love with you
It just keeps getting better
I wanna spend the rest of my life
With you by my side
Forever and ever
Every little thing that you do
Oh, every little thing that you do
Baby I'm amazed by you"
I looked up into his eyes when the song was done and he was looking right down at me. He walked over and kissed me. The crowd cheered, but it was nothing compared to the happiness I was feeling and the cheering inside my own heart.
Disclaimer: That song is "Amazed" by Lonestar. I hate country music, but that is a good song and it fit perfectly in there.
A/N: This is what happens when they take down fanfiction.net on Valentine's Day. I write cheap short stories about nothingness. I hope that at least one person gets pleasure out of reading this. So please review, because this is my first attempt at a short and sweet fluff piece.
Disclaimer: I don't own Racetrack or any of the other original newsies. I don't own Slider, Fingers, Firecracker, or Mouth, they own themselves. I own Spark..
"Shit," I swore as I fell off the bunk I was laying on. My head clunked on the floor and the person who had been below me looked down at me.
"You alright?" I heard the girl ask. She had long dirty blonde hair and dark brown eyes.
"Yeah, Slider, I'm fine. You should know that. It happens to me almost once a week," I told her as I stood up. I brushed the dust from the ground off my shirt and headed to the washroom.
A girl greeted me instantly with, "Hey there, Spark." I looked over to my friend Mouth, with a tangle of red hair circling her head like a mane. I grinned.
"Nice look," I told her playfully. This earned me a punch in the stomach, but I was used to it. This was just another routine thing in my life as a newsgirl. And I had no complaints about that.
"Ready to go?" Another girl asked the two of us.
"Does it look like we're ready to go?" Mouth said, forcing a comb through her chaotic web of curls.
"Fingers, just wait a while, alright? Go wake Firecracker up or something," I told the girl. She turned around and walked off. Firecracker walked in a minute later.
"Hey Spark. Mouth," she offered and splashed the water from the washbasin onto her face. "Ready to sell?" she asked with a level of energy and excitement that never ceased to amaze me. I nodded and all five of us headed downstairs.
"Be careful!" a housewife-y woman yelled after us. I looked back at her. It was Miss Maldives, the owner of Manhattan's only newsgirls lodging house. We all yelled back that we would and walked to the distribution office for our papers.
That was when I first caught a glimpse of him. I saw a shock of curly brown hair behind Jack before he got pulled off to the side and I lost sight of him.
"Spark, you coming?" Slider asked me as I stared in the direction where I'd seen the boy.
"Yeah, sure," I told her and followed her down to Central Park. Sure, it wasn't the most challenging spot, but it was a guarantee all right. No trouble selling our papers that day, that's for sure. I peddled my eighty without breaking a sweat. I did have experience behind me, though. I'd been a newsgirl since a year after I ran away from home at the age of twelve.
"You all right? You seemed a little distracted today," Mouth asked when we settled down for a game of poker at Tibby's that night.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just been doing some thinking," I told her.
"Got anyone in particular on my mind?" she asked. She knew me too well, I determined. Without my saying anything she asked, "Who?" When I didn't reply she repeated the question.
"I don't know," I muttered softly.
"You don't know the name of the guy that's been on your mind all day?" she asked surprised.
"He's new with the boys. Just caught a glimpse of him today. I have to head off to the Hall for now. Come with me. I'll get you some free seats," I offered, standing up.
"Okay, fine," Mouth said, though we both knew she wanted to come. She grabbed Slider and the three of us walked happily towards Irving Hall where I had my night job. I've never really liked the term night job. It makes me sound like a prostitute. However, it was literally a night job. It was a job, and I did it at night.
"What took you so long?" Medda asked me as she scurried around getting the other performers dressed.
"Never mind that," I told her calmly, "I'm ready anyway. Just give me a cleaner shirt. Its not like I have to squeeze into that," I told her, gesturing to the corset another girl was slipping into painfully.
"Spark," she told me with a smile on her face, "you are impossible. Go get a shirt and get on that stage!" She walked out onto the stage herself and started in with her usual song, "My Lovey-Dovey Baby".
"Now, for a special treat, the fabulous Spark Carraba," Medda introduced me and I walked out on the stage, the adrenaline rush taking over as I fearlessly stared down the crowd. I looked at the guitar strapped across my body, a grin plastered on my face.
I started in with my playing while another girl started singing. I followed the words in my head, wishing I had the ability to sing like Susan, the girl up front. I almost faltered on the C chord as I noticed a new head bobbing in the audience. As always, a few of the newsies had snuck in and were watching me, but the new boy had come with them. He grinned up at me and I kept playing.
After performing the third song, I stood up and walked off. Medda praised me quickly and walked off to introduce John the ventriloquist. Jack walked over to me, "Great job, Spark. Now I have someone I want you to meet," he told me and dragged me towards a huddle of newsies. "This here is Anthony "Racetrack" Higgins. He just came here today. We want you to show him the ropes."
"Why me?" I asked, and looked at the boy. Shocked I saw it was the same boy from earlier that morning.
"Because you're the best female newsie, and I think you'd be good for him. Besides, I already have a new recruit, and he's hard enough as it is. Slider is busy helping some new girls, so you're the best of what's left," Jack explained.
"Thanks for putting me third," I joked, then looked over to Racetrack, "Well, Higgins, looks like you're my new selling partner," I told him, offering my palm for a spit-shake.
"Call me Race," he said, then put on his hat and walked off to follow the rest of the boys that had already left.
"Goodbye," I whispered into the night and turned around to walk home with Slider and Mouth. They both looked at me with knowing grins.
"So," Mouth spoke up, "You get a name this time?"
I swatted her with the palm of my hand then answered, "Racetrack. Anthony Racetrack Higgins," I repeated, liking the sound of the name.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*
I woke up the next morning grinning with the events of last night. I grabbed a new shirt and my nicer pants and pulled them on. I took extra time washing my face and brushing my hair.
"Selling with Race today?" Mouth asked, noticing my sudden increased interest in cleanliness.
"Not that it's any of your business, but I am. He's new and I got assigned to help him start out," I told her, pretending to be angry.
"You're not good at faking anger you know. Well, I hope Jack knew what he was doing, putting him with you," was all she said as she walked out the door. I followed her to the distribution office where I found Racetrack talking with Mush and Kid Blink.
"Hey, Spark," Blink said as I approached. I nodded in acknowledgement to the three of them and walked over. "So, you're Race's selling partner?" he asked.
"Yeah, there a problem with that?" I asked.
"No, I'm jealous actually. You're not a half bad seller," he told me.
"Oh, thanks," I said, but I knew he meant it as a compliment, and he knew I took it as one. I looked at Race one more time before speaking to him, "Well, let's get you outfitted with some papes and go sell. We'll start off in Central Park, there's enough rich men there to last a lifetime."
"Alright," he agreed and went to buy his papers. He looked over the headlines and smirked, obviously thinking of some private joke with himself. When I asked him what he was thinking, he wouldn't say. I got irritated with him and he asked, "What? Don't you like the strong silent type?"
"No," I joked. "I'm more into tall, dark, and handsome. And it seems you only fit one of those descriptions, shorty."
"At least I can sing," he offered, evidently remembering that I wasn't the singer for Irving Hall. He burst out into a beautiful tenor solo, proving his Irish roots to be true, despite his obvious Italian appearance.
"We'll have to get you a job at Irving Hall," I told him as we walked. "Want me to talk to Medda for you? You'll still get to sell during the day, and it helps keep bread in your stomach." He nodded in agreement while he sold a paper to an old woman. I looked at his still full pile of papers. "You need an angle," I told him, and he gave me a puzzled look. I tried to explain, "An angle is a reason for people to buy your papers from you. Crutchy has his limp, and Blink his patch. I just pretend to cry and it gets their attention right away. You have anything you can rely on?"
"This work?" he asked, his voice shifted into a perfect imitation of a lost, stuttering boy. I looked at him in amazement.
"How can you do that?"
"What? This?" he asked in a crisp British accent. "Or this?" he said, sounding Western. "Or perhaps this?" he asked, a heavy Irish accent present.
"All of it. How can you do that?" I asked him, staring in awe.
"I lived with a camp of gypsies for a year after I ran off," he told me. "You picked up on things like that. Hablo español, et je parle français aussi. Sogar etwas Deutscher. (a/n: This is supposed to say "I speak Spanish, and I speak French too. Even some German." However, I had to use an online translation service because I only speak French and English.
"Whoa," I said amazed. "You've got a bright future ahead of you. Both here and onstage," I told him and we went to selling. After only an hour, Race's twenty papers were finished off, as were the leftover thirty I had before.
"I've got to get over to Irving Hall, but do you want to come with me? I'll talk to Medda for you if you still want me to," I offered.
"Alright, I wouldn't mind having another way to get some money," he agreed and we walked to Irving Hall.
"Medda, have I got a surprise for you!" I called as I barreled through the doors, Race walked behind me. "Listen to this boy sing!" I told her, and beckoned Race out of the shadows.
"Well, sing something boy," Medda said looking down at him. "Come on, don't be afraid."
"All right. Here goes nothing," he muttered under his breath before breaking out into song. I hadn't heard the song before, and I assumed it was something from his homeland. Medda gasped and he stopped. "What, that bad?"
"Completely the opposite. We need you. You've got yourself a job, boy," Medda told him with a big smile on her face. "Now excuse me, but I have a show to start."
"I have to go tune my guitar, but I'll see you when I'm done, right?" I asked him.
"Yeah. Thank you," he said and I walked off towards the room where I stored my precious instrument. I started turning the knobs on the neck until the instrument sounded just right. I smiled, I always loved the sound the strings made when they were at just the right point. I heard Medda's song finishing up, so I hurried to get to my entrance point. She announced me once again and I walked out on stage. I started playing, and the girl once again sung my lines. After playing four songs I walked back offstage.
"How was I?" I asked Racetrack nervously.
"You know how Jack is at selling?" he asked. I nodded, not sure where he was going with this. "That's how you are on guitar," he said.
"That's got to be the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me," I said blushing. I hated blushing. It made me feel very girlish like the performers that wore the corsets I despised so much.
"Well, its true," he said, and with that he disappeared into the night. Well, actually, I knew exactly where he was going: the newsboys lodging house. But it felt like he had disappeared into the night. Or maybe I'm just too poetic for my own good. Who knows?
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*
I woke up tired the next morning. I yawned as I woke up, since wearing the clothes from yesterday. All the girls stared at me as I yawned away.
"Late night last night?" Mouth joked.
"Ugh!" I grunted, swatting at her with the towel I was holding, but missing her head completely. Slider laughed at my lack of aim.
"I'll say," she said, and walked off while I shook my fist menacingly.
"Alex, how could you?" Firecracker joked.
"Hey, do I look like Fingers to you?" I asked. Her name had always been a source of amusement to all of us at the lodging house.
"I heard that!" Fingers yelled from inside the bunkroom.
All of us laughed as we walked downstairs and out to the distribution office. I smiled at Race when I saw that he was already waiting with both our papers. I handed him enough coins to pay him back and we were off. We tried a few different districts, mostly ones where the people didn't speak English. Race was fluent enough for the both of us.
"Il fuoco esige molte vite!" (a/n: That supposedly says, "Fire claims many lives!" in Italian) Racetrack called out about the article on a barbecue that was held the day before. I laughed, Race definitely had a handle on it. We sold all of a hundred and ten papers in under six hours.
We headed off to Irving Hall for my performance. Race was supposed to sing tonight, and I was looking forward to listening to him. He started off with some Irish folk songs that I hadn't heard before. Some were sad, and some were happy, but all were gorgeous. Then, Medda handed me some music for my guitar and pushed me onto the stage. She told me to play, and that Racetrack already knew the song. I started playing and he broke into song:
"Every time our eyes meet
This feeling inside me
Is almost more than I can take
Baby when you touch me
I can feel how much you love me
And it just blows me away
I've never been this close to anyone or anything
I can hear your thoughts
I can see your dreams
I don't know how you do what you do
I'm so in love with you
It just keeps getting better
I wanna spend the rest of my life
With you by my side
Forever and ever
Every little thing that you do
Baby I'm amazed by you
The smell of your skin
The taste of your kiss
The way you whisper in the dark
Your hair all around me
Baby you surround me
You touch every place in my heart
Oh it feels like the first time every time
I wanna spend the whole night in your eyes
I don't know how you do what you do
I'm so in love with you
It just keeps getting better
I wanna spend the rest of my life
With you by my side
Forever and ever
Every little thing that you do
Baby I'm amazed by you
Every little thing that you do
I'm so in love with you
It just keeps getting better
I wanna spend the rest of my life
With you by my side
Forever and ever
Every little thing that you do
Oh, every little thing that you do
Baby I'm amazed by you"
I looked up into his eyes when the song was done and he was looking right down at me. He walked over and kissed me. The crowd cheered, but it was nothing compared to the happiness I was feeling and the cheering inside my own heart.
Disclaimer: That song is "Amazed" by Lonestar. I hate country music, but that is a good song and it fit perfectly in there.
A/N: This is what happens when they take down fanfiction.net on Valentine's Day. I write cheap short stories about nothingness. I hope that at least one person gets pleasure out of reading this. So please review, because this is my first attempt at a short and sweet fluff piece.