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(Monday morning - 4 A.M. - Trent's loft)

Trent sat on the leather sofa with his legs folded beneath him, a cup of hot coffee sitting beside him on the old oak side table. A pencil behind his ear, rectangle-shaped, black rimmed stylish glasses perched on his nose, Trent wrote on a blue pad in his lap. Cave by Celebrity was playing loudly on his speakers, and an electric heater beside the couch warmed his body.

On the blue paper were guitar tabs and lyrics. Trent stopped the ballpoint pen and began from the beginning. Zeek could rap the beginning, and then Trent could scream or yell the rest:

There are just too many times that people have tried to look inside of me

Wondering what I think of you and I protect you out of courtesy

Too many times that I've held on what I needed to push away

Afraid to say what was on my mind afraid to say what I need to say

Too many things that you said about me when I'm not around

You think having the upper hand means you gotta keep putting me down

But I've had too many standoffs with you it's about as much as I can stand

So I'm waiting until the upper hand is mine

[Chorus]

(One minute you're on top)

Next you're not watch it drop

(Making your heart stop)

Just before you hit the floor

(One minute you're on top)

Next you're not missed your shot

(Making you're heart stop)

You think you've won

(And then its all gone)

Trent crossed a few lyrics out, rewrote them, and changed the guitar tabs around. He picked up the remote to his stereo and put the song on pause, then picked up his guitar and turned the amp up a little and began to pluck it out. Smiling just a bit, he wondered if Lauren would like it. Shaking his head and frowning, he growled low in his throat. He didn't want to care about what she thought.

Sighing, he rested the guitar in his lap and removed his glasses. Rubbing his eyes, he took a deep breath back in. Well, it already did matter, he realized.

Setting his guitar and tablet aside, Trent stood up and stretched, wrote 'Hit the Floor' messily across the top of the paper, and then faxed the lyrics over to Zeek. They could practice for the rest of the day.

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