Well...I've read a lot of Literai fanfics and am really getting annoyed with a lot of the ones where Rory runs away with Jess. So this is my version...
I smile to myself and give her a sideways look as she let's her hair blow out the car window. I like it shorter...I don't think I've told her that yet.

I should.

"Oh, I love this song,' and she cranks the stereo up despite the fact that she did the same thing at the last favorite song. She bobs her head to the beat of the base drum and I wonder if I've hit anything while driving, because I keep staring at her.

She notices and smiles back at me then jerks her head in the direction of the road ahead with a knowing smirk. I turn my head foreword and can't contain my own glee.

I don't think I've ever really connected myself with that word.

I don't think I've ever used that word.

This is perfection itself.

My eyes blink open a bit to glimpse a grungy looking ceiling, deep blue paint pealing off, and I quickly shut them again. I don't want to wake up yet.

I want to keep dreaming.

I don't want to be living in a roach infested apartment, sleeping on a rotting mattress, rooming with old druggies who don't pay their rent.

I don't want any of this.

But I asked for it.
He's warm...and cold at the same time.

His feet are freezing.

And to just touch his bare skin sends tingles down my spine...not good tingles. I keep trying to push my mother's voice back down into my gut.

Who wants to think about their mother when they're sleeping with their boyfriend.

My boyfriend.

Not her husband.

He moves to pull me closer to him, as if sensing my thoughts, and yet I find no comfort in his subconscious actions.

I don't want to be lying here anymore, what am I doing.

I wish I was dreaming.

I close my eyes, feeling tears begin to burn the corners.

Wake up, wake up, wake up.

The same white ceiling, the same brown haired boy, the same compromising position.

I suddenly don't want this.

I don't want to be the other woman.

I don't want to be fighting with my mom.

I don't want any of this.

But I asked for it.
So...there was a second chapter for about...10 hours...but it sucked ass. Someone commented that judging by the first chapter of this 'story', it had an original plotline. See, now that's where everything goes kaplutz. I have no plotline. Zippo, nada, nun and I thought I'd just write and take myself somewhere. Huh...well, that leaves me trying to constantly write in the 'inspired' way I did in the first chapter (cause believe me, that was a whim) and now everything else seems forced. So...I've decided to go with option number two for the time being, 'Please delete it and save your dignity'.

Tsuite Iku