Obviously, I haven't updated once a week, like I said I was going to do. But thanks to the lovely Naked Brothers Band Forever, I have at last decided to update! So please enjoy this chapter! Also, if you haven't already, check out Nat Wolff's new movie, Paper Towns, and go to YouTube and watch Qaasim Middleton on American Idol! Our boys are growing up, you guys. I couldn't be more proud of them. :')

This chapter is dedicated to Naked Brothers Band Forever, who is such a sweetheart for reading this story and encouraging me to update! Thank you so much, dear! I hope you like this chapter! :D

Chapter Three

Road Trips of the Weirdest Kind

"Uh, can I help you . . .?"

Thomas stood in his dorm room, the light from the hallway illuminating the darkness behind him and piercing his eyes with its blinding glow. He had been enjoying a nice, long nap after classes when he'd been so rudely interrupted by a knock at the door. Now, he stood in the doorway, his hair disheveled and brown eyes narrowed. Who would interrupt him but the bane of his existence herself? Yes, in the hallway stood Rosalina Tai, her long, brown hair flowing down past her shoulders and a single paper resting between her fingers.

"I was wondering if you had time to practice? We need to work on our piece and I didn't know if you were busy . . ." She trailed off, struggling to look behind him into the dark room, as if it were any of her business what he'd been doing.

He blocked her view without thinking twice. "Whoa, hold on a minute." He sighed, trying to make sense of things. "Practice? You're not my partner, remember? I was paired with Amy Ross - you know, the hot blond?"

Whether Rosalina was confused by the fact that they were obviously not partners or that she wasn't the hottest girl in the class, Thomas didn't know and, quite frankly, didn't care. "Well, if that's all you needed . . ." He moved to shut the door, but she caught it before he could.

"Didn't you hear?"

"Hear what?"

"My partner, Josh Kaye, left the school because of personal issues."

"So what?" He went to shut the door again, but she caught it and handed him the paper in her hands.

"Amy had a family emergency and won't be back for two more weeks. Mr. Timmerman didn't tell you?"

"No." Sometimes he really hated that guy. Thomas skimmed over the paper before glancing back up at his classmate. "So Josh dropped out."

She nodded.

"And Hot Amy won't be back for two weeks."

"Right."

He blinked, expression never changing. "So, let me get this straight. We're partners now?"

"Yes."

"I don't think so." He moved to slam the door, but she caught it a final time and he groaned. "What?"

"We need to get this project done, whether you want to or not," she told him, crossing her arms over her chest. "Two hours of your time, that's all I need."

He rolled his eyes. "You'll get thirty minutes."

"We have to write a song, Thomas. It'll take more time than that." She took the paper from his hands and scanned it. "We only have a week to complete the assignment. We should at least start on it. What about an hour today and two hours this Saturday?"

"Can't. I'm busy this weekend."

"An hour today and two hours on Friday, then."

"That's three hours."

"We need to practice. We have to write an entire piece, and make it good."

He paused, for a moment almost considering it. "Forget it." He shut the door and this time she let him, sighing in defeat. She had turned to walk away, but, within seconds the door came open again.

"Hold up," he said, a devilish grin appearing on his face. "One hour today on one condition."

"Deal," she replied, against her better judgment. "What do you have in mind?"

"Not much . . . Just a little road trip."

Alex knew Brooklyn Arts was well known for its classical scholars, but he wasn't so sure he could wait until Christmas to play the drums again. After all, he'd been banging on them since he was born; he wasn't about to stop now. Alas, the school didn't own a single drum set - not even a cheap one; although they'd promised state of the art sets for him - and he was pretty sure he'd go out of his mind if he didn't play soon.

It wasn't that he didn't enjoy the school - he'd had a blast in his piano class and he and Juan were both in chorus now, which he enjoyed, but he missed the drums. The school offered extracurricular music classes, for those wanting to learn guitar or ukelele, but he'd yet to see a single pair of drumsticks and it was driving him insane.

Perhaps that was why he and Nat had headed off campus to a nearby music store after school one evening. Between classes and the unholy amount of homework they were given each day, he'd hardly seen his brother since school began. Not only that, but he was pretty sure Nat missed playing music for fun, too, and what better way to do that than by heading to a music store?

"Nat, you have to buy me these drums," Alex had said when they arrived, the moment he took a seat behind a black Tama Starclassic Bubinga set for over one thousand dollars. "I think I'm in Heaven."

Nat laughed. "With what money, Alex? We're broke." Alex ignored him and went full throttle into playing them, eyes closed, head bobbing.

Now, fifteen minutes into giving the drums all he had, Alex ended his solo, complete with a roll and crashing symbols. He was breathing heavily, having lost himself in the beat and, when he finally looked up, Nat offered a proud smile.

"So," Alex started, leaving the set of his dreams to give another a test run, "what's up, bro? We've barely talked since we got here."

"I know." Nat ran a hand through his hair, taking a guitar from a nearby rack and bringing it over to where his brother was now banging on the next set of drums. "Things have been hectic. I'm sorry, Alex."

"No worries, bro," Alex responded and stopped playing. "School's pretty tough, huh? At least before we had Jesse and less homework."

Nat nodded from where he was busy tuning the guitar. "I know what you mean. The homework is brutal." He was quiet for a moment as he strummed a few chords on the guitar. "Did you know Bobby Love goes there?"

Alex looked up, eyebrows furrowed. "Bobby Love? Isn't he a little old to be in high school?"

"He's not too much older than us, Alex. But he's actually there to help kids with their music classes."

"That's nice."

"I don't know, man . . ." Nat trailed off and Alex turned around to face him. "He's usually a pretty cool guy, but . . . It just seemed like he was angry, at us."

"Why would he be angry at us?" Alex asked, twirling a drum stick between his fingers. "What did we ever do to Bobby Love?"

"I don't know. He just said that there wasn't enough room in the school for the three of us."

"That's weird." Alex turned back to the drum set, hitting the bass drum first and then the snare. "Maybe he was just having a bad day."

"Maybe." Nat strummed a few more chords, along with Alex's drum beat. "I hope you're right."

Rosalina Tai had done a lot of unexpected things in her short, seventeen years of life - moving across the world after her mother died was perhaps the most significant of events - but never had she ever done something this outrageous. Why she'd agreed, she had no idea. All she knew was that she had signed up for the wrong rodeo and she was beginning to despise Thomas Batuello more with each passing second.

Their first practice hadn't gone as well as Rosalina hoped it would. Thomas showed no real interest in song writing nor playing the cello and it wasn't until she threatened to call off their little deal that he finally cooperated. They managed to come up with the beginning of the piece and make it sound almost good enough to perform, but the minute the agreed practice time was over, Thomas was gone, leaving Rosalina to work on the song on her own.

Their second practice had gone much better - they'd even finished the piece, in spite of the fact Thomas was twenty minutes late - and it had gone over fairly well.

Now, here they both were, in Rosalina's car the next day. Thanks to that stupid agreement they'd made, she was now embarking on a road trip with a classmate she hardly knew. He'd yet to tell her much about the trip, which left her a little worried, but he'd explained that his family wanted him home the first weekend of every school year, to make sure he was already making progress and doing well. Rosalina supposed that made her his chauffeur, for he was only fifteen and didn't have a car of his own. The drive would be a few hours, but it was worth it to have successfully completed their project.

However, she found herself beginning to second guess her decision, for they were two hours into the trip and, already, Thomas had the radio turned up louder than she could handle, he'd made several sexist remarks and, if he farted one more time, she wouldn't hesitate to leave him on the side of the road.

She turned the radio down and took a deep breath. Only one more hour and they would be there, then she could drop him off and let his parents handle him for the rest of the weekend. Only one more hour. Sixty minutes. She could do this.

Thomas reached over and turned the radio back up, bobbing his head to the beat as the wailing of a guitar solo got louder. "This song is awesome!" he yelled over the music. "Don't you think so, Rosalina?"

She sighed and turned it off again. "Okay. I think I've had enough of . . . Whatever that was."

His brown eyes were wide as he fixated his gaze on her. "You mean to tell me you don't even know who Guns N Roses are." It wasn't a question.

She didn't respond, instead focusing on the road ahead and enjoying what little silence she could during this trip.

Thomas spent a minute tapping his finger on the door before he sighed and flipped his visor down, going through the countless CDs she had up there. "Bach, Beethoven, Zara Nelsova . . ." He wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Got any I can pronounce?" She rolled her eyes and then he pulled one from the group. "Oh, here's one! Yo Yo Mama. Is he a rapper or something?"

If Rosalina was annoyed before, that hardly compared to how she was feeling now, as she shot Thomas an icy look. "It's Yo Yo Ma."She turned her gaze back to the road. "Everyone knows who he is."

Thomas put the CD back in its place and closed the visor. "I didn't."

"He's a famous cellist," she told him. "Mr. Timmerman has even mentioned him a few times this year."

"That's probably why I haven't heard of him."

They sat in silence for a long moment, cars speeding by them on the highway, the sun shining down from above.

"Why do you play the cello, Thomas?"

He looked up and it was clear her question had caught her off guard. His eyes narrowed and, after a minute, he finally responded, "I'm not like anyone at that school." His voice was dripping with disgust. "I'm not there to get straight As, or to prove I'm better than everyone else."

She glanced at him. "Then why are you there? Why do you play if it isn't important to you?"

"Of course it's important to me," he snapped. "That's why I went to Brooklyn Arts."

His tone warned her that this was the end of their conversation and she let it go, for now. She was well aware of the fact that Thomas Batuello didn't like her at all. She even knew it was all he could do to sit in her car, to ask her to take him home. It was clear they'd never see eye-to-eye on anything - they were from two different worlds, it seemed - but she only had one more hour and they could call it even. Finally.

"Take the next exit," he spoke and she could tell it took all he had to keep the frustration from his voice. "There will be a stop light just off the ramp. Take a left."

Rosalina did as she was told, taking the exit and then the left, heading down a crowded street in the midst of a large city. It took them nearly all afternoon just to navigate though the city. Apparently that extra hour was just to allow time to make it through the backed up traffic and countless stop lights. Rosalina wasn't sure they'd even make it to Thomas' house before nightfall.

They had been sitting in silence for half an hour in traffic when Thomas finally spoke up, pulling Rosalina from her thoughts, "Okay. I have a confession to make." She turned her attention to him and he took a deep breath. "I needed a ride to my parents' house, but . . . I lied about why you were coming."

"You what?" she snapped. "We had an agreement; we finish the piece, I give you a ride, that was it."

"I know, I know." He rolled his eyes. "It's just . . . My parents will never forgive me if they find out I've been skipping classes and coming in late again this year-"

"Then don't."

"-and my dad will kill me if he finds out I've gotten bad grades on my homework already-"

"You should have thought of that."

"-so I kind of told them that I was bringing you and that you're my girlfriend."

It took a moment for Rosalina to realize the weight of his words. It took her a moment to register that, not only had she been conned into driving him home, she'd been conned into becoming his pseudo girlfriend for the weekend as well. She stared first at the steering wheel and then out the window, his words slowly sinking in.

"But don't worry," he added quickly. "It's not for real and only for a day. My parents will-" He stopped when he realized she still hadn't spoken. "Rosalina?"

She finally turned to face him, brown eyes ablaze with anger. "What were you thinking?" she shouted suddenly. "You lied to me! All I wanted to do was to get the project done and I let you talk me into going on this- this trip!" She huffed. "That's it. The deal is off. Either come back to school with me or find another ride."

"Wait, what?" His tone was incredulous. "Where are you gonna go? We're stuck in traffic."

"I'm turning around at the next intersection."

"On a one way street?"

She shot him a look. "Where does the street end? There has to be somewhere I can turn around." She waited for his answer, but it never came and, when she finally looked at him, he was merely staring out the window, that ever-present smirk of his unmistakable. "Thomas, I swear, if you don't tell me where the turn is, I'll-"

"You'll what?" He met her gaze now. "Get lost? Beat me up? Let's face it, you don't want your perfect image ruined, so you won't do anything."

She let out an exasperated huff. "Just tell me where the turn is!"

He was still smirking. "Nope. You need a good grade and I need a good impression. We're going to my parents' house. Just a few hours, then it's over."

"Grade?" she repeated, eyebrows furrowed. "What does that have to do with this?"

"Either you pretend to be my girlfriend, or I won't perform our piece Monday."

"Then we'll both fail."

"Exactly." She wished she could slap that smug look off of his face just once. "That's the point."

She stared at him in silence, brown eyes wide. "Thomas Batuello, that's blackmail."

He smiled. "Yep. It sure is."

Oh, Thomas... He's a mischievous one. :P Let me know what you think!