I wake up, fully clothed, in my bed, with the sun streaming in through the blinds, to that irritating buzzy noise phone vibrations make when you get a message. But still, I refuse to let it get me down. The elated feeling from yesterday at the club has not left my heart and my mind. My progress with Frank and newly discovered confidence are keeping me awake and alive, so I embrace the annoying, unfamiliar noise. I never get texts, unless they're from Mikey who can't be bothered to fetch the Nutella or something from the other room and wants me to do it instead. So who can this be? Surely no-one would be so eager to text at - I turn to look at the dull face of the clock - 11 o'clock. Wait, 11? I'm not sure if that's early or late for me. Anyway, yeah, to this text.

'Number - Unknown

Recieved 10:59 am '

I fiddle past the pointless time and date details in favour of checking the actual message.

"Call 4 sex?"

What? Call for sex? Sex?

I reply immediately - I am, after all, in a very curious situation - with a simple '"WHAT?"'

Stretching, I leap out of bed to stare out of the window at the drab city streets, but something has changed. Rather than look straight towards the smashed glass, "drug deal" corner, or even the dingy old bus stop where weird-os like to sleep, I am greeted by the welcoming sight of a bird. A beautiful bird. I mean, I can't tell what type of bird it is (at all), but it's making me happy nevertheless.

Bzzt! My phone buzzes again. Oh god.

"Dude (or chick) your phone number is in the school bathroom written under 'ANYONE CALL FOR SEX'."

Again, I am quick with a reply-

"Oh, cheesus. OK. I'm nt gunna have sex with u."

Gosh, okay, someone has taken my number of someone's contacts and written it out for all to see. I can picture it now, scrawled in permanent marker upon the yellowing (once white) tiles of the bathroom stalls.

Shit.

Buzz!

"Shame. Was looking forward to it. & did you just say cheesus? ;D"

I laugh - I have to! It's so funny. Maybe I can make a friend out of this?

"So, who are you? :-)"

I feel I might be pushing it a bit with the smiley face, but I let it send.

Before I can even think of a plan for the day I get an incoming call. It must be the mystery texter. I'm going to answer it. I hope it isn't some freak-ish, homophobic jock playing a joke on me.

"Hello?"

Oh god.

I know that voice, don't I? Oh gosh, it's the high pitched voice of the curly haired guitar player.

"Ray?!"

"Gerard," Ray's usually emotive voice rings in my ears without even a hint of any surprise he may feel hearing my voice on a 'sex line', "Do you make a habit of getting the hopes of young, innocent boys' up?"

"I do, I'm afraid." I reply, with a suggestive undertone to my voice.

"Anyway, I now rescind the sex offer." he says, equally as suggestive as my statement.

I like this guy.

"Uh, yeah," I mutter, the awkward Gerard coming out again. "So..."

"Do you want to come round to mine today?" his friendly tone and random offer catch me completely off-guard. I mean, I like him, and he's my friend (I hope!), but do I really want to go round to his house? Today? When I could be off... Doing homework or... Drinking. I make a rash decision.

"Yes!" I say, the enthusiasm I thought I had lost becoming evident in my voice.

"Okay. Coming to pick you up. Where do you live? No, wait, I'll ask my mom."

"Your mom?" I ask, surprised.

"Yes," he replies nonchalantly, "She knows everyone."

"Everyone?" I ask doubtfully.

"Yes."

I hear the background mumbles of my address as I pick at my dirty clothing, and stare out at the bird. It's still there, you know. Like a speck of clean hope on the stained washcloth of life.

"Coming over. Be there in ten. Bye!"

Before I can respond, psychic Ray (that shall be his new name) has hung up and I assume is rushing to his car with my address scrawled on his arm or something.

"Oh crap, I can't go out in these!" I say aloud, glancing down at my stained t-shirt and off coloured skinny jeans. "I'm going to have to change."

I sigh, rifling through my drawers to find something that won't make me look like a complete dick in front of my new friend. Not that that will matter, anyway, as I am the new confident Gerard - people should like me whatever I wear, right?

However, no matter how confident I now am, I do not want to smell like shit. Time for the final resort.

"Mikeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee y!" I yell, rushing into his room. It smells of tar and beer, and am I momentarily taken aback by the filth of the room, but I step cautiously in. He's in bed, only just awake, blinking in the bright sun of the morning.

"What do you want, Gee?" he asks sharply, softening the blow with a smile.

"Umm..." I fiddle with one of the wonky posters the wall of his small room. I love the feel of poster paper. It's weird. Glossy.

Suddenly, I am hit with belated nostalgia and remember that I have Frank's number. In my phone. With a picture. Oh, god.

Quickly my face is transformed as an unstoppable, wide smile contorts my features.

"Gerard, what?" Mikey snaps, bringing my back down to earth.

"Can I borrow some of your clothes?" I gingerly ask.

"Yes, yeah, go ahead. The mould hasn't spread to the closet, I swear." he laughs, deep and throaty.

I step cautiously over the mess on his floor and pull open the doors of his closet, eyeing up the pile of black clothes inside. I pick up a slightly creased Joy Division t-shirt and a pair of loose jeans ( I won't fit his - not only is he younger than me, but taller and a lot skinnier) and leave quickly, muttering a "good morning" as the door clicks behind me.

I run to the bathroom - the coldest room in the whole house - and change quickly in the arctic temperatures. I stand there for a while, in Mikey's clothes, wondering and waiting for Ray to call and ask where the fuck my house is. Surely he can't find it first time. No-one can find this house first time. Not that I have many visitors...

Ping!

"I'll get it!" I yell happily, stopping to remove the very camera-phone with Frank's number entered in from my old jeans to put it in my shallow pockets. Cheerily, I fling the door open and I am greeted by the curly-haired psychic himself. He looks good, dressed in flared jeans (like a cowboy!) with an Iron Maiden shirt covering his torso.

He smiles, " Heya, solitary Gerard. Not so solitary today, eh?"

"It seems not!" I say, in a mock English accent. I don't even know why. It just seems fun. And it is. "Well, Jeeves, let's go."

"Uh, yeah." he mumbles, leading my down my own driveway to his small, rusty, blue car. I stare at it for a while before I realise that it's my first time ever in someone else's car.

I step into the front seat (riding shotgun!) and settle there. It's lovely, Ray's car has this amazing rustic smell of dough and metal. I instantly like it. The seats are worn and torn, but it doesn't look skanky or badly looked after - it looks like it's been used. Used properly. Not just for groceries or trips, but for going out on long drives, blasting music, for taking friends to parties and for partying in.

I doubt Ray was ever, or will ever be, the one partying in the car, but his smile as he sits down proudly in the driver's seat tells me that he loves it all the same.

"So, you can drive?" I ask, curious as to when and where he learned. I should probably learn to drive soon. But I quite like a good walk...

"No." he smiles kicking the engine into life with the turn of a key.

We arrive at his house as I stare in wonder at its beauty. It really is lovely. It's painted a blue-ish white colour and has a weaving, inter-twining ivy plant creeping up one of the sides. I can feel Ray parking the car and undo my seatbelt, looking up at him through my dark hair.

"C'mon, Gerard, let's go."

I'm not sure where in the house we're going to, but I oblige. He drags me through the bungalow - I spot many family pictures and paintings littering the yellow walls and decide that I like Ray's house. It's calming.

We come to a stop outside a dark door, while he twiddles the lock and drags me into a small room with dark blue walls.

However, the blue walls aren't the first thing you notice. Then first thing you notice in the room, out of everything, is that it is full of guitars. There are guitars everywhere. Guitars on the walls, guitars on the carpets and strewn in random areas on the floor, behind bookshelves and in every crevice and cranny. The room isn't untidy by any means - it's actually tidier than any room in my house, but it's just so lively.

"Sit, Gee, come join me." Ray suggests, sitting on the bed and motioning towards me with one hand and pulling a pair of video game controllers out from under his pillow with the other.

Oh my gosh, he calls me "Gee". That means we're friends, right? Oh my god, that's so cool! We could-

Wait, why the fuck does this guy keep game controllers under his pillow?

I kick myself (mentally) out of my daydream and back into real life to awkwardly join my curly haired friend as he sits on his comfortable bed. It's nice, but I sit down cautiously nevertheless.

"Do you play?" he asks tentatively.

"Uh, no." I say, regretting the fact that I can't play video games to save my video game life. I feel so bad for Ray that I add an enthusiastic "But I will for you!" onto the end.

"Hey, man, never mind. I'll teach you one day, but I can tell you're not in the mood-" CAN THIS GUY READ MINDS? Oh, yes, he can. I remember the lesson now. "-so how about we talk? Wait a sec, you'll love this..."

He reaches down under his bed and pulls out a large, worn guitar case. My expression turns to one of puzzlement as he opens the case. What am I so interested in, again?

"Here." he pulls out a classic acoustic guitar with names squiggled over it. It looks perfectly regular, but -shit- when I look closer I can see the names.

"You've got a guitar signed by the Beatles?" I ask incredulously.

"Yeah, my mom's a big fan and she went to show back in the day... It's like a family heirloom..."

"Oh god, that is awesome!"

"Too right!"

I let the silence ring in our ears as the conversation dies -neither of us feeling the necessity to talk after the huge tangent Ray just went on.

"So," he starts, looking me directly in the eyes, after putting the guitar safely away, "How're you doing?"

That simple question gets me off guard. Nobody really asks how you're doing. Not even if they know you really well, usually they just assume the way you feel on your actions and the like, but no, apparently psychic Ray can't even tell. "Great, actually," I reveal truthfully, "What about you?"

"Well, as always. Content. Psychic."

Obviously!

"So, how is it going with... um... You never told me his name... The guy. The one who has captured your heart!" he teases with a comical edge, but serious eyes.

"I have his number!" I cheer, possessing a smile.

"Please tell me you've called him." Ray says, his eyes wide.

"I only got his number yesterday, Ray..." I reply, blushing.

"Yesterday! That was yesterday! You have to call him! He'll be all like 'Oh! My Gerard, he won't call me, whyyyyyy! WHYYYY! Does he not want to marry me and have my adopted babies'?" Ray giggles theatrically, grabbing me by the shoulders and shaking me.

"Haha, what are you, crazy? I'm not calling him. Not yet, it'll seem clingy." I stutter, trying to make an excuse for my nervousness, while clutching the phone in my pocket.

Ray sees.

He grins, bearing his straight teeth and widening his eyes. He lunges, grabbing for my hands and ending up pushing me over. "OOF! Ray! Get off of me!" I wheeze, giggling as his hair tickled my face.

"Call him, fool, or I'll tickle you!" He threatens.

"Neverrrr!" I laugh, as he starts tickling my sides, grinning whilst I squirm and squeal. "FUCK! Ray, I'm gunna pee! Okay, FINE I'll call him if you stop fucking killing me!" I manage choke out.

Ray lets go of me and helps me up, and I retrieve the sacred phone with the sacred number in from my pocket, giving Ray a death glare, and as the dial tone rings in my ears I realise that I will be talking to Frank if he picks up. It's making me nervous! What if-

"Uuhh, Hello?" Frank's voice calls after a few moments, and just hearing his voice is easing my nerves significantly.

"Frank, have you just woken up?" I ask, giggling: my breathing a little heavy after the tickle-fight with Ray. Frank's voice sounds rough and raw.

"Yeah, Gerard, I was wondering when you'd call." He says, teasing me, and I hear a smile in his voice, god, is he trying to kill me? He sounds so good over the phone, especially when he's just woken up. I assume. I've never really heard him over the phone in any other situation...

"Sorry, so, how are you? You sound tired." I question, wanting to hear him speak again.

"I was up all night getting a killer riff down." he admits, clearing his throat.

"Oh? I'd like to hear you play..." I state dreamily.

"What!? He plays guitar?" Ray calls from across the room. I ignore him.

"Wait, who's that in the background?!" Frank asks, his voice bearing a little paranoia.

"Uh, it's my friend, Ray. Oh god, yeah! It's my friend! I have a friend!" I beam down the phone, wondering if Frank can hear my smile.

"But I'm your friend!" he says spitefully.

"I know, Frank! But he's also awesome," I begin whispering, "But he's not you, is he?"

After a few awkward seconds after my mildly sexual whisper, Frank decides to break the silence with a very blunt question.

"So, why the fuck did you call me before noon?"

I have no idea why I have called him at this specific time... So, I improvise.

"I thought we could all have lunch together!"

I feel Ray react by my side, but he doesn't complain, so I keep going.

"And we can go to the park or something!" I suggest enthusiastically. God, I'm embarrassing.

Ray joins in, practically yelling down the phone: "Yeah! There's this pretty cool cafe that my sister owns, and I doubt you guys have been there because it's pretty well hidden and-"

"Yes, Ray, okay!" I interrupt, flattered by his energy and devotion to our afternoon plan.

"Sure, guys, but how we gunna get there?"

"I can find you!" Ray calls down the phone.

"Okay, well, here's my address..." Frank gives Ray the address of his house, the number of bikes there are outside his house, how many windows they have on the left side...

"Right, so... See you guys in 20? I need to change." Frank reveals.

"I can get there in 5. Come in your boxers, I'm sure Gerard would love that!" Ray chirps, almost singing the statement.

"Oi, Ray, you can-"

"See you in 10, go dress!" Ray shouts, grabbing the phone out of my hands and hanging up.

"Hey, you little-" I start, semi-angrily.

"No time to talk, Gee, let's go!" He says, tugging on the sleeve of my leather jacket before dragging me, once again, into his dark blue, well used car.

Have you ever been outdoors on a hot day in a leather jacket? It's fucking horrible. It's about 70 degrees out here, I swear.

We walk towards Frank's blue house door (a useful fact he told Ray during our communal phone conversation) after getting to number 69 la-di-dah street - it could be that, honestly, I can scarcely remember my own middle name- without trouble.

Before we knock, Frank flings the door open excitedly, looking ridiculously camp, and yells, so the whole street can hear and tell that he has friends, "HELLOOOOOOO!"

"Hey!" I say, stepping forward for a hug before changing my mind and recalling how the hug with Lindsey went, but Frank steps forward and brings me into an awkward bro-hug nevertheless.

"Hiya!" Frank says, gesturing toward Ray with his head: still latched onto me.

"Hi, Frank, I'm Ray, it's so nice to meet you!"

"Iron Maiden?" Frank asks incredulously, letting go of me and eyeing Ray up.

"Yes."

"Joy Division?" he looks back to me.

"Yes!"

"Cool, man, they're like one of my favourite- Wait a sec-" Frank darts back into the house, slamming the door quickly behind him.

In a matter of seconds he re-appears, proudly brandishing a band T-shirt to match ours.

"Phew, sorry about that, I felt like the odd one out…"

"Guys! Let's go!" Ray interrupts: not meaning to be rude, just being lively, crazy, psychic Ray.

"Yes!"

And we head to the car.

Okay, so the café isn't exactly first rate, but it isn't lousy at all. It's clean - immaculate, in fact- and cosy, if a little cluttered. Kind of like a charity shop. There's a huge mantel piece just overflowing with ornaments: china dogs, tape measures, wooden dolls, fake plastic trees...

I like it.

We're seated on the table closest to the window, getting prime service (we're the only people here). The menus are handwritten, which increases my respect for the place greatly - you can see the effort that Ray's sister (name yet unknown) has put into this business.

"So, what do you want?" Ray asks, not bothering to skim the menu himself. Knowing him, he's probably memorised it. Or perhaps his sister is psychic like him, and knows what he'll order already.

"Caramel Latte-" Frank and I start, before looking straight at each other and laughing. His laugh sends shivers down my spine.

I love it when he laughs.

"So... Uh... Yeah. Can you do it like that when my sister comes around?"

"Yes!" Frank shouts, flamboyantly and happily, while I muster up a small "Erm... Perhaps..."

Frank's eyebrows rise at my negativity and he flashes me a smile, revealing his perfect teeth and shaping his womanly lips.

"NATALIE!" Ray yells all of a sudden, tossing his head back and swinging on his chair.

Almost instantly a tall, brown-y blonde haired woman comes out from what I assume is the kitchen. As she makes her way over, I attempt to guess her age. I'd say about 21. Anyway, she's tall and busty: a little on the heavy side but that's a bonus – you can't trust a skinny chef, can you?

"Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaat would you like?" she asks, smiling towards us, and reaching into her beige apron and retrieving a tiny brown notepad (with a tiny brown pencil!).

"Well, I'd like a- wait a second, you two go first: you gotta see this, Nat!" Ray says: once again enthusiastic.

Frank and I turn to face each other, giggling as we do so.

"Let's go!" he mouths.

" Caramel-"

"Caramel La-"

"Latte-"

"Latte- Caramel Latte!"

Okay, it wasn't the best, but we both begin laughing uncontrollably as a consequence.

"Yeah… Okay… And you, my itty bitty little brother…"

"You know what I want."

"Got it!" she smiles, tearing the page from her notebook and heading back into the kitchen.

As she leaves, Ray attempts small talk.

"So, did you hear about the party at Jasmine Sickle's house?"

"No…" Frank and I mutter quietly.

"Well, it's a jock hotspot. Believe me. Jasmine's my brother's friend – he's younger than me by a year- and she always throws these crazy-ass parties at this time of year.

Anyway, well, I got dragged there with Eric and all his dumb friends and there was more sportswear than I have literally ever seen in my life."

"Wow… Sportswear…" Frank whispers sarcastically.

Ray chuckles.

"Dirty details, please!" Frank teases.

"I don't know about dirty, but there was this nerdy guy – poor thing- getting all excited at his first party (I think he was actually in our year, Gee!) and he just went mad and had four vodka shots in five minutes."

Ray leaves an enigmatic silence in order to reel us in.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaand?" I query.

"Puke. Everywhere."

Calls of "oooh!" erupt from the crowd of two people (Frank and I) and I sympathise.

"I think Mikey was there, actually. When was it?" I ask, the situation ringing a bell (Mikey tells me everything the morning after a party- on the condition that I provide him coffee).

"Last night. And who's Mikey?"

"My little brother. He's awkward."

Ray raises an eyebrow at me.

"Okay, he's cooler than me, all right!"

Frank and Ray snigger.

"I have to admit, I was invited to that party," Frank reveals tentatively.

"I'm impressed!" I wink.

"But, you know, my Friday nights are reserved for someone special."

Score! That was a direct flirt, right?

Flirt or not, I blush. Frank notices and throws a cheeky grin in my direction.

But what if he was just joking? What if he hates me and wants me to die so he can steal all my stuff and eat all the-

"I can feel it!"

"Feel what?" Frank raises his eyebrows, waiting for an innuendo.

"The chemistry!"

Ray waits for a response, or at least understanding, from his audience.

"Between you two!" he smiles.

A penny drops inside our minds and I blush even more. Frank squeezes my shoulder appreciatively.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, as it has been doing a lot today, and I rush to grab it and ease a little of the tension (sexual tension, may I say) in the conversation.

"Speak of the devil." I say, mouthing a small "sorry" to Ray and Frank and relocating to get a better signal on my magic, image capturing brick. I mean phone.

"Hello? Mikey? Are you okay?" I ask, my sense of worry creeping in.

Oh, God, what if he's gotten trapped in a bush again?

What if he's stuck in a helicopter 10 miles above me?

What if he's gotten some poor chick pregnant?

What if-

"I'm fine, Gerard." Mikey replies, as if it'd been obvious the whole time.

"Then why are you calling? Are you sure you're okay? No pregnancy? No helicopters? No getting trapped in a-"

"That was one time, Gerard!"

"Well, yes, but you didn't like it, did you! You kept kicking, and screaming… Remember? You actually-"

"Humana Humana Humana!" Mikey says, to stop me going into the details of his "bush problem".

That sounds dirty, doesn't it?

I hear Mikey sigh on the end of the line.

Damn my making-everything-awkward gene.

"Look, Gerard, it's nothing serious, it's just-"

"Oh, so you are in trouble?!" I look hurriedly back at Ray and Frank, just to check they're alright and that they won't be too bothered if I leave to un-trap my brother or something, but they're too deep in conversation to notice me.

"No, Gerard. No. N O. I'm not in trouble." Mikey stresses, sounding almost sarcastic.

"Is that some sort of signal? Are they holding you hostage, Mikey? I swear to God, I'll kill them. Are you at the house? Have you taken your-"

"NO, GERARD. I JUST WANTED TO ASK YOU A QUESTION."

"Okaaaay…" I say, nervously, as I have no useful advice. Unless you need advice on… er… Comics or Britpop.

"Can you please buy some Marmite while you're out?"

"Is that seriously it?"

"Yes."

"Okay, bye."

"No, no, don't go!" Mikey says hurriedly, "Will you?"

"Yeah. See you."

"Bye!"

I end the call and stuff my brick phone back into my pocket.

I resit myself into the comfy wooden chair next to Frank and smile at him. His response makes my heart melt: a simple, simple smile, but the biggest I've ever seen.

"So, what've you two been doing while I've been gone?" I ask suggestively, "From the looks of it, you've pleased Frank…"

"We were just talking, Gerard! I swear!" Frank puts his hands up in mock innocence.

Ray sniggers, and nods towards me, before getting up abruptly and announcing that he has to help his sister, and that –perhaps- she's trapped something in the coffee machine again: it's not usually "this" long.

It's nice outside. It's such a random thing, but it's true. Today's a great day. It's not dull, like I used to think the world was- it's colourful, and almost fragrant.

It feels like the future and the past have been crushed together into a ball that I'm tossing to the side, for the people I am with, and the feelings that I feel right now, are the only things that matter.

"Thinking?" Frank asks, his voice deep and serious, with a hint of curiosity.

He's tilting his head to the side like an excited puppy and I'm almost expecting him to balance a ball on his nose or clap his "flippers" together like a circus seal.

"Gerard…" Frank turns serious, " Is there… no, can I ask you a question?"

"Anything."

"There isn't anything going on between you and Ray, is there?"

"Oh! No way! No!"

"No 'friends with benefits'?" he asks, frowning a little as he does so, " I asked Ray, and he gave me a simple answer, but best to check, isn't it? I mean, what if-"

"No, Frankie, there's nothing going on. I'm not into 'friends with benefits'. I mean, either you're in a relationship or you're not…"

I can feel myself readying for a rant but I stop myself before I continue and bore the mind out of the guy I think I may one day marry, settle down, have adopted kids with, own 18 dogs with, share tea in the morning with before my job of being an artist and his of being a-

"Phew," he exaggerates, throwing his arm around my shoulders, "I thought I might've missed my chance…"

That line gets me. It hits me right in the nervous system and sends shocks of pleasure through every bone in my body and leaves me flustered. Chills! Excitement!

It's the way he whispers it in my ear…

And as he does it, his hot breath tickles me, and makes me melt even quicker.

I turn to face him.

Woah, that's close.

His face is looming so close that I bet if he blinks it'll rub against my skin. He's leaning forward in his chair so he's level with me, as he's usually a few inches smaller. His cheeks look so smooth I want to stroke them, to feel the coarse razor bumps, tiny, subtle craters and their mild pink hue beneath my fingers. His womanly lips look so fragile that all I want to do is stare, but so inviting that that urge is supressed by the strong temptation to kiss-

"No, Natalie, no!" I hear Ray shouting across the café, as Ray's sister places the beverages, as ordered, onto the table- bursting Frank and I out of our bubble.

"Natalie! They were just about to kiss!" he hisses, taking back his seat next to Frank angrily.

"Oh, God, guys, I'm so sorry: it was getting cold, and jeez, I'm so oblivious to my surroundings-" she begins, but I'm too elated to concentrate on her.

We almost kissed.

We almost kissed.

He wants me. He wants me!

Frank: the guy I met only just two weeks ago wants me. He doesn't care that my teeth are a little small, or that my eyebrows are bushy, or that I make everything awkward- he wants me!

If I had been in a molten, melted state before then this is volcanic.

Every pore, creek and crevice in my body is screaming out my animal instinct: kiss him! Do it! Do it now!

"- but anyway, here you go." She finishes, setting down a coaster and my caramel latte in front of me and whipping my out of my self-immersion.

I look gingerly down at my latte.

It looks nice, very nice, and sweet but nothing can be as sweet as finally getting to kiss him.

As Frank uncurls his arm from around my shoulder I vow to dive straight into the pool of 'kissing Frank' at the next diving board.