Edit 3/15/14: I don't know how many of you have heard of SOPA, but it stands for Stop Online Piracy Acts. If it goes through, it'll get rid of fanfiction, fan art, fan videos, and a lot more. There's a petition going around and since I posted the link on my profile and the JatieFantasy profile, If it doesn't work, please take a couple of minutes to look it up and sign it. We only have until March 19th. Please help!

Disclaimer: I still don't own Big Time Rush. Thank you and good night.

deb: Haha we'll see what happens ;) Thank you for taking the time to read and review, I really appreciate it!

Thank you for reading, reviewing, following, and favoriting! It's always much appreciated :)

A/N: I'm sorry for the wait! I got caught up with other stories *cough* "Raise The Curtain" *cough* and the holiday season took it's toll. But here's the next chapter :) I'm sorry if it's not as humorous as the previous ones, but hopefully it'll still make you guys smile and laugh a little. I had fun writing it, so maybe that'll shine through.

Enjoy the chapter :)

Chapter Seven

Katie's POV

I figured there were worse ways to spend my Sunday evening then in a movie theater with James and Steve. I just wasn't able to think of any at the moment.

Once the reality that I was going to be spending a good three hours in James' and Steve's company had sunk in, the horror of the situation began to evolve. At first it was just a tiny smidgen of, Oh crap, I'm going to have to deal with an asshole and a stick-in-the-mud tonight. And then it became, I'm going to go crazy by the end of the evening, I just know it. They're going to fight over the movie, James is going to piss Steve off, they'll come to blows, they'll be arrested, Camille will kill me, and then she'll spit on my grave for letting this happen to her fiancé.

Sometimes an overactive imagination isn't the best thing in the world when you're already dreading what you just know is going to be reminiscent of a really bad horror movie.

As brunch ended and we began to help my mom clean up the kitchen, I worked on keeping the panic down to a bare minimum. Maybe it wouldn't be as bad as I thought it would. Maybe James would keep his mouth shut. Maybe Steve really wasn't a hard ass. Maybe we'd actually have fun. Maybe James would be elected as the president of the United States and I'd be his First Lady.

That thought was enough to scar me for life.

Well, now that I was mentally traumatized, I was prepared for tonight. Going to see a movie with those two dumbasses couldn't be any worse than being married to James. Or being his First Lady. Or sleeping with him. Although with those muscles…

I quickly backtracked. No, no, no, no, no! I was clearly just on the rebound. James was, admittedly, one of the hottest guys this side of the Atlantic, and we had been spending a lot of time together lately. It was natural that I would gravitate towards him. That didn't mean anything had to happen. It was just that I was twenty-two and was clearly dealing with a hormonal imbalance. That would explain why I was now staring at James' biceps and shoulders, biting my lip hard at the way his tight black t-shirt hugged his muscles.

I could see him talking quietly to my mom, and I immediately hoped that he was asking about a possible job. She nodded and smiled at him.

I edged a little closer just in time to hear her say, "Come down tomorrow morning and I'll show you around."

"Thanks, Jenn," James said gratefully, and she pulled him into a hug.

"Don't mention it. Knight's Catering Service would love to have you working for them."

I grinned. Boo ya! Success. James had a job, and with any luck he'd actually be able to keep it.

Brunch ended soon after, and we all headed out. I drove back to my apartment to get ready for the night and see if I had any anxiety meds in my medicine cabinet.

A thorough search of my bathroom proved that I had never needed to take anxiety meds in my life before today, and that I was just going to have to work my way through the evening un-sedated. I rifled through my closet, trying to find a suit of armor to protect me from the fight that would be breaking out once James and Steve actually had an in-depth conversation. Since I didn't have any sort of armor in my closet – although I did find a thong that James had given me as a prank gift for my eighteenth birthday – I settled for the next best thing. By five-o-clock that evening, I was in jeans, a pink and black thermal long sleeved shirt, a denim jacket, and black boots with three inch heels. I felt almost average height. It was a nice feeling.

At five-fifteen, there was a knock on my front door, and I hitched my purse over my shoulder. I opened the door and found myself face to chest with James. I raised my head and looked into his face, taking in the sharp lines of his cheekbones, the strong curve of his jaw, and the perfect angle of his nose.

Um, wow. I was seriously out of it, because now I was practically waxing odes about his face. Well. This was awkward.

"Ready to go?" James asked, adjusting his black leather jacket, and I automatically reached up, smoothing it down over his shoulders. He blinked. "You are aware I'm not Kendall or your boyfriend, right?"

"Gross," was my response. "And yeah, I'm ready."

"Yet you're mothering me," he said as I stepped out into the hall, locking my door.

"Is it creeping you out?"

"Yes!"

"Good." I smirked and reached up, running my fingers through his hair.

"Hey!" he yelped, backing away. "Don't touch the hair!"

"Or you'll what?" I challenged, stalking towards him like a lioness hunting her prey. "Scream like a little girl?"

He glared at me, eyes dark and intense; I felt my breath catch in my chest as our gazes met.

"Don't. Touch. My. Hair," he repeated, voice rough and husky, and an image of him, naked until crisp white sheets met his waist and hair mussed up, flashed through my mind.

I was pretty sure imagining James in his post-sex condition was not normal, considering I didn't even like him. This day was getting weirder and weirder by the moment. I was so ready to get it over with.

"Fine." I held my hands up to signal my surrender. "I won't. But you are way too concerned with your hair, you always were." Just to spite him, I messed his hair up again and ducked out under his arm, heading towards the elevator. We piled into the lift together, James silently steaming and me quietly triumphant.

"So, what's up with you and your hair anyway?" I asked him. "Are you seriously that narcissistic?"

He crossed his arms as he leaned against the wall, not looking at me. "I just don't like anyone touching my hair, okay?"

"Because it messes it up?"

"No."

"Then why?"

"I just don't. Okay?"

"No. You're not making any sense."

"What if I was to reach around and snap your bra?"

"You'd have to get through two layers before you could reach it."

James glared at me and reached around me. Before I could even more, his hand was under my shirt and he was snapping my bra strap.

"Ow!" I screeched, more for effect than because it had actually hurt.

"Do you get my point?" he asked.

"That you're an asshole? Yeah, I get that point."

"Whatever." The elevator doors slid open and we stepped out. He led me out to where he had parked and we slipped into his car. He drove to the theater, where Steve was already waiting for us.

"Hey," I greeted him. "Sorry we're late."

"No problem," he replied as he led us towards the ticket booth. "So, what do you guys want to see?"

"How about Dead Man Walking?" James suggested, and I slowly nodded. As much as I hated to agree with him, it was a movie I had been wanting to see and just hadn't gotten the chance to.

Steve blinked. "Isn't that kind of a horror movie?"

"Well, horror/suspense/thriller/mystery," I replied with a shrug. "Why? You don't like that kind of thing?"

"Um…kind of."

James and I exchanged looks. Yeah, tonight was going to be looonnng.

"Well, what movie do you want to see?" I asked him.

He named off some indie movie that I had never even heard of, but James' eyes practically rolled back up into his head.

"There is no way in hell I'm seeing that movie," he informed Steve. "There's no plot to it."

"The plot is advanced and mature, so that it's imperceptible amongst the different characters and tropes of the movie."

I blinked. "Um…in English please?"

"He just said there isn't a plot," James told me.

"I did not. There is a plot, you just have to know what you're looking for."

"Fine," I said. "Let's go see that one so that you can prove your point to James."

We bought tickets – with James still grumbling about the movie's lack of plot – and we headed in. We got our snacks – popcorn and soda for James and me, and red licorice and water for Steve – and we headed into the theater. We took our seats and James and I spread out, making ourselves comfortable in the nearly empty theater.

"So, someone want to fill me in on what this movie's about?" I asked the guys right after I took a long sip of soda. I was sitting between them, which struck me as slightly ironic, considering how likely James and I were to kill each other, but James and Steve clearly wanted to be as far away from each other as possible.

"It's about these kids who get involved with the local gang," James explained, tossing a piece of popcorn into his mouth. "I saw it when it first came out and it completely sucked."

"You just don't understand the finer nuances of the movie," Steve informed him.

"You sure you weren't an English major?" James wanted to know, his lip curling up in irritation. "Because you sound like someone who could probably talk about Shakespeare and John Milton without wanting to pull your hair out."

I turned my head back and forth, like I was surveying a tennis match, still sucking hard on my root beer. Watching a fight could be thirsty work.

"I did study English in college for a couple of semesters," he replied. "But in the end I chose to go into law."

"I was an English major," I spoke up. "And I still can't talk about Shakespeare or John Milton without wanting to pull my hair out."

"Hey, Katie," James nudged me. "What did the English major say to the Engineering major?"

I gritted my teeth before sucking hard on my soda. I had heard this joke way too many times since I had started college. "Bite me?"

"May I take your order?"

"As a matter of fact, you can." I placed my already empty cup in his hand. "I'll take another root beer, please."

"Do I look like your date to you?" he asked me, even as he got to his feet.

"Nope. If you were my date, you might have a chance of getting me naked by the end of the night," I said sweetly.

He scowled at me and purposefully stepped on my foot as he traipsed back down the aisle.

"Are you sure there's nothing going on between you two?" Steve asked me as he munched on a licorice whip.

"Pretty sure. I think I'd know if James and I suddenly became more than enemies."

"Really. Because you two sound more like you're flirting than fighting."

I snorted as I stuffed a handful of popcorn in my mouth. "Oh, please. We can't stand each other. I don't know where you got that idea from –"

"Just from listening to you two talk. You don't dislike each other, Katie. You want to sleep with each other."

I choked on my popcorn. "No we don't! Gross! I'd never want to sleep with him! Ewww!"

"I'm pretty sure that's what Beatrice said about Benedick in Much Ado About Nothing," Steve pointed out. "And look how they ended up – they got married."

I dry gagged. "Are you – no – James and I would never – gross!"

"Yeah, that's what they said," Steve replied, just as James came stumbling back down the aisle, carrying my drink.

"Hey, James," I said as he handed me my root beer. "What did the drama major say to the English major?"

James sat down beside me. "Can I have your babies?"

I grinned widely. "Will you sign my book?"

"Don't you mean, will sign my boobs?"

"Wishful thinking, Jamie," I sing-songed. "I doubt you'll ever find a girl who'll want to sign your boobs."

"You mean these?" He lifted his shirt up, revealing a six pack, followed by pecs larger than my chest.

"Apparently so…"

"I can't believe I gave up a night with Camille for this," Steve muttered, head falling into his hands. You'd think we were being obnoxious or something.

Luckily, the movie started a moment later and we settled back in our seats, James letting his shirt drop down.

I also hated to admit it, but James was right about the movie. We would have been better off seeing Dead Man Walking. The plot was nonexistent, and honestly the movie consisted of a mixture of gore and sex. And people actually liked this stuff?

James propped his sneakers up on the empty seat in front of him, arms crossed as he glowered moodily at the screen. I hitched my right knee over my left one, leaning back in my seat as I munched on my popcorn and sipped on my soda.

Eventually the soda hit me and I got to my feet, setting my popcorn in my seat and heading down the aisle. I used the restroom and washed my hands, before walking back out. The second I stepped foot in the lobby I found myself facing James. His arms were still crossed and he looked even more agitated.

"Don't do that!" I gasped out, placing my hand on my chest. "You almost gave me a heart attack!"

"I am not sitting through this fucking movie a second time."

"Too late – you already paid for the ticket. Go sit down."

"No. I'm not going back in there. And I don't know how Camille stands Steve. He's even more annoying than I am."

"That's a bit of a stretch – I don't think anyone's actually more annoying than you."

"As much as I appreciate the sentiment, you know I'm right. He's driving me nuts, and you can't pretend that he's not making you want to bang your head against the wall."

"Sure I can. I'm an awesome actor."

"Yet you were an English major." He raked his fingers through his hair.

"James, you only have another hour with him, tops. And then we can leave. Remember, we're doing this so that Logan and Camille can have some time together." I placed my hand on his arm. Oooh, biceps. "Please just come back in with me. If you have to, blast your iPod in your ears, but please do this."

He sighed, relaxing a little. "Fine. But only because you said please."

I grinned and grabbed his hand, pulling him back into the theater. We took our seats and I leaned over, apologizing to Steve. He waved it aside. "I get it," he said. "You two wanted to be alone."

Um…what?

"More like we needed to use the restroom really badly," James said, rolling his eyes. If Steve was alive by the end of the movie, it would be a freaking miracle. "We weren't gone that long."

"Long enough," Steve shrugged, smirking obnoxiously at us.

I blushed a bright red. "You think – we were not having sex in the bathroom!"

James dry choked. "What is with people thinking we're fucking or dating?!"

"If you two can't figure that out for yourselves, then you seriously need help," Steve informed us as he looked back at the movie screen.

The credits finally rolled and we picked ourselves up, walking out into the hall and tossing our trash away.

"Well, it's been fun," I said to Steve as we made our way into the lobby. "Tell Camille hi from us."

"Will do…"

"Bye!" James grabbed my hand and hauled me out of the building, to his car. We climbed in and he turned to me. "We are never doing anything with him ever again."

"With any luck there won't be any need. Hopefully Camille and Logan are back together and Steve will be getting the breakup call any minute."

"Hopefully. I can't sit through another indie movie, no way in hell."

"I would have thought you'd like indie movies," I said, cocking my head to the side.

"Not movies like that one. Some of independent films are true works of art. That one was a work of slop."

"True that."

He started the car. "Are you hungry?"

"Nah, I'm pretty full, that was a huge bucket of popcorn."

"Okay." He was quiet on the drive home, and even though he walked me up to my apartment to make sure I got there safely, he still didn't say much.

The next few days passed quietly. There wasn't any word from Camille and Steve, and when James asked Logan how the movie night had gone with Camille, he had just shrugged and said "good". We couldn't figure out if that meant "Good, we caught up" or "Good, we had hot, steamy sex in the back of the theater".

I sighed as I walked up to my apartment, mail cradled in my arms, on Thursday evening. It had been a long, boring, frustrating day at work. Preston seemed to be determined to force me to quit my job – he had been assigning me the most pointless stories, and he was rude and insulting every chance he got. I had a feeling that one of these days I was going to completely snap and try to stuff his head in the copy machine.

I managed to let myself into my apartment and closed and locked the door behind me. I walked into the kitchen, dropping my mail on the counter before going into my bedroom to change out of my pencil skirt, blouse, and heels. I slipped on pajama pants, a baggy t-shirt, and washed all my makeup off my face before I padded back out into the kitchen. I began to sort through my mail, placing the bills aside and sighing. I was getting sick and tired of the dead end life – the dead end job, the dead end bills, the dead end everything. I couldn't stand my job anymore, and after spending the past eight hours being insulted at every twist and turn, I wasn't feeling all that good about myself. It was enough to drive me to drink – or to a possible hookup.

I sighed again. I was starting to see why James had resorted to sex in high school. Chances were, he hadn't been feeling all that great about himself when he was sixteen, and I probably hadn't helped matters. He may have been a jerk, but I had been a bitch. We were both at fault, but I had been too blind to see that. And maybe one day I'd apologize to him. Maybe. Eventually. Some day. We'd see.

I had reached the bottom of the stack of mail. A single crisp, lavender envelope lay on my counter. The return address was Steve Trousdale.

Oh shit.

With baited breath and shaking fingers I slit the envelope open, and pulled out the gorgeous pale pink wedding invitation.

Well. James' and my movie night with Steve had apparently been all for nothing.

With one more sigh, I reached for my phone and dialed James' number. It rang three times before he answered.

"Hello?" he said, voice as rough and husky as it had been after I had messed with his hair.

"Hey, it's me," I said. "We have a problem."

"Tell me about it," he replied. "My ex girlfriend's here."

My phone tumbled out of my fingers and my jaw dropped in shock.

Oh shit.

Yeah...that was chapter seven. What'd you guys think? Did you like it? Love it? Hate it? Think it was funny? Think it was boring (please don't tell me if you thought it was boring. I wouldn't be able to take it). Thank you for reading, and please review! :)