"Do you guys want to run it one more time?" Rick asked us, trying to keep a serious look on his face.
"Dude, I swear to God…" Shane started.
Rick held up his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay, you're free. Have amazing breaks, because you're not going to have another one for a long time."
We packed up our guitars in record time and practically bolted out of the rehearsal space. After three months of planning, promoting, staging, and rehearsing the tour, we were finally about to do it. We got two weeks off for Christmas, and then after that we would run the entire show for a week, with Mitchie's band and everything like it was a real show, and then we would finally get to actually go on tour. We'd been complaining constantly that it wasn't worth all the trouble, but we always did – once we get up onstage that first night, in front of the crowd, we realize it is. Not to say that we don't love playing our music, but rehearsing the same thing for three months with no crowd…it doesn't really have the same thrill-factor.
I threw my guitar in my backseat and turned keys in the ignition when I got to my car. I promised Mitchie I'd pick her up from her practice when I was done with mine. It wasn't too far away.
Mitchie. She was incredible. We were great, Brandon was out of the hospital, the tour was going to be awesome…everything was good. It was Saturday night, which we had a sort-of ritual for now. I'd go over to her place, make her dinner – spaghetti, the only thing I actually knew how to make – then we'd just curl up on the couch and watch a movie, and I usually ended up spending the night. It was my favorite night of the week.
When we got to her house, she went upstairs to take a shower and I got to work in the kitchen. I wasn't making spaghetti, though. I got Jason to teach me how to make quesadillas, so I could surprise her. Lame surprise, I know, but the fact that I learned a new recipe for her should count for something, right?
"You're not making spaghetti?" Mitchie asked, very surprised as she walked into the kitchen. "You know more than one recipe and you never told me?"
I laughed. I knew she would say that. "I got Jason to teach me a new one."
"I'm impressed," she smirked as I handed her a plate. "Thank you."
"You're welcome."
I followed her into the living room. Her hair was still wet, and she was wearing a pair of pink shorts and a black hoodie – my black hoodie. She had "borrowed" it once when she spent the night a couple months ago. She wasn't very clever when it came to stealing things, because it had my name on the back, but I liked that she wanted to have something of mine.
"I love it when you wear that," I told her and wrapped my arms around her shoulders. "Then everybody knows you're mine."
Mitchie kissed me on the cheek and sat down on her beige, leather couch. She took a bite of her quesadilla and looked at me, pleasantly surprised. "This is really good!"
"Maybe Mexican food is my calling," I joked. "But I think I'll stick to music for awhile. Hey, Mitchie?"
"Yeah?" she asked.
"I want you to come home with me for Christmas."
Mitchie smiled at me in that way that meant she was about to say no. "I'd love to, Nate, but I want to spend it with Brandon…in case…"
"I meant," I interrupted her before she upset herself. She was always planning for the worst. "All of you."
She looked surprised, but a grin spread across her face. "I'd like that. And I'm sure Brandon would warm up to the idea…"
Since the second her little brother found out that I was from Wisconsin, he had been begging for us to take him there. He was probably the first person in history to actually dream of going to Wisconsin. I think it was more the fact that he'd never been so far away that amazed him about it. He'd never been anywhere, really, since he was always too sick. I guess Wisconsin would sound pretty good to me if I were him, too. I can't imagine what in Wisconsin he would be dying to see. But, who knows? He seemed to find the best in everything – I wouldn't be surprised if he found something great about Wisconsin that nobody else ever even noticed.
Mitchie set her empty plate on the coffee table. She curled up under my arm and yawned. We'd both had to be at our rehearsals at 7am – I was fricken tired, too.
"I love you, Nate," she said sleepily.
That woke me up. She had never said that to me before. I'd never said it to her, either, but I'd thought about it. Hell, it was pretty much all I'd been thinking about recently. It meant so much that she said it before I did – I'd been really convinced that I felt a lot more strongly about her than she did about me. You would have thought I learned my lesson about assuming how she felt three months ago, right? Nope.
"I love you too, baby."
She rested her head on my lap and smiled up at me. It was that mischievous smile I'd fallen in love with. "How much?"
At least she didn't ask me if I was in love with her because she was a babe. "A lot."
"More than you ever loved any other girl?" she asked.
"Yep."
"More than your guitar?" she asked.
"Well…which one are we talking about?" I pretended to think about it. "Even more than my '59 Les Paul."
"Wow, that's a whole lot of love," Mitchie smirked, lacing her fingers through mine contently. "Do you think your parents will like me?"
Was she actually nervous about meeting my parents? That was adorable.
"Yes, they'll love you," I promised her. "Taylor already loves you. My mom said she's been singing all your songs 24/7 around the house."
"I hope you're right."
I smiled and kissed her. "I know I'm right."