Hey guys. So this will actually be a real, non-filler chapter, because that's what I felt the last one was like...

Anyhow, you guys have me for barely two more weeks until school starts up again and I drift away forever :( Haha, but I will be spending less time on here. (Not by choice, trust me on that.)

Cody Simpson vs Billy Unger (my partner for this story) has already warned me about her starting school earlier than me, so it seems this story is going to have slower updates.

Don't blame us; it's school's fault.

Just a little heads up, I have no clue on how to write a college scene, so please don't flame me because I have no idea how it works.

Chase's Pov

"This is going to be torture!" I groaned as Christine swatted my arm, playfully glaring as we stopped in front on her house.

She squeezed my hand for support, letting go too quickly. Christine smirked at my face, laughing as she pushed me toward the door. "Quit being such a baby; you're going to be fine." She screwed her lips to the side, staring down the street in the direction she would be going in. "Besides, spending time with Davenport isn't number one on my to do list either, you know."

"Then can't we ditch this?" I whined again, getting desperate.

Christine rolled her eyes and knocked on the door, flicking her hand at me in a wave and running down the street, leaving me alone.

So much for supportive girlfriends.

Before I had a chance to run after her—I really didn't want to be here—when the door opened to reveal Grant. "Shouldn't you be with Christine today?" he asked puzzled. "She told me you both had a busy day."

I stood there awkwardly, hands shoved deep down into my pockets as I thought of something to say. "Before I tell you, you should know that all of this was Christine's idea."

Grant chuckled, leading me inside. "And why is that worrying me?" I couldn't but laugh at that too; Christine's never been one for other options—the first one better than any others.

"She thought that spending time with you would help get us closer?" I said unsurely, staring at the door and wondering if Christine had ditched to leave me alone with her plan. "And she's over there with Davenport."

He looked of distantly, as if predicting how well that would turn out. "The two of the most cocky and stubborn people spending an afternoon with each other; did she think this over first?"

I shrugged, seating myself on the couch as I shrugged. "This is all a surprise to me too."

Everything is awkward as we sit together on the couch, staring at random things in the room. I've never really hung out with another guy before—Davenport never really considered a father figure—much less my girlfriend's father. The only thing I could hope for was to not screw it up as I badly as I thought I will.

"What do we do now?" Grant shrugged, watching Rem whir by with a feather duster. "We can't sit like this forever; Christine will have both our heads," I added with a laugh—is anything, it wasn't funny although true, but it helped lighten the mood for the awkward tension it was as Grant chuckled along before snapping his fingers.

He stood, making his way up the stairs as he called over his shoulder, "How about some pictures?"

I chuckled, Grant not waiting for a response as he continued for the pictures. Christine was going to hate me forever if I ever brought up—I could already picture the scene of her hitting me like there's no tomorrow from bringing up her adorable baby pictures. I assume there adorable anyway, I have no reason to think less.

Moments later two supply bins are set down in front of me with grinning Grant returning to his claimed spot next to me. I couldn't judge him not having photo albums. Not only because Davenport wasn't big on keeping pictures of us as kids ("Your memory chips can tell what I want to see when I want to see it"—such a wise response to the question of having no family pictures) and Christine did say she moved around a lot, it being hard to lug around a bunch of photo albums all the time. This must have been the next best thing rather than not having any pictures and snapshots at all.

"A lot of photos," I commented as he snapped one of the two bins open.

He shrugged, as if it wasn't much. "She liked to explore almost everything. It wasn't hard for her to go through at least five cameras a trip." Grant laughed his face scrunching up as he lifted a small string of pictures that looked to be from a photo booth.

The all had two girls—a younger Christine and a shorter, skinnier girl with an edgy bob and a wicked grin, as if she knew something you didn't and enjoyed seeing you squirm because of it. Each square had them posing in different ways: the first one of them sitting side by side with huge beaming smiles stretched across their faces with both their hands up in thumbs up. The second one a shot of Christine sprawled over her friend, eyes closed tightly with her tongue out as she made the rocker signs with the other girl's head thrown backward and laughing hysterically. The third was cheesier, they both sticking two fingers behind the girls' head for bunny ears, smiling brightly. The fourth had to be my favorite—Christine leaning toward the camera with a fishy face, sucking her cheeks in as her friend crossed her eyes and flapped her lips. Both so carefree and happy; their happiness contagious as a smile spread across my face.

"That was a couple years back with her cousin in New York," Grant mused as I stared down at the picture. "Ella was a sight to see—very sarcastic and stubborn, and at the worse times as well."

"Sounds like Bree on her bad days," I muttered, putting the stripe down for a picture of a skinny woman with large brown eyes and shoulder-length hair smiling brightly holding a giggling purple bundle with a face poking out of it. "Who's this?"

Grant stopped rummaging through a stack he'd randomly pulled out to turn and face the picture in my hand. "That's Maria and Christine two years before the incident."

I squinted in thought, looking away as I thought whether or not it'd be rude or not to ask what said 'incident' was. But the lady was beautiful; a perfect image of an older Christine that I hoped I'd be able to call mine someday.

"She's a spitting image of her mother, isn't she?" Grant rubbed his face. I just nodded, trying to crack his sudden moodiness. I've never been one to handle mood swings well; I tried to stay away from people that jumped from emotion to emotion—their auras changing constantly. "It's hard not to think about her when Christine's around sometimes."

Hesitating, I barely managed to ask, "Do you mind telling me?"

He sighed, ignoring me—staring at the coffee table for so long I was starting to think he didn't even hear me. Until he responded with a distance, "It started in college…"

-:-

It was opera night at the theater night on campus, the first College Production for this semester. Even when sitting in the audience (especially itchy chairs with the awaiting crowd flipping back and forth through their programs), the crow could feel the hustle and bustle going on behind the curtains. Everyone preparing—so much pressure on getting this performance right.

A young, handsome student fidgeted in his seat, watching the stage with careful eyes as the curtains had yet to be drawn. He's only been to two others the year before, provoked to get away from his studies and let loose—see a little more of the campus than he had already. His buddy ditched him already; finding it much more interesting to view the female characters behind the scenes first.

Moments later—ticking by with him buried in his regrets of even coming, really needing to work on his latest claim—lights dimmed, the stage ready and actors pumped.

It was quite delightful. The acts and emotions seeping into each part mesmerizing him to new lengths; he's never experienced this kind of enchantment before and he hoped it stuck by the time the curtains closed again.

But it was her that made him clutch to every detail, having him hanging on to every word, every movement, every flourish.

Her beauty was intoxicating, fetching in all the right ways under the spotlight. Make-up done naturally, dress swishing around her magnificently—so poised and in character, she must have been feeling all the riveting emotions at the same time, impossible to act so well otherwise.

Disappointment flooded him when it was over, still clinging to the last traces of the dark beauty's performance. The audience filed out slowly, leaving him to hesitate, debate whether staying there would get him another performance. When he did leave, he was one of the last ones to slip out, still in a wonderful awe.

Then it happened. He ran into his dark beauty. She was laughing, breaking away from her theater friends, heading down the trail that must lead to her part of campus.

"Great performance," he managed to compliment, the words barely able to reach her, the young woman straining to hear them.

She turned, smiling at the comment. Checking him over: Dark tousled hair, nice features, and genuine eyes that bore into hers. "Thanks." She shrugged, walking close enough for him to catch a sniff of her perfume. "It's nice to be noticed."

He smiled—the kind of smile that reached his eyes and warmed her core and set off an odd tingle in her. There was something about this guy, and she kind of liked it. So when he offered to treat her to some coffee (a charming statement that the library coffee was hard to beat) that she just had to say yes. Taking his offered arm, she smiled a honest, true smile as they walk to the library, chatting endlessly.

"I never got your name," she suddenly realized, looking up from her intense job of staring into her small foam cup. "By the way, mine's Maria."

He looked to her with a happy expression that made her tingly all over again, feeling childish and giddy in a way that didn't make her want to stop. "Allan."

Maria smiled. "Good name, it suits you well."

Allan copied her actions and she can't help but blush, using her hair as a curtain to block her reddened cheeks, "As does yours."

-:-

I gawked at him as he finished his story. "You two sounded like classic sweethearts. What happened?"

Grant sighed, aging instantly. "We went out a few more times. Things got intense. We had Christine while I finished up my studies. And she just…got overwhelmed with the science and my work taking over everything. So she left to pursue her career in theater."

"So I'm guessing Christine is named after her character?" I suggested, thinking over his story. At least she had a back story to her name, mine didn't. "But I have to admit, it suits her greatly."

He chuckled, messing with the photos in his hands. "That's what we thought too."

Christine's Pov

"It was awkward to even watch." Bree laughed as she shook her head. "I feel so bad for you, babe."

I sighed, head in my heads. "Go ahead, laugh it up all you want," I snapped bitterly, reaching and stealing some of her chips. "That had to be the most uncomfortable thing I've ever went through—ever."

It's been a couple hours since I ditched Chase at my house and I felt kind of bad but I figured I was doing it good naturally. Davenport wasn't too thrilled about the idea when he was informed, and it didn't help I was starting to lose faith in the idea as well. But if we were this bad, it must have been just as awkward for the other two.

"And to think," Bree smirked, "Half of that time you spent trying to think of something to actually do." She laughed at my expense (some friend, finding my worst moments just freaking hilarious!) and playfully shoved my shoulder. "Com'n dude, if I can't laugh at you, who can?"

Grumbling, I turned the other way in my chair, still shoveling chips into my mouth as I thought of something to do in the next half hour. I was kind of cheating, spending my time with Bree while Davenport dinked around with whatever genius he was working on—some bonding time when we're not even in the same room. But maybe this was a good thing; I could laugh and laugh when Chase walked through the door, furious with me at how awkward I made his afternoon.

Speak of the devil, my boyfriend choosing that moment to walk in, grinning like a happy idiot. (Or more simply put, Adam with his sock puppets.) "You know," he started, slipping an arm around my waist. "I thought I was going to hate you for what you did to me, but I actually have to thank you."

"Thank me?" I echoed, appalled by his confession. Dread started to fill me as I thought of all the things that my dad could have done to embarrass me, telling Chase stuff I didn't intend for him to know until I was dead. "Oh, for the love of God, did he show you my baby pictures?"

Chase nodded his head and laughed. "That and clued me in on some of your cousins." He pecked my cheek, snatching some of Bree's chips from her bowl and sitting next to me. "He's pretty cool in a stressed, aging-too-fast kind of way."

I squinted, analyzing his face, trying to see what else my dad him, "What cousins exactly are we talking about? I have more than I can count, you know." I'm nearly positive he didn't know though.

Chase shrugged. "New York one."

"Mm," I made noise of agreement, flashing back to when I bunked with Ella for the month we were settled there. She was pretty cool, her mom being one of dad's closer sisters. Their apartment was set up for me especially, dad rooming with a buddy so we didn't have to hunt for a motel. I cringed as I remembered my schooling experience there. New York may have been a busy place, but you'd think their school district would slow down enough to monitor the bullying that surged through that middle school.

Instead of telling Chase that—not one of my finest memories that I let too many people in on—I just shrugged vaguely. "El's pretty cool, can't say the same for her city though."

He didn't pry, just shooting me a warning look that meant I would spill to him sooner or later. I inwardly groaned, a nagging little voice in my head telling me it would be sooner than I'd like it to be.

"Who'd your time go?" Chase asked, looking around probably wondering where Davenport would have scuttled off to. Bree snorted, narrowly avoiding a choking incident between her and the Pepsi in her hand.

"Oh, it was a blast," she said after having a coughing fit. "They put on a real show for me—I didn't even have to turn on the TV."

Chase laughed along with his sister, getting a shine in his eye that made my heart flutter despite my increasing annoyance with him, "That bad huh?" When I glowered at him, he just laughed, pecking my cheek with his breath smelling like salty chips. "Oh come on, you have to admit, it is kind of funny, right?"

I sighed, relenting but not letting go of it. "It was freaking hilarious! Are you two happy now?"

Bree just smirked at me, taking her bowl of chips away from us and pop in hand, heading up to her room.

Pressing my lips together, I got my own pop and guzzled half of it, wiping my mouth on my sleeve. I cringed at how piggy I was being, but then waved it away with the thought that if Chase wanted to stick around long, he'd have to deal with it. "I'm leaving now."

He furrowed his eyebrows at me with a cheeky smile. "Just taking my pop and leaving, huh?"

I nodded, smiling as I pecked his cheek. "Your name isn't on it; it isn't yours."

Chase just rolled his eyes. "Later; love you!"

I froze for a quick, dragged out second. We've never said those words so casually. I loosened myself, relaxing and continuing toward the door. We had to say them sometime. "Love you too."

What do ya think? What do you think about the missing figure and Christine's life? She will be mentioned more, in case some of you wanted a bit of family drama for Christine. And what about Chase saying "The Words"? Haha, I think it should have been said sooner or later, but be warned, these words will tie together some upcoming chapters, just a hint. ;)

Please review and tell what you think about the flashback and Grant's love life. Until the next chapter! :)