I know, I know. Terrible person, right here. Life has been pretty hectic. I resigned from the bank, which resulted in no inspiration to write, and then it took me a month to find another job. So, there you have it. A very good excuse for my lack of updating.
I think you guys will enjoy this chapter, though. So, stop reading my rambling and read the chapter!!
Oh yeah, and please review.
"Why do the French have a different word for everything?" I spit out, tossing my pencil on the table out of frustration. Then, I remembered it wasn't my table, and quickly retrieved the pencil with an apologetic look.
Nick simply shook his head, which told me that everything was okay. Which surprised me, considering the poor guy has been helping me with my poem for the past hour…without much success. Besides my eraser diminishing by half, that is.
Even if the quiet musician next to me forgave my small outburst from before, he still appeared to show his own version of frustration. Nick had his hand covering his mouth and his eyes looked like they were about to bore a hole in the dinner table we sat at.
"Sorry," I apologized with a sigh and lightly bumped my fist against his arm that rested lazily on the table.
Good Lord, is this guy made of steel?! My hand actually hurts from the friendly gesture.
"There's nothing to apologize for," Man o'Steel said stretching his arms over his head, which kept my rapt attention for a good five seconds.
I snapped out of my random arm-gazing, and immediately wanted to slap myself hard. Gosh, what is wrong with me? I never behave like this. I'm like one of those middle-aged moms in the movie theater watching the Twilight series.
My sudden interest in Nick's physical features disturbed me to some degree. It's not like I paid attention to Adam's handsome attributes, nor any other guy for that matter. What does that say about my friendship with the youngest Lucas?
Does that make me superficial?
I could go on about my inner rant that started to give me a headache, but Nick just mentioned something.
"-if you wanted to work on your song instead?"
"Huh?" I snapped back to attention.
My boy sitting by me shook his head with a soft exhale. "You know, maybe your problem in French is your lack of wanting to stay on a place I like to call Earth."
I dropped my mouth open out of offense. "What? Sometimes I just have a lot on my mind!" Definitely not a lie. Ever since last week, I've been having this recurring problem. I could simply blame it all on Nick (since most of it is his fault), but as a guest in his house, that would be rude. "I will have you know I pay rapt attention in all of my classes."
"Just not afterward…"
"Shut up," I muttered, closing my textbook. "Just tell me what you said earlier."
Thankfully, Nick got the hint and nodded. "I was wondering if you wanted to work on your song instead of getting a migraine over the poem."
"Too late on the migraine, but I would love to work on my song," I grinned and happily pushed my books away from me. My eyes then scanned the room for an important item…an item that I could not find…
"Crap, I forgot my guitar," I sighed and rolled my eyes at myself. Nice going Jane, you fail at getting any work done on your poem, and you forget your guitar. "Maybe I do only pay attention at school."
I felt a light nudge on my shoulder which caused me to look up and meet the brown eyes of Nick. He gazed back with a carefree expression (something I haven't seen on him as of yet).
"It's okay, Jane," he said letting his lighthearted expression also come through his tone of voice. "You can use one of mine."
The warm statement caused me to grin, and forget about the stress from earlier. I stood up with a hop, "Who am I to refuse such generosity? Please lead the way Mr. Lucas."
Nick appeared pleased and amused with my over-the-top response.
We made our way up the stairs, and I dropped my mouth open when I saw the huge open area full of…well….everything. A drum set, guitar racks, a big screen television with surround sound speakers, an enormous couch, candy machines, coke machines, a random machine with random electronic devices, a piano, a workout area, and a freaking studio.
"You have a studio in your bedroom?" I asked as if it was the most unfair thing in the world.
Nick affirmed my question with a simple nod. "My parents thought it necessary because of how excited our fans get in the streets. We don't have to worry about getting to our studio because it's already here."
A part of me itched to run inside the recording booth and experience it for the first time, but then someone snapped their fingers in front of my eyes.
"I'm paying attention!" I immediately defended myself. It's sort of a tick I have when it comes to people snapping me out of my thoughts…even if I had no idea of what was happening.
Nick lowered his hand with a skeptical eye. "Oh really? Then what did I just say?"
I really dislike it when people ask me that question. It blows my cover.
"Fine," I muttered, folding my arms. "I have no idea."
With a tiny smirk, he nodded. "I thought as much. But, enough of your inability to pay attention to me-"
I tried to defend myself with a squeak of insult, but Nick continued on without paying attention to me.
Hypocrite.
"I tried to ask you if you wanted to play the Gibson acoustic or electric."
…
"Huh?"
Gibson…guitar…supposedly one of the best instruments available…
"Are you serious?" Nick would trust me to play one of his very expensive guitars?
This, coming from a guy who probably names all of his musical instruments.
Said person beckoned me to follow him towards the drum set.
"Acoustic or electric?" he asked again. I guess that means 'yes.' I wanted to reply with "That's mighty sweet of you Nick," but then I realized how stupid that sounded. That's what happens when you watch Oklahoma! the night before.
I watched as the musician studied his own guitar rack, walking around the variety of guitars he had. Some, I have seen in magazines, and others I wondered if they even were guitars. You know the one's that look like V's or Z's…modern guitar makers must be obsessed with the alphabet, which does not make any sense.
However, as excited and confused as I felt over playing an exclusive guitar, I found myself watching Nick.
I know, a guitar player looking for a guitar, whoop-dee-flippin-doo. It wouldn't have been worth gazing at if he didn't make the process appear so precise and meticulous. Almost like an artist searching for the right color.
"I'm not picky you know," I called out with a grin forming on my lips. What can I say? The sight was endearing.
"You may not be, but I am," Nick responded, never taking his eyes off of the instruments as he continued to circle the contraption. After a moment, he paused and with a content sigh, he picked up a mahogany acoustic guitar.
Nick brought it over and held it out to me as if he were a knight handing over his sword. You know…except without the kneeling. That would have been weird.
"What's her name?" I joked rhetorically.
"Martha."
Again, that was a rhetorical question.
Nick and I had both settled on the floor, sitting Indian-style with our (his) guitars in our laps. I felt skittish holding a guitar that cost more than my life. My fingers barely touched the well-polished strings and my other hand rested on the floor.
Nick must have noticed my nerves because he raised an eyebrow.
"You do know how to play a guitar right?" Absentmindedly, his fingers plucked a few notes.
"Yes," I said indignantly. "I'm just afraid to break Martha, and suddenly owe you a large amount of money accompanied by a large amount of guilt."
"Are you planning to throw her out the window?"
"No…"
"Then you're fine."
I laughed and slowly pressed my fingertips against the strings of the Gibson, making a C-major chord. I retrieved my purple pick from my pocket and strummed the chord lightly. The sound quality put chills down my spine, and I immediately formed a B-minor chord and strummed again.
"Martha is awesome," I stated dreamily.
"Yes, she is," Nick mused with a ghost of smile. My eyes met his, and for a moment I swore a faint blush appeared on his face. The idea in itself caused my face to heat up, so I immediately focused on Martha.
I heard a clearing of the throat which caused me look back up. Whatever I saw on Nick's face had disappeared and he appeared like he always did.
I don't know why…it disappointed me.
"So, have you made any progress on the song since our jam session?"
I made a face that clearly said 'no.' Nick then made an expression of his own that I took as, 'you're a terrible person.'
"I've had other things on my mind," I said with a shrug, and continued strumming different chords. "Too many things going through my mind. I can't focus."
Whoa, way to get deep Jane. I didn't mean to share so much with Nick. Not that I didn't want to, but we've only known each other a little more than a week.
"Take a breath," Nick suddenly said, though a bit quieter than usual.
"I take breaths all the time," I said in confusion. "It's necessary for humans."
The guy across from me sighed while glancing up at the ceiling. "That is not what I meant, Jane. I mean when everything is going through your mind at once, just take a breath."
I laughed at my own stupidity. Of course that's what he meant. A question popped in my mind though. "How many times do you have to take breaths?"
"Every time I get ready to write a song."
At that moment I realized even more how normal Nick Lucas is. He has all of the same issues as a teenager going through high school. Sure, he makes millions by singing to an equal amount of fans, but every now and then everyone has to sort out their own thoughts.
"That's really cool, Nick," I smiled. I then realized how odd it is to say mental troubles are cool. "I mean, it's cool that you keep it real."
"My brother's and I are fortunate enough to be surrounded by good people," he agreed and grinned back with his lips curved to one side. His eyes seemed to sparkle as he spoke, and I really couldn't help but appreciate the sight.
After that nice little moment, we finally got to work on the song. Nick played a few free-style tunes, hoping to give me an idea of where I wanted the song to go. I think we both agreed that the lyrics needed to remain light and simple, yet still hold a deep feeling about it.
"How about a jazzy feel to it?" Nick pondered while plucking a few notes in a catchy rhythm. I did the same while softly singing (because there was no way I was going to let Nick hear my voice) the lyrics in tune with the melody.
I walked the streets
Listening to everything
Wondering if now's the time,
To show these feelings of mine.
It's so easy, yet not;
The cliché romance plot
I must tell you how I feel
And break this shatterproof seal
I frowned, not really feeling the jazz. "It's a little heavy," I said.
"And you said you weren't picky," Nick mumbled.
I scoffed, "Whatever, you're probably ten times worse." I could see a frustrated Nick staying up through the night with his hair sticking out every which way and crumpled papers strewn all around him. And poor Kevin and Joe, cowering in a corner from the wrath of their youngest brother.
A silence resumed, and I knew that my mental image was right. Yes, I do congratulate myself.
I played around with a few chords again, trying to lose myself in the music. It didn't help that my fingers kept hesitating over the strings. I'm not as fluid as I should be on the fret board. Every few moments I would hear a terrible tinny sound come from Martha.
Throughout my frustration, I came out of focus with my surroundings and didn't hear a pair of footsteps heading toward my location.
"Your fingers are too close to the other strings," Nick said as he sat down on my right.
I know what you're thinking. Jane is freaking out, blushing, and everything else that goes along with it. Sorry to disappoint, but I don't feel uncomfortable at all. Gasp! I know. Weird. But, remember when I said Nick was warm…well, that warmness had a mysterious way of calming me down.
"What do you mean?" I asked, glimpsing at my fingering. It seemed correct to me.
Nick had his guitar with him and showed how his fingers graced the strings. It definitely appeared less sloppy than mine. Flicking my eyes back and forth, I eventually corrected the movement, and strummed again, creating the perfect sound.
We spent the next couple of minutes practicing moving up and down the fret board. Nick, of course, moved around like lightning…while I appeared to be in slow motion.
Eventually, I got to the point where I didn't care what note I played. It surprised me how natural and wonderful the tone sounded, but it still didn't help me and my lyric problem.
I started to realize, however, that this would not have been a problem if I had actually experienced the emotions described in my song.
Love…
I love my friends and family…I love food…and I love music. Same word, but different emotions.
Stupid English…there's one word that can mean anything.
I glanced to my right and Nick was still lost in the music. Lucky guy. He knows all about love and he can write all of those amazing songs. Sure, there is constant heart-break, but at least he knows what it feels like.
Maybe it's time that I start looking for a boyfriend.
I then realized I was still gazing at Nick when I thought that.
Don't even start thinking about crazy things like that, Jane. If you ever get a boyfriend, you'll probably meet him in the Wal-Mart checkout line.
The problem is, I never really thought about guys in the boyfriend way. They've been great friends and good punching bags ever since I knew how to punch.
Maybe my hormones forgot to develop during junior high…
"Don't worry, Jane. If you really want to finish the song, the lyrics will come to you," Nick encouraged me as we got in his car. As quickly as the evening began, it ended…very much to my chagrin.
"I'm fine," I stated as I sat in the passenger's seat. Ah…heated leather seats…my butt really appreciates them. "After all, I don't have a due date on my songs like you do."
Nick chuckled softly in agreement as he turned the ignition on. Automatically, his iPod turned on and "Use Somebody" by the Kings of Leon blasted through the speakers.
Both of us sat in comfortable silence as the music played, but every now and then I felt compelled to sneak a glance at the driver. He looked so calm all the time, but you could just tell that probably a million and one things were racing through his mind.
I wonder if any of those thoughts are about me. This thought made my head turn away and grin slightly as I thought along those lines. I don't know how to describe the feeling, but shy and giddy could suffice.
I never really felt like that before.
"You know…" I heard Nick start, but then automatically stop.
My little moment disappeared and I turned towards the youngest Lucas with a questioning smile. Gah, I can't stop smiling! Stop it Jane.
Nick kept his eyes on the road, but he definitely appeared to want to say something.
"What?" I asked, finally able keep my smile down to a small grin.
He shook his head, as if telling me to forget about it.
"Come on, you started the thought. Now finish it," I demanded. I really wanted to know what he was thinking about. So, I continued to look at him intensely, trying to get that bit of information.
It probably shouldn't sound that dramatic, but it is what I was doing.
Nick appeared to give in to my gaze, and his cheeks even tinged a bit red.
It can't be that embarrassing, can it? Seriously, if he knew all of my embarrassing moments, he would probably feel comfortable enough to tell me anything. Which strangely sounded appealing to me.
"I just…wanted to say…" the driver hesitated which each word, scratching behind his right ear in-between the awkward pauses he provided. Not to mention he kept his eyes on the road the entire time. As much as I appreciated his driver's safety (since I definitely did not want to crash and burn on the highway), I wanted him to look at me when he spoke.
I wanted to see those stupid sparkles he got in his eyes when we were working on my song.
With one last pause, Nick finally finished his statement. "I had a great time with you tonight."
"Y-you did?" I asked, surprised at the compliment. Seriously? We didn't even make any progress on my poem…or my song.
The air in here is starting to feel a bit constricted.
Oh gosh…maybe I'm actually allergic to the awesomeness that is Nick.
I expected him to add something else to his previous compliment, but Nick simply responded by nodding.
…
That's all? No offense, but I felt extremely disappointed by that response. Then again…what did I expect? A tap dance? A serenade? An offer of a refreshing beverage?
Well, none of those options appealed to me (well, except for the serenade) so I decided to make up my own option.
"Maybe you should come over to my house next time," I brought up, still looking out the window. I immediately felt a blunt pain on my forehead when the car suddenly swerved to the left and my unprepared head hit the glass.
Not exactly the reaction I expected…or desired…
"Are you okay?!" Nick asked frantically (seriously, it really did sound frantic). He continued to apologize repeatedly while I had squeezed my eyes shut and prayed my loud mouth would not spew out those unnecessary words I had used at the hospital. It took me a moment to finally open them, but when I did, I swear…Nick looked like he was about to have an aneurism. He was currently muttering to himself with his brow furrowed and his back hunched over with his hands gripping the life out of the steering wheel.
I don't know if you guys find this funny…but I find the image funnier than a penguin pushing another penguin down a hill.
I gave into the hilarity of the situation and ensued with rambunctious laughter. My back leaned against the seat and my hands placed themselves over my stomach while I tried to control my loud and obnoxious laughter.
Nick's completely clueless expression only made it worse.
"Did you-? Aw, you should have seen- your face!" I don't care if I sounded like a complete fool. Everyone needs a good laugh once in a while.
Unfortunately, Nick did not share my enthusiasm.
"I don't see how me almost causing you brain damage is funny," he muttered, refusing to take his eyes off of the road. "Unless I really did damage your head."
Calming down a little, and wiping a few tears from my eyes, I waved my hand. "Lighten up, Nick. It was funny and you know it."
The driver let a small grin escape his cool exterior. He shook his head at my absurdity, and turned into the school parking lot where my stayed by itself. Aw poo…the night's over. That thought made me sober up completely.
"Of course the fun stuff always happens at the end," I sulked and unbuckled my seatbelt.
"I happened to enjoy the entire night," Nick said under his breath.
As I turned around to retrieve my bag, I felt a pair of eyes on me so I paused and turned my head back to meet the culprit's gaze. Unfortunately, Nick's eyes had flicked away from mine and his hands gripped the steering wheel tighter. The action unnerved me, and I felt a need to get of the car and breathe fresh air instead of the warm and sticky atmosphere of the camaro.
"Gotta go," I squeaked and opened the door.
"I'd love to come over some time," Nick's shy voice stalled my quick getaway. My ears then caught a tearing sound, and a small piece of paper appeared in my line of vision. I stared at the familiar scrawl on the paper almost as if the idea of Nick giving me his phone number was alien to me.
I shakily took the paper and couldn't ignore the return of the warm fuzzy feeling.
The youngest Lucas cleared his throat, and I snapped out of Cloud Nine. Oh right…I should probably give him my number too. I patted myself down and realized I didn't have a piece of paper handy. I had a pin…but no paper.
Oh well, I guess Nick's arm will have to do.
The musician grunted in surprise when I grabbed his arm and scribbled my number on his forearm.
I do love how I can surprise him.
So, Nick and I eventually parted ways after he got over the fact I had written all over his arm, and I drove home singing loud to my music. After getting home, I skipped inside my house, still feeling giddy over the tiny piece of paper in my hand.
"I'm hooooooommmmeee!" I called out in a sing-song voice. Hmm, I wonder if my Mom still has dinner left out. I could always go for her outrageously delicious home-cooking.
"In the living room," I heard my mom call out.
I found my parents watching television, well, my dad was watching television while my mother held an expression of excitement towards me. It kind of unsettled me because I didn't really know why my mom looked at me as if I was the most amazing person alive.
"What…?" I asked starting to fidget over the googly eyes.
Oh no.
She didn't find out about me sneaking some M&M's into my Statistics class, did she? Is she trying to psych me out because I'm in trouble?
That tattle tale principal! Whatever his name is.
"I only ate three, I swear!" my mouth automatically blurted out and subsequently made my parents jump. They now stared at me with disturbed expressions.
Okay…maybe my illegal M&M consumption isn't the issue at hand.
Whoopsies.
"What are you talking about Jane?" My dad slowly asked, his eyes flicking back and forth between the basketball game and my random outburst. He does love his sports.
"Nothing," I shake my head quickly. "Anyways, got to go and-"
"Not so fast," my mom interrupted, getting up off of the sofa and came towards me. The googly eyes slowly returned.
"Stop it," I whined and backed away. "You're freaking me out." I looked over to my dad for help, but of course, his attention remained on the game.
"So…" my mom egged me on. "How was it?"
I furrowed my eyebrows. "How was what?"
My mom's eyes widened and appeared disappointed at my answer. How could I answer her if I didn't know what she was talking about?
"Your date, Jane!" she crossed her arms with a little smile.
Oh my gosh. She's still on about that unrealistic idea? I scoffed and walked out of the room, laughing to myself.
However, the more I laughed, the more the act became forced. My laughter is usually never forced. It comes right after food on my list of favorite things.
"Jane!" My mother whined some more, and came after me…which only made me walk faster towards the stair case.
"Come on," she continued. "Girl talk time!!"
Okay, now that made me laugh naturally. My mom acted like…well…my age.
"Forget it mom," I said going upstairs to my room. "Nick and I are just friends."
"But, that's no fun!" the muffled voice of my mom came through my recently closed bedroom door.
I wanted to say that I was already having fun taunting her, but then I remembered she could ground me…
Anyways, my mother eventually gave up on her want of girl-talk (thanks to my dad and his dislike of loud noises disrupting his ballgame), and with a sigh of relief, I plopped down on my bed and stared at the ceiling.
I know the previous sentence was the most boring thing ever, but I just thought you would like to know. The reason I stared boringly at the ceiling, however, remained at fault of me trying to think of anything that would inspire me to finish my song.
It's not that I want to be a song writer in the future or anything, but it would be nice to take one of my hobbies seriously once in my life.
Maybe I should have stuck with basket weaving…
With that thought aside, I feel inspired to write something, but I just don't know what that something is. I like what I'm writing right now, but every time I try to continue with the process I get this stupid mental block. It really doesn't make any sense to me, seeing as writing has always come naturally to me. I can write songs about boys from my elementary years and giant robots from space, but not about love.
As much as the situation frustrated me, however, I could not deny how much I enjoyed Nick Lucas's company.
He doesn't seem to mind my craziness while I don't mind his…well, there's nothing wrong with him. I guess I'm the only one with the craziness which is a very depressing thought.
But, I must be a glutton for punishment if I want to keep spending time with him.
Yeah, I am. Half of the time we spend together, I'm either completely comfortable or about to throw up. I mean, it only happens when he looks me straight in the eyes or happens to touch me or says things that makes my heart melt/explode…
I pushed my face into my pillow, trying to overcome the extreme heat flooding to my cheeks when I thought back to when Nick gave me his phone number.
He acted so shy and demure.
Is it strange to think that's sexy?
Overcome with confusion and butterflies, I pounded my fist on the mattress like an immature little girl. It runs in the family…
"You've been hit by; you've been struck by…a smooth criminal!"
Ah, Allison's calling me.
I brought my face out of the pillow and blew the strewn hair out of my face while pressing the ringing phone to my ear. I am so ready for any distraction.
"You are going to be so proud of me," Allison automatically stated once I hit the answer button. I could just imagine her placing both of her hands on her hips proudly with her nose sticking up in the air.
"Really?" I asked, amused. Just the distraction I needed. "What'd you do? Help an old lady across the street without asking for money in return?"
Oh, you think I'm kidding…sadly no…
"Jane, for the last time, I was twelve and stupid," my friend growled. "And no, that did not happen."
"So you did ask for money-"
"Shut up!" Allison snapped.
I love these moments…
"Sorry, sorry," I laughed and let her continue.
"As I said," Allison spoke irate. "You are going to be so proud."
"What did you do?" If it wasn't an act of kindness, what would I be proud of?
Oh! I know! She got an A on her Algebra II test!
"I talked to him."
Nope. Never mind.
Since my inner guess struck out, I narrowed my eyes in confusion. "Who?"
Allison coughed uncomfortably. "You know…him."
"Is 'him' his name?" I asked completely clueless. "Otherwise I have no idea who you're talking about. Please specify."
While Allison mumbled a few unkind, yet hilarious sounding things, my mind unscrambled itself to figure out who she was talking about.
Van Dyke? No…he's still scared of her the last time they spoke. Randall? Uh, no. Too wimpy. That random dude who always stands behind her in the lunch line? No…Allison has standards, and that guy's just creepy.
There's only one other guy in my mind who would fit the description.
Could she mean…? No, no…it's too soon. But still, maybe it could be…
Did her and Adam finally admit their feelings to each other and spend the rest of the night frolicking around cementing their much-delayed relationship?!
The romantic thought made me squeal involuntary in excitement.
"You go girl!" I exclaimed in girlish excitement.
"I know right?!" Allison squealed in the same tone.
Wow, that dilemma is finally over. One weight has now magically floated off of my shoulder. It is such a good feeling. I'm really happy for both of my best friends in the entire world.
"So," I started, still excited, "Who admitted it first? You or Adam? Because both of you are so shy when it comes to that-"
"Wait, what?" Allison interrupted in complete bafflement.
Um…Allison you're supposed hang on to the excitement during these moments.
I spoke English right?
"You and Adam…" I repeated slowly, losing some of my brightness. "You guys finally worked it out…right?"
My friend sputtered over the line, "Wh-what? You-you think Adam and I? Pfft! What, no….no no no. I don't- just no. Okay? No."
I'm guessing by the amount of no's in that statement that it must be someone else.
But…if Adam wasn't the person she talked to…then who was it?
A new weight appeared on my shoulder when my thick head finally figured out whom Allison meant by 'him.' What was left of my smile slowly turned into a frown and a sense of foreboding filled my heart.
Oh crap.
I cleared my throat to make Allison stop muttering nonsense, "You're talking about Nick…aren't you."
A nervous giggle was heard on the other line.
"Yeah! I was walking out of Starbucks and I ran into him!" She sounds so excited…it's kind of making me sick. "Anyways, I finally manned up –or womaned up- and asked him if he wanted to drink his coffee with me. He did!"
Eh?
"He such an awesome guy. So polite and charming, and everything I thought he would be!"
Oh gosh, I feel really sick. I shouldn't be feeling this way. No, Nick can talk to whomever he wants to. Allison likes him, you knew this.
"Ah," I struggled to get out through my tightened throat. My voice tried to create some of that laughter I always share with Allison when exciting things happen. I got out a few weak chuckles.
"Jane?" Allison asked hesitantly. "Where's your exciting laughter?"
"Oh! I…uh," I tried to think of an excuse to get off of the phone. I'm such a terrible friend, but I seriously would burst out crying if I heard anymore about the oh-so-amazing time she had Nick. "My-my mom's calling me Allison. Sorry. I'm very happy for you. Gotta go. Bye."
My loose grip on the phone resulted in it being discarded on the floor. I just sat on the bed, unsure of the burning feelings running through my body.
Nick shouldn't be having fun with other people, especially when he hung out with me tonight. He should have gone straight home! Doesn't he have a curfew?! It's like – I turned to look at the clock- 9:30!
My numb body finally started up and my legs began pacing the room while I bit my thumb.
What is this feeling? It's so unexpected, and quite unwelcome. I should be supporting her like I told both her and Adam I would! But, now…I would like nothing better than to be the person screaming on the other end of the phone over how I had coffee with Nick at Starbucks.
This feeling…I've felt it before…
I felt it a few weeks ago when some girl in the lunch line got a better serving of fries than me…
Holy FREAKING crap.
I am jealous over Nick Lucas.
Wow!!!! Finally Jane!!! I know, Nick never told her how to describe the perfect musical moment, but let's just say Jane will figure it out on her own. Not that I won't write it of course, but it will be in future chapters.
Hope you all liked it! And, please remember to review.