CHAPTER FIVE

"DREAMER"

One evening, the group was gathered around the cozy kitchen table, the lingering aroma of cheese, pepperoni, and garlic mingling with the easy rhythm of laughter and conversation. The remnants of their pizza feast—crumbled napkins, half-empty soda bottles, and a few lonely crusts—were scattered across the table, a testament to the lively dinner they'd shared.

Juliana jumped out of her brother's car, swung the door shut, and arrived at the door, hesitating just long enough to hear the muffled sounds of their chatter inside. Before she could knock, Micky's cheerful voice rang out from somewhere near the kitchen. "It's open! Come on in!"

Smiling, Juliana pushed the door open, stepping into the warm glow of the house. The scene inside immediately wrapped her in a sense of belonging—the group, so effortlessly at ease, was right where she wanted to be. For a moment, Juliana let herself soak in the scene: the easy laughter, the warm light casting soft shadows on familiar faces, and the hum of voices weaving together in harmony. It was a feeling she hadn't known before, and she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to put it into words.

At the dining table, Davy, Stacy, and Peter were immersed in a spirited conversation about their latest surfing escapades. Davy was in his element, hands flying as he painted a vivid picture of one of his more ridiculous wipeouts. Stacy was doubled over in laughter, wiping a tear from her eye, while Peter—ever the laid-back comedian—chimed in with perfectly timed quips that kept the hilarity rolling.

Over by the couch, Micky and Michael had claimed their usual spots. Michael was reclined with his feet propped up on the coffee table, flipping through a magazine with practiced nonchalance. Micky, on the other hand, was a bundle of restless energy, bouncing slightly as he rattled off ideas for their next big adventure.

She lingered in the doorway for a moment, her gaze instinctively drifting toward Michael. Her heart gave a faint flutter—a familiar but frustrating reaction she hadn't quite managed to shake. Maybe it was just the fact that, for all the time she had spent with them, she felt that she had yet to find her place in this tight-knit group.

She took a step toward the table, half-expecting Michael to gesture toward the seat beside him as he sometimes did, offering that familiar, quiet smile that always made her feel a little lighter. But tonight, instead of the invitation she hoped for, Michael simply glanced up, gave her that same warm smile, and said, "We saved you a spot at the table."

Her heart dropped, just a little. It wasn't much, but it was enough to remind her of that small, frustrating distance that still lingered between them. He went back to his magazine, leaving her with a quiet ache she couldn't quite explain. She forced a smile and nodded, but inwardly, she sighed, before making her way to the table. Maybe next time, she thought, though she wasn't sure why she still clung to that hope.

Peter, ever perceptive, noticed her hesitation as she approached the table. With a grin, he slid his chair over and patted the empty seat beside him. "Don't be shy, Juliana. There's plenty of pizza left, and I promise, the stories are only getting better."

She laughed softly and took the seat, grateful for Peter's easy warmth. He had a way of making everyone feel like they belonged, even if they didn't quite believe it themselves. As if to seal the moment, he leaned closer and whispered, "You're exactly where you're supposed to be, you know."

That small gesture made her shoulders relax, and she found herself smiling without effort.

The conversation shifted to their plans for the next few days. Micky was practically vibrating with excitement as he pitched the idea of tackling a new hiking trail he'd heard about. Davy, never one to be outdone, countered with a list of his own, each suggestion wilder than the last. Stacy added her enthusiastic input, sketching out potential routes with a pizza crust in hand.

Michael finally joined in, his voice steady and thoughtful as he suggested exploring a nearby town to soak in some local culture. His contribution was brief, but it carried the weight of someone who always seemed to know where to find the hidden gems.

Juliana listened quietly, laughing along with the group, but a familiar pang of uncertainty crept in. Even surrounded by their camaraderie, she sometimes felt like an observer, hovering just outside the circle.

As if sensing her retreat, Peter leaned toward her again, his tone conspiratorial. "You know, there's this amazing little café near the trailhead Micky's talking about. They make the best coffee and pastries. You should come with us tomorrow—I think you'd love it."

His words caught her off guard, but the sincerity in his expression melted away her hesitation. A genuine smile spread across her face. "That sounds like a lot of fun. I'd love to."

Peter gave her a playful nudge. "That's the spirit. And who knows, maybe we'll even get Michael to crack a real smile this time."

Michael, who had been quietly flipping through his magazine on the couch, arched a brow at Peter's comment and glanced up with a faint smirk. "Crack a smile, huh? I'll have you know, I smile plenty. Just not when people are running their mouths about me."

His tone was calm, almost lazy, but there was a glint of dry humor in his eyes that betrayed his amusement.

Peter, undeterred, grinned wide. "Oh, come on, Mike. That wasn't a smile—it was barely even a smirk. You gotta give us the real deal tomorrow. The kind that makes the clouds part and the sun shine a little brighter."

Mike rolled his eyes but couldn't hold back the tiniest upward twitch of his lips. "I think I'll leave the sunshine-smiling to you, Pete. You seem to have that market cornered."

Juliana couldn't help but giggle at their exchange, the easy banter lifting her spirits. Peter leaned closer to her, mock-whispering loud enough for everyone to hear. "That right there? That's as close as we're gonna get to a Michael Nesmith grin. Cherish it—it's a rare sight."

Michael shook his head, clearly entertained despite himself. "Keep talking, Peter. One day, I might just surprise you."

"Is that a promise?" Peter shot back, his grin widening.

Michael tilted his head, his voice cool and teasing. "You'll just have to wait and see."

The group burst into laughter, and for the first time that night, Juliana saw it—an unguarded, genuine smile tugging at Michael's lips. It wasn't big or flashy, but it was real, and it made her chest tighten in the best way.

She laughed, her earlier worries fading as the group's warmth enveloped her once more. For the first time that evening, she felt like she wasn't just watching from the sidelines—she was part of the story, and it was a good one.

As the night settled into a relaxed hum, the group lingered around the kitchen table, the last remnants of pizza crumbs scattered across plates. The scent of garlic and pepperoni still hung in the air, mingling with the easy rhythm of laughter and conversation. Micky leaned back in his chair, his trademark mischievous grin spreading across his face.

"How about a game of Scrabble?" he suggested, eyes sparkling with the promise of chaos disguised as friendly competition.

Davy shook his head, standing up and brushing off his hands. "Not tonight, mate. Stacy and I are off to the movies. That new action flick's supposed to be a real blast." He waggled his eyebrows and gave Stacy an exaggerated bow. "Shall we?"

"Let's," Stacy said with a laugh, linking her arm with his as they left.

Juliana, who had been quietly sipping her strawberry cream soda, perked up at the mention of Scrabble. "Scrabble? I love that game! And just so you know, I'm pretty good." She raised an eyebrow, her voice playfully challenging.

Micky's grin widened, his excitement palpable. "Oh, this is gonna be good. Watch out, Mike. Julie's about to give you a run for your money."

Michael, sprawled on the couch with his feet propped on the coffee table, glanced up from his magazine. He raised an eyebrow, his expression amused but nonchalant. "Me? I'm just here for fun," he said with a smirk. But the glint in his eyes betrayed his quiet confidence. Everyone in the room knew his reputation: the Scrabble king.

Micky laughed and pointed at him. "Don't let him fool you, Julie. Mike's got this freakish talent for pulling words out of nowhere. And they're always some ridiculous, eight-syllable words you've never even heard of. Every time we challenge him, the dictionary proves him right."

Juliana grinned, leaning forward as if ready to take him on. "Well, I'm not scared of big words. Bring it on. I've got a few tricks up my sleeve too."

Michael's smirk grew a fraction wider. "Tricks, huh? Alright, let's see what you've got."

As the game began, the room was filled with the sounds of tiles clicking against the board and playful banter flying back and forth. Micky cracked jokes as he tried to form words like "ZING" on a triple-word score, while Peter focused on short, strategic plays. But the real tension was between Michael and Juliana.

By mid-game, it was clear this wasn't just a friendly round of Scrabble. It was a battle of wits. Michael's plays were precise, calculated, and annoyingly brilliant. Juliana countered with her own clever moves, refusing to back down.

Finally, Michael placed his tiles with a confident flourish, extending "PHANTASM" into "PHANTASMAGORIC." He leaned back, arms crossed, as he met her gaze.

Juliana laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. "I love that word! What does it even mean?"

Micky grabbed the dictionary, flipping through the pages dramatically. "Phantasmagoric: having a fantastic appearance, like something out of a dream."

Peter groaned. "Let me guess, Mike: word-of-the-day calendar?"

Michael chuckled. "What can I say? I like learning new things."

Juliana's eyes lit up. "I have one of those calendars too! They're the best."

Micky rolled his eyes. "You two are officially word weirdos. But I'm here for it."

Juliana scanned her remaining letters, her mind racing. Then her face lit up. "Wait, wait! I've got it! Triple word score!" She quickly laid down her tiles with a triumphant flourish: PROPINQUITY.

The room fell silent.

"Challenge!" Peter shouted, pointing dramatically. "There's no way that's a real word!"

Micky flipped through the dictionary again, muttering under his breath. But before he could even get halfway through the pages, Michael looked over at Juliana, his smile warm and knowing. "I believe you," he said softly. "What does it mean?"

Juliana's cheeks warmed as she met his gaze, her voice soft and slightly hesitant. "It means closeness," she explained, her eyes briefly dropping to the Scrabble board before flicking back to his. "Proximity. Being near someone…" She hesitated, her blush deepening as she quickly added, "Or, uh… something."

Micky stopped mid-flip and smirked. "Well, damn. She's right. It's in here." He held up the dictionary. "Juliana just schooled us all."

Michael tilted his head, his expression thoughtful. "I'm stealing that for a song," he said with a faint smile. Then, leaning back in his chair, he gave her a small nod of respect. "Congratulations, Juliana. You beat me fair and square."

The room erupted into cheers and laughter, but Juliana barely heard them. Her chest swelled with pride, not just from the victory but from the way Michael had looked at her—as though, for the first time, she truly belonged.

It wasn't just a game. It was something more.

And for Juliana, that made all the difference.

As the evening wore on and the conversation meandered from music to their latest projects and random anecdotes, Juliana felt something unfamiliar but comforting settle deep in her chest. It wasn't just the laughter or the stories—it was the unspoken connection, the way this group seemed to live fully, embracing every moment with a kind of unfiltered joy. For the first time in a long time, she felt like she truly belonged.

The doorbell rang, breaking the spell. Juliana glanced at the clock, her face lighting up with a smile. "That'll be my brother Tony," she said, rising from the couch with a mix of excitement and reluctance. "He's here to pick me up."

Before she could reach the door, Peter was already there, his boundless enthusiasm leading the charge. He swung the door open with a flourish, his trademark grin in full effect as he extended a hand to the visitor.

"Hi! I'm Peter Tork," he said, his voice brimming with warmth and welcome.

Tony, tall, sandy haired and broad-shouldered with a relaxed demeanor, clasped Peter's hand with a firm shake, his own grin matching the energy in the room.

Juliana, unable to contain her excitement, quickly joined them. "Tony, this is Peter. He plays bass." She gestured toward the others, her voice bubbling with pride. "And that's Michael Nesmith—he plays lead guitar. He's been giving me guitar lessons."

Mike stood from the couch, his movements unhurried as always. He shook Tony's hand with an easy smile, his Texan twang adding a laid-back charm to his words. "Nice to meet ya. Your sister's a quick learner, by the way. And just so you know, she whooped me at Scrabble earlier. My ego's still limping."

Tony laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Sounds about right. She's been competitive since we were kids—always had to win."

Juliana grinned, rolling her eyes but secretly pleased. She turned to the next introduction. "And this is Micky. He plays drums—just like you."

Micky leaned back in his chair with an impish grin, giving Tony a wave that was equal parts casual and inviting. "Hey, man! You should try my kit before you head out. Let's see what you've got."

Tony raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "I'm game. Let's see if your kit's as good as Juliana says it is."

What started as a casual suggestion quickly turned into a full-blown drum-off. Micky and Tony faced off, their sticks flying in a blur of rhythm and energy. The living room became their stage, the air alive with the thunder of drums and the occasional whoop from the rest of the group.

Peter clapped along, hollering encouragement, and rating each drum solo. While Juliana alternated between cheering and glancing at Michael and covering her face with her hands, laughing at the intensity of it all. Even Michael, usually reserved, watched with genuine amusement, his head bobbing subtly to the beat.

As the final cymbal crash echoed through the room, Tony held up his hands, laughing breathlessly. "Alright, alright! I surrender. You've got some serious chops, Micky."

Micky grinned, twirling a drumstick between his fingers. "Not bad yourself, Tony. Anytime you want a rematch, you know where to find me."

Tony chuckled and turned to Juliana. "Alright, sis, time to go. I've got to hit the books—if I don't pass this exam, Dad's never gonna let me hear the end of it."

Juliana gathered her things, pausing for a moment as she looked back at the group. Her heart swelled with gratitude. "Thank you, guys. This has been the best day I've had since I got to California."

Michael gave her a grin and wave. "You're welcome anytime, Juliana. Don't be a stranger."

Peter added with a grin, "Yeah, next time, bring Tony. We need a rematch!"

Juliana laughed, giving them a small wave as she followed Tony out the door. As they stepped into the cool night air, she glanced back, a warm glow in her chest. She hadn't just found friends tonight—she'd found something closer to family.

—

As they settled into the car, Tony shot Juliana a sideways glance, his brow furrowing slightly. "I thought Stacy was supposed to hang out with you today."

Juliana sighed, leaning back against the seat and staring out the window. "She was, but she and Davy decided to go to the movies instead. It's no big deal."

Tony's frown deepened, his protective instincts kicking in. "So, you were alone with those guys? The ones you just met?"

Juliana groaned, her patience already wearing thin. "Tony, seriously? First of all, I'm not a little kid anymore, so you don't need to play the overprotective brother card. And second, Stacy's known them for ages—they're good people. They've been nothing but kind and respectful. We just played Scrabble, okay?" She hesitated, her voice softening. "I'm just… happy to have found some really cool friends. It's hard making connections in a new place. You, of all people, should understand that."

Tony's stern expression melted into a teasing grin. "Relax, Juliana. I'm just messing with you. Mom and Dad are out of the country, so I have to play the part of the protective big brother. Really, they all seem like a decent group of guys."

Juliana peeked at him, her heart thudding in her chest. "You really think so?" she asked softly, the hint of hope in her voice almost imperceptible.

Tony chuckled, but there was a knowing edge to his voice. "Sure, sure. But are you sure you think of all of them as friends? I know you well enough to tell when you've got a crush."

Juliana froze, her stomach twisting as her cheeks began to burn. "What are you talking about?" she muttered, trying to sound casual.

Tony smirked, clearly enjoying her discomfort. "Oh, come on, Sis. I saw the way you were acting today. You've got a thing for one of them, don't you?"

Her face instantly warmed, the heat creeping up to her ears. "What? No! That's ridiculous," she said, her voice just a little too high-pitched to sound convincing. She turned toward the window, her fingers tapping nervously against the armrest. "You're imagining things."

Tony laughed outright, clearly relishing her reaction. "Oh, I'm imagining things, huh? Then why are you turning as red as a tomato right now? And let me guess—it's the 'Cowboy,' isn't it?"

Juliana's heart stuttered, and her cheeks flamed even brighter. She jerked her head toward him, her voice a mix of exasperation and desperation. "His name is Michael," she snapped, too quickly. "And we're just friends. Why do you even think that?"

Tony leaned back, his victory already secured. "Because you get this look whenever you mention him. And I saw how you were watching him earlier during our drum-off."

Juliana groaned, covering her face with her hands. "Ugh, Tony, stop! You're making this so much worse. I wasn't looking at him like that."

Tony's expression softened, his teasing giving way to something more serious. "You might think you're subtle, but trust me, you're not," he said simply. "But let me remind you—he's, what, nineteen? And you've barely dated. He's in a different place in life, and honestly? I don't think he even looks at you like that."

He paused, reflecting on what he'd seen earlier. Michael had been polite, but his smiles were friendly, not lingering. His demeanor around Juliana was almost detached, like he was trying to keep things neutral. Tony wasn't blind—he knew the difference, and Michael hadn't crossed any lines.

Juliana's heart sank, a mixture of embarrassment and confusion twisting in her chest. "What do you mean?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, her fingers twisting the hem of her sleeve.

Tony shrugged, his tone gentle but firm. "I'm not saying he's a bad guy—he seems decent enough. But when I saw him around you, there's nothing there. No looks, no hints. Nothing. If anything, he treats you like a kid sister."

Juliana turned to the window, her chest tightening. She didn't know what to say. Part of her wanted to defend her feelings, to argue that maybe Tony didn't see everything. But another part of her—the part that had spent the last few weeks overanalyzing every interaction with Michael—couldn't deny the possibility that Tony was right.

"Look," Tony continued, his voice softer now. "I get it. He's a cool musician, older, and he's got that whole quiet, mysterious vibe going on. It's okay to feel something—it happens. But Juliana, you just got here. You've got so much going on already. Don't waste time over someone who probably doesn't even see you that way."

Juliana crossed her arms, her voice wavering between irritation and resignation. "I'm not wasting time. And you don't know what he thinks. He's… complicated."

"Maybe he is," Tony admitted, leaning forward slightly, trying to dissuade her. "But complicated doesn't mean he's interested."

Still, Juliana bristled, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm not a little kid, Tony. I can handle myself."

"I know you can," he said gently. "But that doesn't mean I'm going to stop looking out for you. You're smart; I know you'll figure it out. There's nothing wrong with focusing on yourself instead of getting tangled up in something like this."

Juliana didn't reply, her thoughts swirling. She hated how easily Tony could always read her, but she also hated that he might be right. Michael was quiet and kind, sure, but he never gave her any reason to believe he felt the same way she did.

Her irritation wavered, giving way to a flicker of guilt. "I know you're trying to help," she admitted quietly. "But nothing's happening. Michael's just… nice. That's all. It's not a big deal."

Tony studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable. "Alright," he said finally. "If you say so. Just remember, guys like him have been around the block. You're still figuring out who you are. Don't lose yourself trying to impress someone else."

Juliana looked down at her hands, his words sinking in. She didn't like how easily Tony could see through her, but she also knew he wasn't entirely wrong.

"Thanks, Tony, for looking out for me," she mumbled.

Tony gave her a long look before reaching over and ruffling her hair. "Hey," he said with a grin. "I'm not trying to ruin your life. I just don't want to see you get hurt."

She swatted his hand away, managing a small smile despite herself. "Right, but you're still a pain, though."

"Yeah, but you love me," he shot back.

Juliana laughed faintly, though her thoughts were still elsewhere. As the car rolled through the quiet streets, she stared out the window, her mind replaying every interaction with Michael.

Maybe it was nothing, just casual friendliness. But the way his voice softened when he said, "I believe you"—it was hard to shake. Was it admiration, hope, or something more? She wasn't sure anymore.

For now, Tony was right about one thing: she needed to figure out who she was before letting her heart lead her anywhere.