Oreos for Breakfast: Nick BSB Fiction

Oreos for Breakfast - Chapter 5
By The Paperbag Princess and The Pumpkin Coach

Corresponding KTBPA Message Board Posts (Fictional!)

"Rachel!" Someone called her name from the back of the bar and she squinted in the dim light to see who it was. God, this was a small town. It seemed like everywhere we went, we ran into someone else she knew. Her first grade teacher, her dentist, her junior high basketball coach's second cousin twice removed.

She led me back to the table once she'd spotted the person who had called her name. It was a group of five or six people, all about her age. Had to be high school friends, right?

"Rock star Rachel! You owe me an email!"

"And when's the last time you returned my call?"

"James called the other day and told me you had big news."

"Yeah, Rache… spill it!!!"

Everyone started talking at once, laughing and teasing her about not being in touch with them. She's just come off the road, of course she hadn't been in touch. I stood outside their circle and watched them as they caught up with her in less than 2 minutes. Rachel talked excitedly about their upcoming tour and her new tour manager.

In the last week, Lola had become Rachel's new best friend, even though they'd only talked once. It was cute. I imagined her hanging out in the back of her bus with another girl, dressed in just a tank top and undies painting each other's nails and giggling. Jesus, Nick… It was amazing how I could turn the most innocent thought about Rachel into a full-blown sexual fantasy. That was happening more and more in the last few days. Somehow she'd decided that we could be friends and flirt. That was so dangerous!

"Oooooh… a bus of your own! That sounds exciting. Do you get a driver or will Jeremy learn to drive it?"

Rachel just laughed, "Oh, that's good Marie… Jeremy, my Jeremy driving a bus. I barely let the boy drive the van."

Her Jeremy? I hated it when she called him that. They weren't together anymore. Did they all know him? Of course they did. They probably liked him, too, Jeremy was way cooler than me.

I thought about my friends back in Tampa. I never called them on the road and when I saw them out somewhere they were certainly going to let me know about it, but not in a good-natured way. They all wanted something from me. AJ and Denise called our friends the 'globbers,' the ones that hung around because we were famous, because we could fly them out to cool places to keep us company or because they liked to have their pictures in the paper when we went out to a club. They weren't all like that, were they? Maybe that's why I never called them? It certainly never occurred to me to go home to Tampa to hang out with them during this unscheduled break.

"Nick! I'm being so rude! Come here," she pulled me over to stand next to her and I shrugged as she introduced me.

"This is Nick… Nick, this is everyone!" She laughed at her own joke and we sat down as one of her friends pulled over an extra chair so I could sit next to her. Did they think we were together? I looked over at Rachel. Oh, she was introducing me still. I should pay attention to this.

"This is Marie and she's married to Martin over there." She adopted a stage whisper, "He's the bald one."

"Thanks, Rache! Keep it up and you won't be my favorite anymore. I have a fragile ego!"

"You do not!" His wife teased him before giving him a quick kiss to stop his pouting.

"And this is Chris and he was my first groupie…"

Everyone laughed and Chris blushed slightly before turning to me in all seriousness, "She'll tear your heart out and stomp on it just so she can write a song about it, man!"

She pushed him away from me, "Stop that! You make me sound so cold-hearted. I was 14!"

Someone handed me a beer and I downed about half of it while trying to keep up with the conversation. She'd gotten distracted from introducing me as Chris teased her.

"But you wounded me for life. You are such a heart breaker, admit it, Rache."

"She is!" Was that my voice? I looked down at my beer quickly, maybe no one heard me.

"Oh… Nick has dirt on Rachel! You must spill, my man!" Chris slapped me on the back and everyone turned to look at me. Dang it. I needed to learn not to drink when I was around her. It made me say the dumbest things.

"Don't listen to him, he's pumped up on painkillers." Rachel narrowed her eyes at me, daring me to say anything. So of course I had to.

"Am not! You are such a heartbreaker, Rache. I've seen the inside of your guitar case. It's covered with names and phone numbers just pleading 'I need you… call me.' Believe me, she's leaving a trail of broken hearts across the east coast!" I stuck out my tongue at her and she rolled her eyes.

"Puh-leaze!" She sighed melodramatically, "None of those little boys want my heart, Nick."

"What do they want, pray tell?" Marie called out from the other end of the table.

"It's a little lower than that, Marie!" She laughed, sending the whole table into hysterical laughter.

"So Nick, what do you do? And how do you know our Rachel?" Heather flipped her red hair out of her eyes and stared across the table at Nick. Heather was always watching out for me. She'd been one of the few people I'd told about the whole Damon fiasco. The rest of them just thought it didn't work out when I'd moved to London. Not that I'd been such a fool. I pushed those thoughts aside, motioning to the bartender for another beer while leaning over and stealing Nick's.

"I'm in a band, too." His voice was tentative and I looked up at him.

"Anyone we've heard of? You look kinda familiar," Lisa interjected, suddenly interested in our conversation.

"No. We're not as big as Rachel's band is gonna be." He smiled down at me and winked. Not a smarmy Howie wink, but a 'we're gonna share my secret' wink. I smiled. Freak. I'd quiz him about his lies later.

"Are you from New York, too?" Lisa started the 20 questions and I stifled a groan. Please don't do this. He can't keep up a front!

Nick smiled, "No. Florida. Tampa, actually. Most of the band's from there. I met Rachel a few weeks ago in South Carolina."

I laughed, putting a hand on his arm, "It was North Carolina, dear. Totally different state. It was Raleigh. I had insomnia and met Nick…"

"In the vending machine room," he interrupted me, taking his beer back from me as the bartender placed another in front of me. "Those damn things never work right. Kinda bonded over her inability to get a soda at 2am and then shared a package of Oreos for breakfast the next morning."

They all laughed and Nick's face turned bright red, "Oh… no! Not like that!"

I grinned at them, "Our bands were following similar schedules, so we just kept bumping into one another and became friends."

"Cool." Martin was so eloquent, wasn't he? Nick was starting to relax and I leaned back in my seat, considering him. It was kind of nice sitting here in the bar, letting him finish my sentences and seeing him with my friends. I could almost see this happening on a regular basis.

"So you all are college friends?" He asked.

Heather laughed, "No… high school. Class of 1992. You?"

Nick about choked on his beer, I could see him trying to do the math in his head. He didn't go to high school. Did he even know what year he was supposed to graduate?

"1997," I interjected and he grinned at me. "I know, he's a youngin'. But we can still be friends with him, right?"

Everyone laughed and Nick sat back in his chair. I slid my hand down his leg and patted his knee quickly, to reassure him that I wasn't spilling any of his secrets. Before I could move my hand he caught it, running his fingers up and down mine as it rested on his leg. I'd been so good at not touching him, not wanting to lead him on any more than I'd done in Boston, but it was so hard. We'd started flirting last night at the movies and it was kind of nice. He was so adorable sitting here next to me in my favorite bar. He was even getting along with my friends. Why wouldn't this work again? He can be normal? I could turn him into the stable stockbroker, couldn't I?

Gary's voice broke my train of thought, "So Nick, what'd you do there?" Gary looked down at Nick's hand. Mister Dr. Robbins had given him a special cast the other day and it was so small I barely noticed it anymore. I think he'd even stopped taking his pain killers. "Is it broken?"

"Metacarpal fracture." Nick responded quickly before taking another gulp of his beer. That was something like his third. Was he bored or nervous here, hanging out with my friends? Well, it was better than sitting alone at the bar where he could start pumping me for more information about Damon. I still didn't want to have that conversation, but he kept trying to. Damn Kate Sutton for giving him some of the details!

"Boxer's break?" Gary responded.

Nick shrugged, "You punch a wall, you tend to break a bone, I guess. It doesn't hurt much anymore."

"You punched a wall?" My voice rose an octave and Nick's eyes widened. He looked like a deer caught in headlights. "You punched a wall? You didn't tell me that! You said you broke it playing basketball!"

A chorus of "ooohs" erupted around the table and I just ignored them all. He lied to me? Why did he punch a wall? Why would he keep that from me? Was it AJ? Kevin? What happened that night before AJ left? Suddenly my mind was racing.

"Well…" He started, shooting me a look that told me, in no uncertain terms, that we were not going to discuss this here.

Gary saved him, "Did you punch a hole in the wall, at least, dude?"

Nick smiled at the thought, "Yeah. Little hole, yeah."

He relaxed for the first time all night as Gary held up his hand and they high fived above my head. Boys!

"Why'd you do that?"

His head was back on the seat rest as he smiled up at the sky, but he turned his head to see me. "Do what? You have a lot of stars out here."

He was so drunk. He was adorable when he was drunk, giggly and sweet.

"Lie to my friends!" I told him. "And lie to me about your hand!"

He was caught, and he sighed, sitting up properly, reaching over to fiddle with the stereo. I slapped his hands away. He would deal with Dido for the 10-minute drive home.

"I lied because I wanted them to like me. And… I lied about my hand because it was stupid."

He was still hiding something about his hand, I could tell. I let that one drop, opting to keep up our good mood and tease him about my friends. "Now, I would think that you would pile on the Backstreet knowledge if you wanted people to like you," I teased, but he shook his head.

"No, then it's all about the band. I just wanted to be… normal for a few minutes. You know? Let them think I was just a friend of yours."

I smiled over at him. Poor thing, he never got to be normal. "Well, they did like you. I know that Heather will be calling me tomorrow wanting to know all about you."

He beamed. "They liked me?"

"Sure. Why wouldn't they? You fit in, you made everyone laugh and you bought a round."

"Cool." He sighed, leaning back to look up at the sky again. "Why can't I be normal every day?"

"Because normal people don't get to make albums and tour the world and make little girls scream, Nicky. Normal is totally overrated."

"You're normal, and you still get to make albums and tour the world and make little girls scream."

I snorted. "I make albums, but the most we've toured the world is a week in England. And the only little girls I've made scream are my nieces."

He turned to look at me, his head still against the back of his seat. He looked sleepy and happy, and it was all I could do not to touch him. God, he could stay here forever. I'd take him to all the dive bars on Long Island to see him smile like that. "You're gonna get to do those things."

"Yeah, maybe. Depends." On so many things, Em's video and how charming we could be to radio stations, and the mood of the DJ's. I still had a week of vacation; I tried not to panic yet. This time next week, I'd be on stage in Minneapolis, starting the most important tour of my life.

"You're gonna do it," Nick told me firmly. "I know it. You're gonna be huge, Rache, and you deserve it."

Sighing, I swung the car onto the road that led to home. I couldn't just hide out here in my house forever? Nick could stay, that would be nice. "We've deserved it for years. Doesn't mean its gonna happen. And if it does, my life is going to be far less normal."

If I get obsessed fans, will they find this house? Will they figure out all the twists and turns and wait outside by my mailbox and annoy the neighbors, like they do to Nick?

"Well… yeah… I don't know that anyone will ever find you all the way out here, though."

It's like he read my mind. "I hope not. That would suck."

He yawned as I pulled into the driveway. "Frank would make you get a gate here."

I laughed, hitting the garage door opener. "He'd probably be pissed to know that I don't usually lock my door, huh?"

Nick looked horrified as I pulled the car into the garage. "You don't?"

"I've been known to forget." Indeed, the back door was unlocked, and Nick insisted upon going in first. Like he was going to be formidable, drunk as he was? I just let him be the man, giggling as he checked out each room. Bates followed him, growling, but Nick ignored the cat, intent on making sure we were safe.

"Rache, really, you should be more careful."

"It's fine, bunny. We are very safe here, no one bothers anyone," I went up behind him, poking him in the ribs and making him jump.

"Stopit!" He squealed and I about fell over laughing.

"Nicky, you are too cute drunk!"

"How cute?" He walked over, putting his hands on my waist and raising an eyebrow at me.

Shit. No. I was too tipsy to rise to that flirt. I pulled away, yawning and headed up the stairs. "Not cute enough. All that drinking made me sleepy. I'm going to bed." He smiled at me and I just rolled my eyes, "Alone. You can stay up if you want."

"Yeah, I'll watch TV. G'night, Rache." She smiled, blowing me a kiss, then disappeared upstairs.

I fell onto the couch, picking up the remote and flicking on the TV before glancing around. The doors were unlocked the whole time we were gone? What if someone had figured out where I was because we got spotted at the mall the other day and they just let themselves in? What if it was one of the crazy stalker fans that Frank never told me about, because it would freak me out? What if she tried to hurt Rachel because I was with Rachel, even though I wasn't 'with' Rachel?

I sighed at myself. I was too drunk for these thoughts. Everything was fine, Rachel was right, it was safe here. I'd make sure she locked the doors next time we went out, though.

Did she lock the doors when we came in? I jumped up, checking all the locks, tripping over the cat in the kitchen. He growled at me and I kneeled down to scowl at him. "Dude, could you chill out? Have I ever hurt you? I didn't mean to trip over you." I swear he sneered at me, and I gave up, standing up and shaking my head. "Whatever. Go sleep with Rachel."

I opened the fridge and suddenly Bates was my best friend, rubbing against my legs and purring. I laughed, pulling out the leftover lasagna from dinner. "I'm telling. You love anyone who feeds you, don't you? And Rachel's the best cook, so you love her best."

It's one in the morning and I'm talking to a cat.

Like I don't talk to my dogs when I'm home?

I missed my dogs. I was gone so much they could care less when I came back. I should have just let Willa take them. They liked her more anyway. How did Rachel inspire such devotion in this cat? She was never home, either.

Because Rachel inspires devotion, she just does. Look at me, hanging around like a lovesick fool because she was letting me. I should go home and leave her alone, but she never asked me to, so I was staying as long as she let me. I loved being normal and not having a bodyguard and just being with her, as much as my heart ached to touch her every waking moment.

Bates jumped on the counter, heading for the lasagna pan, and I pulled it out of his way, making him growl again and take a swing at me, claws extended. He'd already gotten me in the leg this morning. He was going to scar me before we left, I just knew it. Could cats eat lasagna? Wasn't that Garfield's favorite food in the comics?

Because you should take all practical life lessons from the comics, Carter.

Bates glared at me as I giggled. Would Rachel kill me if I gave her cat some lasagna? Probably not. She'd never been mad at me, and I didn't want to start. I'd heard her talk about her band, she had a temper.

Bates swiped at my hand again and I decided to give him some lasagna in the interest of self-preservation. I found a plate and put some on the counter for him. He sniffed at it, growled at me for good measure and then jumped off the counter, stalking upstairs.

Laughing, I ate the lasagna myself, then put it away and grabbed a bottle of water before going back to the TV. Why did that mean cat get to sleep with Rachel and I was here on the couch alone? I wouldn't be able to sleep, I'd figured that out this week. If I went upstairs, I'd lie there and think about her and get obsessed and end up jerking off like a kid.

Maybe TV would distract me. Maybe I was drunk enough to just fall asleep here on the couch watching MTV.

An hour later, I wasn't very drunk anymore, and TV was boring and I was obsessing about Rachel. Rolling off the couch, I wandered into the kitchen again, but didn't want to bother with food. I started to go out and sit on the deck, but that would surely depress me more, I wanted to sit there with her in my arms and look up at the stars. Walking through the downstairs, I flicked on the light in the music room. I hadn't spent much time in here, Rachel waved it away, saying it was a mess.

It was, stuff was everywhere, papers and equipment, pictures and scribbled notes taped up on the walls. It had been the more formal living room in another life, her mom had told me. It'd had the nice furniture and the piano. Rachel just kept the piano, and a desk in the corner. The couch in here must be 20 years old, but the cigarette burns seemed a little newer.

They'd recorded their entire album in here. I could see where the equipment might have been set up, but I couldn't imagine it. Where did Darien have his drum kit? Over in the corner? How did they record that? The album was great, it didn't sound like it had been recorded on rented equipment in this room.

I suppose good songs could get you far, you didn't need layers of production like we did. I opened the guitar case next to me, finding a battered old acoustic and lifting it out, hitting a chord carefully. It was hard to find the notes with my cast on, so I took it off, strumming a quiet tune.

This guitar didn't sound familiar. I knew she had an electric guitar on stage, she must have used that for the album. I wondered if she wrote songs on this one, laying out the notes before adding the other guys' parts. I wondered which songs she'd written on this one, and who were they about?

All her songs were so personal, I knew they were about her and the various boys in her life. But which ones were about Jeremy and which ones about Damon? I assumed the really mean ones were about Damon, but then, she and Jeremy fought all the time, even if they were in the same band.

I was at the Jabberjaw
The cutest boy I ever saw
He was standing behind me
He was such a dream
He kept looking right my way
I want to see him everyday
Randy told me where he lives
In Minneapolis

I knew that one was Jeremy. She'd told me he was from Minneapolis. Their tour was starting there next week and she'd be seeing his family. She was still close to them, his mother had even called here the other day just to talk to her. That was just too amazing. I imagined what it would be like if Mandy's mother called me. All I could imagine was screaming. No. If I saw Mandy's family again, we'd probably just ignore one another. I wish I could do that with her, too.

Why am I sitting here thinking about Mandy when Rachel was upstairs? I stopped strumming the guitar and listened for her. I heard her snoring softly. She must be drunk, I'd never heard her do that before. I laid back on the couch and closed my eyes, imagining what it'd be like to be lying next to her, feeling her body against mine and being able to reach over and stroke her hair as she slept. She smelled so good tonight, just like lilacs.

God, Carter! Get a fucking grip.

why do you do what you do to me baby
you're shaking my confidence driving me crazy
you know if I could I'd do anything for you
please don't ignore me cause you know I adore you

I could have written that one. When I was around her I was so tongue-tied. I never got that way with anyone else. But I couldn't imagine Rachel not exuding self-confidence. She always laughed when I called her a wanton sex goddess, dismissing me. But even just hanging out at the mall, shopping for jeans and eating ice cream in the food court, she was the sexiest woman I'd ever seen. It couldn't be just me, could it? Surely everyone else saw it, too.

But then what had Kate said about Damon? That "Stutter" song was about him. How could he not see the wanton sex goddess? Kate said she knew from experience. How could anyone not be turned on by Kate for that matter? Shit! She was the cause of my first wet dream. I blushed at the memory of being alone with Kate Sutton in her studio as she fitted me for our first European tour. She'd been the girl in my dreams for at least a year after that!

"Please don't ignore me…" I wanted to slip into bed with Rachel and sing those lyrics in her ear. Did she have any idea how much I would give just to have her look at me the way I looked at her when she wasn't watching?

I started to strum the guitar again. One of our first nights here I'd stayed up almost all night thinking about her and listening to the waves crashing against the rocks underneath my window. I hadn't written a whole song ever, but in those first days here I'd filled two pages with something that might be a song.

I dream a world where you understand
That I dream a million sleepless nights
Well I dream a fire when you're touching my hand
But it twists into smoke when I turn on the lights

I woke up with a song in my head, it was small and sad and melancholy. Perfect word, melancholy. Squinting at the clock, I sat up, looking around for a piece of paper to scribble it down on.

That's not my song. Someone in my house is playing guitar.

I blinked into the darkness for a moment. I was home, and Nick was here with me. I wasn't on the road with my band. Hearing someone pick out a song late at night on the road was normal.

Is that Nick? My talentless boy band hottie?

I crept towards my door slowly, grabbing my robe and pulling it around my body. If he heard me, I knew he'd stop, the way I teased him about his guitar playing.

It wasn't very good tonight, he kept dropping chords. Then again, his right hand was broken, I was surprised he was playing at all.

Stepping out into the hall, I saw that there was light coming from downstairs, and I moved quietly to the top of the stairs.

I could barely hear the words as he sang them softly. Was he writing a song, or figuring out something he'd heard once?

I wish I was lonely
Instead of just only
Crystal and see-through
And not enough to you

Oh.

I thought we were good, I thought we were having fun, that friends was good and fun and we could maybe even flirt a little.

I thought I was the one that might be having illicit thoughts about him, I thought he was completely over me now that he'd seen how boring I really was.

I leaned my head against the wall, straining to hear his song, but he was just humming, picking out the chords carefully.

God, Nick, get over me. You're going to be over me as soon as your band is on the road again, just hurry it up a little. You're 21, take advantage of all those groupies you've got. Don't crush out on me, don't make me love you back.

Because I want a lot more than you can give me. I'm old and boring and I want a nice guy to adore me. Don't you listen to my lyrics? I'm not the confident wanton sex goddess you see me as. I'm a hopeless romantic who's been hurt too many times and just wants to find someone who'll adore her. You're young and gorgeous and have years ahead of you before you settle down with one girl.

But, god, I wish you were five years older and I could ask you to be mine.

I stood there for a minute, trying to make myself go back to bed and forget all about this. Hell, the song probably wasn't about me, he probably just couldn't sleep and started playing around with his guitar.

He didn't bring his guitar. That was my guitar! My acoustic, the one I bought in 10th grade, the one that was so old and beat up I didn't even bring it on the road, it just stayed here in the music room.

There was a noise on the stairs and I stopped playing, looking up. Did I wake her? Did she hear my stupid, sappy song about her? She stepped into the light and I put down the guitar, hoping it wasn't obvious that I'd been crying.

Stupid. This whole thing was stupid. What was I crying over? My friend was in rehab and screwed up the tour, the girl I loved didn't love me back. Happened every day, why was I being such a pussy about it?

"That was pretty," she said softly, leaning over the railing and smiling at me. "I love that guitar, it was my first one."

"Sorry," I managed, putting the guitar back in the case. "I should have asked before I ruined it with my terrible playing."

"It wasn't bad, considering one of your hands is broken. Did you write it?"

I shrugged and stood up, putting the guitar back where I'd found it. "Sorry I woke you up."

"No, it was fine… I thought I was dreaming about a song, but it was you. It was really pretty, Nick."

I picked up the piece of paper I'd been scribbling the song down on and folded it, shoving it in my back pocket. I couldn't talk to her right now, I could barely look at her. "It sucked. I couldn't sleep, I was just screwing around."

"No, sweetie, I liked it, what I heard-"

I cut her off. "Rachel, don't. Just… don't." I turned around to look at her and she looked hurt, like I'd just smacked her.

I wanted to shake her and ask her why she didn't want to be with me. I wanted to gather her up in my arms and kiss her until she couldn't breathe, until she clung to me and begged me to make love to her.

I could feel her eyes on me as I straightened the pillows on the couch.

"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I know how it is when a song is too new to be shared, I'll leave you alone. You can use the guitar whenever you want, you don't need to ask."

She was so… sweet. She was a wanton sex goddess on stage, but here, at home, she was just a good girl who loved her family, who wanted me to have a good time here in her house, always trying to be a good hostess.

I fell onto the couch, suddenly exhausted. "I'm sorry for snapping at you, Rache. I'm just tired and cranky and I can't sleep."

"Did you take a Vicodan?"

"No." I was taking too many of them, and my hand didn't even hurt that much any more.

"James was on them last year, he threw his back out. When he tried to go off them, he couldn't sleep." She came all the way down the stairs, heading for the kitchen. "I've got some Tylenol PM, they always put me out."

Whatever. I just wanted to sleep, instead of lying there wondering why she didn't want me. Half the girls in the world wanted me, why didn't Rachel?

Because she knew me. They just saw my picture and thought I was hot. Hot can only get you so far. Certainly not into the heart of a wanton sex goddess.

She reappeared, handing me two pills and a glass of water. I swallowed them without thinking about it too much. She just looked at me for a moment, reaching out to stroke my hair, and I moved away. She couldn't touch me, I'd crumble and say something stupid.

It was three in the morning and I was being overwrought. Everything was too much, AJ, the tour, Rachel. I knew in the morning it would be better.

But I wanted to just ask her why, why did she keep pushing me away? I wanted to tell her that I loved her. This wasn't the crush that everyone teased me about, I knew her now, after this week, seeing her with her family and friends and I loved her, everything about her. As much as I lusted after her, as much as I wanted to make love to her over and over again, this was more than that.

Instead I just moved away from her hand, ignoring the hurt look in her eyes. I would say all that and she'd smile at me and tell me I was too young, that she liked me, but not that way, all the things she'd already told me, time and again.

"What's wrong, sweetie?" She asked softly, sitting on the arm of the couch, not touching me, but close. I just shook my head, or I'd end up yelling 'I love you!' like a tortured idiot, and then she'd laugh.

"Nothing," I mumbled.

"I don't believe you," she teased back.

"It's late and I'm being stupid," I admitted. "Everything seems like too much."

"I know," she sighed, smoothing her robe over her knees. "Things get weird at this hour."

Our eyes met for the longest moment. She was as mixed-up as I was, I suddenly realized. I knew that, I knew that she liked me. Not as much as I loved her, but still…there was something there, this wasn't all me.

I had to touch her. I'd die if I didn't touch her. Carefully, I rested my head on her lap, wrapping my arms around her legs. She stroked my hair, just like I wanted her to. We sat like that for a while, I don't know how long.

"Nick, baby," she whispered, and I opened my eyes, looking up at her. "You'll be more comfortable in bed." Nodding, I stood up, following as she turned off the light and led me upstairs. She settled me into bed, kissing my forehead lightly, and I caught her wrist.

"Stay, please. Just until I fall asleep." I wasn't even thinking about sex, I was too tired for that. But if she left, I'd get stupid and depressed all over again, I could feel it. If she stayed, then I could pretend that she liked me until I fell asleep.

She considered me for a moment, smoothing the hair back from my face, then laid down next to me. It just felt right to pull her against me, her back resting on my chest, my arm over her waist. She fit here. I wanted her here forever.

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