Young Writers Society

I wanted to thank everybody who commented- it means a lot to me. Everything about this story is first draft, not thoroughly edited, and so any comment and critique whatsoever will be recieved gladly. I appreciet the support!!

Chapter two

It was late when we got back. The special van for the band was already waiting when we all dragged our feet toward the now cleared parking lot, and I was relieved to see it. It was black, hard to see in the night, and the black concrete was making it so hard to focus. I hoped I wouldn't fall. I was never really glad to see the van, it always felt too fancy. But I was now; it felt so familiar, safe.

Peter's golden hair turned brown as we stepped deeper into the darkness, and he closed his eyes as soon as we all squeezed in the back. I rested my head on his shoulder, positive that he was more tired than me.

He would never rest his head on my shoulder if he was tired- too embarrassing, so I knew I had to help out. He was dying for a place to rest, and he wouldn't be embarrassed if I leaned my head against him; that way he could rest too. I felt his head rest on the top of mine and smiled, calmed. He was going to get the rest he needed now. His hand flew down to catch mine and I held it tightly.

In the background, I heard Tristan smother a laugh. There was a quiet strangled sound of a complaint as someone hit him. I was sure who it was.Andy always helped me out.

When Peter moved to my hometown, he wasn't famous yet. Just an ordinary boy, off to high school, dragged by his parents. His best friend moved with him. I remember thinking that it was so nice of them, but wondering why. His name was Andy Herisson, and he looked sort of weird at first. His tall, gangly structure, almond shaped eyes, and the twisted smile that hid in the corner of his mouth somehow frightened me. Because under all that, he looked sad.

Peter on the other hand was gorgeous. All the girls loved him, right from the beginning. I didn't. He looked so stuck up, hanging out only with Andy, never looking at those girls a second time. I considered that rude. Like he thought he was too good for them. It's not that I liked them; they were awful, but still. Nothing ached more than a broken heart.

The first time Peter and I talked was about homework, I still remember the page. He laughed and said he'd never understand, and I nodded. He probably never would, I reasoned. His hazel eyes searched my face, before they twisted into the most stunning smile. "Teach me," he said simply.

And I did, against my better judgment. His grades shot up during the few months of my tutoring. And we'd gotten close. But I didn't expect anything- I wasn't special, not too pretty, not too anything really. Brown curly hair, a hesitant smile, two honey colored eyes, a slim figure, just a few centimeters shorter than him. And a tendency to blush a lot, which was no help while being alone with a beautiful boy.

But he didn't look beautiful in a TV kind of way, he looked beautiful the way he was, with his lively hazel eyes, with the thin mouth that pulled into a wide grin, with the way his cheeks blazed when I accidentally bumped into him.

I was day dreaming now, I was aware of that.

But Andy was my friend now too. I'd decided that when Peter wasn't home on one of our tutoring sessions. Andy looked hesitant when I asked for the reason.

"He's on a… date."

The words burned, but I blinked back the tears. It was fine, I hadn't excepted anything, so it was fine. But the traitorous tears fell anyways, racing down my cheeks.

Andy looked terrified. "Do you… want to come in?" he was hesitant, not sure what to do. He leaned against the doorframe now, which colored a bright honey color, like my eyes. His gangly build forced him to bend down a little, seeming a little awkward. His face was awkward too, almost as awkward as me; it felt sort of comforting. I shook my head, and the tears kept falling.

We were both quiet for a moment, and I wanted to run away, to just turn around and run and never come back. But it looked like Andy had different notions. I half expected him to shut the door in my face, but he suddenly grabbed me into a firm hug.

I wondered if I should've been upset by that, or if I looked that bad that he had to hug me. "Why would you cry?" he whispered, sounding shocked.

"Because I'm not special…" I whispered back. I'd never talked to anybody like that before, let alone been held like that. I tried to take a step back, tripping over my feet, and he let me go, his eyes bewildered. "Not special?" he repeated the words, confused. His black eyebrows pulled down together over his gaunt face, trying to understand.

I shrugged lamely, whishing he would let it go and never, ever, tell Peter.

"But you are special," he sounded perplexed, as if looking for a secret motive.

I looked at his face, at the sharp angle of his chin, of the sharp cheekbones, at the smile that had scared me before. He looked happy now, well. Even though I was scared and hurt, it felt good to finally see him smile. Relieving in a way. I took a deep breath. "I don't understand what you mean," I've never been special. He needed to understand that.

He shook his head angrily, "you are… but I don't know how to explain it." He paused. Then something similar to a smile edged his lips and his eyes flashed. "Is Peter special?" he asked, a wry smile full blown on his lips now.

I felt myself blush. "Yes," I said in a small voice.

"Why?" he challenged, leaving the question hanging.

"Because… well… I- I-" I stammered. He just was. How could I explain the sparkle in his eyes, the way his smile curved up just a little too high when he was upset, the sound of his voice, excited and lit up when he'd done something right.

Andy nodded. "You really like him, don't you?" his voice was soft.

I stared at the gray asphalt of the pavement, not looking into his eyes. "Don't tell him, okay?" I whispered. "Please."

The sound behind me gave me a start. "Don't tell me what?" Peter said happily.

I was too panicked to notice he looked slightly embarrassed.

Andy flung his hand over my shoulder. It was heavy, and it caught me by surprise, but I stood my ground, trying to compose my face. I gave up after a second, realizing that the astonished expression wouldn't budge. Instead, I stared at Andy in wonder.

"Well, see, you were on your date, so Violet and I decided to go watch a movie." He grinned. There was a taunting edge to his voice, and I held my breath, looking back at Peter. His cheeks were red and he stared at Andy's face.

I was sure I looked pretty much the same, flushed, staring at Andy's face in a dumbfounded way.

I breathed, "Thanks." I was trying to keep it low, so only he could hear.

Andy smiled encouragingly. "But," he continued, "Since you came back, I'm off." He took his arm off my shoulder with another swing and smiled lightly.

Peter didn't answer; he grabbed my hand and led me toward his room. As soon as the door was closed, he smiled, but his eyes were tight, and the right corner of his mouth was pulled up too high. "I wasn't on a date," he blurted out.

Relief flooded through me, and I wondered if it was too clear on my face. How come I liked this person so much? I spent two days of the week with him, but this was… more.

Peter's cheeks flushed again, "and I don't want you to hang out with Andy. You're my tutor, he can find one of his own." He looked agitated, so I sat on the edge of his bed, listening. This felt important.

His room was colored a deep blue, a bit smothering, and there was only one window, small, at the back of the room. His closet was big, though he didn't like new clothes, and his desk was at the other corner, a bright lamp spreading cold, white light everywhere. His golden locks looked almost like they were shining, and his deep hazel eyes looked desperate, like he was on the verge of giving up on something. Not sure what that something was, I stood up.

Peter noticed, and his face finally settled into a determined expression. "Violet," his voice wasn't as firm, and it was almost a whisper. "I… I think you're special."

Damn it, he heard. I was sure of it. Maybe I could edge slowly toward the exit, maybe that way he wouldn’t notice, but I needed to get out, no way could I stay with him in the same room. I took a step toward the door, ducking my head. Oh, no. this was definitely one of my worst nightmares.

"I think I like you." His shaky voice cut through the silence.

I stopped dead in my tracks. My ears rang a bit. "You like me?" my voice sounded surprised and pathetically moved, even to me.

I saw his posture relax as he read my expression. "Yes," he said simply. "Very much." And that was the start.

Someone complained in a hushed voice in the background, "Thank you very much, Mr. doesn't-know-how-to-laugh."

I blinked, coming back to reality.

We had already stopped, and the rest of the band were fighting their way through the door. They were all trying to get out at the same time, their leather jackets and jeans making them clumsy. I heard someone fall, and then a booming laughter fill the van in response.

"You'll wake her up," an angry voice hissed, and I recognized Peter's voice.

"Get the bags," another voice trembled through the chest I was leaning on. It wasn't Peter's voice this time. It was Andy.

"What…?" I opened my eyes completely, stunned.

"She awake?" Peter's voice called again, groggy, but hopeful.

I stumbled to my feet as fast as I could, not looking Andy in the eye. "Yeah, she is." I said a little sharply, feeling a bit wooden from the long drive.

I heard Peter chuckle and jumped out of the van. The night air was colder now than before, and I shivered, used to the warm inside the van.

Peter pulled me closer, his hands finding my waist to lead me through the darkness. I leaned against him, feeling his warm lips kiss the top of my head. I was the luckiest girl in the world. That is, until lights flashed at my eyes, making me blink, hurting for half a second, and Clarissa found her way toward us.

"Why hadn't you told me Red Archwood came to see you about an interview?" she snapped.

I closed my eyes, dazed. Red? How did Clarissa know him? I remembered vaguely that he told me to do something, but I was too tired to remember what. Trying to remember a clear picture of him, I felt Peter's grip tighten around my waist. "Red. You mean the Red from the show?"

I heard her jaw clench together. "Yes I mean him, why else did you think I was staring at you?!"

I opened my eyes, an amused smile playing at the corners of my lips. "Because you're dead jealous of me and Peter," I wanted to say, but held my tongue. I shook my head once, and tried again. "Because… you liked my dress?" my excuse was unimpressive and I could see she didn’t buy it. It was enough for Peter though.

"Let her sleep, Clarissa." He ordered, pushing our way through her with ease, "interrogate her tomorrow."

Clarissa gave up with a resigned sigh, curling her lower lip.

I snuggled in Peter's arms. "Thank you," I mumbled.

It was his turn to look amused. "I thought she was going to bite you for a second,"

"Ha ha," I managed to say before yawning.

Our room was bottom floor this time. I landed on the bed with a loud puffing sound. "You going to sleep?" I asked, my voice muffled by the covers.

Peter chuckled. "Yeah, sleeping beauty, wait up." I heard the bed heave as he climbed in and then we were both fast asleep, exhausted from the long night.

Yep, was my last thought, I am the luckiest girl in the world.