If I Fell

Chapter Twelve

Flipping through the booklet I had placed together, I almost found myself wishing that there was something missing.

If there was something gone that meant I could go back to work on it, extending the time I spent on it.

Yet of course there was not a thing out of place. I was even hoping that a corner of a page would be bent, but no such luck, the pages were smooth without even a crease so there was no reason to print any more sheets. What else would I have found? I'd spent late hours into the night making sure it was perfect. There was nothing wrong.

It was ready to be handed in.

When I reached the last page, I heaved a great sigh, letting my chin fall into my cupped palm.

"Allison?"

Not so much as blinking at the sound of my mom's voice, I remained staring down at the booklet on the granite counter top. "Hm?" questioned I, not being able to force myself to say a full word.

"I was talking to you," she said, an irritated bite coming into her voice.

Figuring that it would be best to at least fake attention, I shook my head gently before angling my gaze up to her, but my thoughts were clouded and foggy, half focused on the booklet and the other part lost in the wind. "Sorry," I said plainly as I looked up to where she stood on the opposite side of the island, "What were you saying?"

For a moment my mom peered at me from behind those librarian glasses, but the stare was broken when she reached up to fix her perfectly groomed set of bangs. "I was asking if you were done on this project."

Pursing my lips, I nodded slowly, letting my eyes flicker down to it. "Yup," I answered though I sounded very unenthusiastic, "We're handing it in today."

"Oh, good," she sighed.

Her frowns made the crease of a frown arise between my two eyebrows, and the fog cleared the slightest amount as suspicions started settling into my mind, poking and prodding ideas into it. I finally yanked my thoughts together, gathering about as I shut the booklet in front of me slowly. "What do you mean by that?"

"Nothing," she replied in a breezy voice and relaxed smile in my direction as she rustled her paper on the countertop. It was almost like a light switch, her mood had gone from irritated to positively sunny with a flick of the hand. Or, in this case, a drop of a few words from me.

And it did nothing to ease my frown.

"Mom?" I asked in a pointed voice. Unconsciously I found myself inching towards her as I braced my arms against the granite.

"It's just you've been so busy lately," she replied easily, all too willing to explain her thoughts after all. "You've only been focusing on that project, that's not good. You've got other subjects that you've been neglecting while you've been spending all your days doing god knows what. I barely even see you anymore."

I wanted to snap right then. The urge to snap out at her was so strong, to tell her that she only saw me in the mornings because she was never home, it didn't have to do with me. Every night I was home in time to have dinner if she was by chance home around that time and yet I still only saw her in the mornings. The only reason she even knew that I had been out had been me telling her.

But I didn't say a word. I even bit my bottom lip to keep myself silent.

"And I think it'll be good that it's done so you'll start spending time with the right people again," she added as if in after thought as she looked down at the paper.

Okay, now the frown deepened almost exponentially, and my voice was most definitely bridging past apprehensive as I asked incredulously, "The right people?"

"Yes," she replied casually, apparently oblivious to my tone as she kept focused down on the newspaper in front of her. She didn't even spare me a glance, already becoming vague and unresponsive, past the point of caring now that things were going the way she liked. "Like Marcy," she continued, "Have you even seen her outside of school lately? Or what about Mike? You should invite him over, I'd like to meet him already."

And that was how I started my morning.

Not saying a word in response, I gripped my booklet so tightly in my hands that my knuckles were a glaring white before stalking away. If she even noticed my absence was a question, but she sure didn't say a word.

Today I didn't bother waiting around for Marcy. As I tossed my bag into the car that I'd parked in the garage and hadn't touched for weeks, I could feel an uncomfortable sensation that was growing in the pit of my stomach and transitioning through the rest of my body. It was as if there was something running just beneath my skin where I couldn't reach to stop, but most unquestionably could feel.

I couldn't remember a time when tension had ran this high between my friends and I. There was the constant pall that I could feel hanging over me, making me second guess everything I was to say to them, how I acted about them and if I should avoid them or not.

This had never happened.

That's not to say that we haven't fought. We had arguments, didn't everyone? But they were far and few between, not to mention they lasted hours at the maximum. In the past few weeks I could say that Marcy and I had been fighting more than we had in the past three years, and those arguments were lasting longer and longer.

Flopping down in the driver's seat, I ran my palm wearily over my forehead, ignoring the traces of makeup as I turned my key in the ignition, letting the engine rumble loudly to echo throughout the garage.

This was my last year of high school, this wasn't supposed to happen. I knew that once we went to university we were all liable to fall apart, stop talking to each other slowly and painfully until the only time we'd see each other was at our reunions, but it wasn't supposed to happen yet.

I was supposed to spend this time with people I loved, right? The tensions and fears of going to university be damned, it was my last year to be a kid.

Swallowing, I gave a shake of my head before reversing out of the garage.

It wasn't until I was pulling onto the road that I found my eyes darting towards the radio that had the knob turned down all the way. I always kept it off when Marcy wasn't in the car, it was better than what I'd been listening to.

With a sudden restlessness that I hadn't been expected, I felt my fingers start drumming as if on their own accord across the steering wheel. Hadn't I heard the most amazing music that I could have dreamed of with Cole? Where was it now? We were forever listening to CDs in his car or vinyls at his house, I didn't know where to find that sort of music on the radio, and I didn't even own a CD.

I'd been so wrapped in music during the past weeks with Cole that I hadn't even thought of what would happen to the music when we stopped talking. Sure, I had a certain amount of bands that I could list, but I knew I was barely touching the surface. And even if I devoted all my time to discovering everything I could, I wouldn't know as much as he did and I could never be as instinctive and natural the way he was when it came to music. He seemed to have a second sense when it came to music, as if it already lived inside of him and he could simply look me in the eye and know what I needed or wanted at that moment.

Frustrated with the silence already, I kept drumming my fingers carelessly over the steering wheel in hopes to dispel the quiet.

The day was passing achingly slow.

I wasn't sure if I preferred that or it going fast, however. One thing I did know was that I was dreaded last block history.

Yet with simple techniques such as changing my seat when possible to the opposite corner of the room from my friends - meaning I was sitting in the back for two classes - while only showing up right at the bell and leaving the moment we were dismissed, I found it easy to last until the lunch break without speaking to my friends.

There it was again. I wasn't sure, though this time I wasn't sure whether I wanted to bring up our sharp words or just let it blow over with time once again.

At least one positive thing came from it, though. Instead of sitting around a cafeteria with a glazed expression, I found myself out in the courtyard hastily jotting down the homework I hadn't finished the night before, my mind hadn't been able to clasp onto a subject for longer than a few moments.

As I hurriedly went through the work, I couldn't help but wonder if to some extent my mother was right. Not about who I was spending time with, but with me not paying enough attention to other subjects.

Look at me now.

Obviously she was right about that.

I never did this, I almost always had my homework done the night it was assigned. Wasn't it expected that I would be getting into an Ivy League University? Doing your homework at your lunch break with your stomach growling didn't add up to going to one of the best schools in at least the country.

With all these thoughts running through my mind, I didn't pay heed to the other students that were laughing around me stuck in their groups, even a few were playing Frisbee. And I certainly didn't notice the person that approached the circular picnic table I was sitting at.

At least not until they cleared their throat.

My glance upwards was so quick - having believed the noise was made for another - that I had to do a double take after having focused back on the stoichiometry equations.

"Hey," I said lamely.

As always, Marcy looked as preppy and put together as I believed anyone could. Her hair was styled in soft curls falling over her shoulders, skin luminous and the stylish navy blue blazer was only intensified the private school vibe I assumed she was going for with the binders that she held to her chest.

She seemed to hesitate a moment at the edge of the picnic table, but all the same placed her books on the table before following them by sitting on the seat opposite me. I only blinked at her when she folded her hands on top of the table, looking across at me with slightly widened eyes that made her far more innocent than she was. I knew that look, she used it on her parents when trying to get her way. She should know I knew her better than that.

"Your mom said you'd left when I showed up at your house this morning," Marcy said, her voice the slightest bit higher than usual.

Oh, she was really laying it on thick.

Even with that knowledge of what she was trying to do I found that the manipulation was working on me. I couldn't help it. Guiltily, I looked down at my binder for a moment, unable to meet her eyes. "I'm sorry," I told her sincerely and physically forcing myself to look at her, "I didn't think you'd show up."

"Why wouldn't I show up?" she asked as if it was the most outlandish thought I'd ever had.

Marcy really was good at this. I squirmed in my seat slightly, finding my gaze caught on a knot in the wood of the picnic table. "Because you didn't seem exactly pleased yesterday."

Changing tactics from the sweet, plaintive vibe she'd had going at the speed of light, the words that came from her mouth next were such a change that I jerked my head up to her. They came out flat and harsh. "I'm not."

Disbelieving, I found that rude tone that was so foreign to me come back to my tongue as I asked slowly, "What?"

"You're my best friend," she crooned, going back to the former tactic. I was in a head spin from the sudden changes that I was frozen still when she leaned across the table to put one of her hands on mine. It felt cold. "And I'm just trying to protect you."

Feeling as if I was in a minefield and if I didn't step carefully I was going to be blown sky high, I spoke cautiously and resisted the urge to tug my hand away from hers. "From what?"

Exasperated, it was Marcy that pulled back, giving me a look that told me she had expected me to be quicker on the draw. "Don't you know who he's friends with?"

"Uh... no," I said, holding the word out but feeling ever the more stupid for it. Hadn't I just snapped at her the day before that he was my friend? How on earth did she know more about him than I?

"They're not the people you want to get involved with," she said firmly.

Well, that's not vague at all.

The sarcasm didn't reach my voice when I spoke, there was only inquisitiveness. "Who are you even talking about?"

"They graduated years ago, thank god," Marcy told me with a dramatic little shudder - I wanted to roll my eyes, but I persevered. "With everything I've heard about them, they're just not the best people to be around, alright?"

"What does that even mean?"

It was my turn to be exasperated this time.

"It means there the kind of people that are going nowhere," said she shortly. "They're going to be stuck in drugs and never see outside of this town in their lives and be nothing but losers for the rest of their lives with no futures. They're not the people you want to be involved with all the sudden."

The harshness of her words had me mute and I could only blink at her across the table.

Apparently she took my silence for the shock at learning that information opposed to the truth that was I was appalled by her and the words that had just left her mouth, because she reached across the table and patted my hand with a sympathetic expression. This time I did move it away, even if only fractionally. Those words coming from her little rosebud mouth made my head whirl around. How could someone who looked and acted so sweet say things like that?

"I'm sorry if you thought you liked them," Marcy assured me, but the thick apology laid in her voice didn't reach those amber eyes of hers. And I couldn't help myself from staring at her wide eyed.

Swallowing the unexpected dryness in my throat, my voice cracked over the first word I spoke but fell back into its normal sound within moments. "I haven't met any of his friends actually," I said firmly, "And I don't think there's anything about Cole that you need to "protect" me from, okay?"

"It's hard to accept I know," Marcy assured me like a parent placating their child that was speaking of fairy tales and dreams. It was as if she was trying to bring me back down to reality. "But you'll just get hurt being friends with him."

Figuring that I wasn't going to get out of this, I remained staring at her as I forced my oddly stiff body to move. "I'm a big girl, okay? Anyways our projects are done today and I don't think I'll be talking to Cole much after it, so you have nothing to worry about."

With a happy sigh, Marcy smiled at me since the first time this conversation started. "Oh, that's good."

With my movements feeling jerky, I slowly pulled myself out from the picnic bench. "I'm just going to grab something from the cafeteria before lunch ends," I excused myself as I gather my books into my arms.

"You're going to Jamie's party tonight, aren't you?" she asked, keeping me in place.

Putting a smile on my face, I replied, "I said I would, didn't I?"

"Great!" Marcy exclaimed, absolutely beaming now. "I'll see you there."

"Yeah, great," I mimicked her words, though they sounded hollow coming from my mouth before turning on my heel.

If it was so great, why did I have the urge to be sick in the garbage bin?



The last class of the day was usually the one where the chatter rose to an unreasonable level - unless you were in certain teacher's classes - and the last five minutes were no exception. In fact, that was when the voices rose to the point where it sounded as if there was a thick cloud pressing in upon every side.

With my elbows pressed against the desk, I had my chin cupped in my hands I looked at Cole who was slumped in his chair in comparison.

While everyone else was doing their last minute thrown together work on their projects, ours was sat neatly on the desk between us. It had been sitting there, mocking me with its existence and reminding me of what it meant when it left out sight for the entire class.

The one good thing about having it done was the fact that it let Cole and I sit lazily in class without a job, simply talking while the rest of the population was hectically panicking about us. At points of silence I wished I did have something to do to keep my mind off the fact that the moment this class was done every reason I had to be talking to him was gone, but those quiet seconds didn't last very long.

They were usually broken up with conversation or a look from Cole that had my lips curling in response. A memorable time had been when Todd had stumbled over the chair that was only two feet from me.

"Do you have to work today?" I questioned lazily, letting the seconds on the clock tick past us.

Before he could respond to my words, a wide yawn broke from Cole, making him close his eyes as he raised his hand idly to cover his mouth. "Yeah," he replied afterwards, his voice a little hoarser than normal from the yawn just before he spoke. An odd chill that I didn't recognize ran up my spine. "Only for a couple hours, though," Cole added as if in after thought as he dropped his hand onto the table, his fingers drumming a rhythmic pattern.

Since the class had started, I'd paid attention to him yawning four times already. And if I bothered to look - which I had - his grey eyes were shadowed by a darker colour beneath them while his skin was the tiniest amount paler than normal. It was obvious to anyone who spared him a glance that he was dead tired.

There was nothing more that I wanted than to ask him what he'd been doing to make him so tired. Yet I held back the words, just like I had done multiple times already in the day.

Instead I asked him an entirely different question. "What's at this music store you work at?"

"Music," he answered instantly, sending me a wry look.

I tried to reply to that with an unamused expression, but found that my lips seemed to have a mind of their own, forcing my lips into a smile. It was a beautiful moment when someone could make you smile when it was the last thing you wanted. "Never would have guessed," I said, the sarcasm soaked my voice despite its uncommon presence.

"I wouldn't dare to assume a thing," Cole countered with a charming smile that was sent in my direction.

I liked the way he smiled. It started in his eyes first, there was almost a pause before the softened until they'd melted into warmth where the smile would transfer from there to his mouth. The only thing I would have changed would be the amount of times I got to see that transformation. I may get to see that charismatic grin of his that could drag me in and keep my attention all the time, but there was a difference between a grin and a smile.

"It's mostly records," he informed me, dragging my attention back from his smile and to the words he was speaking. "But there's CDs and some cassettes and things like posters and all, but, yeah, records."

He'd just stopped speaking, his eyes caught on my face, when a loud voice clattered clumsily over the chatter in the classroom.

"The class is about to end, it's time to hand in your projects," called Mr Dennis.

The room had gone into silence when the recognized the teacher's voice, but the moment he had ordered the hand in, the class erupted into the rattle and banging of movement as people pushed up from their seats. People were heading straight up to his desk, either wearing broad grins because the project was not only done but the weekend was in a minute or having an almost constipated look gracing their faces since they knew what work they'd done hadn't been enough and were already regretting it.

It was the movement from the corner of my eye that caught my consideration, causing my focus to once again center on the boy who was seated behind his desk. But at this moment he was just about to stand, his hand reaching out to grab the booklet that neither of us had touched since I'd tossed it there at the beginning of class.

Before his fingers could even brush it, I had quickly snatched it up. "I've got it," I told him quickly and without waiting for an answer, pushed up from my chair.

Dodging around the desks and chairs that were in disarray from people dragging them about in order to sit with their partners, I made my way towards Mr Dennis' desk at the front of the classroom. On my way I passed Marcy who gave me a blindingly toothy smile where she sent me a double thumbs up, in response I found myself unable to muster up more than a weak grin for her.

Holding the booklet out to my teacher, he sent me a vague smile and said, "Thanks, Allison," before taking the next project from the person behind me.

And that was it.

I was just turning around when the bell rang.

Already with his backpack hooked over his shoulders, Mike walked towards me, the biggest of smiles was on his mouth but there was something almost questioning about the look he sent me. "I'll see you at Jamie's tonight?" he asked.

Always with the parties, I thought and resisted the urge to sigh. Instead I just gave him the same weak grin that I'd graced Marcy with moments before. "Yeah," I told him, trying to infuse my voice with enthusiasm, but it fell far below the mark to my ears.

However Mike didn't seem to notice as the look on his face melted away until the smile seemed to possess him. "Great, I'll see you there."

Nodding, I brushed past him. The walk back to the desk where my books sat was a lot harder than before, now having to go against the crowd that was excited to reach outside and their weekend.

I found Cole still at the desk, slowly shutting his binder as I approached.

Silently I picked up my bag that I hadn't bothered to take anything from and hooked it over my shoulder as I looked at him.

"Allison!" called an abruptly annoyed sounding Marcy, "Let's go!"

Not bothering to turn around, I pressed my lips together, unsure what to say to Cole suddenly. I didn't like this feeling.

Saving me from having to be the one to break the silence, Cole unexpectedly announced, "Oh yeah, I forgot."

"Forgot what?" I questioned immediately.

Without replying to my question, Cole gripped his back pack on the ground so he could stuff his arm in it, searching around in it with his hand. "This," he announced, finally answering me as he handed me a CD case.

Confused, I took it from his hands and looked down. The title read The Kinks Are The Village Green Preservation Society. "What is it?"

"A CD," he replied, laughter colouring his voice.

With a roll of my eyes, I dragged my eyes from the case that I still held carefully between my hands. "You're having a sarcastic run today."

There was a grin, and he just shrugged as he slipped his back pack over his shoulders, but didn't move, instead remaining in front of me. "It happens sometimes," Cole said casually, "And I guess you'd call it a gift. You'll like it, I promise," he added.

Feeling the corners of my mouth turn up, I found myself staring hungrily at the CD case, wanting nothing more than to open it and explore what was inside as I listened to it. There was a sudden warmness in my chest that I hadn't expected, though, and it was spreading from there and outwards until I could feel it down to my finger tips.

"I'm sure I will," I answered faintly.

"Allison!"

My name was once again called by a now impatient Marcy, but I still didn't turn around.

Without moving his gaze away from mine, Cole nodded to something behind me and that warm expression he'd been wearing moments before was cooling in front of my eyes. "You should go," he told me.

"Yeah," I replied, my voice coming out funny over the lump in my throat.

What was that?

Giving a cough, I closed my eyes for that second and when I opened them again the look was over. "I'll see you around," I said, but it came out as more of an offer, making me wince at how desperate I must seem.

"Yeah," Cole replied in a cool voice.

I stared at him for one last moment, but his eyes were averted as he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his sweater.

With a sigh, I turned around my heel to walk to where Marcy was standing by the door, her foot tapping.

"What was that about?" she asked when I reached her.

With a shrug, I replied, "Nothing much."

In the end the only way I managed to part way with Marcy was by telling her I was going to see my mother and that I'd just meet her at the party. A part of me felt guilty for lying to her when she'd left my side, but it had been overpowered by the part of me that was elated by the promise of the CD that I'd stuffed in my bag before she could analyze it. That was the last thing I needed at the moment.

Trying not to act suspicious, I half rushed and half walked out to my car and hurriedly fumbled with the CD player for the first time as I pulled open the CD case. I wasn't even looking down when I grabbed the disc, but out of the corner of my eye I saw a piece of paper flutter down from it.

Slowly my movements, I placed the disc back in its case carefully as I went in search of the slit of paper that had fallen between the seat and the console in my car.

When my grasping fingers finally blindly caught the paper, I gave a soft, "Aha," before pulling it up.

Cole's writing was by far familiar these days, I had spent so much time reading over those short paragraphs he wrote and transferring them to the computer to not be able to recognize it at first glance. It was written in black ink, untidy and sloping as if he'd written it in a hurry, the pressure hard in spots and soft in others. It read:

"Music has charms to sooth a savage beast, to soften rocks, or to bend a knotted oak."

Despite the confusion I felt bubbling up inside of me, there was an equal sensation of affection at the same time that caused another smile on my face, one of the few that I hadn't had to falsify in the entire day. I couldn't dare to guess what he'd been thinking when he'd wrote that or if he even remembered that he'd placed the quote in the CD case, but it jarred quite deeply inside of me.

In the hopes that I'd see him, I looked up and eagerly gazed about the parking lot where people were milling lazily about. It wasn't until I'd focused my attention towards the mouth of the parking lot that I caught sight of his car although it was just at that moment pulling further away from me.

As if something had deflated inside of me, I found myself slouching back in my seat and placing the note with great import inside the case before taking out the disc again.



Hours later in the night I found myself once again in an empty house, but it wasn't feeling empty at the moment.

With the CD Cole had given me playing at a deafening volume it was as if the sound could push away from the isolation. I liked the feeling I got from music, it was as if I could sink into it and - if only for a moment - nothing else mattered. That is until my mind got in the way as it so often did.

Leaning my head back against the headboard of my bed with my eyes shut, I curled my knees up to my chest.

I knew that it was time I should be showering, started to focus on what would be appropriate for this party, but I found that I couldn't work up a care. All I wanted to do was remain here with the music surrounding me.

With the wandering half a mind that always found its way to the most bizarre of places when I was in a mood such as this, I found myself wondering how on earth someone could ever complain about loud music? There was not one bad thing about it. It was like the sound enveloped you, taking you into its arms and allowing you to sink into the world, live in that song if only for three minutes. It was enough to push away loneliness and despair. It was a magical sort of experience.

Yet if I was thinking of that, I could only wonder how people liked to be divulged into the music that Marcy and my friends listened to. How could that give you any sort of security inside of it? It was hypocritical and false at it's very core and there was no way something so superficial and artificial could provide a sanctuary.

I'd already listened to the album four times, and it was far from getting old. I just wanted to listen to it over and over.

Of course Cole was right that I would love it. I didn't even bother to question it now.

So when the song People Take Pictures Of Each Other came on, I was ready for it. I knew it was the last song on the album, which was a bittersweet since the album was about to end but I had already pledged this song to my memory as a favourite.

"People take pictures of each other. And the moment to last them forever. Of a time when they mattered to someone."

The lyrics resonated deeply inside of me, and I found if I looked deeply enough that it was conflicting emotion. Longing at the same time as scared. Sentimental and the same time as hardened.

What a mess I was becoming of late.

When the song came to a close, I finally opened my eyes, staring for a moment at my white ceiling before stretching out my legs. In the back of my mind I still knew that I should be going for a shower, but I didn't bother to act on the niggling thought with only the mission of replaying the only music that I possessed that I could hold in my hands.

But as I was shifting away from where I sat with my back flat against the headboard, I caught sight of my cell phone that I had abandoned at the corner of my bed.

For the shortest of seconds I faltered, sucking my lips into my mouth as I considered the option. The second didn't last long though, and I found myself crawling across the covers on my bed for my cell phone instead of going back over to the CD player.

Disregarding the missed call from Mike, I flipped through the phone until I found myself hovering over Cole's number.

Giving a groan, I pressed the top of the phone against my forehead, letting the pressure continue until it was almost painful. All I wanted to do was call, text or talk to him in person, about this album, about writing, about music in general, have him make me laugh with a drily witty comment. I wanted to talk to him the way we'd been doing where the conversations would wander wildly from talk of music to anything that could possibly occupy our minds.

Yet here I was, too afraid to actually call him. I had his number, why didn't I? It was as if I had a blockage where I couldn't even make a freaking phone call.

This time I sighed before I tossed the phone away from me and clambered off the bed.

I hadn't even gotten two steps away when there was a shrill ringing from just behind me. In the sudden silence without the music playing my ringing cell phone was finally able to be heard.

Thinking that was just Mike calling me again after I'd ignored the last one he'd made, I heaved another great sigh but turned around all the same. I couldn't very well ignore now, could I? My movements were lethargic and uninspired to the supreme as I gripped the phone, but as I did I found it wasn't Mike's name that was flashing across the screen.

Struck by a unexpected - and almost insulting - wave of energy, I hastily answered the call and pressed the phone against my ear.

"Hello?" I asked eagerly into the mouth piece. At any other time I would have cringed at the amount of indignity I had when my voice sounded like that, but at this moment I didn't even notice.

However that excited buss that had awoken just beneath my skin was caught up short and deflated dramatically. It may have been Cole's cell phone that was making the call to me, but I couldn't even make myself pretend that he was the one on the end of the line. The drastically female voice ruined that for me.

"Allison," it chirped, "Why aren't you here today?"

Blinking, I unconsciously hugged y free arm over my stomach. "Sara?" I asked in amazement.

"Yes, who else would it be?"

In my head, my thoughts had already answered in a point blank tone with nothing but Cole.

I decided to keep that to myself thought. Feeling abruptly awkward, I shuffled slightly on the floor not caring that she couldn't even see me as I stared down at my bare feet. This could very well be the last time I spoke to this lovely woman. How does a conversation like that even take place?

"We finished our project," I told her, though I'm sure we'd told her it was to end today. There was a tinge of regret colouring my voice, I could feel it trickling down the back of my throat. "There's no reason for me to be over there."

Steadfastly, Sara notified me clearly, "There's always a reason.

In the same vein of talent that her grandson possessed, it appeared that Sara as well could make me smile in the moments where the motion felt years away. "Why are you calling me?"

"Oh, Cole left his phone on the kitchen table and it was on your number."

I couldn't help but give a sound half way between a snort and an incredulous laugh. The image of Sara snooping about Cole's phone was a funny enough image to have. The idea of her calling anyone who's number was the first she saw was hilarious though. It was a great image to have in my mind, it was one of those simple ones to cherish.

Without waiting for me to come up with a response to her words, she continued, "He's making grilled cheese tonight. Again."

My smile became teasing. "Is that all he can cook?"

"He's not a very good cook," Sara divulged to me in a hushed tone, speaking in that whisper as if she was sharing government secrets not her opinions about her grandson's cooking. "But he tries, so that's enough. How are you at cooking?"

"I'm pretty good, I think," I answered her humbly.

In reality, I knew I was a good cook. It came with the territory of the way I'd grown up. My mom was never home and, unlike my friends, I didn't have staff to cook anything I asked for and wait on my every desire. I'd gotten to be quite the good cook by default, although I wouldn't say I could make anything particularly fancy. In actuality it had been a long time since I'd bothered to really cook for myself, in the past year I'd been just surviving off cereal and noodles if I had to fend for myself which was common.

"See!" proclaimed Sara in an absolutely sunny voice as if she'd solved a mystery, "There is a reason for you to come over.

Not taking her words to heart, I just chuckled, half wondering if Cole would notice his grandmother had jacked his cell any time soon. "Cole makes a pretty good grilled cheese," I tried to placate her.

"Allison," she began in a very serious voice, "Come over and save me from the fourth time I'll be eating grilled cheese this week."

Although most people would have just laughed it off, I found myself glancing at my clock. I still had an hour and a half before the party started, and three hours until I had to be there. Who wanted to be at a party before ten, anyways? And it was for the hundreds of reasons running through me that I was unconsciously already saying, "Okay."

There was no reason to lie to myself, though, I knew the main reason that I was agreeing. There was nothing more that I wanted than to see and speak to Cole at this moment.

So after saying my farewell, I took the time to swing on my black pea coat and gather my sole CD from the player.

However I didn't rush out the door despite my intentions and the excitement that had me tapping my hand against my thigh. No, I found myself slowing down to a positive wander to see if my mom had come without my notice. I had been playing that album very loud, it was quite possible I might have missed the sound of her coming inside.

As I slowly walked through the rooms, my fingers trailing over the doorjambs, I wondered faintly why I was even bothering. My entire life up to this point was proof to the fact that she wouldn't be home. And even if she was, what would I tell her when she asked where I was going? The last thing I'd want to do was tell her I was going out to see Cole, not after what she'd said just this morning. The memory made a potent mixture of queasiness and irritation rise up from the pit of my stomach. I didn't want to hear anything she had to say about how, she didn't know him. She had no right to say those kinds of things, and the same could be said for Marcy.

I never lied to my mom about where I was going. I'd never had any need to. But I think I'd have lied to her today.

It turned out that there had been no reason for me to worry in the first place, because she was nowhere to be seen in the house. No surprise there. And with renewed energy, I headed straight out to my car.

Not until I was driving down a street just a minute away from Cole's house was when the doubt kicked in.

Without running it past him, I was about to show up at his house completely without his knowledge. Who did that to a person they weren't that close to? For all I knew he wouldn't even be home by the time I got there. He could be doing anything. And for the worst possibility of all, I could be the very last person that he wanted to see. Wasn't our last conversation enough of a clue to that? He'd done the thing where he just shut down, telling me without words that the conversation was over. I hadn't even gotten a real goodbye out of him and he hadn't met my eyes.

I'd almost managed to convince myself that he hated me and was about to turn around to drive home despite what I'd told Sara, but then I had the peace of mind to remind myself what he'd done right before the ending of our conversation in class. He'd given me the most magical gift of a CD and he'd been smiling at me. Someone who wanted nothing to do with me wouldn't have done that.

Since his car was parked along the curb on the edge of his front yard, I opted for pulling my car smoothly onto the opposite side. Lining my car up beside the fence that had to be at least ten foot that someone had constructed around their backyard.

Barely remembering to lock the doors behind me with a click of the remote attached to my keys, I crossed the street quickly and didn't slow down until I was hopping up the steps to the creaky front porch. I hesitated with my hand poised to knock on the door, holding my fisted hand just an inch away. In my experience Cole was listening to music very loudly and his grandma didn't have the greatest hearing at the best of times.

Dropping my hand, I opted for just shoving open the door.

In her regular armchair, Sara swivelled around to look at the person who was walking through her front door. The shock on her face was there for but a moment before it subsided into a pleased smile. "Allison!" she called out warmly. "I didn't know that you were coming over today."

My response died in my throat as I froze, pictured in the doorway as a frame while I stared at her, completely thrown off course by the proclamation. The first instinct inside of me had been to simply try to remind her of the phone call and that she'd been the one to invite me over in the first place. However I couldn't help but remember the way Cole dealt with her when she called us by his parents names or forgot anything. So for what felt like the thousandth time today, I held my tongue.

This was the one time I was happy I did, though.

Apparently I'd been motionless and mute while I stared at her for far too long, because it was only when Sara's severely wrinkled face creased into a concerned frown that I broke out of it. "Are you all right?"

Calling on any and every acting chops I had to send her a warm smile, I stepped forwards in order to close the door behind me. "Oh yeah, of course," I replied in a voice that could only be described as light-hearted, but I could hear a slight strain behind it. "I'm just here to save you from Cole's cooking."

The worried expression on her face slipped and Sara was once again smiling at me as she brushed her grey hair out of the way. "Don't tell him this, but I've never been so grateful."

Hoping the action wasn't obvious, I swallowed the uncomfortably large lump that was in my throat. It felt like I was getting dangerously close to tears at any moment. However I willed my expression not give away even the faintest of clues as I looked boldly into her gaze, and asked, "Is-"

"He's in his room," Sara interrupted me, guessing my question correctly.

She was still looking at me, but something had shifted even as she smoothed down the button up shirt she was wearing. There was a softening around her eyes and though she was still smiling with all the authenticity I could ever hope for from a person, I could have sworn there was a tinge of something akin to sadness about her suddenly. I couldn't even say when that something had shifted, maybe in the blink of an eye because one moment everything had been normal and the next here we were.

"Thanks," I said as I kicked out of my flats and lined them neatly at the door beside a pair of Vans that looked as if they were about to be walked straight through. As I passed her where she was already focusing back on the murmuring television, I added, "I'll save you from grilled cheese, I promise."

Giving a hoot of delighted laughter, she shook her head as she raised the remote to turn up the volume of the television and returned, "I'll hold you to that."

I'd never been to Cole's room. In fact, I'd never been past the living room and the kitchen where we had always done our work, but I'd seen him disappear through to the back hallway when in need of a new record so I followed that path. I knew I probably should have asked Sara which room was his as I stepped into the small hallway that bypassed the kitchen, but I didn't know if I could speak another word to Sara without my emotions crippling my voice. I wasn't that good of an actor.

When I'd volunteered at that home last summer, I'd found that talking to people that had been cursed with dementia or Alzheimer's had been horrible. It had been at the most horrible when the people had been conscious of what was happening to them. I used to find myself overwhelmed in sadness to the point where when I got home, I remained in bed staring at the ceiling for hours upon on end. But that didn't even compare to what it was like when the person was now someone I knew personally, it was so much worse this way. It made my insides feel as if they were shrivelling and cowering into one another in the darkness.

With a sudden rush of great affection, I wondered how Cole handled this on his own. He was the one that looked after her and he had no one to help, no parents or family of any kind. I had a hard enough time and I wasn't the one who lived with her, not to mention it was his grandmother, not just an acquaintance.

As it happened, I needn't have been concerned about having problems finding his bedroom. The house was a simply one story floor plan with an attic, there wasn't much room to get lost in and all the doors I passed were open, except the one at the end of the hall. Through one door I saw a bathroom with a powder blue countertop with a matching toilet and sink. And through another I caught sight of a room filled with not but a dresser and a large bed that was covered in a floral comforter. I doubted that one belonged to Cole.

So I took the easy answer of the closed door at the end of the hallway, the door made of the darkest wood. Without thinking about what I was doing, I put my hand on the doorknob and twisted.

Instantly I took notice of what was straight across from me. A double bed shoved into the corner with a tangled and unmade navy blanket, above the bed the walls must have been white at one time, but the colour had faded away to dullness in the years and was now could only be caught in glimpses between the posters, pictures and slips of paper tacked to the wall. The posters were of bands, some I'd heard of now like The Strokes and Bob Dylan, and then others I didn't know like Dirty Pretty Things and Jeff Buckley. From the distance I couldn't make out the unfamiliar faces in the photographs or the words that were written on the pieces of torn paper that were tacked upon the wall.

My first reaction was to step closer to investigate further, but the sound of a muttered cursing and shuffling distracted me. Taking a step into the room, I was just about to turn my head to the sounds when my nose finally caught up with my surroundings and was suddenly overpowered by the acrid and almost musty scent that met it.

Turning my head, I caught sight of Cole. He was sitting on the sill of the large window that took up a sizable amount of that wall, his back leaning against the frame. There was a book that was lying haphazardly in front of his feet that were braced in front of him with his hair sticking up straight in the back. I couldn't see his face, but I did see the action of him throwing the half smoked cigarette out the open window.

Feeling my eyebrows raise, I was standing still with my hand on the door handle, just one step into the room. I wouldn't have actually known he was smoking, never have truly smelt it before had I not seen him throw it away.

When Cole looked at me, his eyes slightly wide and making him look younger than I'd ever seen, I was still in the same position. And the look had me pinned there. For a moment he continued to stare at me, but then with a sigh barely audible to me his entire body appeared to slump.

"I didn't know it was you," Cole told me, there was a definite ring of relief to his voice. As in cue with his words, he ran his hands over his face, letting them run into his hair and causing it to rumple messily.

Finding that I could move again now that his eyes had broken that fierce contact, I let my hand drop from the handle as I stuffed them into the pockets of my open pea coat while taking a step deeper into the room. There was carpet beneath my bare feet, it was thick and I wouldn't doubt from a different generation. Disregarding his words altogether, I reminded him, "You told me you didn't smoke."

Letting his hands drop beside him, Cole got that cheeky grin on his face as he sent me a glance. I liked that I could see him looking like that now, it seemed like eternity since I'd first met him and a grin seemed like an impossibility even though it was only a few weeks. It was funny, for some reason I couldn't pinpoint, my heart seemed to stumble, giving two rapid beats at once. Maybe I was developing some sort of condition.

"I told you that I didn't really smoke," he corrected.

"What does that even mean?" countered I exasperatedly.

"Not often," Cole answered promptly, leaning comfortably back against the frame. Yet in a second his content look fled to be replaced by confusion painting his face as if he just clicked onto the fact I was standing in his bedroom. "What are you doing here?"

"You're grandma called me and begged for food that wasn't grilled cheese, she's starting to think you're poisoning her."

As I spoke, my words became more vague since my focus left when I let my gaze wander away from Cole who was still sitting on the large window sill. From my position, I could see past the door which showed me a desk that looked as if it had never been used, rough paperbacks piled upon it and the chair that looked as if they'd collapse under the weight. There were more posters, photos and writings pinned to this wall as well, but most of it was devoted to the three long shelves that were lining the wall.

Half of the top shelf held more books that looked second hand, but the rest of it was devoted to the messy piling up of CDs. The other two shelves were filled with both records and CDs, haphazardly thrown together. There seemed to be no organization to it at all, some lying in the opposite direction while CDs were piled in untidy stacks on top of the records which were all standing the same way at the least.

"My cooking isn't that bad," bristled Cole causing my attention to snap back to him, "I mean, I can make grilled cheese and some sandwiches."

"And soup from a can," I prompted, awarding him that much.

With a roll of his eyes, Cole let his gaze flicker in my direction as he picked up the paperback that I assumed he'd tossed away from himself in his rush to get rid of the cigarette when I'd walked in. "And soup from a can," he agreed.

The grin that graced my mouth as I looked at him was so wide I could feel the tug on my lips. "C'mon," I said with a nod behind me, "We're going to the grocery store."

"Now, you've got a bossy run going today," Cole mimicked my words from earlier on at school and made me give a short laugh.

Regardless of his words, I watched as slipped off the windowpane, landing lightly on the ground with his socked feet. He closed the window with a light thump before gathering not only the worn in paperback but the pack of cigarettes and lighter that had been hidden from my view in his position.

When he dropped the paperback on the top of the chaotic mess of books on top of the desk, I was half expecting the entire thing to give a shudder and collapse at the added weight. However it remained sturdy. Waiting as he opened one of the drawers to stuff his pack inside, I found myself leaning forwards on the balls of my feet as I peered to around to catch a glimpse of the cover.

The Ballad of The Reading Gaol. I knew from some assignment I had to do in English that it was a poem from Oscar Wilde, but I'd never read it even for the class let alone for my own pleasure.

Eyeing Cole closely, I couldn't help but wonder why a guy who by every appearance at school couldn't be bothered with any of it would be reading Oscar Wilde. And obviously a lot more than that if the shabby books that were stacked about had anything to say about it. I would never have pegged him as being the literary type, but what say did I really have? I'd only noticed his existence but a few weeks ago.

One thing was sure, he didn't look the part, not with his beat up leather jacket and worn jeans. Especially not now with his long hair standing on end from him running his hands through it and the stale scent of a smoked cigarette clinging to the black Smiths shirt he was wearing and the jeans with a hole in the knee.

Turning around abruptly, Cole caught me in the stare that I had focused on him.

Flushing at being found out, I dropped back onto my feet and averted my eyes. "Are you ready yet?" I asked, feigning impatience to hide my embarrassment.

That grin was back and it made me horrified that he might call me out for having stared at him, but to my surprise he didn't so much as breathe a word, though his gaze remained knowing. "After you," he prompted me to move in that slightly husky voice of his.

Swallowing, I turned around on my heel and headed back that way I'd came. All the way I found myself all too aware that he was only a step behind me.

When we walked into the living room, Sara shifted in the armchair to look at the two of us, though this time she didn't bother to turn down the volume of the television. "Where are you two off to?"

"The grocery store," I supplied, walking past to the door where my shoes were waiting.

"We'll be back soon," Cole added in promise, giving his grandmother a kiss on the cheek before following my lead.

Having slipped on my shoes, I was on the porch with Cole just shutting the door behind us when I glanced at the two cars that were parked on the road. "We can take my car," I offered with a glance around to him, "You've been driving me around for the past couple weeks. It's only fair I finally drive somewhere."

With a shrug, Cole replied, "Sure. I'm almost out of gas anyways."

Not having to wait for a car to pass on the empty road, we crossed the road without a glance towards my car, him just a step behind. I unlocked the doors with the keys I dredged out of my pockets, and had already started the car before he stepped in, letting The Kinks album play without a thought.

When Cole dropped into the passenger's seat, I caught sight of his satisfied grin as he looked at the CD player. "So I guess you like it?" he asked, trading his gaze between the radio and where I sat behind the wheel.

Pushing the car into drive, I eased my foot of the break and pulled into the road as I sent him a brief if warm smile. "Of course I do. You knew I would," I reminded him in a voice caught somewhere in the middle of amusement and exasperation. "And it's the only CD that I have, so it's bound to get played down to the ground."

"The only CD?" Cole asked in a horrified voice.

Giving a laugh, I shook my head, focusing my gaze on the turn I was making even if every other part of me was devoted to Cole at the moment. "Yes, the only CD," I replied, mocking his appalled tone. "In case you've forgotten, I don't really know anything about music besides what you've told me."

"You can always come over to the record store when I'm working," Cole offered, "We need to get you at least a five albums you can rotate."

Although his words jump stared a peculiar warm sensation in the middle of my chest, I downplayed the effect that they had as I gave a laugh. "I'll keep that in mind, though I think I might need more than five."

"It's advisable," he agreed.

I was silent for a few moments as he gave me directions to follow to the closest grocery store. It wasn't until I spared a glance to the dashboard where the case for the album sat and jogged my memory of one of the many questions I wanted to ask him.

Yet, wasn't it always like that? I had already managed to store away thousands of questions to ask Cole in the short time that we'd been on somewhat friendly terms, but every time I was with him, those questions fled from my mind. It was as if when I was with him - wherever it was - nothing seemed as important as what was happening in that moment. No questions could compete to the present.

When there was a short break in silence, I reminded myself to ask that question. "What was that in the case?"

"What?" returned Cole confused as he leaned half against the door so he could be angled towards me.

Managing to get a glance in his direction before looking back at the road, I found that his expression at least told me he had no idea what he had no idea what I was talking about. "Music has charms to sooth a savage breast, to soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak," I quoted the little saying that had been written on the torn sheet of paper from memory. "What was that about?"

"Oh," he groaned when he remembered, rubbing a wearing hand over his face. "It's an excerpt from a William Congreve poem. I forgot about that, I lent that to album to Noah and I guess I left it in there."

Just as he was speaking, I pulled into a parking space in the fairly crowed lot of the grocery store. As I pulled the keys from the ignition, I almost folded my lips together to keep myself silent, however only moments after the instinctive motion, I was inwardly cursing myself. I didn't want to keep quiet, why should I?

"Who's Noah?" I asked as we pushed out of the car.

"My friend," said Cole simply.

For two very plain words, it really did throw my mind into overdrive. His friend? What kind of friend was this? I could hear Marcy's words in my head from when she'd been trying to be a good friend at lunch. They weren't things I wanted to have on my mind or hear ever again, but now that I had heard them, there was nothing I could do. They were engraved into my memory as if she'd carved them in with a knife to my skull. I didn't think I'd ever be able to put them aside now.

I trying to think up a response as we walked into the store side by side, but Cole beat me to it - though it wasn't much of a fight - when he was grabbing a basket to carry about the store. "So what are you making?"

For a moment I paused in thought, what was I making? It had to be something from memory, I didn't even have a recipe around.

"Mac 'n Cheese," I decided at random, surprising myself by saying it aloud.

Cole gave a snort, replying, "And she wants that over grilled cheese?"

With a roll of my eyes, I continued to surprise myself by my actions as I elbowed him in the side before stepping ahead of him, ready to start searching through the aisles for ingredients. "Not the kind from the box," I reminded him, "It'll be much better."

"And here I was thinking you'd be the type to make something fancy," mused Cole as he followed me further into the store.

Glancing behind me, I replied, "And I never would have thought you'd be the bookworm. Guess we were both wrong."

With those words, I would have liked to do something dramatic to make them feel poignant, but there wasn't much I could do in the midst of a grocery store. So instead I just opted for making my pace just a bit quicker and longer, leaving Cole to trail behind me as I searched for ingredients in the store I had been to only once before. It was the same one I'd seen him in when I'd been with my mother to buy tea.

It wasn't until we were in the pasta section with Cole holding the basket that was steadily getting filled when he spoke up as I looked closely at each type of dried pasta.

"You know you don't have to do this," he said in a quiet voice.

Not really listening, I replied faintly, "Do what?" I was more focused on the pasta.

"Come over and cook dinner and hang out with my grandma, you don't owe us anything."

Now those words were enough to grab my full attention as I grabbed a large bag of pasta. "It's not about owing anyone anything," I said with a frown as I placed the bag into the basket he held, "I want to. Where does owing come into it?"

When he didn't move away to continue down the halls, I found myself routed in the same spot as well. I was more - at least for this moment - interested in him and what thoughts running through his head could have possibly made those words come from his mouth. Struck by the fact that all that separated us was the basket he was still holding, I was able to see those dark shadows beneath his eyes again, the bad lighting of the store only making them seem more pronounced.

"I know you feel sorry for -" he began.

I didn't even let him get another word out. "Feel sorry for you?" I asked him incredulously. "I don't feel sorry for you or your grandmother. You have someone who loves you, your grandmother has you and you have a wonderful home with music and laugher. What's there to feel sorry for? I'm just making dinner because your grandmother has been nothing but wonderful to me and she should get something other than grilled cheese once in a while.

"And," I added while pointing a finger at him with a smile on my face that completely defused the serious moment, "I don't cook very often. So you should be very thankful."

For a moment Cole just gazed down at me, his eyes searching mine in the deep piercing fashion that only he could. It was as if he was trying to see through my words and detect a lie. But in the end, the edges of his lips turned slightly up and he asked, "Should I?"

"Very," I pressed the point and making him chuckle.

The sound of his pocket ringing was enough to break us out of that little bubble I'd found I was able to lose myself in when I was around him. I had even forgotten that our conversation was taking in the middle of a very public grocery store.

"Hey."

Cole's voice had me looking back around to him, but I noted that he wasn't talking to me when I saw the phone pressed against his ear.

Without speaking, I met his eyes pointedly before looking over to the end of the hall, clearly asking without actual words if we could keep going. He didn't need any more than my actions to understand what I was trying to get across, because Cole nodded immediately before beginning to walk in the direction I'd looked.

I couldn't help that as he once again trailed behind me that I was eavesdropping. I didn't know if he could tell since he couldn't see my face, but he didn't make any attempts to hush his voice. I had both ears devoted to listening to what he was saying, barely paying heed to where I was leading him. Even though I could only find one part of the conversation, I found it more than fascinating.

"And I'm forever thinking of you, Dean Moriarty," said Cole into the phone, there was a pause and then he laughed, "Really? Who would have thought? It was a bit of a given, man. Don't go getting poetic on me, Wordsworth. I suppose it does. All sympathy not consistent with acknowledged virtue is but disguised selfishness. No, I don't think so." There was another pause and the he laughed again. "You fucker. Yeah, I know but I'm not going to make it tonight. Just busy. Oh, and you're so reliable? Oh, you're Rubble, you always have been. Yeah, make sure you're in walking distance and don't you dare or I will punch you. I'm sure you are. Yeah, yeah, yeah, see you later, Noah."

We had made it all around the store and were just waiting in line at the checkout when Cole detached himself from the phone.

"Was that Noah?" I asked curiously.

Nodding, Cole looked as if he was about to speak but was cut off by a yawn.

Where I'd held back my words in class, I didn't now, letting my eyes flicker over the tired discolouring beneath his eyes. "Did you sleep at all last night?" I questioned, though I kept my voice hushed so the customers on either side of us didn't hear.

Not looking at me, Cole had his eyes glued on a magazine across from him, but I had my doubts he was actually concerned about the naming of Kayne West's child. I didn't even think he had noticed what he was staring at. "I got a couple hours," he assured me, his voice too staying low but it made the slight hoarseness in his voice more pronounced. "My grandma had a moment, she kept thinking I was my father."

"Is that a bad thing?" I asked him.

However I never got an answer as at that moment, the little black conveyer belt moved forwards, bringing us up for our turn at the front of the line.



"Do you really want to put on a new album?" I asked over my shoulder without a glance to him as I spoke since I was checking the macaroni and cheese in the oven. "There's only five minutes left until dinner is actually ready."

"We'll need music while we eat," returned Cole as if the other option was blasphemy.

Shaking my head slightly even though I felt myself grinning, I straightened and shut the oven door as I did.

"I'm stuck between The Beatles and David Bowie."

I believed the question was aimed towards me - if only for the fact it was only the two of us in the kitchen, me standing at the counter at this moment while Cole was sitting at the table. However I wasn't given the chance to answer as I wasn't prompt enough with my words. There was a calling from the living room.

"The Beatles!" declared Sara.

And here I was thinking she had bad hearing.

Grinning, I turned around so I was looking back to Cole who was now wearing a similar expression on his face at his grandmother's interruption. "The Beatles," I decided, speaking up after a long pause.

"The Beatles it is," Cole announced before standing up.

While he wandered away to nip back to his room to find whichever Beatles album he wanted, I traded places to find my seat at the table. It was already my habitual place from the weeks we'd spent doing homework in here, I would sit on this edge of the perfectly square table while he took up the place opposite from me and when Sara joined us she would grab the seat to my right.

The table had already been set by Cole in his attempt to be helpful. Although he'd acted as if he was hanging on my every action while I'd been making the macaroni and cheese, I had my suspicions that he was actually just listening to the albums that had been playing on the record player while pasting an interested look on his face. I couldn't say I blamed him, though, I think I might have been more focused on that Queens Of The Stone Age album than I had been on what I was cooking as well.

With my long black coat hung on the back of my chair, I dug through the pockets until I found my cell phone. I'd long ago put it on silent, but in the moment of separation from everyone else, I figured I might as well check if I had any calls. My main concern was that my mother had come home to have no clue as to where I was.

However when I looked at my phone, I found myself choking on nothing but air. No, there wasn't a call from my mom - she probably wasn't home yet - but there were sixteen missed calls from my friends and countless messages.

Deciding to skip over the calls and voicemails, I went to my messages, looking through them with half a mind. All of them were demanding to know where I was.

The party.

I'd completely forgotten about the party, and I found myself glancing up at the clock to see if I still could make it. Yet I hadn't even finished with the motion when I realized going to Jamie's party was the last thing I wanted to do at this moment. Even if I was going home - which I certainly was not without eating something first - I don't think I would have wanted to go, and not just because I wasn't ready for a party. I simply wasn't in the mood.

"You're popular tonight."

Caught off guard, I found myself jolting ever so slightly at the sound of Cole's voice from behind me. Stealing a glance behind me, I saw his eyes on my phone where the listed number of messages was in clear view.

In a move I hoped was clear, I gave a shrug before dropping my phone back in the pocket of my coat. "I suppose," I replied noncommittally.

"You know, if you want to go you can," said Cole, offering me a way out for the second time this evening. That deep gaze was back, gone was the lighthearted talk from just moments ago, he was searching for something in me again. "It's Friday night, you have better things to do like go out with your friends."

His words had the opposite effect I think he'd wanted, because instead of feeling liberated I found my jaw clenching ever so slightly. "Are we not friends?" I asked brazenly, meeting his eyes boldly.

Before he could gather his wits about him to answer my question, his eyes having widened in surprise at my sudden brashness, the stove to our side rang out, signalling that the dish we'd created was finally done. Cole gave a slight shake of the head, but he didn't look away from me, opening his mouth again.

However it seemed the tides were against him answering me, because at that moment Sara piped up again, "Is dinner ready?"

"Yeah," I called out, but my eyes were still focused on Cole.

It took me a long time to break the gaze, but it was finally me who did it as I stood up and made my way to the oven. As I slipped the oven mitts on my hands, I didn't look to see if he was still there, but when I was pulling the casserole dish out of the oven I heard the sound of a needle being placed on vinyl, the almost white noise sound that lasted for mere seconds before the music began to play.

Sara was in the kitchen again before her grandson, and was happily chatting away about one thing or another as I placed the dish onto the table. I was just taking my seat when Cole walked back into the kitchen from the same direction where the music was coming from. Already I knew I liked the sound of it, I would have to ask him which album it was soon.

It was only when Sara was dishing out steaming scoops of the dish out that my attention was dragged back to Cole by the sound of my name coming from his mouth.

"Allison?" he asked in a soft voice, making my eyes flicker back to him where he sat directly across from me. Once again it was that deep look that gave me conflicting emotions. "We are," he said simply.

The reaction in me was all too obvious and cheesy, but I couldn't help the smile that arose on my lips. I tried to bite down on my bottom lip to hide it, though I had the feeling it only made it more pronounced.

"You are what?" asked Sara blankly, making me laugh aloud.

Dinner was a lovely affair.

It wasn't something that I'd experienced before. My mother and I never had a sit down meal while if I went to my grandparents for dinner it was a quiet meal around their enormous dining table. I liked this more. We were all so close together and it felt a lot warmer and homier than anything I'd felt before.

I had never understood before why people always said their family dinners lasted so long, but now I did. There was so much talking and laughter going on that it took three times to actually get through the serving on your plate. And, if I did say so myself, it was a very good batch of macaroni and cheese for me. It made it better that not only I said that, but both Sara and Cole agreed with me.

There was nothing but smugness in my smile when Cole told me that it tasted wonderful, remembering his snorting when I'd informed him what I was going to cook.

It wasn't until our plates were clean and the Beatles record had just come to an end when Sara did something that shocked both Cole and I, though I think I was a lot more pleased than he was about it.

"Cole, go get your guitar," she ordered.

"What?" he asked, straightening slightly in his slumped position.

I found myself watching with slightly wide eyes. It was obvious that the request from his grandmother had caught him off guard, but I couldn't help the secret joy that was inside of me. It was as if I had a whole little army jumping up and down inside.

There was nothing more I wanted to see than him play the guitar. I'd seen the way he got captured in a song, I'd heard the way he spoke about music with such passion and love and endearment that it was evident on the air, but I hadn't got the chance to see him play the guitar. It was an ever mythical dream for me. I had no doubts that with a passion such as his, nothing he played could be considered bad, it was all about emotions. At least that was what I believed, it was the emotions that made the music.

"The girl made you dinner," Sara continued, looking at him sternly. "You can at least thank her by playing a song."

He looked at me quickly, but it only lasted a second before he was looking back at his grandmother warily from the space that separated them. "Grandma," he said, his voice cautious to the extreme, "I don't think so."

"You don't have to play one of your own songs -" I instantly perked up at the information I don't think anyone meant to give me on purpose. He wrote songs as well? So I was sure about two things, he played guitar and he liked to write songs. What else did he do? "- just play the song that you've been working on."

Cole didn't say a word, instead stared at his grandmother defiantly. The problem was she looked back at him with the same expression. And the entire table fell into silence as they butted heads without a word, leaving me sitting just to the outside wondering if I should come to Cole's defense or not, hadn't he just said we were friends? But the want to hear him play something was too strong. I did hold myself from flat out agreeing with Sara at the very least, so I was still sort of on his side.

In the end it was Cole who gave in. Making a big deal out of it, he heaved a sigh as he pushed up to his feet and stalked out of the room.

The smile on Sara's face was instantaneous.

"I just want you to see him play," she conceded to me, "It can be like getting blood from a stone sometimes though."

Grinning at her words - I couldn't say that information surprised me - I brought my legs up so I could sit cross legged on the chair, placing my hands on my ankles. "Thanks," I told her simply, not wanting to divulge how much it actually meant to me, though.

The anticipation was threatening to engulf me.

"He's a good boy," Sara assured me, "Nothing like his father."

Now it was my turn to be thrown off balance by the sudden change of subject. "Huh?"

"He may have been my son, but Miles was a waste of space especially when Holly came into the picture," she informed me without feeling the need to suppress her thoughts. My mouth was hanging open slightly as I stared at her in amazement. "The two of them never deserved to have a son like him, I never even met Cole until he was thirteen after Miles overdosed and his mother dropped him off here. She's never called or come back since, if she's even still alive."

The onslaught of information wasn't easy for me to keep a hold of, and I didn't have the words to respond to the way she'd said in such a pleading voice. It was as if she was trying to explain something to me, but I couldn't even begin to understand what she wanted from me. Cole had told me once that his father was dead and he didn't know about his mother, but I hadn't expected that.

To be honest, I wasn't exactly sure what I'd thought. But it wasn't that.

Just as I continued to stare at her blankly, there were footsteps coming from behind me. The excitement that I'd felt about hearing him play had dulled with what Sara had just told me, and I couldn't wipe off the shock that was splattered across my face.

Cole entered the room, but instead of going to his normal seat, he pulled out the chair that was just to the left of me.

Seeing my expression, he sent me a quizzical look but thankfully didn't ask me anything - I wasn't sure what I would have said. Was this supposed to be a secret that Sara told me or was I allowed to talk to Cole about it? I had to be able to talk to Cole about it, right? It was about his father just as much as it was about her son. The confusion running through my was paramount and I felt like my head was running about in circles, looking for a way out but there were no doors or windows, leaving me barricaded in with the thoughts.

"This isn't my song," Cole informed me though he was fiddling with the prongs at the top of the guitar instead of looking at me. I knew next to nothing about guitars, but I did know that this was an acoustic opposed to an electric. There was no hope for me guessing the brand, but it was a light brown in the middle and went down into black around the edges. "It's from a band called The Arctic Monkeys," he continued, looking at me now, "You should look them up. You'll be obsessed."

After all the confusion and doubt that was running through my mind, I found that Cole just speaking and sitting in front of me was calming down all of it. My thoughts were no longer muting everything else.

"Probably," I answered him simply.

He hadn't even played a chord on the guitar, but I found that I liked the way he held it. It was as if it had melted into him, laying balanced in his lap. There was no discomfort in the way he held it like most people with an inanimate object, it might as well had been a part of him.

But that didn't compare to the way he played the thing, starting without any more warning. My eyes followed the motion of his strumming hand up and down, noticing how languid he was with the movements. It was the most natural I'd seen him before, like he was meant to be behind a guitar. And there was something that he held which I couldn't put a finger on that had my eyes glued to him. I didn't think anyone could be in a room with him while he played music and be able to ignore him.

As he played the beginning chords it was as if everything inside me was tensing up in anticipation. I didn't know what was coming, but there was something there. And I knew what it was when he opened his mouth to sing.

"Topless models doing semaphore. Wave their flags as she walks by and get ignored. Illuminations on a rainy day. When she walks her footsteps sing a reckless serenade." He wasn't even looking at anything, just straight at the ground, but that was what I had been waiting for. All that tension subsided with the sigh I let loose, unable to drag my eyes away from him, but thankfully my sigh was hidden by the music. I may not have known much about music, but I knew enough from those lessons I'd had as a child to know that his deep voice range was a baritone. "I've been trying to figure out exactly what it is I need. Call up to listen to the voice of reason. And got the answering machine.

"The type of kisses where teeth collide. When she laughs the heavens hum a stun gun lullaby," sang Cole, finally raising his eyes and I found them fixed straight on me. With that intense gaze on me as he sang and played the guitar, it was too much. I thought I might melt into a puddle right there in front of him. "Those twinkling vixens with the shining spiral eyes. Their hypnosis goes unnoticed as she walking by."

He took a pause from the vocals, his foot tapping rhythmically to the song he was still strumming to as he leaned back ever so slightly. The problem was he never looked away from me, and I was almost hoping he would. My throat felt constricted. It was like I couldn't breathe, not with him in front of me.

When he'd shown me videos of his favourite bands, I'd been struck by just how good they were at their craft, how much passion they possessed. But none of that even came close to Cole playing right in front of me, and it might just have been because he was there and staring at me and I'd never been to a concert, but I didn't think so. Every chord he played, every note he sang was intoxicating.

And there was one thing that was certain. He was very, very good.

"I've been trying to figure out exactly what it is I need. Called up to listen to the voice of reason. And got his answering machine. I left my message, but did he fuck get back to me? And now I'm stuck still wondering how it's meant to be. Singing a reckless serenade, reckless serenade..."

As he repeated the last words, he finally broke the gaze and I sucked in a deep shaky breath as if I'd just been drowning. I could breathe again.





- Finally! I've been waiting for that moment since I started the bloody book. Man, I adore Cole oh so much. He's just wonderful. The song on the side is Reckless Serenade from The Arctic Monkeys, it's the wonderful version Alex Turner did at KEXP - I have a pin from that radio station. I thought you should all know.

The photo on the side... well, I know I chose another guy for Cole - mostly because I don't want to choose a musician and have everyone thinking that's exactly what he's like - but I do see him as Alex Turner a lot. Not all the time, but Alex Turner is probably the closest I could get - before the quiff though.

So this monster of a chapter is dedicated to all of my fans because I've reached 7,000! Thank you all so much guys, you're wonderful! I really love you and hope you guys liked the chapter. Thanks so much for reading.

Oh and if there are any mistakes, blame it on the vodka that I've been drinking for the past three hours. I'm still lucid. Oh, who are we kidding? I never proof read, we all know it.