I'd Rather Be in Love than Dead

Chapter Eleven

So, we've kind of missed three weeks of posting, solely because we forgot.

I'd love to tell you we were busy or something, but frankly, we're just forgetful and kind of stuck on Chapter Twenty (i think that's the one?). So here's the first of three chapters missed and we'll post more on Thursday!

~Anna

Chasity's Perspective:

It was an odd shift to go from living with Alayna and Zane in our tiny home to living in the large house of John O’Callaghan, singer extraordinaire and the boy I loved. But I had to admit, it was a happy change, despite the awkward afternoons alone in the big house while he was at band practice. I guess I liked that he felt he no longer had to entertain me, and since his home had become my own I could find my own way as he sang his heart out in the practice room at Pat’s house.

We spent most nights on the couch, talking until I would fall asleep, after which he would carry me up to the bed that we shared as long as my nightmares continued. He would lie awake for awhile, then (or that’s what I assumed, as he was always wide awake when I opened my eyes) as soon as he was sure I was okay for a few hours, at least, he would sleep until he heard my shouts of discomfort and then wake me. It was a terrible routine, I’m sure, but he insisted that it remain how he wished it to as long as I was living under his roof.

We would eat lunch together, whether it’d be my or his own cooking or eating out. Then he would go to band practice almost every day as I sat at home, reading or painting or drawing, or really doing anything I felt like. He would return home around 6:00 or 7:00 and tell me of the new songs they’d written, or tell me of how Garrett was acting odd, or really anything he had to share with me that evening. And then we would talk for hours and hours and hours. And if we ran out of things to say, we’d watch a movie to inspire more conversing.

Though I regretted having fought with my best friend, I didn’t regret the outcome, because I couldn’t be happier (even with the nightmares) than I was living with John.

“Good morning,” He said, coming into the kitchen where I was working on breakfast for him. It was the least I could do as he was sharing his home with me, so kindly.

“Morning,” I said in reply as I set down the plate of his favorite breakfast items (pancakes, eggs, sausage, and hash browns) and then set down a fork, knife, and bottles of various syrups. I gestured to his spot at the table and he raised his eyebrows.

“What’s this for?”

“For being the best friend in the world.” He shrugged.

“Free food, I won’t argue,” He said and lightly kissed my forehead, sending warmth all through my body. I smiled and began serving my own plate, and then sat down across from him as he read over some sheet music on the table.

“What’s that?” I asked him before taking a bite of my pancakes.

“Piano part for a new song,” He said through a mouthful of sausage. I got excited at this.

“Can I read it?”

“You like piano?”

“I love it!” I said excitedly as he handed me the sheet music. I read over it, my fingers naturally gliding up and down the table as if it were a keyboard itself.

“You play?” He asked me a couple minutes later when I’d finished. I nodded and he stood, gesturing for me to follow. I did so and he led me to a small room at the end of the hall upstairs. I gasped as the door swung open to reveal a beautiful grand piano.