//Mix of Heathers and Pump Up the Volume//
Changing schools halfway through senior year isn't ideal for anybody, let alone Jason Dean. When he suddenly loses his "bad-boy" reputation he had back in Ohio, Jason reverts to the shy kid he used to be. H...
As I listened to J.D's show continue, I couldn't help but notice how quickly he went from being quiet and snappy to energetic and full of attitude. I suddenly remembered how he typically starts his shows. When he was finished speaking, I opened the door again. J.D looked over at me and a mixture of annoyance and anxiety grew on his face. "What do you want?" he asked quietly. "Oh, it's just your pal Frances Chandler here with a little bit of attitude for Jason Dean," I said, mimicking the way he spoke. J.D chuckled slightly. "Why can't you talk to me?" I asked. "You've seen the way I act with people at school. You know I don't give a shit. So please, don't ignore me the one time I actually want to know the answer to a question." He looked at me dead in the eye without answering. "Listen, I have a show to do," he mumbled and then turned in his chair so his back was to me. I groaned loudly and left again, slamming the door shut behind me. "So over the last week I've gotten some letters asking for advice," Jason's voice spoke through the radio. I was listening to it through headphones, sitting on the edge of the paved patio that dipped into the grass. J.D chuckled and I could hear papers crunching. "Most of it is love advice," he continued. "But if I knew anything about love I'd be making it! Instead I'm sitting in my bedroom talking to you!" He sighed and his voice got soft. "You need advice about something I know nothing about," he chuckled softly. "I've had my opportunities and blown them just as many times as plenty of you have. I; god. I can't even talk to a girl without forgetting every word in the English language! At least you know you're not alone, yeah? So, here's a little something for all you out there who crave some affection. I'm dedicating this song to a specific someone who makes me feel specific things I don't quite know how to handle. Why Can't I Fall in Love, Ivan Neville."
***J.D'S POV***
I put on music and leaned back in my chair. I folded my hands behind my head and sighed heavily. "Shit," I mumbled to myself, sitting forward again. I lit a cigarette and took a puff. It was stuffy in my room, so I slipped off my red t-shirt and spun in my chair. Words couldn't describe how frustrated I was with myself. I felt bad for being rude to Frankie, but I had no idea how to go talk to her. As the song played, I took a deep breath and got up. I slipped through the curtains that covered the glass sliding door and saw her. She was facing away from me, listening to my show. I was chilly without a shirt on, but it didn't matter. Frankie turned around and stood up. She walked over to me and smiled sadly. "You don't have to talk," she mumbled. "I get it."
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