Song Like You (Bea Miller Fanfiction) {{ON HOLD}}

Chapter 7

Jamie's POV

As I shut the door behind me, I let out a long sigh of relief. I'd been in some awkward situations before, but this, by far, was the most awkward one yet. She probably thought I was a complete weirdo. Bea Miller. Famous singer. Adored by my crazy cousin. How had I not heard her songs before? I mentally shrug then hear a loud grumble erupt from my stomach. Seriously? I just ate. With a famous singer mind you.

I still couldn't wrap that thought around my head. What are the chances I run into someone famous? I mean, considering the luck I have in my life I never would have thought this would happen. Then again who does?

Bea Miller. She'd said she'd made an album last year. Now would be a great time to check her out. Online, of course, not in real life. Not that I have. I shake my head and run upstairs to my bedroom. I lay eyes on my bed where my laptop sat right where I had left it when I went out to get some Starbucks. Dang, so much has happened since then.

I shake my head yet again, noticing how easily I'd been getting lost in my thoughts ever since last night. I try my hardest to clear my head of all the piercing thoughts and jump up on my creaky mattress, cringing at the noise, and open my laptop.

I save all my open taps before opening a whole new window and slowly type 'bea miller' into the search engine. I wait patiently for Google to pull up its results and that's when...the dinosaur appeared.

That little-pixelated dinosaur. The dinosaur that made your heart skip a beat and your mouth drop down to the floor. The dinosaur that made time freeze and the whole world stop and stares at this despised creature. The dinosaur that everybody knew all too well.

"UGH!" I groaned, flopping back onto my bed, and slowly rolling off onto the floor in a heap. Our internet connection sucked. It was like every day I was restarting it and waiting not-so-patiently for it to work properly again.

I walk out of my room and down the stairs into the kitchen where the router was located, aggressively unplugging the two black cords and waiting a few minutes for it to restart properly. That's when I heard the familiar unlocking noise coming from the front door. My aunt.

"Jamison! I'm home!" my aunt's voice echoed through the house. I sigh and put on the best fake smile I could, trying to look welcoming.

"Hey, Aunt Jenna," I greet her. She throws off her black heels, sets her purse on the island, and starts walking over to me with her arms open. My eyes go wide at the gesture and my first instinct is to run straight back up to my room, but because common courtesy, I stand there awkwardly awaiting my hug.

"Hello, Sweetheart," she slurs, squeezing me tight in her arms. She smells strongly of alcohol and cigarette smoke making me cough slightly and repress a gag. My eyes start to water when the strong smell of perfume comes into play and I kindly take a small step back from the hug. I then remember the primary reason I had come downstairs and plug in the black cords in the router.

"How was the...show?" I ask uncertainly on what to call it. And by 'it' I meant stripping. My aunt was a stripper. That's right, those people who dance on the polls half naked just to have others throw cash at them. Sure, I was bitter about it because, in all honesty, it's not the most "socially acceptable" job out there, but it's all she can do to make money at the moment.

When you've been to jail multiple times and the first time you got in Juvie was at age twelve it might have an effect on your future job applications.

"Oh, kind of slow. There weren't many people around, but it's only Tuesday so can't really do anything about it," she explains taking a new pack of cigarettes out of her purse. "I'm gonna go outside for a bit."