Reasons To Stay

TEN

The scene unfolding in front of my eyes the next morning in the kitchen could only be described as chaos. Kyle and Egan where yelling at each other at the top of their lungs. Roderick was trying to focus on playing his guitar, but because of the screaming, he had turned up the volume to the maximum, making it impossible to focus on a normal volume conversation. Porter was trying to talk to Rae, who seemed frustrated and about to cry from all the stress the situation was causing her.

I walked towards the dinner table and calmly took a seat in it, ignoring everything that was happening around me. I had been trying to draw in my room, but I felt an urge to draw the view we had from the window. Thankfully, I had the ability to ignore what happened around me if I focused enough, so the noise didn't distract me.

I turned on my iPad and was about to open my drawing application when I saw the Voice Memo one right next to it. And then I remembered...

"I feel scared about you, too," I had confessed as I stared at Lance's lips that night in the second floor of his aunt's art gallery.

"Don't," Lance had said, and then his lips were on top of mine.

I remembered they way they felt, chapped yet soft. How his hand had slowly slid behind my back to push me closer. How both of my hands had been resting on his chest while I wondered how was it possible he wasn't in any sport teams yet felt so strong. And how, too soon, we had had to break apart to breathe.

"You have beautiful eyes," he had whispered as he pushed one strand of my hair behind my ear with such tenderness it had made my heart swell and my lips tug up in a smile.

After a while of staring at each other and him easing the sudden tension by making a few jokes, I had decided to take his first interview.

"I'm not going to be a famous singer, Sloan," he had said with his teasing smile as he leaned back into the couch.

"You don't know that," I replied as I took my iPad from my bag and opened the Voice Memo app. "Come on, I want to be the first one to interview you."

He looked at me for a while with a frown and then he smiled and nodded. "Only if you let me interview you after. There's more chance of you being a famous artist than me a singer."

I had rolled my eyes and then began my interview. "We are here today with Mr. Lance Jones, the ultimate it-boy." Lance chuckled at that and shook his head. "So, Lance, tell us. What did you want to be when you grew up when you where seventeen-years-old?"

He eyed me for a while with a teasing smile on his lips. "A songwriter and music producer."

I frowned lightly, surprised by how sincere his answer sounded. "Not a singer or a rock star?"

He shook his head. "Not really. I didn't think the spotlight was for me".

"And is it?" I asked, still in character.

"I'm not sure," he said. "I'm still trying to find out."

"Then how about you sing a song for all of your fans out there who are listening right now," I said, smiling evilly at him.

He laughed. "Of course," he replied as he had searched for a paper on the pile on top of the table.

"What are you doing?"

"Trying to find the finished version of my latest song," he had said just as he found it.

And then he sung.

***

"He sang it. All of it," I whispered in shock as I stared at the Voice Memo icon on my iPad. Next to me, everyone kept yelling and complaining about time and horrible bosses.