CHANCES ↠ NICK MARA

SEVEN

if you haven't read my other story, go read it now! i post weekly! it's a brandon fanfic called 'unbreakable' !!

GOAL: 18 VOTES AND 15 COMENTS?¿?
—
"I booked you a gig to sing at the local bar this weekend," Aimee informs me as she walks into my room and picks up my feet so she can sit.

"Can I even go into the bar? I'm not 21 yet."

She scoffs. "Potayto, potahto." I give her a look, to which she sighs at. "It's completely fine. You're not breaking any rules. The place is so desperate that they don't care how old you are. As long as you don't drink at the bar."

Even though I am thankful that she got me this opportunity, I feel nervous. "Aims, I don't know if I'm ready."

She sighs, giving me a disapproving look. "Lex, sometimes you just have to take a leap even if you're not ready. The result may surprise you."

I was still unsure.

"You can't let Nick keep holding you back."

Like a reflex, I almost jump to deny her assumption, but I refrain against it. If I were to deny it, we would both know that it's a lie, so what would be the point? Instead, we both just stare at each other as if we're challenging each other to see who breaks first.

In the end, it's Aimee. Bless her heart and soul for being such a good friend. "Singing was your thing first. No matter what happened between you and Nick, singing will always be your thing."

"I can't think about singing without thinking of Nick," I admit, resting my head in her lap.

—

september 21, 2013

I smash the piano keys multiple times, and then one last time because that's how frustrated I am. Then, for good measure, I smash my head down on the keys because I am just that extra and I am still frustrated.

"What did that piano ever do to you?"

I whip around, almost giving myself whiplash. When I see Nick, my face immediately colors. I am no longer frustrated, but I am now embarrassed.

I clear my throat and sit up straighter as if that would help me and distract Nick from what he just saw. "What are you doing here?"

By 'here,' I meant the music shop that I work at. It's a good pay, and I get to use the instruments for free.

"I never noticed this shop before," it was a pretty small shop that is basically hidden in a corner, "so I figured I'd just drop by and check it out. Now, I'm glad I did. Whatever you're doing looks like it's going to entertain me for the rest of the day."

I look at him, flabbergastered. "You can't just stay here for the rest of the day!"

He shrugs, walking towards me to sit on the piano bench. "Why not?"

"Because," I struggle with finding a legitimate reason why he can't, "you're just going to distract me with your horrible singing to 'Call Me Maybe.'"