Bullet Proof Chest (Sonny Moore/ Andy Biersack/ Kellin Quinn)

Five: Cahil

Since the moment that I woke up this morning, I've been bothered by the dream that I had last night. I wish I knew who the man was. The whole thing seemed so real, but so extremely weird. I can't shake it. I know that it couldn't have been real because I feel out of place in that type of situation, always. It would be realistic if I had been upset and felt out of sorts, instead. Dream me was way too calm. Still, four hours after waking up, my stomach is filled with millions of butterflies that continue to attempt an escape.

Too bad it was just a dream. These butterflies are telling me that I would date a guy like this. What am I saying? I don't want to date anyone. I'm frustrated. No one ever makes me put my guard down like this, and it was only a stupid dream.

I decide to go for a jog. I take Lacey with. I will do anything to shake the dream from my mind.

I'm looking forward to tomorrow. Not only do I get to see my favorite band, but also, I get to see Pete of Fall Out Boy. I've had a major fan girl crush on Pete forever. It's not even how beautiful his face is, it's how poetic and sensitive he is. But most of all, he's just super sexy. Maybe I'll be lucky enough to meet him. Maybe he'll want to be friends if he thinks I'm cool enough. Or maybe I could just get an autograph. That'd be cool, too.

I'm not looking forward to tonight, however. It makes it a little better that we don't have to go out of town. Usually, we have to fly or take a train. This party's only on the edge of the city. Everyone there will be super fake or super rich. Some people will be both. Even Marshall will be there. His dad works with mine. That's another reason I don't want to go.

I don't know what was up with Marshall yesterday. I'm still a little dumbfounded. I won't deny that I sort of liked it. No, I don't harbor feelings for him anymore. It just felt nostalgic. He was the first person to ever call me "Cay."

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I zip up my short black dress. I hate all of the parties that I have to attend. When I was younger, I loved them. I loved the attention that I got. It's not like they're horrible, but I have to go ALL the time. If there weren't so many, there would be a possibility that I might enjoy myself at them.

I personally know the entire football team that this party is for, so it won't be too awkward, I hope. The new, young quarterback Kyle Gibbons has asked me out several times. By several, I mean at least 30 times. I politely turn him down every single time. He gets more and more persistent when I do. The press made up some stupid romance story about him and me. I alwasy find his arm around me, as does anyone that picks up a magazine. Unfortunately, teenage girls are crazy about him. I'm paid off to keep my mouth shut because I'm Kyle's "motivation to play well." Pshh, yeah. Right.

It's not so much that I dislike Kyle. He's handsome. Very handsome. I really do enjoy being friends with him. He's actually a really cool guy to hang out with. The problem is, though, that my dad always wants me to try dating Kyle. I've never been able to bring myself to agree to it. The truth is that Kyle isn't anything like a guy I'd choose to see myself with. He's stuck up and preppy. He thinks he's superior to a lot of people, just like my parents. Kyle just finished at a presitgious Ivy League school when my dad recruited him. He acts the part. I can see exactly why my parents adore him.

Most of my female friends are jealous. Each and every single one of them wants to get in his pants. They're the ones that buy the magazines that have him and me in them. They just cut me out of the pictures. Rachael's even one of those girls. But c'mon, he's not that great looking.

Okay, so maybe he is.

I am met by my mother at the end of the staircase in the living room. She is dressed in a gorgeous white cocktail dress. She's looking out the front window waiting for the limousine, no doubt. Being rich is kind of torture.