I'll Sing You One Last Song and then I'm Gone (Tokio Hotel Fan-Fic)

Chapter 10

This story is written by @xAnDeinerSeitex She wrote this story on a website called TokioHotelFiction.com. I was able to locate her and found out she had a wattpad account. She has given me permission to post it on here. @xAnDienerSeitex aslo has a new updated version of the story, as seeing this one is a few years old. If you like to read that one click the external link on the side. And I would like to say I have no rights to this story and I am NOT the writer. I would also like to thank @xAnDeinerSeitex for writing this great story and letting me post it on my account.

With just one quick, fleeting glance at him, I could instantly tell why Joey Attollicci was a local high school superstar.

There was nothing about him that wasn't absolutely breathtaking. But maybe that was just my nerves talking.

A lot of girls have a thing for that bad-boy look, and may I personally say, he had that down pat. Everything about him screamed, "rebel", and for some reason, I found myself totally diggin' that. I never really figured myself to have much of a "type", since it'd been my goal to avoid relationships and crushes and the like. But apparently, since I never really had one before, I realized that night that the bad-ass thing was a total turn-on.

His dark brown hair was parted dramatically to the left, and almost straight, yet with a bit of a messy, faint kind of slight curl to it, barely touching down to his shoulders, the color complementing the slightly tanned tone of his skin. Through his nose was jammed a small metal ring, which proved an interesting addition to his sharp features, and served as one of the only ways in which his didn't quite resemble his father's face to a tee. He'd decided to sport a purple, green, and gray flannel, opened to the button lying right over where his heart would be and rolled up to his elbows, revealing a littering of tattoos on his forearms. On bottom, he'd gone with black pants that were ever so slightly tight on him, adding black leather boots to serve as the proverbial cherry on top. He was two or three inches taller than Josh's 5'8 frame, and his body was toned, but not in a way that made it look like he tried to hard to make that so.

The two of us made eye contact for the first time the moment I finished drinking everything about him in, and I was so caught up in the warmth of his dark brown eyes that I almost didn't notice his perfectly white, straight smile, bringing to an end the process of liquefying me where I sat.

And so it was true after all. Joey was the poster-boy for punk rock, popular, Italian bad-boys, and I was ensnared, hook, line, and sinker.

I faintly heard Ellie laugh lightly beside me. "Although I don't much believe introductions are necessary, Ashley Dawson, meet Joey Attollicci. Joey, Ashley."

And finally, my godsend of a date spoke. "Quite pleased to meet you, after Josh didn't shut up about you for three days straight." He sniggered to himself. "You'd think he was the one being set up with you, the way he obsessed."

I finally ripped my eyes off of Joey and looked over to Josh, who stood sandwiched between him and Ellie. "I never realized Josh knew enough about me to talk someone's ear off for three days."

"He doesn't," Ellie announced to the group, defending Josh's oblivion to the world around him, as she usually did. It's like, buddy, I'm with you at least once a week, as I have been for the past three and a half years, and it's a miracle if you so much as remember my name. "I helped him out a little bit, indirectly being your spokeswoman. It's not a proper blind date if the victims, participants, whatever you want to call yourselves, aren't excited to meet each other."

I turned to Joey once again, who welcomed me back with another warm smile. "Then Ellie's a bad spokeswoman, because she must have been so busy building me up, the only things she told me about you were your name."