Devyn part 9

I sat up in my chair, leaning on my elbows on my deck, and practically hissed into the phone, "Erik. Are you giving me an ultimatum between being with you or keeping my job?" Now, I wasn't thinking about the pain. I wasn't thinking about the dreams I had with his face. I wasn't remembering everything we had or wishing we could continue a future together.

Now, I was just furious.

I could almost hear Erik swallow. "Um, no, that's not exactly what I meant..."

"Forget you, Erik Vincent. I can take you to court for this. I'll sue you," I growled into the phone. Anger was flooding me. I wanted to punch him. I wanted to break something. I wanted to scream. "That's not what I meant, Justin, and you know it. Now, if you'll just listen to me."

"Listen to you! Listen to you! What do you think I've been doing for the last five years of my life, Erik Vincent?! Nothing but that. Listening to you. Pleasing you. Doing just what you wanted, while you went off and rekindled your love with an old flame, leaving me the dirty work of your job, your family, and our relationship. I'm sick of listening to you, Erik. Get someone else to listen. Someone who cares. I quit." I said this all in a voice quiet enough to not be heard by the rest of the office. I was mad, but I wasn't stupid. Getting everyone's attention on Erik and my problems would do nothing but humiliate me. I stood up, looking at my desk. I could always come back for my stuff, I knew that. But I didn't want to. I never wanted to be here again. And, as I looked at my desk, at everything sprayed out on the desk and inside the drawers, I reached out and grabbed three things: my lap top, my purse, and the framed photo of Devyn, Bubba, and I on the day we graduated from college. Sadly enough, those were really the only tings I needed. I walked calmly out of the office and stepped into the elevator, taking me down to my future, away from my past.

"You quit?"

"What was I supposed to do, let him fire me for being his ex?" Bubba put his arm around my shoulders, "Doll face, you need to breath. You know what you need?"

"I have a feeling you're about to tell me," I muttered. "A mani-pedi!" I groaned, "Oh, jeez, kill me now." Bubba frowned, "you don't want a mani-pedi? Bubba will pay!"

"I don't care what Bubba does, as long as he doesn't refer to himself in the third person." I sighed, "I'm gonna go visit Devyn."

"Aw, kid, I don't know..."

"I know it will be awkward. But I don't care. He's my best friend, and I need to talk to him." bubba sighed, "Ok, kid, if you really think that's what's best."

"I know that's what's best."

"Devyn?"

"Do I hear my second-favorite girl in the whole world at the door?" Devyn hollered, and my heart flipped. Devyn. My best friend. My best comforter. He opened the door, "Oh, what's wrong with out princess? Does our princess need some sugar?" He smiled softly at me. He was covered in flower. Annie peeked her head out from the kitchen, "Jesse!" she hollered. I smiled and walked inside.

Devyn looked at the floor as I told him everything. "Do you really think you should have quit?" I blinked, "What?"

"I don't know that it was such a great idea to quit. I mean, what are you going to do now?" I frowned at him, "That was not the response I expected from you." He looked up at me, "What did you expect?" I blushed, thinking of what I really expected. "I don't know. For you to sympathize with me. For you to tell me that it's all gonna be Ok." Devyn frowned, "But it's not, Justin. You quit your job. How are you going to pay for your apartment? Food? Life? Justin, you can't just quit your job and think your life is going to suddenly fall into place." I stared at him. Was this really Devyn in front of me?

© 2010

Devyn part 8

The fourth movie was about halfway done when I found myself dozing off. On my left was Bubba, leaning forward towards the screen, totally engrossed in the movie. On my right was Devyn, leaning back against the couch, shaking his head at the horrible special effects. I opted on Devyn, who looked much more comfortable. I turned myself on the couch and leaned my shoulder on his, my head on his chest. He stiffened, clearly caught off guard, and I yawned. He chuckled and allowed me to make myself comfortable, all my weight on him. Bubba glanced at us and said, over the volume of the TV, "I don't know why you guys put it off so much. It's gonna happen sometime." I yawned and looked at him from the corner of my eye, "What is, Bub?"

"You guys. Someday you're gonna get together, and then you'll regret all the time you wasted apart." I felt myself stiffen on Devyn's lap. Devyn cleared his throat, and i tightened my already-closed eyes. "Well, Bub, I don't know about that, but either way, we're not wasting time apart." I smiled and opened my eyes. Devyn always knew what to say. "That's right, Bub. Devyn's my best friend. I doubt that'll change, but we're definitely not wasting time apart." Bubba looked at me, and something inside me twisted. I felt myself sweating and for some reason unbeknownst to me, I felt slightly guilty. "Alright, kids," Bubba said, taking a long chug of his fifth cup of coffee, "Whatever you say."

Devyn drove me home at about 3 am, after Bubba finally agreed that we had watched enough movies and permitted us to leave. "Geez, I'm exhausted," I groaned, leaning back into Devyn's seat. He laughed, "Visiting Bubba'll do that to you." He dropped me off at my apartment building and I made my way to the elevator drowsily. I pressed the button for my floor and stepped into the small confined space, being carried up to my home.

"Bubba."

"Geez, Justin, it's 10 in the morning! Why are you calling me?" Bubba groaned into the phone.

"Because I don't have any girl friends and I need your help."

"Ugh. Can it wait 'til twelve?"

"NO."

"FINE. What's up?"

"Erik called me." Bubba fell silent. For so long, in fact, that I thought he might have lost connection. "Bub?"

"Erik?"

"Yea."

"He called you."

"Yup."

"About work?"

"Nope."

"Not about work."

"Not about work.""

"What did he say?"

"He left a message."

"Saying?" I paused. Even I couldn't quite process it yet. "He said, 'Justin, I feel like an idiot-I don't know what I should say. I feel like a jerk...I miss you.' And then he hung up."

"You memorized it."

"Sorry."

"Yea." Bubba sighed, "Aw, geez, Justin, I don't know what to tell you. I can't believe that guy had the nerve to call."

"Maybe it was the wrong number."

"He said Justin."

"Oh. Right."

"I really don't know what you should do, kid. It's not like you can just forgive the guy and rekindle your love. He was a jerk, and once a jerk, always a jerk. He didn't just change. He messed up."

"Yea, I know, Bub. But what am I supposed to do? It's obvious I'm still in love with him, I can't just turn him down. And anyway, it's not like he asked to be with me again. It's seems like it should be obvious to everyone that we're a lost cause."

"Maybe he wasn't in his senses."

"Maybe..."

"I don't know, kid. Just go to work, see what happens. If he talks to you, tell me. And be careful."

"Alright. Thanks, Bub."

"See you later, kid." I hung up my phone and looked down at my outfit. I had pulled on the first comfortable clothes I had seen last night- a pair of sweats from Victoria's Secret. I shrugged and left my apartment, figuring if Erik couldn't approach me in sweats, he couldn't approach me at all.

"Call for you on line one. I think it's from upstairs," Debra said, not looking up from underneath her main of oily mouse-brown hair. "K. Thanks." I walked into my cubicle and picked up the phone, pressing the button for line 1, "This is Justin speaking?"

"Justin. It's Erik."

"Hello, Mr. Vincent. May I assist you in something?"

"Um, no. This isn't a business call." I gulped. This was harder than I thought. "I thought we were only allowed to take business calls during working hours, sir."

"Then you're on break. I need to talk to you, Justin."

"Erik-"

"Listen. I know I was a jerk. It was stupid and childish of me, and I'm sorry. But I just can't keep you in my office, working for me, if I have feelings harboring for you. Maybe if we were still together, if I knew you were mine, I wouldn't be so easily distracted. But it's not appropriate for the manager of a business place to stop working to stare at his ex-girlfriend downstairs." I blinked. Whoa. I did not see that one coming.

© 2010

Snuggies, Oreos, Barbecue Chips, and Chick Flicks

So yesterday I had a slumber par-tay with two of the single (???) most amazing people on the face of the planet. And Mars. (Now that is saying something.) We watched some of the single most amazing movies on the planet, wore some of the single most amazing blankets on the planet, and ate some of the single most amazing food on the planet. (I won't go into great detail, but I will tell you that a food not mentioned in the title of this post that was present at this happy-fest was PANDA EXPRESS. That place is my favorite restaurant in the whole world, and it's not even a real restaurant. Not much you can do to top that, mah friend.)

Anywhoodles, it was totally amazing and will be reenacted soon. Joyous occasions are made to be relived. I am having the bestest summer!!

Song recommendation of the day: Since the post is so short day, I'm going to recommend more songs than usual:

Summer Playlist #1:

1. Must Have Done Something Right by Relient K
2. Whoever She Is by The Maine
3. Candelight by Relient K
4. Summer of '98 by The Secret Handshake
5. Everything Is Alright by Motion City Soundtrack
6. These Are the Nights by Making April
7. Big City Dreams by Never Shout Never!
8. Haven't Met You Yet by Michael Buble
9. Trouble by Never Shout Never!
10. Tgif by The Secret Handshake
11. Love in a Box by The Workday Release
12. Spinning by Jack's Mannequin
13. Curl Up and Die by Relient K

and a few Owl City songs that fit the summer mood...

14. Sunburn by Owl City

15. The Airway by Owl City

16. On the Wing by Owl City

17. Hello Seattle by Owl City

and, for some reason unbeknownst to moi:

18. Tip of the Iceberg by Owl City

It doesn't sounds very summery, but it really fits the mood.

All in all, based off of these recommendations and a few other songs that are nice but didn't quite make it onto this playlist, our summer artists are:

Relient K

The Secret Handshake

The Maine

Motion City Soundtrack

Making April

Never Shout Never!

The Workday Release

Jack's Mannequin

and, of course,

Owl City

So, keep listening to these artists as the background music to your sunshiny experiences and I can guarantee your summer will be very movie-like! Until next time-

Siennaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (Professional wrestler in all 60 states.)

© 2010

Devyn part 7

"I cannot believe this."

"Really unbelievable."

"What has happened to our culture?"

"It's sad, really."

"I mean, I don't hate him or anything, but...really?"

"It's just surprising."

"Yea, most grown men don't listen to him."

"Most grown people don't listen to him."

"I can't get over this."

"How long is this song?"

"The last song was him too."

"Do you think he's gonna make us listen to his whole album?"

"Ouch. I hope not."

"He's not really horrible or anything, but..."

"Yea."

"This is so strange," I said, as yet another Justin Bieber song started playing. Devyn put his cup down, "Yup. We're gonna hear the whole album."

"Argh!" Devyn picked up his phone and started singing along with the kid, "Shawty is a eenie meenie minie moe lover."

"What I don't get is, why do all these rappers and successful artists sing with him? I mean, Ludacris, Usher, Sean Kingston..."

"Can't resist the Bieber Fever."

"Whatcha gonna do?"

"That's what I said."

"You have it too?"

"Got his album on my iPod." I laughed and grabbed a handful of chips from Lenny's dining room table. "Hey, guys!" Lenny said, waving violently from across the room. I smiled and Devyn saluted him before turning to me and saying, "You wanna go?" I smiled and nodded, and he ushered me quickly out of the apartment as soon as we were sure Lenny wasn't watching us.

"I can't believe after all the effort I put into avoiding this place, somehow I always end up sitting right here." Bubba smiled and pushed a drink across the counter at me. I frowned at him and pushed it back. "You know I don't drink, Bubba."

"Yea, I know." He took the cup back and offered it to Devyn who laughed, "Please, Bub, you know I have an even weaker stomach than this one." Bubba took the cup, "Yea, yea, I know. Niether of you drink. The best people in the world for me to give free products to and you don't even drink or like the clothes in my boutique." I laughed and reached over the counter, grabbing a Pepsi. "Ok. You can't blame me for that one. That's a chick store," Devyn said, scrunching up his nose and grabbing my soda from my hand. I tried to grab it back as Devyn continued to Bubba, "The only one you can nag about that is this little lady." I finally got the soda back and I rolled my eyes, turning back to Bubba, "You know that store isn't my style. It's all frill and lace and patterns and pastels. I like simple tops, nice jeans, and cute sweaters." Bubba rolled his eyes, "My store has cute sweaters," he pouted. I rose an eyebrow, "Your store has sparkly pastel sweaters. There is a difference." Devyn rolled his head back, "Can we talk about something else, please? Anything else, really?" Bubba glanced at the clock on the wall, one of the most obvious signs that this club is a dud. "My shift is off in like thirty minutes. Why don't you guys go entertain yourselves for a while and then I'll take you to my place for a movie marathon." I grinned, "Like in high school." Bubba nodded, smiling, "Like in high school." Devyn groaned, "Oh, awesome, because I have been s0 missing high school lately. That's one of those times in my life that I wish I could relive." He bit down on the edge of his-my-soda can and then emptied it out. I glared at him and then reached over the counter to grab another soda.

"Thirty minutes of non sequitur."

"We could go get some coffee," I suggested. "Bubba'll be overdosing us on caffeine

soon enough."

"We could window shop."

"I never understood the appeal of that particular use of time."

"We could stop to rent some movies."

"Bubba owns every movie ever created, plus some others."

"...We could go into my office building and ride the elevator up and down over and over."

"Eh. Not in the mood."

"We could go back in the club," I say in an irritated if-you-have-a-better-idea-spit-it-out

tone of voice. Devyn twisted his mouth. "Let's go for a walk."

"A walk."

"Yes."

"A walk?"

"Yup."

"Like, just walking? Not going anywhere? Just a walk?"

"That would a general definition of 'a walk', yes."

"Isn't that pretty much the same as window-shopping, only minus the looking in windows

part?"

"I suppose it could be looked upon that way by someone narrow-minded."

"Hey!"

"Well! Geez louise, Justin, can we just go for a walk without all the interrogation?" I shrugged,

"I guess so."

"Gosh, I appreciate that."

"You should." Devyn laughed and we walked down the street in silence.

© 2010

Compatible, In an Incompatible Kind of Way part 8

Peter and I took a break from practicing that night and just watched the movie in silence. We were in his room, and as the movie came to a close, Peter took his lap top, quit DVD player, and opened his iTunes account. The usual sounds of Nirvana spilled out of the tiny speakers, filling the room with a welcoming feeling that I was used to. I was laying on Peter's pillow, and he lay down next to me on the opposite side of the pillow. I wanted to write. But I was so distracted, something that was unusual and irritating for me. Being alone with Peter was always when I was was the least distracted, when I could lose myself in thoughts of nothing but my characters, their thoughts, their lives. But now, I was thinking about everything but my stories. I was paying attention to the lyrics of the songs I had listened to hundreds of times and never really heard. The smells of the room seemed especially strong today, and I wondered if he had liquid incense somewhere in the room. The dim lighting was disrupted by a beam of sunlight pouring in from the window by Peter's desk. I was irritated that the hair by my forehead was already oily after I had washed it just the night before. I made a mental note to wash it again when I got home. I heard Peter sigh and looked over at him. His eyes were closed and he was breathing steadily, his chest rising and then falling almost in tune with the music. I saw my hand reach out and touch his shirt, but it was as if my wrist had been disconnected from my body. His eyelids rose, his eyes wide, and I quickly pulled my hand back. I blushed and looked down at my hands, now tightly clasped together in my lap. What the heck was that? Peter sat up and took his lap top from the end of his bed, pulling it up onto his lap and opening a word document- a rare thing for him since he so preferred free hand. I felt like I should write too. But I just could not focus. So instead I found myself watching his screen as he wrote. At first I was just looking at the shapes of the letters and the swiftness with which his hands pressed each memorized key, ideas spilling from his mind to the screen. Then I started reading the words. And I felt like I was the one writing it. I was almost predicting everything he would type next- but it wasn't predictable. Every word dripped a resemblance to my own writing. Every loose thought reflected my own. Every lyrical rhythm sang my ideas, my imagination. He finally paused, lost for a moment, and I pulled the lap top onto my lap, typing the words he would have discovered seconds later. He watched the screen as I typed, reading my words. Then he looked at me. I kept typing until I was finished. And then I ran the mouse up the screen, selected file, and saved the document as "peter and victoria". Peter looked at the screen again, and then at me. And now, finally, I was not distracted. All my thoughts were settled on one single thing: Peter.

© 2010

Compatible, In an Incompatible Kind of Way part 7

The next few weeks were full of practices. We practiced every single

scene over and over-every scene except the play scene. That one was

Mrs. Kimple's favorite, and therefore would be left until everything else

was taken care of. So, finally, after everything else in the play had been

perfected, the sets created, and the lines for every scene, (including the play,)

memorized along with the actions that went along with them, Mrs. Kimple

saved an entire day just for going over this scene. Of course, we would be

perfecting it and going over the entire play in the days to come, getting

closer and closer to the day of release-but today was our first day going over

this scene. Peter did his lines perfectly- stumbling as he was supposed to,

pretending to be distracted by my beauty. I was wearing my costume and full

make up, as this was our first dress rehearsal. The spotlight, still being

worked on, came onto me, and I sang. I was swept into the moment. I was lost

in the music. I tried to imagine myself as Jamie- a girl locked in her leukemia

and her fatherly protection-this was her moment to shine, her moment in

which no one would mock her, her moment to forget all about her disease, her

life, her fear, everything-to just sing. "So I lay my head back down, and I lift my

hand and pray-to be only yours, I pray, to be only yours, I pray, to be only yours

I know now, you're my only hope." I walked around to the chair facing Peter's-

Landon's-and sat down. I looked into his eyes, and he was so convincing, he

looked so mesmerized, that for a moment I was nervous, worrying that my

acting was nothing compared to his. Then I hummed to him, and all my

nervousness blew away. Peter looked at me, his eyes searching my face as Landon's

had searched Jamie's, and he cupped his hands around my face and kissed me. And

in that moment, I was Jamie. And he was Landon. And it went against every part

of me, and I was so shocked, but I was so lost in him, I was so in love. I quickly

pulled away, just as Jamie had, and looked at Landon. At Peter. He was staring at

me just as Landon had stared at Jamie. Mrs. Kimple and the students in the

audience broke into applause, and I was Victoria again. I smiled, satisfied that I

had done well, and looked out at the audience. But when I look back at Peter, he

was still Landon. He was still looking at me like Jamie. And I felt this feeling in

the pit of my stomach, this uncontrollable twist inside me, this unidentified longing.

Peter blinked at me and I felt my cheeks grow warm. What was going on?

© 2010

Compatible, In an Incompatible Kind of Way part 6

The following day at practice was the first time Peter and I spoke to each other since the, "Hello." Well, we didn't technically talk to each other, but rather our characters. We spent the day going over two scenes: Clay Gephardt's initiation, and Landon and Jamie's bus drive home from Saturday-morning tutoring. The differences between the play and the movie were that the bus drive was not a bus but simply walking home. Jamie walked in front of him before, but then slowed down so she could talk to him. When Landon blew her off, she sped up again and walked in front of him. This was a hard scene to play out on a stage, where their really isn't that much room to be walking home. I found out during this practice that there would most likely be more time in this play dimming the lights and moving set pieces that there would be actual acting. Mrs. Kimple was upset that the students hadn't cut out more scenes of the movie, but the students who had written the script insisted that everything they left in was necessary.

"Hey!" I say to Peter, feeling strange addressing him. He glances at me but doesn't take his headphones off. "Do you want to buy some raffle tickets? I'm trying to raise money to buy Jefferson's new computers." Peter looks at me in a mocking way and says, "No." I can't help but feel this strangeness in me, having him say something to me directly. Having him address me as if the only strange thing about us talking is that I'm Jesus freak Jamie Sullivan and he's popular Landon Carter. "So, I saw you in there with Lewis, and I know it can be very difficult, but maybe you should try backing into it from somewhere else." He glances down at his CD player. "Are you gonna go visit Clay Gephardt?" I ask him. He scoffs. "That would be a no," I say in response to his scoff. I continue in persistence, "Do you know that they moved him from the hospital to that rehab place on Oak Street?" Peter pulls his headphones off quickly, in obvious irritation. "Is this your idea of small talk or something? Because if it is, your social skills need some work." He practically spits our the word work, treating me just as Landon treats Jamie- as if I am lower than him. I can't believe what a good actor he is, and I only hope I'm doing half as well as he is. "No one forced him to jump," he says, rolling his eyes. "It's called peer pressure," I reply, "And how would do you know about that?" Peter asks in annoyance. "You read it in that precious book?" he asks, motioning his head toward the bible I'm carrying. I pull the bible up toward my chest in protection and smile down at the floor. "Please don't pretend like you know me, Ok?" I ask softly. He laughs, "But I do. I do. We have all the same classes and same schools since kindergarden. Why, you're Jamie Sullivan." He says this all in a mocking tone, and then he smiles. "You sit at lunch table seven-which isn't exactly the reject table but is definitely in self-exile territory." He snickers, "You have exactly one sweater. You like to look at your feet when you walk. Oh hey and yea, and for fun, you like tutor on the weekends and hang out with the cool kids from the Stars and Planets." He laughs, "Now how's that sounds?" I shrug, "Thoroughly predictable. Nothing I haven't heard before." He raises and eybrow and eyes me, trying to look casual but obviously curious as he asks, "You don't care what people think about you?"

"No." I smile and walk ahead of him. He scrunches his eyebrows and pulls his headphones back on. "Perfect! That was perfect!" Mrs. Kimple says in excitement and she claps her hands together. "That was amazing. Now, tonight I want all of you to watch the movie- because I know you all have it- and say all your lines along with your characters. If you mess up, start the scene over again. Do this up to the scene we just practiced. Tomorrow, we are literally going to run through that entire portion of the play, without the sets or props. You got that?" Everyone starts murmuring in horror of the idea of having to have that many lines memorized by tomorrow, especially since many of the kids haven't practiced that much up to now. Peter and I do exactly as Mrs. Kimple told us when we get home, and it feels strange to be talking with each other, even just at parts when our characters talk. This is going to take some getting used to.

© 2010