Lol, well, I've discovered the last part of the story I'd had written before. . . So I'm going to have to write the rest of it from memory after this o.O It should be highly entertaining to any watching.

lol

Angie: Sorry, it's going to take even longer for me to get them up from here on. *wince* Sorry.

You Put The Hate In My Heart: Meh. . .*glower* Point out MY mistakes! Lol.

The Anti-Drug: Thanks a bunch. Please, keep reading! It'll only get better! Honest!


Weeks have passed. I have given it much thought. My fate lies somewhere in Jersey. I wish to return home, see my brother perhaps. Although he will not see me. Ever, I hope.

I am driving down the highway near my old house, where Mikey and my parents still live. Suddenly, something made me decide to take a different off-ramp than normal.

As I pull up to a red light at the top of the ramp, my eye is caught by a beautiful boy standing with a guitar. He looks like a normal hitchhiker, but. . .

He stands like a prostitute. I am piqued. I pull up next to him. He looks at me with a practiced eye.

"I'm headed to wherever you can take me."

I lean forward, pulling the pretty thing into my gaze. "I'll take you anywhere."

He smirks at me. I want him. Now.

He is about to sit, and I tell him to put his things in the back. I'm driving a truck, with a canopy. The small car did not work. He drops his bag unceremoniously, but lays the guitar with love. I smile. I want him even more, but I can wait as long as I need to. He will be mine—and I do not intend to ruin him.

I cannot have him and let him go. He will know of my true nature. The cold will give me away.

I can have him and keep him, though. I touch a finger to my lip thoughtfully as he climbs into the cab.

* * *

Frank

He's the most gorgeous guy I've ever seen. I've seen a lot of guys, and he is most definitely the most gorgeous. I look at him out of the corner of my eye. He's got a hat on—an oddly familiar hat, I might add—and has a finger up at his lip. It makes him oddly appealing.

His skin is so pale, I'm almost worried he's a druggie. But he speaks so calmly I don't think I have to bother. His eyes are weird, though. Dark. Deeper than anyone else's that I've met. And he's really thin, with thin lips and thin, high brows. He's got dark hair poking out from under his hat, and I would bet that if I touched it, it would be really soft and sleek.

I realize that I'm turned completely to stare at him, and turn away quickly. He chuckles.

"I wouldn't worry too much. If I could, I would too," he says suddenly, his soft voice making me jump. I look over at him again, only to find his eyes. 'He's looking at me, too', I think.

My mind gets a little muddled as his eyes hold mine. My body heats up as I imagine those eyes widening slightly, that perfect mouth opening in a gasp as I push hard, harder, harder, he cries out. . . I try to clear my mind slightly. He's got his face to the road again, but he looks a bit amused. He's everything I want; so what? He seems like an uke, but he'll insist on topping anyway, watch.

We come to a red light. He turns to me again.

"What is your name?"


OOOOOOOOOHHHH!!!!! What will he say, I wondah? Don't you want to know?????
If sooooooo. . . COMMENT!!! lol