Maybe it's too much, and yet, not enough.


the air makes you choke.

"He's tall, dark and handsome. I mean, not that his appearance really matters. He's just great, y'know? He's on almost as many sporting teams as me! Which is really great because.. Well it's just great, y'know?"

As she talks, strands of her wind blown hair stick to her glossed lips and her sundress wisps around her knees. She's really pretty right then, he thinks. She's always, always so very pretty. But there's something about the moment. Maybe it's the way her smile hasn't faltered or the twinkle in her melting chocolate eyes, her exposed sun kissed shoulders. Whatever it is, she looks like a gift.

Something only the higher power has the ability to create. He thinks he needs to remember it, remember this moment forever; never forget the look in her eyes, her soft colored nails. Even if she is talking about another guy; someone other than him.

He finds it strange, or maybe it's the peak of his jealousy, that she's not focused on him. Because she has always been JONASJONASJONAS and squeaky screams and butterflies when she sees him. But now it's not him or his brothers. It's tall dark and handsome. And Stella! He called me his girlfriend! And it's the feeling he gets in his gut when she says he's possibly everything she's ever wanted out of her sixteen years on earth. Because last he checked, JONAS was always the only thing she ever wanted.

He's selfish and maybe a little bit jealous. And he tries not to be. But Macy is his, his brothers, JONAS' number one fan, only his. He shouldn't have to share her. He doesn't want to share her. He wants her smile, her hair, her laugh to only be for him. In the most platonic way.

He won't forget the moment he tells himself. He could never forget someone so special as Macy and he can never forget the way the moment makes him feel.

(like maybe he wants them to be more than this moment)


Macy and tall dark and handsome fall apart. It's childish, he tells her, that she ever thought he was more than a jock. Because you're more than him, Mace.

She chuckles and with a look into his brown, somber eyes she tells him thanks before walking over to Stella. She was always the one that made promises to Macy about hurting him like he hurt you and honestly, he doesn't deserve you.

Stella always gives her the pat on the back, wipes the tears away, tells her she always has her friends.

And he was always the one with tissues and an I told you better.

He thought she would have learned. No one's good enough for her. No one. They all break her heart and she cries and he hateshateshates and says it'll be fine too many times.

Three days later, she's fine. She's all smiles and I updated my JONAS blog and he's confused because I thought you were done obsessing over us. But really, he hopes she doesn't ever get over her infatuation; hopes she never really moves on. Because, strangely enough, it's the only constant he has in his life. Macy's all he's got. Her laugh, her sitting next to him at lunch because she won't admit it to anyone but him, that he's always been her favorite; it's what he has and it's what he wants and he doesn't want her to be done with loving him in whatever way.

(he wants her forever)


When he's seventeen there are post-it notes and sweet kisses and Friday night exclamations of you did great, Mace after volleyball games. She smiles, wraps an arm around his waist, and says thanks, love. Ever the poet.

It's kind of meant-to-be, he thinks. The color of her dark hair blending with his when she tucks her head in the crook of his neck. She fits there, likes it there. He realizes Macy is more than the Macy he thought he liked. She's so much more. She's the sing along with like a virgin, chap stick hanging from her back pocket, she's the crying when Jane Eyre is locked away. She's almost everything he's ever wanted and everything he won't have for long.

Nick's got Macy. He's got the taste of watermelon in his mouth and her kisses on his lips. He's got all of her curves and the soft skin of her neck.

He's got her whispering his name when they're eighteen and telling him she loves him, she's always loved him. Then she's got him saying it back and he never thought he'd mean it so much; i love you, i love you, i love you.


They make it to graduation. They all cry, hug, and wish each other the best. Then Joe says what about the summer?They have the summer, the beach house, and all the moments in between.

It's probably the smartest idea Joe's ever had, he tells her when she's in his arm in the backseat of the car on the way to the beach house. She laughs sweetly, snuggles into his side, and smiles when Joe says I heard that, Nicholas.

Stella tells him to turn around, keep his eyes on the road, leave them be. Nick smiles and kisses the top of Macy's head as she falls asleep.


Joe decides an 'end of the summer party' will really send everyone off with a bang. They have alcohol, invite people over that they met over the summer, blare the music, and when everyone's had a little bit too much to drink, Nick and Macy retreat to the dark beach.

They sit in the cool sand, dig their toes deep within, stare at the ocean; the blue, blue ocean.

"I have college in the fall."

She waits, but he doesn't say anything, just looks at the waves crashing against the shore.

"And you have a world tour, Nick."

He turns, looks in her eyes, her glossy eyes. "Macy, I know."

"Don- It's.. Won't it hurt to be so far apart? All the time."

The fourth beer slurs his words a little. "You're just scared, Mace. Don't be scared."

"It's going to hurt us both Nick. I don't want you to hurt."

"Don't hurt me then. D-Don't hurt me." his voice strains and he thinks he's somewhere close to crying because it can't be happening.

"Don't hurt me, Nick." It can't be happening.

"I love you Macy. Through everything, through everyone, I love you best. You know I love you best."