Hey guys :) So here we are with chapter 7. I'd like to thank you all for the lovely reviews of the previous chapter. I'm really enjoying writing this story, and I had this chapter almost completed, but then, someone reviewed yesterday, and got me off my butt to finish it.

Dontcallmesweetie left me such a long review, and it was so lovely. :) I can't give you spoilers, as to whether or not some of your guesses are true, but I am truly glad you're enjoying my story. And I can promise that you will see Brown and Dee again. They're just off on honeymoon right now. You did said some of the nicest things, though, so thank you so so much for that. As for Mitchie's background and who her dad really is, well you'll just have to wait and see. ;)

So, I know I promised lots of drama, and Tess, and stuff from this chapter, but for character development purposes, that's all been kept until the next chapter. This is really just establishing Mitchie and Shane's friendship, and getting the plotline going, and introducing some major characters.

I really hope you enjoy it.

"Bathroom's through that door, and I've a load of spare t-shirts and sweats in the closet, if you need pyjamas," Shane says, pointing at another door. He seemed surprised when you asked could you stay over, but he didn't ask you any further questions, just nodded and said it was fine. You'd both sat in his car when you got home, eating your food in comfortable silence. You've learned Shane is the ideal companion. He knows when he needs to speak, when he should just shut up, and he understands somehow, not to push things, or ask too many questions.

"Fridge is stocked, feel free to go look for the T.V. and I have a cat, just in case you're allergic or something," Shane moves towards the door again, ready to leave you alone again.

"Shane?" you say stopping him in his tracks. Here, in this room, in his house, he's a lot more relaxed than you've ever seen him before. He looks young again, not really eighteen anymore. Somewhere, you can see the smiling boy in the photographs with his parents, or the guy who's performing at his very first head lining concert. He looks like a real person.


"Thanks... You didn't have to..." he watches you with the intense feeling of being stripped bare complete, like he can read your mind, and it freaks you out, "just thanks."

"I wouldn't make you go back there Mitchie," he says, leaning back on the door frame, "not if you didn't want to. " You smile weakly at him, lowering yourself down onto the bed. You stare at ground for a couple of minutes, but Shane doesn't move or say a word. He knows you're not done, and for some reason, he's willing to wait it out.

"But I can't stay here forever. Sooner or later, I'm going to have to go back. I really don't want to though," somewhere between the beginning and the end of you speaking to your lap, tears start to well up in your eyes, and you're not really too sure why, but this embarrasses you to no end. You furiously wipe tears as they fall down your cheeks, and Shane comes to sit next to you, so he's eye level with you, and nervously throws an arm around your shoulder, hugging you close to him. He rubs his hand up and down your arm, causing, for some unknown reason, millions of goose bumps rise up on your skin.

"Hey, look at it this way," he whispers, as you lower your head down onto his shoulder, "you spend as much time as you want here, and with Caitlyn and Nate, and Jase and Willow too. You can just, like, sleep in that house, and then when you're eighteen, you can move out."

You sniff loudly, and somewhere in your mind you know how embarrassing this is going to be to look back on, but right now, someone telling you it's going to be okay is all you want to hear.

"I think you're forgetting Shane," your voice is scratchy and low, but you know he hears you in this silent house, "in less than three months, I'm going to break your heart, and we'll never speak again."

He doesn't say anything. You're just tired of this now. It's only been a week and a half, and you have another ten and a half to go, but you really just feel like giving up. You want to curl up and cry, or you want to run away, leave for good, and never come back. You want to go home to Wyoming, when the only action you saw was on the TV.

"Talk about a doomed relationship, right?" he chuckles dryly, and you shift under his arm. You like this, sitting here with him, and just talking.

"You could say that again," you whisper, and the tears keep falling, slowly, one by one, and you can't stop them, "I wish we didn't have to do this," you point half heartedly between the two of you, "we could've been good friends. And Caitlyn, Nate and I too."

"Yeah," he agrees quietly, "yeah, we could have been great friends." You don't know if he says this because he feels sorry for you, or because he actually believes it, but it doesn't matter, because it manages to make you stop crying.

"I'm sorry I came and butted into your life," you tell him, and he just nods.

"Wasn't your fault. Sorry I blamed you," he tells you, kind of making you want to cry all over again.

"It's okay," you pull yourself up, and his arm falls from around you. You wipe your face off, sure that your mascara has run, and that you look a state.

"You had nothing to do with it," he repeats, "please stop crying, Mitchie."

You sniffle again, wiping at your cheeks and nod your head.

"Promise?" you ask, your voice so low you'd be surprised if he heard you at all, "about me hardly ever being at the house?"

"I swear," he holds up the sign for Scout Honour, making you laughing, but it turns sardonic.

"Everyone let's me down eventually," you confess, "but maybe I'll give you the benefit of the doubt."

There's a silence, in which Shane just hugs you closer to his side.

"You rest up tonight Mitchie," he orders after a moment, "and tomorrow, I'll take you out on our first real date or something." He winks at you, causing, as he's intended, you to laugh again. He sends you a small smile, before turning and walking out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

You without moving for a moment, before heading into the walk in closest, and searching through a drawer until you find an overly large t-shirt, and a pair of light sweats.

Changing into them, you wash your face clean of makeup and then crawl into the large queen sized bed, burying yourself under the duvet. Switching off the lights by clapping (Shane is so predictable), you close your eyes, and see Shane's face, winking at you, and strangely, it makes your heart flutter a little, just as you drift off to sleep.


"No way, it sucked," you laugh, as Shane comments on the supposed greatness of the movie you've just seen.

"Ah, come on," he argues, dumping his empty soda in the trash can, "it was a classic action."

You roll your eyes, drinking up the last of your Cola, and tossing it in the bin after Shane's. You may not have enjoyed the movie, but you have to admit, you did enjoy being out with Shane. He's funny, and he's sweet, and for a while he's made you forget everything.

"I'd take a romantic comedy, any day," you tell him, "or better yet, Lilo and Stitch." He blushes at that, stopping just beside the doors out onto the street, and holds your gaze.

"You love it too," he whispers, lowering his head so it is mere inches from yours, "don't pretend otherwise."

"Wouldn't dare to," you breathe out, before pushing open the door, and stepping into the street.

That, you realise, was a mistake.

"Shane, Shane!"

"Who's the girl Shane?"

"Smile for the cameras Shane!"

"Are you Shane Gray's girlfriend?"

Photographers are suddenly in your face, screaming things you can barely make out, and blinding you with flashes. You freeze, and you're sure you have the look of a rabbit caught in headlights, but you don't seem to be able to move an inch. One man, with the largest camera you have ever seen moves far too close to you for comfort, and leers in your face.

"What's your name, gorgeous?"

You fear he's going to move even closer to you, but then Shane is by your side, and has your hand in his, gripping you tightly.

"Get away from her," he orders, his voice low and commanding, and the guy backs away, but is quickly replaced by a large woman with a pad and pen.

"Darling, Georgina Farlow from HitzTV. Tell me, are you two dating?" she speaks in a nasally voice, and someone thrusts a microphone in front of your face.

"Come on, Mitchie," Shane pulls you forwards quickly, through the crowd of paparazzi, and towards the parking lot. His fingers stretch to entwine with yours, and you feel your face heat up with a blush.

"Shane," you whisper, your breathing heaving, as he speeds up, and breaks into a sprint. You reach the car quickly, and he locks the doors as soon as you are safely inside.

It's only when your own gasps settle, and you've spent a minute leaning on the back headrest of the seat before another flash goes off, capturing you through the wind shield. Shane quickly starts the engine, but as you glance in the rear view mirror, you can clearly see that the rest of the paparazzi has crowded around the bottom of the car, making it impossible for him to reverse.

"Shane," you repeat his name, a little panicked now. You don't like this, the claustrophobic feeling of not being able to get away from the cameras, the idea that you may be stuck in the car.

"One second, Mitch," he says softly, catching you off guard with the nickname Sierra used to use. You watch him closely, and he grips the steering wheel tightly, causing his muscles to tense under his t-shirt. He slowly lowers his foot down onto the accelerator, and the car engine revs loudly, three times. This, much to your surprise, actually causes all the photographers to back away.

"One time," he tells you, looking over his shoulder, reversing quickly, "I nearly knocked over some woman who was hounding me for an interview. They've been scarpering when I turn the car on ever since."

You nod, smiling slightly, as he turns onto the main road, away from the crowd, and starts to push the speed limit.

You drive in comfortable silence for another little while, before Shane pulls into the drive through of a fast food joint, and orders something to eat, tossing you your hamburger as he pulls into a parking space in the lot beside the restaurant.

"So, I was thinking," he says, swallowing a French fry, "I'd drop you over to Caitlyn's later. I called her this morning, and she's all for you staying over. She has clothes there, so you can change and after that episode back there," he motions wildly over his shoulder, "I don't think it would be best for anyone to see me bringing you home to stay. Eddie would kill us."

Smiling at him, you dig into your cheese burger, silently deciding Shane is your saving grace. Just yesterday you thought he hated you, and now here he was going out of his way to make sure you don't have to go back to that house.

You both eat in silence, before Shane turns the radio on, and suddenly the car is filled with a Connect 3 song. It's loud, and it's fast, and it's nowhere near as gorgeous as the song they were recording the first day you met Caitlyn, or the one Nate sang the night before. More than that, it's angry. You're not sure who it's aimed at, but you can guess.

"You never did get to sing," Shane has ignored his song on the radio, and is staring at you intently, "I'm kind of curious now."

Swallowing, you lick your lips, you're almost sure he's going to ask you to sing right now.

"I was wondering if you'd sing for me, some time, when you're ready," he asks politely. And he waits patiently when you don't answer. You've only ever sung for Sierra, and you barely know Shane at all.

Yet, he barely knows you, and he's done some of the nicest things that anyone has ever done for you.

"Sure," you find yourself agreeing, "just you though." Shane seems to contemplate this, staring out the windshield, chewing quietly.

"Just me," he agrees, "deal."


You find it difficult to remember why you agreed to sing for Shane, as you sit his living room later that day, with one of his many guitars perched on your lap. It gorgeous, the guitar he's lent you, and you can't help but run your hands over its shiny wooden body , and play the strings gently. Carved onto its neck is Caitlyn's name, in long cursive writing.

"She gave it to me," he tells you, setting two glasses down on the coffee table in front of you, "for my eighteenth birthday. I had it inscribed with her name the next day."

"It's beautiful," you tell him, "I've never seen anything like it before."

"You should see the rest of my collection. I've named them all after the people in my life that mean the most to me," he replies, lowering himself down onto the sofa opposite you. Tracing the name again, you smile lightly.

"So you have to have about twenty named Shane, right?" you laugh at his wounded expression, but you can see that he's not too hurt.

"No," he says, "just six." You roll your eyes at him, and he sticks his tongue out.

"No, seriously," he says, "I don't have any."

You roll your eyes, because you knew that already, you were only teasing. Plucking out a scale, you smile at the notes that echo around the room.

"Do you have one called Tess?"

The question is quiet, and mixes in with the guitar. Shane is silent for a moment, and again you're not sure he heard you. But then:

"Yes. I did," he tells you, and you feel your heart sink, "but then I threw it out the window. And Jason drove over it with his car."

You stop playing, and bite your lip, trying to bite back the laughter. You've decided, for whatever reason, to hate Tess as much as Shane does, so you find this particularly hilarious.

"You can laugh, Mitchie, it's funny."

You snort as he gives you permission, looking at him the whole time. His face, tanned with a hard jaw, is set, not showing a hint of sadness, or bitterness. He just looks like Shane.

You notice then, as you observe him, that he looks good in purple, which is the color of the t-shirt he is wearing, and his jeans, blue washed, suit him too. He looks so good, in fact, that it sets your heart racing, and you have to look away, cursing your damn hormones. Sure, this is the nicest a boy has ever been to you, but soon he's going to have to dump you eventually, so you'd better keep your feelings in check.

Choosing to distract yourself, and stop whatever you feel Shane is about to say, you begin to play the song on the guitar, and taking a deep, steadying breath, began to sing for someone other than Sierra for the very first time.

"I'm losing myself trying to compete, With everyone else instead of just being me. Don't know where to turn. I've been stuck in this routine. I need to change my ways, Instead of always being weak," you're singing softly, watching your fingers on the guitar, afraid to even glance at Shane, for fear your voice will choke. But you can feel his eyes on you as your voice, and your music fills the room.
"I don't wanna be afraid. I wanna wake up feeling beautiful today. And know that I'm okay, Cause everyone's perfect in unusual ways, So you see, I just wanna believe in me. La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la."
"The mirror can lie, Doesn't show you what's inside. And it, it can tell you you're full of life. It's amazing what you can hide, just by putting on a smile,"
this serves to take you back to the summer. The summer before this one, when you wrote this song, when everything went bad, and all you wanted was someone to hear you out.
"I don't wanna be afraid, I wanna wake up feeling beautiful today. And know that I'm okay
Cause everyone's perfect in unusual ways. So you see, I just wanna believe in me."
"I'm quickly finding out, I'm not about to break down, not today. I guess I always knew, That I had all the strength to make it through,"
you look up from the guitar, and the look on Shane's face almost stops you in your tracks. He is staring at you so intensely, like he is reading all your inner most thoughts, like he tell exactly why you wrote this song, and like he's seen all your dirty little secrets.
"And I'm not gonna be afraid,"
you belt out, blowing his look off his face, and replacing it with pure awe.
"I'm gonna wake up feeling beautiful today. And know that I'm okay, Cause everyone's perfect in unusual ways. So you see, now, now I believe in me. Now I believe in me,"
you whisper the last note, and strum out the last chord on the guitar gently.

Sitting silently, you watch Shane. His dark eyebrows are furrowed, and his hazel eyes are on you, hidden only by his floppy brown hair.

"Wow," he states, "you totally would've shown me up at Brown's." You give him a small smile, but you're still unsure about whether or not he means it.

"Mitch, seriously, that was amazing, the song, your voice," he tells you, standing, and stepping around the table to sit down beside you. You pass him the guitar as he holds out for it, and begins to strum the chords of the chorus, "god, your voice, Mitch. Mind blowing."

And there it is again, the nickname that makes your heart swell. And his tone, his demeanor, that makes your face turn red, and the blush spreads to your neck. You swear you even feel tears prick the corners of your eyes, but you blink them away furiously.

"Really?" you ask, and he nods, looking you in the eye, and making your skin tingle, and you believe him, just because he cannot possibly fake that sincerity.

"Want to tell me what it's about?" Shane asks, and you tense beside him. You've not talked about what happened then in months, bar writing the song, even then it was only to your guidance counselor, and you barely said anything, really.

"Maybe some other time," you tell him, and he leaves it at that, slowly repeating the chorus, over and over.

"That's cool. Have you got any more?"


"Thanks Shane," you call, "see you in the morning." You gesture to him, and he waves from the car, driving off and rolling up the window at the same time. You turn and look up at Caitlyn's apartment building. When Caitlyn turned sixteen, she bought herself an apartment in LA, close to Shane, Nate and Jason's houses, with money she had earned working on their albums. Her parents, who divorced at six, both owned huge fleets of cruise ships, and spent a lot of time on board their vessels, and were rarely at home. Shane even confided that he wasn't sure if they even knew Caitlyn was living in LA.

But, he told you, Caitlyn was very open about her past, and actually preferred people to understand about it, rather than whispering like she wasn't even in the room. She was, he said, happy in LA, at home by herself, and close to those she considered her real family. And it eliminated her having to fly out from Boston the entire time. In the end, it even served for Shane to finally realize what he'd been missing, being in his self-centered little world; his best friends were in love.

You reach the building's doorman, and he nods sharply at you. He then proceeds to point you in the direction of Caitlyn's apartment.

As the lifts open into her home (she lives in the penthouse, go figure), you hear Caitlyn's voice screech from somewhere close by.

And then they all come into view.

Caitlyn, along with four other girls, are in a pile on the floor, on top of what appears to be a twister mat. You notice that Caitlyn's hair is back to normal too. A nice honey brown.

"Caitlyn," one, a girl at the bottom, with long brown hair, splayed across the colored dots, whines, "that was your fault."

"Ella, sweetie, you were the one who moved when it wasn't your turn," a girl with light brown skin says pointedly, and pulls herself out of the mess. She straightens up, throwing her black ringlets over her shoulder, and holding out a hand each to the two other girls who you don't recognize. One has hair a light mouse brown color, that's so frizzy you have to consider it an afro, and the other has dark brown hair, wavy, that falls gently past her shoulder.

"Dude," the girl with the frizzy hair, her grey eyes suddenly on you, "we have a guest."

"Mitchie!" Caitlyn bolts from the floor, and careens forward towards you, knocking you backwards as she hugs you.

"Caitlyn," you wheeze, "hey."

"Don't 'hey' me," she scolds, as the other girls round on the two of us, so there is half on one side, and half on the other. It's rather intimidating, "what happened to you and Shane. Last time we talked, you two hated one another. The next thing I know, he's letting you stay in his house. He won't even let any of us stay in his house. He's afraid we'll kill his cat."

Ella, or the girl who assume is Ella, nods, this dreamy look on her face. Your eyes widen at Caitlyn though, and your mouth opens and closes like a fish.

"Oh calm down," Caitlyn laughs at your expression, "they all know. Dana is Eddie's niece, and Lola is one of Connect 3's dancers and back up vocalists, and Jason told Peggy who told Ella." You relax slightly, and send the girls a nervous smile. The girl who'd stood up first, with the black hair reaches out a hand to grasp yours, and shake it hard, "Peggy Dupree, nice to meet you Mitchie. We've heard a lot about you."

"Peggy is Sander's step sister," Caitlyn pipes up, "you met him at the wedding." You nod, and shoot her another grin. You liked Sander, and he was the first person to give you a glimpse of the real Shane.

"I'm Ella," her lips have stretched from ear to ear, and she gives you a genuine hug, quick and you don't have enough time to return it, but it was nice anyway.

"Lola," the girl with the grey eyes says, giving you a one hand greeting.

"Dana," says the other, the quiet, brown haired girl.

"Mitchie," you add.

"Right so, back to what Caitlyn was saying," Peggy orders, after a beat of awkward silence, "what is going on with you and Shane?"

Caitlyn snaps to attention again, and all five girls take a step closer to you, as you move backwards. Now though, they've got you cornered up against the elevator doors, and there's no where left to run.

"Nothing," you tell them, holding up your hands in surrender, "nothing happened. I was upset, so he said I could use his spare bedroom. Then we went to the theatre earlier, and I sang for him. That guitar you got him is crazy amazing Caitlyn-"

Their faces stop you in your monologue and you look between them all.


"Holy shit," Lola breathes out, and Ella's eyes widen even further.

"He let you use Caitlyn?" Peggy asks incredulously, and as you nod wearyingly, Caitlyn lets out a low, long whistle.

"That's really something," she whispers, watching you now, with this guarded, curious look, like she's trying to figure you out, "I mean, Mitchie, I knew you were special, especially after last night," she gets this cute little far away smile on her face as she says this, causing the other girls to giggle, and back off you slightly, "but, man, I never knew you'd get Shane to let you play his guitars."

"I know," Lola says, "if it wasn't for this whole fake relationship thing, I'd say they'd-"

"Exactly what I was thinking," Ella chimes in perkily, "they'd be cute too."

The five girls nodded simultaneously, scaring you a little bit, and then move towards the couch. It's only then that you really take in Caitlyn's apartment, and it takes your breath away. The living room is semi circle, and the whole curved part of the wall is made of glass, giving the whole penthouse a stunning view of the city below it. Lights shone from down in Los Angeles, twinkling like little stars. It makes you feel like you're on top of the world, watching the people down below living their lives.

"What do you mean?" you ask, breaking away from the view of the city, and turning back towards the girls, who are now sitting on the sofas, legs pulled up underneath them, watching you intently, "they'd be cute too?"

"You and Shane," Ella says, bouncing up and down in her seat, while you're sure the disgust is written all over your face, "you've both got the whole 'outrageously gorgeous, and dark and brooding musician' thing going on."

"Come on," you scoff, blushing deeply at her comments. "that's ridiculous. Shane doesn't even like me that much."

"He not only showed you Caitlyn, he let you play the damn guitar," the girl herself points out, and pats the couch beside her so you move to sit down, "he likes you Mitchie. Maybe as just a friend, but don't doubt that he likes you."

As you lower yourself down onto Caitlyn's couch Dana nods, the quiet girl who's yet to say much. But she has this look on her face like she's imploring you to listen. It's odd, so you choose to ignore it, and turn back to the other girls.

"That's not what's important anyway," you disregard completely what she's said, and honing in on Caitlyn, "let's talk you and Nate."

That, as you suspected, does the job, and all girls turn from you to Caitlyn, who's eyes are narrowed as she glares at you. You give her a sweet smile, and she shoves you gently.

"Thanks," she whispers, and you nod. You presume now that she must know, that Nate must've told her that the two of you wrote the song together, that you helped fix it up. She must know that it was you, too, who convinced him to get up on that stage at all.

"Any time," you say offhandedly, even though you know how much this meant to Caitlyn and Nate. You and Shane were talking, in between the two of you playing and exchanging songs, and he was telling you things about his life, and his friends' that you hadn't known before. Like the fact that Nate had actually asked Caitlyn out once before, when she was fifteen. But Shane said something happened, something he wasn't ready to tell you yet, that caused Caitlyn to say no. From then on, it'd be really awkward between the two of them, and even when they got back some sort of friendship, Shane knew his friend would never get up the nerve to ask again.

Until you came along.

"No seriously though Mitchie, maybe she'll stop going on about him all the time," Peggy laughs, causing Lola and Ella too as well.

"Hey!" Caitlyn protests, but she too is smiling.

"It's true, you'd talk about him constantly," teases Lola, and she squeals as Caitlyn chucks a pillow at her, "I'm happy for you though!"

"Yeah, yeah whatever," she laughs, curling up into the sofa, and smiling in that way that only people who are really happy do.

"Could you imagine," Ella stretches tired out now, and yawns deeply, her eyes closing, "if both Shane and Nate were happy with a girl. That'd be nice, after everything they've been through."

The other four girls nod, and you sit there, confused, but choose not to ask, because you know they won't tell you. All you know is, you find yourself agreeing with Ella. That it'd be nice if Shane had the chance to be happy with a girl.


"What the hell is my girlfriend wearing Caitlyn?" you open your eyes to the blistering sunlight as you lie out on Caitlyn's deck the next morning. The girl, it turned out, had the greatest collection of sunglasses you had ever seen, and you were currently wearing a pair she had lent you, that probably cost more than your entire wardrobe put together.

But somehow you don't think he's talking about them.

"So she's your girlfriend now, Shane?" Caitlyn's voice comes from the sun bed next to yours. The others left early, all with different appointments and appearances so you and Caitlyn had spent a lot of time out on her balcony, attempting to get a tan.

"She's as good as," Shane snaps, "Gellar, what is she wearing?" You kind of like how protective he sounds, even though you guess it's because the press would have a field day if they saw your current outfit.

"They're daisy dukes, Shane, with a bikini top. You know, like the song," you snort a little, and turn your head, to see Shane standing in the doorway into Caitlyn's apartment, in a pair of hugging jeans, and a tight t-shirt, glaring menacingly at his best friend.

"Yes, Caity, I know the song, I know that Katy too, incidentally. I'm asking you why Mitchie is wearing them, when I remember telling you to lend her clothes, not anything you bought at slutty-r-us," you can immediately tell that he's made a mistake by saying this, because Caitlyn's head turns and Shane, evidently scared of the look on her face, takes a step backwards.

"Are you calling my shorts slutty? Because I've worn them before. And you didn't seem to have a problem then," Shane takes another step back, before seemingly remembering why he was here at all.

"No, no, but Caity, I don't want to fight. I just came by because I think Mitchie needs to see this," Shane holds out something he's gotten from behind his back, causing Caitlyn to sit up, and throw a hand over her mouth. You're too far away to see exactly what it is, so you lean closer, but Shane has it hidden again before you can see it.

"Those assholes," she spits, standing up from her sun bed and marching towards Shane, holding out her hand as if she wants him to pass the object to her. The two of them face each other, and you can only see the back of Caitlyn's hair, but you can tell they're doing that weird thing that best friends do, having an conversation yet they're totally silent.

"I'll see you in a second Mitchie," she says suddenly, disappearing into her apartment, leaving you and Shane alone. You sit up too, on the sun bed, and he moves to sit beside you. You're not sure, but you think you spot him checking you out which makes you blush deeply under your sunglasses. Then you see the solemn look he is giving you and all thoughts of flattery disappear.

"What's up?"

"This morning," he starts, glancing out at the view of the city, avoiding your eyes, while he brings back around the secret he has hidden behind his back, for you to see that it's a magazine. And your face is on the cover, "I was out running with Nate, and we passed a stand, selling this tabloid trash. And we saw this, and I wanted to show it to you, before you saw it by yourself."

Glancing up at him, you take the paper which he's stretched out to you, and begin to read the headlines, aware that he is watching you, gauging your reaction.

Shane's Arm Candy of the Week… Not Up To Usual Standards?

You're flipping through the magazine before you know what you're doing, to the page that has a full spread of you and Shane, heads down, his hand gripping yours as you rush through the parking lot.

Yesterday morning, Pop Informer spotted superstar Shane Grey at the movies- but he was with a girl. The mystery teenager and Mr. Grey seemed to be out on a date, and the singer was very protective of his lady when they left to get into his car after the flick. No news yet on what they saw, but Pop Informer wonders if Shane has lowered his standards. After dating Tess for over a year and being linked with the likes of Sonny Munroe and Tawni Hart, this girl seems a little plain Jane to us. We'd even go as far as to say she's on the chubby side.

Good enough for the Shane Grey? We think not.

And as for you fan girls, you shouldn't worry. We give this a fortnight, tops.

You look back up at Shane, obnoxious tears in your eyes, as he watches you read. The moment he sees you're crying though, he leans forward, and wraps his arms around you.

"It's not true, Mitch," he whispers, resting his head in your hair, "they do this all the time. They take something and twist it into something it's not. And you're not chubby, or plain Jane. Plain Jane's don't sing like you do."

You bury your face into his neck, which smells oddly nice, and the tears continue to stream onto his shirt, even if that's possibly one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to you. He's pretty good at that, you realize.

It's not that you've never been called names before. You're very familiar with being called fat, or useless, or unworthy, but still it hurt. You don't like being called those things, you don't like the memories they resurface, and you don't want to feel the empty stabbing in your gut that you got the last time.

"Hey, Mitch," he rubs your back up and down, and talks in a soft soothing voice, that you haven't really heard since you and your mom started fighting. He sounds like he cares, which is a lot more than anyone else has done for a long time, "let's do something. With Nate and Caitlyn if you want to, or alone either. We can go see a film, go to the beach."

You mumble something into his neck and you know he doesn't hear you, but he nods anyway, and you've never been more grateful.

Lifting your head though, all the tears dried up, you decide to repeat your request, "I think, I'd really love to write a song with you."

Et voila. So Mitchie sang for Shane, and Shane alone :O And he liked it :O:O
But yeah, I really hope you enjoyed this. I wanted to introduce the last of the girls, so the real drama can begin next chapter.
Which, unfortunately, won't be for a while. I'm going to be busy for the next week, and the chapter will be a long one, so it'll take me a while to write. Be patient, and I promise you a good one :)
Can you see if we can get to 70 reviews this chapter? I'd really appreciate it. :)