He Wrote it on a Napkin (Epilogue), an Austin & Ally fiction
I do not own Austin & Ally. This is a partly an epilogue for this story, but it is also a prologue for the sequel, She Wrote it on a Red Notebook. Keep an eye out for it, and remember to review and request. (By the way, once I get the song done, I will put the link in the new story!)
He wants to tell the world. The whole wide world, even the people he doesn't know. He wants to go up to them and be all, 'Hello, have you met my girlfriend Ally Dawson?' just so he can brag about how he's finally got her.
Except there's a catch.
Because how fun would life be if everything just cam ever so easily to him?
He'd say very, but he knows it's not the right answer. Even if it should be.
"We cannot tell anybody about this," she says as she pulls away a second time.
"Not even Dez and Trish? They're our best friends." He places his hands around her waist. Dez and Trish are long gone. But they could be right here, in this room, and he would like to think that his hands would be in this very spot, and that neither of them would make a particular fuss about it.
"Remember when we thought they were going out? How awkward it would have been if they were and we were always tagging along? I don't want them to feel that way." She runs a finger up his chest. "That isn't to say I don't want to go out with you."
She does, more than he knows. If anything, these past three days have only confirmed it.
"Are you suggesting that we go out behind their backs?" he asks, tightening his grip on her. At this point, he'll take all he can get. It's not like this secret would be a permanent thing, right? He promised Dez he'd be the best man at his wedding.
He is not going to elope with her. There is going to be a big ceremony, and an even bigger after party, with miniature hotdogs and a DJ who plays everything from top 40s to Motown.
Okay, he needs to focus on the present. Because at present, she's nodding her head in agreement.
"For now. Is that alright with you?"
"Yeah, it's alright."
It's not ideal, but it'll do for now.
They seal the deal with a kiss.
(the page breaks here)
If he stares at her any harder, there will be a hole in her head by lunch. Which would not be good, because they've been dating for a whole twelve hours, and he'd like the perfect relationship not to end because her brains bleed out.
Having a zombie bride may be a great premise for the movies. For real life, he'd like to stick with real live Ally.
"Hey buddy. Say anything to you know who yet?" Dez sets his backpack on the counter.
He doesn't want to lie to him. He's his best friend. He shouldn't lie to him.
"Shh, it's a secret. Remember?" he whispers. It's not an outright lie. It is a secret.
Not a secret that he has a crush, but that his crush agreed to be his girlfriend. Minor details.
"Why do you keep staring at Ally?" Trish asks.
Dear Cupid. Here he had thought that they were finally on the same side now that they got together. Turns out he was wrong. Otherwise he wouldn't be throwing all of these questions at him, making it hard to keep this a secret.
He blinks. "I was not staring at her."
"Yes, you were."
"I was staring in her direction. I didn't get a lot of sleep last night."
This is true. He had gotten home later than usual. When he had stripped down to his pajamas he didn't even both to pull down the covers. He simply fell back and stared at the ceiling, replaying the scene in his head. Forwards. Slow motion. Fast motion. Backwards.
He didn't like backwards too much. It made him go from happy to nervous. Not nervous to 'gee golly gosh I feel ever so happy.'
He was so wound up, even his thoughts weren't making sense. Gee golly gosh?
Yeah, because that didn't make him sound like an eight year old Girl Scout who had just sold a dozen boxes of cookies to some stranger.
"Austin. Are you with us?" He comes back to the present.
"I'm here, sorry. I was just thinking about Girl Scout cookies. I am so hungry."
She checks the time. He had come over early this morning to have breakfast with her. Now, it's six hours later. He stomach rumbles in agreement.
"Which one do you want? I've got Thin Mints, Caramel deLites, Savannah Smiles. Oh, and my personal favorite, Tagalongs." He rips the package open and stuffs a cookie in each of his cheeks. He kind of looks like a chipmunk. "Well?"
Trish wipes the cookie spew off her cheek.
"You dimbecile. You just got cookie all over me." She reaches for a napkin.
There isn't one. It's in his drawer at home, covered in lyrics.
"Dimbecile?" Ally asks.
"It's a combination of dim and imbecile. I was running out of ways to insult him."
"Oh." She decides to take a cookie.
His hand brushes against hers. His thumb greets the back of her hand with a rub. Trish has gone upstairs to wash the Dez spit off her face, and he's too busy shoving more cookies in his mouth. Nobody notices how long it takes for him to pick a cookie.
Nobody except Ally.
(the page breaks here)
They're up in the practice room. According to their friends, they're working on writing a song.
Neither of them bother to correct them.
Trish leaves for her new job at the toy store. He thanks Cupid that Trish wasn't there when they were getting 'inspired' for his love song. That could've made things awkward. Nobody likes to be the third wheel.
He thinks he understands why Ally doesn't want them to find out about their relationship.
The word still makes his heart leap.
(the page breaks here)
When she gets home that night, Ally finds herself humming his song. As she changes into her pajamas, a thought comes to her.
There's four days until school starts up again. This gives her three days to write him a song back. Something that shows him just how much she does love him, even if she isn't ready to let everyone else know.
She throws her clothes in the hamper.
Yes, she's going to do it. She's going to surprise him with a response song, and he's going to hold back his tears, just like she did.
She crawls under the covers.
She'll start tomorrow.