Scomiche - Secret Diary of a Fangirl

8. Confusion

I DID IT!

If you can't tell I'm rather proud of myself. I've finally finished an epic story, complete with shamelessly explicit dirtiness. What can I say, I was inspired.

Ok, the truth is Scott had a music video shoot that wrapped a couple of days ago, and boy were the long hours worth it. God, he's gorgeous. I've watched him do it so many times but it still boggles my mind how he can go from goofy teddy bear to smoldering sex machine in a microsecond. I wish I could give David the deets, or at least a warning to buy an inhaler so he doesn't die when the video is released, but alas... Maybe I'll send him a defibrillator for his birthday. He's gonna need it.

What I CAN do is post this spectacular ending to Knights and wait for all of the comments to roll in. Well, I would if Wattpad would STOP being stupid.... Jeez it takes about 30 times to get the thing formatted properly but finally I can hit Publish and move on with my life.

Yay me. I shall reward myself with food.

"Mitchy, what rhymes with fear!?"

It's the first time he's spoken in almost an hour and I really can't stop myself when I stare for a second before I answer. He's laid across the couch, glasses slipped to the tip of his nose. He's got his notebook out, tapping the eraser on the page as he tries to think. He's got pencil smudges on his cheeks and looks like everything you could ever dream of. I know I should take my laptop elsewhere, he's ridiculously distracting, but I'm drawn to him as always and I'm currently draped sideways over a nearby loveseat. And yes I wrote smut about him while he's there in the same room. You look at him and tell me you don't get inspired.

"Um... near, beer, queer, steer, here, boutonnière"

"keep going...."

"austere, clear, smear, belvedere, sincere, ooo bandolier."

I think my legs have fallen asleep, and food is definitely on the list of immediate needs, but the room service menu is across the room and I whine a little at the thought of having to move. The rumble of my stomach is more important than my laziness so I get up with a sigh and stretch my arms over my head.

He's laughing and my eyes meet his.

"Not quite what I had in mind."

"Hey, you didn't ask for specifics. What are you writing anyway?"

He scribbles out whatever line he'd just written and quickly closes his notebook as I approach.

"Nothing.."

"Come onnnnn. You never let me read your lyrics until you've let like 100 other people read them first. What's the use of being friends with you if I don't even get any perks." I mean, honestly. It's only fair.

He blushes a little and I raise an eyebrow. "So secretive."

"Fine. I'll show you if you show me why you're always on the computer? You don't have any social media accounts but I know I've seen some twitter notifications on your phone. You spend more time on that thing than you do with me."

Playing hardball. Fine.

"Maybe I'm secretly a Scott Hoying fan account." I smirk and he shoots me a look before rolling his eyes. Can't say I never told him :)

"I'll share when you share."

"Oh, while I'm thinking about it ...you have a fitting for the Grammys tomorrow and Jonathan wanted to know who you're bringing to the show so he can get tickets and things nailed down. I didn't know if you wanted to take Cameron or...whatever... so I just told him I'd have you call him."