RockStars in Love [COMPLETED]

RockStars in Love Chapter Three

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ROCKSTARS IN LOVE

Chapter Three

          I wake up, at five in the morning, after a very fitful sleep. I get out of bed and tip-toe to the closet, picking out some shorts and a t-shirt. I walk back out, and take a lukewarm shower in the bathroom. I wrap myself in a towel, and the door opens.

          "Oh, shit! Sorry!" Ryan says, shutting the door quickly. What's he doing up at six? I get dressed, and leave my hair down, it's still wet. I walk out and sit on the couch.

          "Bathroom's all yours," I say to a shirtless Ryan. He has a six pack. Even his back looks sexy. Wait! He does have a tattoo on his left side. It's in Chinese.

          "Hey, I didn't know you had a tattoo!" I say, acting like I had no idea.

          "Yeah...," he trails off.

          "What does it say?" I ask.

          "Uh...I don't...know," he says. 

          "Ryan, you're a horrible liar," I say, and he walks into the bathroom, shutting the door. I turn on the TV, and it's a news report on our tour.

          "Two of the biggest teen music artists, Delainey King, and Cheer Up, Kid, are now on tour together! These shows are expected to be a big hit, the first show, in Texas, is supposed to be a big hit. It's already sold out, and it's not until next week. It is reported that Delainey and lead singer, Ryan Lewis, used to be really good friends, along with the rest of the band," the news reporter said, "I wonder why they don't act like they know each other now?"

          "Because Ryan fucked everything up, and he's sorry," Ryan says, walking past me.

          "Yeah, you did," I say, smiling.

          "I'm sorry, Laney," he says, his blue eyes pleading.

          "I know you are, you've mentioned it a few times."

          He sighs and sits down beside me.

          "You are so stubborn, Lainey-Loo," he says, using my childhood nickname.

          "Things will never be the same, but I don't want to hate you," I say, "Friends?"

          "Friends," he smiles.

          "Since when do you get up at six in the morning, Ry-Ry?" I ask, using his nickname.

          "Since the really pretty girl, who used to be my best friend and sleeps above me wakes up at five!" he says, chuckling.

          "You're not a light sleeper, Ryan," I say.

          "Yeah, but you are, I just couldn't sleep," he says.

          "Why's that?" I ask.

          "I'd...rather...not say," he says, nervously.

          "I see," I say quietly, and turn my attention back to the TV, and flip it to MTV, and it's one of my music videos.

          "I like that outfit!" Ryan laughs. I was wearing a dress that barely covered my hips and the sides were cut out.

          "Oh you do?" I ask, sarcastically.

          "Yeah, I do. What do you call it? Barely there?" he laughs.

          "Oh, I see, you got jokes! Let's change the channel, to the 'Cheer Up, Kid Marathon'. Let's count how many times your shirt is off!" I say, flipping the channel.

          "One... two...three...," I start counting.

          "You like that, huh?" he asks.

          "You made fun of my clothes!" I say, defending myself.

          "But I asked if you liked it," he whispers, his breath warm on my face.

          "I...don't know, Ryan, you're my best friend, what am I supposed to think?" I ask. My stomach growls audibly. 

          "Oh! I am SO making you breakfast! We invented this sandwich to combine lunch and breakfast, because we don't normally get up until later, and we wanted lunch and breakfast, but not in two meals, you know?" he asks, and I nod. He pulls out random foods, and I smile, he still loves cooking.

          He brings me a sandwich. I inspect it. He sits down beside me, and takes a bit of his.

          "What is in it?" I ask.

          "Just eat it, and then I'll tell you." I take a small bite. It's not...bad. But it's not...good.

          "It's peanut butter and jelly, and then Captain Crunch cereal," he grins.

          "It's...different," I say.

          "You hate peanut butter, I forgot," his face falls.

          "It's okay," I say, "Do I have to eat it?"

          "No," he chuckles, and I give him my sandwich. I get up and make myself an omelet, and down it in five bites.

          "It'll do us some good to have you here," he says.

          "Why?"

          "You can cook," he says, smiling.

          "So can you," I say.

          "No, I LIKE cooking, but I CAN'T cook," he laughs.