Lovely.

"I am so mad at you," I declared once Chris had left the house. The three of us sat and talked for a bit before he decided that he was hungry and left to go get Taco Bell. I took that as an opportunity to confront Hannah.

"What are you talking about?" she questioned. I could tell she knew exactly what I was talking about, but I explained it to her anyway.

"How could you refrain from telling me that your older brother was Christofer Drew Ingle?!" I questioned skeptically.

She sighed. "To be honest... well, I wanted to make sure that you weren't just befriending me to get to my brother, you know? But it didn't take me long to realise that you're a true friend and that you like me for who I am as opposed to my last name. And when I found out my brother was coming, I figured that it was the perfect way for you to find out about everything, especially since you like him and all. So I kept it a surprise for as long as possible."

"Wow," I said, not knowing what else to say. "...But wait. How did you know I like him?"

"I've listened to music with you, and you have a lot of NSN songs," she smiled. "Well, that and the fact that he's the background on your iPod." I blushed.

"That's embarrassing," I replied. She just giggled.

"No, I'm sure he'll find it cute," she insisted.

"Well, I'm just gonna go change my background," I said, grabbing my iPod. "You know, so he doesn't assume I'm a fangirl/stalker."

I changed my background to a picture of Sam Bettley and his cute curly hair, and all was well in the world.

"Nice background," she laughed. "But if you don't mind, I think I'm going to go back to sleep. Ugh, it's not even light out yet. I don't even know how Chris is functioning at this hour, let alone getting Taco Bell."

"I second that notion," I said, curling up on the couch. "'Night, Hannah."

"Goodnight, Georgia," she replied. Soon after that exchange, I was asleep.

Thankfully, when I woke up, it was light out. However, I was shocked to find that my legs were in Chris's lap. He did not seemed shocked by this; he was just casually watching South Park and munching on pretzels.

"Must you always be eating something?" I questioned softly as I moved my feet. I had to stay quiet, for I noticed that Hannah was still fast asleep. He just chuckled.

"I guess so," he replied. "Did you sleep well?"

I shrugged. "Kind-of. But hey, you're not supposed to do much sleeping at a sleepover, anyway. Oh, and would you mind telling me how my feet ended up in your lap?"

He smirked. "You should really be asking yourself that question."

I raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"Well, the story starts like this," he explained. "After eating a burrito and writing some songs, I felt like watching some good old mind-numbing television. I noticed you were on the couch, so I moved your feet and sat down. But a few minutes later, you moved them back. It wasn't uncomfortable, so I just left them."

"Sorry about that," I said, blushing.

"Hey, you can't control what you do in your sleep," he said.

"Precisely," I replied. "So, what episode is this, anyway?"

"It's the one where Jimmy and Timmy go to that special summer camp and Towelie gets an intervention," he told me.

"Ooh, I haven't seen this one in a while," I responded, sitting up and moving the blanket to the floor.

And we watched South Park together as Hannah slept on the floor, getting along with each other better than I dreamed we would. We talked during commercial breaks, and I found that we had a lot in common. However, at the same time, we were very different people.

After a few episodes, though, he got up.

"I'm gonna go out for a smoke," he said, grabbing a pack of American Spirits from the end table that I hadn't even noticed before. "Want to come with me?"

"Sure," I smiled, getting up from the couch. I followed him to the front porch, and I watched him light a cig and take a drag, sighing in relief.

I suppose it didn't take long for him to realise that I didn't bring my own cigarettes.

"Hey, where are yours?" he asked after a minute. "You wanna bum one of mine?"

I just shook my head and smiled. "I don't smoke."

"Why?" he questioned. I shrugged.

"Well, there's always something you can do that's not smoking," I explained. "Like listening to music. Or reading. Or writing. Or calling up your best friend in the middle of the night to go for a 7-11 run. I know that people use smoking as a distraction or an escape, but I like to find other things to do with my time."

"I see," was all he said before inhaling more smoke. "So why'd you come out here with me, then?"

I shrugged. "I wanted to talk to you. And smoke doesn't really bother me, so... yeah."

"Cool," he smiled. "So where are you from, anyway? 'Cause I know that you're definitely not from here."

"Connecticut, originally," I sighed. "I still kinda miss it, but what can you do. Besides, if I never moved here, I would've never met Hannah."

"You and her are pretty close, huh?" he smiled. I nodded.

"I'd say," I replied. "She's my best friend."

"That's good," he said. "Something tells me that the feeling's mutual. But you probably already knew that."

"Indeed," I responded. "So, what brings you back here, anyway?"

"I needed a break from touring," he shrugged. "And I really missed my family and everything. I just... well, it's complicated."

"I've got time," I laughed.

"It's just that... all I ever wanted was to get out of this hell hole. Turns out I'm one of the few people who actually did. But when I left, I was so sure that it was what I wanted. Only now am I starting to realise that I don't know what the fuck I want. I think that what I needed was right here all along, not in some faraway, bustling city. I know I need to go back, 'cause touring is pretty much my job. But right now... I'm finally home."

"Wow," was all I could manage to say. And we kind-of just stared at each other awkwardly for ten seconds before I decided to lighten the mood.

"Yeah, who knew that a teen sensation could be so profound?" But that was the wrong thing to say, apparently, because he seemed to become visibly angry once I uttered my "mood-lightening" words.

"You know who I am?" he questioned. I soon realised that he was one of those people who sounded calm when they were angry and didn't shout at anyone. And those people, I noticed, were a lot scarier than ordinary people when they became upset.

"Yes," I replied warily. "You're Christofer Drew. Why is my knowledge of who you are making you upset?"

He shook his head. "I can't believe you. You got close to Hannah so you could get close to me. I can't fucking believe the lengths that fans will go..."

"Excuse me?" I replied, shocked. Now I was starting to get upset. "I didn't even know that you two were related until you poured a fucking bucket of cold water all over me. And if you refuse to believe a 'fan', you can ask Hannah, and she'll tell you the same thing. Don't give yourself so much fucking credit, asshole." His jaw dropped in shock, and I stormed inside the house.

I couldn't believe this guy. You know, just because I know who you are, that doesn't mean I'm going to go to the ends of the fucking earth to stalk you and get close to you. What a dillhole.

"Georgia, wait," he sighed, following me inside. "Look, I'm really sorry. I'm the biggest asshole ever, alright? I shouldn't have assumed that you were a crazy fan, but I kind-of have to keep my guard up now that I'm getting famous. I hope that you can understand that and forgive me."

I sighed. I was never one to hold grudges, and I suppose that he had a good reason for thinking the way that he did. So I turned around and smiled.

"Wow, you've really made quite an awful first impression," I laughed. "First the bucket of water, now accusing me of being a stalker fangirl..."

"Why don't we start over?" he suggested.

"That's not a bad idea. Okay, so hi. I'm Georgia."

"I'm Chris. It's nice to meet you." He stuck out his hand, and I shook my head.

"Handshakes are for businessmen and boring people." He rolled his eyes playfully and gave me a hug, and I grinned.

"Now that's a first impression."