That Girl

“Brendon’s angry.” Ryan said the next afternoon, falling into step with me as we walked from the hotel room that the two members were sharing.

“He has every right to be.” I exhaled, swinging my foot to kick the carpet as if there were a stray pebble among the polyester. I kept my hands shoved in my hoodie’s pockets. “I really should’ve told him and Spencer about everything.”

Ryan didn’t respond, probably not having anything to say. We walked in silence for a few beats before reaching the door to the stairs. I twisted the handle and pulled back the heavy door slipping through just after Ryan.

“Hey Ry?” My voice echoed in the stairwell.

“Yeah?” He responded, turning as we reached the bottom of story seven.

“What do you think of Alex?”

“I don’t know if you really want me to answer that, Stella. He said some really nasty things to you.” Ryan said with a sad smile.

“Yeah, he did.” I agreed, mirroring his smile, “I just, he feels so bad, Ry. He even apologized, and he never does that.”

“I don’t know him well enough to make that decision.” Ryan bit his lip, “But Stella.”

“Hm?”

“Nobody should be treated like that.” I whirled around on the stairs in an almost involuntary reaction, Ryan crashing into me and nearly sending us toppling down the last dozen steps. In a blur, he had his arm around my waist and his other hand clutching the hand rail. There was a brief pause: my breathing increased in tempo, and I found my hands fisting his white tee shirt. He let out a sigh and I felt him lean his head against mine.

“Thanks, Ry.” I breathed.

He chuckled mutely, tightening his grip around my waist, “Yeah, it’s all good, Katherine.”

I smiled against his shirt, “My middle name is off-limits, Ry.”

“But you use mine all the time.” He retorted easily.

“That’s because George is such a square name. Kind of bland for a rock star, don’t you think?”

“I guess.” He conceded pressing his lips against my forehead, “Let’s try this again, without you trying to snap both of our necks in half.”

I nodded, swallowing the thickness in my throat before continuing the venture down the stairs.

*.*.*

The Gaskarth ceiling was very interesting.

Okay, maybe not, but it made a good pallet for thinking, for deliberating over the situation I was in.

Priority number one was Brendon.

Okay, maybe not, but he was important, and I had to deal with this issue sooner rather than later, because Brendon hated apologies via phone calls and they would be leaving at the end of the week. The cold metal of my phone slowly grew warm as I rested it on my forehead. Itching my nose, I pondered how I should word my apology.

There was a knock on the already-opened door. “Stella?”

I looked to the side, nodding my head at Rian as he padded across the floorboards and plopped heavily on the mattress. The force caused me to bounce a bit.

“Where’s Kara?” I asked nonchalantly, reaching my hand up to pluck my Razor off of my forehead and plop it down onto my stomach with a hollow plunk.

“She’s out getting some community service hours with Jeannie.” He said with a small smile, “Why didn’t you go with them?”

I let out a heavy sigh. Rian, of course, blinded me with his casual smile as he blinked rapidly, probably an attempt to bat his eyelashes.

The boy was strange.

“I’m thinking.” I told him, returning my gaze to the ceiling.

“What about?”

“Everything?”

“Really? So how are the gas prices in Egypt right now?”

I shot him a look, to which he continued to grin widely, as if he were all innocent.

“Okay, I’m thinking about a lot, then.”

“Like what?”

“Well, there was the argument with Brendon,” I vented, “I need to say sorry pretty soon because Brendon hates it when people don’t apologize to his face. Besides, he was right. I have been a bitch these past few weeks. To him and the guys. I mean, God, I should've told them everything from the start." I sat up, running a hand through my hair. There was a brief pause, and I deliberated whether or not to add onto those words. I bit the edge of my thumb, furrowing my eyebrows, "and you guys too, huh?"

"Probably." Rian's smile wavered a little bit and sent me a clear message.

"Yeah, that was a dumb question, I know."

*.*.*

"How do I approach this, Jean?" I paced, much as Alex had before. The thought stopped my in my tracks, and my anxiety translated into the incessant bouncing of my leg as I plopped down in the spinning desk chair. Jeannie chuckled.

"Easy, you walk up to his door," Jeannie mocked it out, walking out of my room only to come back in two paces later, "wrench it open, thunder over to startled Alex," She walked over to me, throwing me off for a good moment as she grabbed two fistfuls of my baggy NYU sweatshirt, "grab him by his shirt, and plant one on him."

Lucky for me, she didn't feel the need to act that bit out on me, and I was thankful.

"Let's... not." I finished lamely, "When will you idiots accept that Alex and I aren't some cliche bit of some moron's figment of imagination?"

"The moment it ceases to be true!" Jeannie exclaimed without missing a beat.

I deadpanned, my stare so nonplussed that she started grinning like a lunatic. "So you think we're ink on paper?" I asked rhetorically.

"No," She shook her head before looking to my window, striking a dramatic pose as she serenaded the neighbor's tree, "We're virtual!"

I rolled my eyes, grabbing her sleeve and dragging her across the room as she stumbled before shoving her at my duvet. "Stop. Now."

"Go serenade you're housemate. Now." She mocked.

I rolled my eyes again, before hauling myself out of the chair and out of the room.

"Can I film it?" She called out the door frame. I didn't spare her a glance.

"No."

When I reached his door, I was suddenly hit with a wave of panic.

I wasn’t prepared for this; what was I thinking?! I couldn’t just strut into his room and go: Oh, hey Alex. I overheard your conversation and changed my mind- let’s go to Prom together!

It didn’t work like that. This had to be planned; I had to approach this with the utmost subtlety-

“Stella?”

Slowly, I looked up from the floor, the hand that was poised to knock on his bedroom door falling awkwardly to stuff itself in my jean pockets. I cleared my throat. “Hey.”

“Hey.” He echoed, slinging his backpack over his shoulder with his eyebrow quirking up to disappear under his hair. “What’s up?”

“I just- well,” I cleared my throat, “I kind of thought about what you said, on Saturday, I mean, and, uh, I figured I was being harsh and-.” I stopped myself right there as his lip curved in a half-smile, “You’re right. We should work out all of the tension-,” He blinked at the phrase, his smile falling as his eyes glazed over for a moment, but I rushed to get the words out, “-and stuff between us. And Jeannie wants me to wear a stupid dress, so if you’re still up for it,” I coughed, “Prom sounds like it’d be… nice.”