"Love is Like A Glass Door..."

Nick's Pov

Using Kevin's laptop, I snuggled into the corner of the couch and clicked onto Notepad. After a couple of minutes of racking my brain for a specific emotion, then trying to hide the stupid smile creeping across my face, my fingers sped across the keyboard. We were in the den, now. Somewhere behind me the fireplace crackled as the embers burned inside. It being late October, it was really cold in Paris.

The room had a cozy feel to it. The carpet was a reddish color and it was plush and thick. The couches were soft and sort of saggy. A bulky coffee table with lion's toes was placed between them. The walls were covered with wooden panels and above that was soft green wallpaper. Okay, so it was a little mismatched, but it was the perfect place to try and think up some lyrics.

Kevin warmed his feet by the fireplace and Joe sat across from me in a blue recliner. It was completely quiet, with the exception of me tapping the keys and the fire burning, as they waited for me to finish typing some lyrics to jump start it for a song.

After ten minutes of typing, backspacing, and typing again the verses, Kevin spoke up.

"What do you have so far?"

I looked it over, exempting the lines that I didn't like but still hadn't deleted yet. "The refrain."

Joe handed over one of my guitars; the cherry red Gibson that he'd been tinkering around with while I had been typing. "Try it out."

Putting the laptop down and strapping the guitar on, I played it.

"At least she’s here with me
She even haunts me in my sleep
She’s everywhere I go
And I wouldn’t have it no
Other way

Joe nodded thoughtfully. "Sounds good so far."

Kevin cooed, "Aww, is this about your cute little miniature girlfriend?"

I felt my face heat up. "What? Penn? Err-uh-um.... No?"

Kevin giggled. "Shut it," I muttered, trying hard to wipe the smile away.

"Nick and Penn sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g."

"Aww, Nick, don't feel bad. She's a pretty girl."

Involuntarily, a picture of her flashed in my mind. She had cute freckles, and big, green eyes and dark, shoulder-length red hair that she tucked behind her ears whenever she got excited about something.

"Aha, you're blushing again!"

"Shut up," I whined while I felt the blush tickle my face.

Kevin walked over and picked the laptop off of the floor, settling himself down in Joe's recliner. "What about the rest of this?" he asked, referring to the other lyrics.

"I thought they sucked, so they don't count."

"No they don't," he encouraged. "Come on, play the rest of it."

"Um, okay..."

He handed me back the computer and I played the other lyrics.

" Summer nights in the city,
Memories fade in my wake

I hold them close to my heart
But I still feel the ache.
I still feel the ache…

I’m coming home, believe it,
I’m never gonna stay
Things have never seem so lonely
‘Caus I’m so far away,
Yeah I’m so far away…

When I typed that up, I had been talking about those times when we were in California. Needless to say, I'm homesick every time we're there. I sang the last of the lyrics. These were a bit out of order.

"It’s raining here in California
And fires storm the beach"

"The fireflies litter the skies
Too far up high to reach"

Joe spoke up. "I think we should call it 'No Other Way'. You know, "And I wouldn't have it no other way?"

It was unanimous. The first song of our coming soon album would be 'No Other Way'. I liked the way it sounded.

Kevin propped the recliner up. "Well, I liked it. Let's go with those lyrics and finish it up tomorrow."

I nod, and remove the guitar from my shoulder. As I hoisted myself up from the saggy couch, the distant sound of the front doorbell ringing reached us.

"Right on time," Kevin said.

"So Joe, what did you get anyway?"
---

Kevin's Pov

I won't try and tell you about what happened when the delivery girl came. A couple of excited squeals, an autograph signed, blah, blah, blah...

Well, as soon as the Styrofoam containers hit the kitchen table, we dug right in. The odoriferous, fishy smell dominated the room.

Nick read note on the lid of one of the Styrofoam lids. "Bass sashimi, medium."

We got out the plates and some glasses, and Joe got out of the fridge lemonade mom made this morning. I brought out the forks and my chopsticks. I was the seafood eater in the family.

Pouring a tall glass of lemonade in the frost-glass cup, I sat down and helped myself to a generous amount of bass.

Now, out of the three of us, Joe and I liked to try different types of foods. I especially liked to eat the exotic kind.

A little bit of info: Sashimi is sort of like sushi, except it supposedly healthier. Sushi has a lot of vinegar in the rice, while sashimi is basically raw fish with a dip.

"It's from this restaurant whose specialty is Thai food. I've done my research," Joe said as he stuffed a load of bass in his mouth.

"So," I said, "about Penn..." I smirked as Nick blushed.

"She's short as hell," I commented.

"Get over it," he grinned. "We're not that much taller."

"Yeah, but she's shorter than short," Joe teased.

"Look who's talking."

"Screw it," I laughed. "We're all short."

"Amen." And we clanged our glasses together in a mock- toast.

"I blame those Japanese and their so-called good-for-you Omega G!" We all laughed at Joe's silly outburst.

I expertly peeled back a strip of the white flesh from the fish with my chopsticks and dunked it into the sauce before popping it in my mouth. There wasn't much of it, but it had an enticing spicy flavor.

We went on, talking about this Penny girl, to Nick's annoyance. We talked about what kind of music she liked, what she was like... Nick blushed till kingdom come.

After we finished the bass, Joe ceremoniously placed the fortune cookies onto the table. "Pick one, any one," he said challengingly.

I picked the one in the middle. We each cracked open our fortune cookies and read the message before eating them.

"What did yours say?" I asked Joe.

"Uh..." he picked it back up and studied it. "Speak not words from the mind, but poetry from the heart."

"What about you, Nick?"

He read it. "Do not eat any type of fish or shellfish for the next few weeks. -Wait, what?!" Joe and I laughed while Nick puzzled his message over.

"Ironic," Joe laughed.

"What does yours say?"

I looked at mine. It said two words. "Expect surprises." Hmm.

I blinked a while and furrowed my brow as I crammed the strip of paper into my pocket. The message in my fortune cookie had really gotten to me. What kind of surprises did it mean good ones or bad?

That night, I tossed and turned in my bed. I couldn't sleep; too much was on my mind.

I grunted and with difficulty searched for the lamp next to my right. It was around 2 in the morning. Mom and dad, along with Frankie, had come home around 11:00. They had gone sightseeing far out of town.

Anyway, I flicked on the lamp and attempted to disentangle myself from the covers. There was no hope for me to rest. Instead, I would read a little.

I wiggled towards the edge of my bed and stuck my arm underneath it. When my fingers touched a cardboard texture, I pulled the box out. Joe had porn under his bed, and I had poetry.

Poetry was my way to escape the mind. It tangled me in its mirth and I got lost in the stanzas.

When I was a kid, I used to write poems non-stop and try and turn them into songs. Well, the songs turned out like crap so I stayed content with just reading poems. I still write some, though.

I like to read the multiple works of Emily Dickinson, and also some Shakespeare. I also like "A Light in the Attic" and "Where the Sidewalk Ends".

The only poetry collections that I brought with me to Paris are some hard-core Shakespeare and "A Light in the Attic".

I decided to go with the large Shakespeare volume. Opening the lid of the cardboard box, I pulled the book out and sat upright so I could read it with it in my lap.

It was a little after 3 in the morning when I dozed off, the volume lightly clutched in my hand. I fell into a disjointed sleep.