If you were a crayon, what color would you be?

I look up from the sheet of paper in front of me and frown when no one else seems the least bit disturbed by the line of questioning.

Teeny bopper magazines ask the dumbest fucking questions.

I mean, why not ask me the hard hitting shit. For example, Why can’t you face a problem? If an ex-boyfriend tells you he’s still in love with you, what’s the proper way to react?

You know.. Just, a question that actually means something. But then again, if those really were the questions, I’d probably leave the answer space blank.

I guess I need to get used to this crap again. At the moment, the band and I have the number one album in the country, and we’re roughly a week away from beginning our headlining tour.

30 cities in 65 days.

And for some reason, the thought of touring again makes me more nervous than any of the rest of this has. Granted, it’s what I want to do, I’m just… scared. The tour is like, the final sign that all of this is real. That it’s actually working out. Provided I don’t manage to screw it up somewhere along the line.

Which, the way things are going, is probably inevitable.

I don’t know how, but I’ve managed to completely avoid Justin for close to three weeks now, and I’ve gotta say, I’m pretty proud of myself for that. Call me crazy, but it seems like life is so much simpler when he’s not around.

The only problem is, I kind of miss seeing his stupid face everyday.

I jump slightly when I feel a swift kick to my shin, and look up to find Lucas smirking at me.

“What the hell was that for?”

“I’ve been saying your name for the last five minutes and you weren’t answering.” He shrugs. “And there’s no possible way that you’re that engrossed in this nonsense.” He rolls his eyes as he waves his paper in my face.

“What color crayon I’d be happens to be very thought provoking.”

“Right. So is describing my ideal date.” He snorts. “Actually, speaking of which… you got anything going on tonight?”

“I don’t know… do I?”

“I figured we could go out.” He shrugs, shredding the edges of his paper.

“What… like a… like a date?”

“Well… yeah.” He chuckles and rolls his eyes. “As the boyfriend, isn’t it kind of my job to actually quote-un-quote, date you?”

Huh.

Now that’s interesting.

Not once in the months since we started this… thing, has Lucas made any attempt to put a label on whatever the hell it is that we’re doing here. Until now. And why he’s suddenly all gung-ho about trying to be a real boyfriend, is beyond me.

But, gotta admit… I kinda like it.

“Umm… alright then. What’d you have in mind?”

“I don’t know… dinner, I guess? Isn’t that what a normal date would entail?”

“Right.” I laugh and roll my eyes. “Fine, we’ll grab dinner.”

“C’mon now… at least show some enthusiasm. I’ve got an ego to protect, ya know.”

“You’re a jackass.” I giggle when he smirks at me before returning his attention back to the sheet of questions in front of him.

*************************************

I am on a date. With Lucas. My boyfriend.

Somehow, those words just sound strange together. And, believe it or not, I can’t even remember the last time someone took me on an actual date.

Justin never took me on a date. Well… we never called the times we went out, dates. So who knows.

And really…. Who sets the standard for what a date actually is? I mean… wouldn’t it be two people just going out together?

Why does it even have to have a label on it? I don’t understand how calling something a date suddenly puts all this pressure on it and makes it such a big fucking deal.

And ok yes, I’m babbling and I’m nervous as shit.

“Soo….” He drawls out and clears his throat. “Me and Benny finally worked out the final set list for the tour.”

“Oh? Good.” I nod awkwardly. “Glad that’s out of the way.”

“Yeah. Should be a pretty decent show.”

“Definitely.”

This shouldn’t be this fucking weird.

I don’t know why, but suddenly, it’s like I have no idea how to talk to him. I feel like it’s the first time we met, and we were just thrown together with absolutely nothing to talk about.

I can only imagine that this is probably how most blind dates go.

“So… got a question for you.”

“Shoot.” I mutter, browsing through my menu.

“What was going on a couple weeks ago… at the radio station?”

Radio station….radio station…

What the hell is he talking about?

“Huh?”

“The one in Chicago. You took off, and when I found you, you were with Justin.”

Oh.

The way I see it, I’ve got two options here.

I can tell him the god’s honest truth. That, while I do care about him, I still have… something, for Justin, that Justin’s always going to be in the back of my mind, no matter who I’m with. That I’m not entirely sure how this thing with us is going to work out.

Or, I can lie my ass off.

“I really don’t remember.” I shrug, not missing the look of complete and utter doubt in his eyes.

“Justin seemed kinda… weird, when I found you guys.”

“Yeah, well… Justin’s weird. That goes without saying.”

“Madison…” He sighs and shakes his head. “Ya know… it’s one thing to lie to me… but you’re fucking lying to yourself too. I’m not sure which one’s worse.”

“What? Lucas, I’m… I’m not…”

He digs an object out of the pocket of his hooded sweatshirt and tosses it down on the table, a deep frown set on his face.

Shit.

I am in so much fucking trouble right now, it’s not even funny. I honestly don’t know how the hell he found it, but he did, and now I’m fucked three ways from Sunday.

“Let’s see what we have here, shall we?” He glares at me and I swallow hard.

This is not going to be pretty.

He rips the cover of the notebook open and flips through several pages before stopping.

“All I ever wanted, was a simple way to get over you. All I ever wanted was an in between, to escape this desperate scene, where every lie reveals the truth, baby cause all I ever wanted was you.” He recites the words, my words, my thoughts, and all I can do is sit here. “Wanna tell me who that one’s about?”

I shrug and divert my eyes to the floor. I really, really don’t want to do this with him. Not here, not now, not ever.

“Gotta admit… I really loved this one.” He laughs bitterly and rolls his eyes. “What happened to the man who used to take me straight into misery, I want you back and now I must admit, it shames me. Cause once I ran away. I’ve loved you since the day I broke your heart.”

“They’re just songs Lucas.” I mutter pathetically, not fully believing the words myself.

“No Madison… they’re the fucking truth. Maybe I shouldn’t have gone through your shit… but I needed some kind of proof. I’m not an idiot ya know. You’re fucking obsessed with him… and either you can’t admit it, or don’t realize it. It’s all right here, in your god damned notebook.”

“You don’t even know when I wrote them.”

Yeah, I’m grasping at straws here. What the hell else am I supposed to do?

“Yeah I do.” He sighs. “I bought you this notebook. A month ago.”

And there it is.

I’m completely and totally busted. And I don’t have a damn thing to say for myself.

“Madison… I can’t… I can’t do this with you anymore. I tried, ya know… I really fucking tried to ignore it. I tried to convince myself it wasn’t real. I can’t keep playing the fucking idiot here.”

“I didn’t cheat on you.”

“Maybe not physically.” He shrugs. “And really… I’m not sure you can call it cheating. I never had you to begin with.”

I let those words sink in and take a deep breath.

He’s right.

He’s been in this alone from day one.

No matter how much I tried to convince myself, I never gave up on Justin. I didn’t even do a good job of hiding it. It’s been clear as fucking day from the get go, and somehow, everybody but me knew it.

“So.. What… what now?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs again. “But this… this is done. I’m tired of playing the fucking game Madison. I just… I let myself get way too fuckin deep with you, and I gotta get out.”

“So.. You’re just… you’re gonna… you’re quitting the band?”

“I think it’s for the best, don’t you? I mean shit… you’re free now, ya know? You can go back to Justin. I can go on with my life. Everybody wins, right?” He shoots me a fake smile and right there, my heart breaks.

I do care about him. I swear I do. It’s just… he’s not Justin. And Justin… Justin’s fucking everything.

“Lucas… that’s not fair. What about Benny and Stella… the fucking tour? Don’t do this because of me.”

“I’ll finish the tour. Don’t worry about that. Just… once the tour’s over, I’m out. I’m sure you’ll be able to find somebody else, cause let’s face it, my voice ain’t exactly up to par, and decent guitar players are a dime a dozen.”

“You have a contract. Justin won’t let you do this.”

“Eh, I think he will.” He shrugs. “And, can you just… not tell anybody? I’ll tell them… when I’m ready. Everybody’s stressing with the tour, and I just… don’t want to cause any shit.”

“Great. So I’ll just act like everything’s perfectly fucking fine. Awesome plan Lucas.” I mutter and roll my eyes. “But, if that’s what you want, just… whatever.” I shove my chair back from the table and exit the restaurant quickly, not bothering to look back.