TRACK #5 MUSIC:

🎵 "Kiss Me" - Sixpence None the Richer

🎵 "Far Behind" - Candlebox

🎵 "I Miss You" - Incubus

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TRACK #5 - FALL

"Kiss Me" - Sixpence None the Richer

Cartwheels. My stomach was definitely doing cartwheels. Oh boy.

I inhaled deeply as I walked towards the entryway. I could see the shadow of Brock's tall, broad frame from the tiny window by the door. I slowly opened it and gave him a smile. Behind him, kids were playing kickball loudly in the street, narrowly missing a car parallel parked tightly.

"Come on in," I invited shyly, opening the door wide enough for him to enter. He wore a fitted, black polo that lay tautly over his defined shoulder muscles with jeans and black, shiny dress shoes. His hair was slicked back, and I could smell his woodsy cologne through the space between us.

"Wow, you look great." He smiled, shoving his hands in his pockets. He shuffled back and forth a bit, almost like he was nervous, too. Did Brock Miller get nervous?

"Thanks, so do you," I replied before I had the chance to chicken out. "My parents are in the living room." I pointed, leading him towards the couch where my mom and father were planted, lazily watching a movie together. They stood up and started walking towards us, causing us to meet in the kitchen. Oliver joined to inspect the visitor.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Gray." Brock extended his hand and shook my mom's first and then my father's.

"Same to you, Brock. Call me Diane," she said politely. Oliver was weaving around everyone's feet. I knelt to scratch him softly, and he answered with a gentle mew.

"Cute cat." Brock bent down to pet him as well. Oliver rubbed his back along the underside of Brock's hand. Suddenly, his orange paw wound up to smack Brock right on the wrist with a loud hiss.

"Oliver!" I shouted. I shooed him away while Brock instinctively grabbed the bleeding cut where Oliver's claw had caught him. "I'm so sorry!" I ran to grab him a paper towel, dousing it with warm water before running to press it against his wrist. "I don't know what got into him..." I commented as a shiver ran down my spine. I was touching Brock Miller.

My father laughed. "Wow. He's usually so friendly!" His Italian accent seemed even thicker with Brock around, or maybe I was just more aware of it.

"I'll grab a band-aid," my mom offered before slipping away.

"Seems Oliver wants to be the only man in your life." Amusement danced over my father's lips. It was clear he was enjoying the show. "So, what movie are you seeing?"

"We haven't actually figured that out. I just thought that we'd pick when we got there." Brock thanked my mom and took the band-aid. I nodded in agreement.

"Okay, well, be careful. Aria, you have everything you need? And you'll be home before eleven?" my mom asked. I nodded and tapped on my clutch.

"I'll definitely have her home before eleven. It was nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Gray." Brock purposely still addressed them formally as we both inched towards the door. He opened it and held it for me. The kids outside slammed the ball right into a parked car, sending the alarm blaring.

"Have a good night!" My mom waved at us just before closing the door.

"This is an, uh, interesting neighborhood..." Brock's eyes darted from the kids to a group of people gathering casually on the stoop across the street. He held the door to his shiny red Jeep for me. The car's interior smelled brand new.

"Not used to being downtown?" I asked casually, trying to downplay the obvious.

"Some parts. I haven't been around here before. I don't think I'd be able to get around unless I spoke... is that Spanish?"

"Italian." I smiled cordially, though inside I was annoyed. I knew we didn't live in the nicest neighborhood in Bridgeview, but was it really that bad? My father said it always reminded him of his hometown in Italy and was one of the many reasons he refused to move us to the suburbs.

"Oh, I didn't mean anything by that!" he quickly backpedaled. "I just personally wouldn't be able to... you know, since I don't speak any other languages."

An awkward silence filled the air before Brock turned the radio to a rock station. The dark tones of Candlebox's "Far Behind" poured through the speakers, bringing a smile to my face.

"You like them?" He seemed surprised.

"Yeah, I love this song," I responded, listening to the notes and lyrics as the wind blew my hair through the open window. Brock turned it up. The music made me feel better about where the date was headed.

When we arrived at the movie theater, Brock was once again at my door, opening it up for me. "Thanks," I managed to say. I could feel the butterflies gathering in my stomach. He smiled and reached his hand out to take mine. A pulse moved down my spine while we walked towards the theater, hand in hand. This was it. I was on a date with the Brock Miller.

He looked up at the movie titles, checking the times. "What are you thinking?"

That I'd somehow died and gone to heaven. Oh, he meant the movie. "I'm not picky," I stated matter-of-factly. I was at the movies with Brock-freaking-Miller. I'd watch paint dry with him if he asked.

"Great, let's see Remember the Titans then. Denzel is a beast, and who doesn't love football? We can go get popcorn. You eat popcorn?" He led me to the counter and ordered our tickets.

"Who doesn't?" I asked rhetorically, reaching for my clutch.

He immediately waved me off. "My mom would kill me if she found out I let you pay for anything," he laughed, handing the man behind the counter a twenty-dollar bill. We started towards the concession stand when a large group of teenagers in Bridgeview letterman jackets stood in the middle of the lobby. Some of them started shouting Brock's name. I spotted Brittany among them. Her face still somehow looked beautiful even as she threw daggers at me with her eyes. She leaned towards two of her friends and began whispering feverishly. My heart sank. What would they think of us being on a date?

Brock must have felt my nervousness and instinctively gave my hand a gentle squeeze. "Hey, guys." Brock strolled up to them casually, letting my hand go for a minute to give out high-fives and bro-hugs. "This is Aria," Brock announced, sliding his arm around the back of my waist. I gave a little wave to return all of the greetings. I recognized a few faces from school, but not many. "We're headed to get popcorn, so I'll catch you later," Brock said, leading me back towards the concession stand as I waved goodbye. It felt nice to be led by Brock. His grasp felt protective.

"You don't have to be nervous around those guys." Brock gently grabbed my side and pulled me into a quick hug. "They're all harmless goofballs," he laughed.

"I just don't know them." I shrugged, trying to brush off Brittany's evil stares. "Not the crowd I usually roll with, I guess."

"Oh, yeah? What crowd do you usually roll with? The band kids, right?"

"Lately, yeah," I nodded.

"Who's your closest friend?" he asked before we stepped up to the counter and ordered our snack.

"It's hard to say since I just moved back. I've been hanging out with Emma Stewart, though. What about you?" I took the popcorn from him, allowing him a free hand to reach into his pocket. "Thank you for everything, by the way. I really wasn't expecting you to pay."

"Really?" he grinned. "That's a first for me. Most girls just sit there and stare waiting for me to pull out my wallet. Closest friend? Ummm... maybe Liam O'Brien? He's the bassist in my band. We call him L.J. I don't know if you know him, but he throws the sickest parties. Anyway, I know a lot of people, but don't really have a lot of close friends." We started towards the counter to give the tickettaker our tickets. Brock stuck his hand in the popcorn bag I was carrying and pulled out a few kernels to pop in his mouth.

"I would assume being captain of the football team helps you meet people," I chuckled. "I should probably figure out something to participate in before the end of high school. I'm a little late to the game coming in my junior year."

"Am I your first date from Bridgeview?" His tone was casual as we walked into the theater to find open seats. People were already filling the aisles. "Oooh, come on! There are seats in the back!" he exclaimed, pulling my hand to run up the stairs. I thought I was going to trip at least twice.

"Yes, you're the first..." I wanted to add that he was actually my first date ever, but he didn't need to know that.

"Lucky me." Brock smiled coolly as he popped another kernel into his mouth. My cheeks flushed.

The lights dimmed, and Brock leaned back, slipping his arm around my shoulders. I swallowed the lump that formed in my throat and tried to relax my shoulders while reminding myself to breathe. The movie began, and as much as I tried to watch it, I couldn't pay attention. I was hyper-aware of every movement Brock made. I could feel my body tense as he slid his hand down to rest on my shoulder. Part of me wanted to freeze time. The other part wanted to vomit from sheer nervousness. Two tense hours later, the movie ended.

"Did you like it?" Brock asked while everyone filed out of the theater. I couldn't recall how much of it I had actually seen.

"Uhhh, sure... Did you?" I responded behind me, stepping down the stairs in front of him. When we exited the theater, he grabbed my hand and began to lead me through the crowd.

"It was SO good. Denzel is the man," he said enthusiastically. We made our way into the cool September evening, walking towards his Jeep. "Well, it's only nine. You have until eleven. Do you want to go get something to eat?" He held the car door for me once again. I could get used to this.

"That'd be great," I agreed after he got into the driver's seat. "What kind of food do you like?"

"I thought it was pretty obvious looking at me that I'll eat anything," he laughed heartily, which I matched with one of my own.

"No, that wouldn't be fair. Then you'd have to assume I don't eat because I'm small, and trust me, that's far from the truth," I retorted.

"Well, that's good. I can't stand when girls pretend not to eat. There are a lot of restaurants on the main strip... Gran's, Lee's Steakhouse, that new Italian place. Any of those sound good?" He scanned through the radio stations as we drove.

"Gran's is fine with me," I said, beginning to hum along to "I Miss You" by Incubus.

"You listen to some good music, Aria Gray." He smiled over at me while we drove. I felt my stomach drop. Seeing him react that way towards me consistently stopped me in my tracks.

"Thanks." I returned his smile as we pulled into Gran's parking lot. It seemed strangely deserted for a Saturday night. I let him open the door for me once again and take my hand to lead me into the diner. We waited for the hostess to seat us at a booth near the back. It was still eerily quiet.

"I wonder why it's so empty in here tonight..." I pondered aloud after the hostess sat us with our menus. I pretended to peruse the offerings even though I knew very well what I was going to get.

"I know L.J. is having a huge party tonight, but that would just be some teenagers, not families and stuff," he mused.

"Ah," I said nonchalantly, trying to ignore the comment. I wondered if he was going to attend after he dropped me off, but I didn't want to ask. Or maybe I just didn't want to know the answer. The waitress took our drink order, and I continued to pretend to look at the menu.

"So, what are you getting?" he asked, still looking over the options himself.

"Mozzarella sticks. I'm kind of predictable," I laughed, adding, "I just know what I like." I shut the menu and took a few sips of my Diet Coke after the waitress dropped it off.

"Oh, do you?" He cocked an eyebrow at me over his menu with an impish smirk on his face. Instinctively, I rolled my eyes at him. I had no idea how to flirt. The waitress came up right as I was about to interject. I ordered my mozzarella sticks; Brock, a cheeseburger and fries.

"So, what would you be doing tonight regularly if you weren't out with me?" Brock questioned after he took a sip of his Coke. He was staring right at me, piercing my soul with his green eyes.

"Probably reading or maybe playing piano. I don't know a lot of people yet..." I responded. I was hoping the addition of the word "yet" made me seem like less of a loser.

"Oh, I can help you with that. Like I said, I know tons of people." Our food arrived, and he took a bite of his. How was he so attractive even when downing a greasy burger? It wasn't fair. It also wasn't fair that by the time we were done eating and chatting, it was almost 10:00. Time really does fly when you're having fun... especially with the king of high school. "Well, you have an hour left," he said as he checked his watch and then picked up the check. "Do you want me to take you back early? Or do you want to hang out more?"

"I'd like to stay out, if that's cool. I'm enjoying spending time with you," I replied honestly. "And can you please let me pay for this one? You've been paying all night."

"No, you can't, but thank you for offering. I haven't been out with many girls who have." He slid cash into the black leather check presenter and stood up to reach his hand out for mine. I took it, and we slowly walked back out to the car.

"Where are you taking me?" I prodded. I secretly wondered if it was going to be a party and dreaded the answer. Parties just didn't feel like my scene.

"It's a surprise. You'll like it, I promise." He held the door open for me, and I slipped inside the passenger's seat. After he got in and started the ignition, he reached his hand over the center console to hold mine once more. I could definitely get used to this. We drove for about ten minutes in the direction of my house until we came to an open grassy space. A little playground sat in front of us– a set of swings, a slide, some monkey bars.

"Swings!" I exclaimed. "You really do know how to woo a girl." I got out of the car and jogged over to check them out. "I haven't been on one of these in ages." I pumped my legs back and forth to get myself going.

He smiled, shoving his keys in his pocket and walking behind me to give me a push. "I thought you might be into it." We went back and forth a few times, him pushing and me pumping my legs until I was going as high as the swing set would allow. The sky was black, but a dim street light illuminated our faces.

"I think I'm going to jump," I announced, mostly to convince myself that I was going to do it. I stalled long enough only to consider the heels on my boots and wondered if it was a good idea even as I said it.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea; you're going pretty high." He stepped aside from the swing to get a better look. "Yeah, I don't think that's such–" But it was too late. I leapt off of the swing and flung myself in the air, rolling onto the ground, doubling over in hysterics. The adrenaline of the evening propelled me to heights of which I didn't realize I was capable. "What are you doing?!" He ran after me while I lay on my back on the damp grass, continuing to laugh. Luckily, nothing hurt, at least not yet. He sat down beside me and poked me in the side. "Jesus, you scared me."

"Oh, come on... Brock Miller, scared of a swing jump?" I wrinkled my eyebrows at him, still full of unexpected giggles.

"I didn't want you to break anything," he admitted before he helped me sit up straight next to him, examining me to see if I was injured.

"You're sweet, but I'm fine." I dusted my hands off then brushed my new black jeans with a few flicks of my hand. They were going to need to be washed immediately if I had a prayer of wearing them again.

"I know. I just don't want to see you hurt," he spoke with a silky tone, raising his hand to cup my chin. My stomach knotted as he pulled my face to his, kissing my lips softly. The kiss lingered for several moments before we parted. I didn't want it to end. I locked eyes with him when he pulled away. He smiled at me, his thumb brushing the side of my face. "Let's get you home." He stood first and then helped me to my feet. Every bone in my body wanted to kiss him again, but I quietly walked behind him back to the car, unable to find words.

We drove, hand-in-hand, listening to the radio until he pulled up in front of my fully lit house. 10:52. Ugh. Why did I have a curfew? Brock cut the ignition and walked around to my side, holding the door open. I hesitated only because I didn't want the night to end. We made our way slowly towards my front door.

"Thanks for everything tonight," I said, trying not to look up at him. I was so nervous at the beginning, and now I was just sad it was ending. "I had a great time."

He turned me towards him when we stopped at the front door, resting his hands on my waist. "Me, too. We'll have to do it again sometime."

I finally looked up at him, eyes full of happiness. "I'd like that." He was stunningly handsome, more so in the dim porch light. I couldn't help but feel insecure about all of the other girls who were going to drunkenly throw themselves at him when he left me to undoubtedly head to Liam's party. More specifically, if one of those girls was Brittany Jenkins. My thoughts were interrupted by his lips on mine once again. I put my hand around his neck to pull him closer to me, deepening the kiss. My whole body surged with electricity. Although I didn't want the kiss to end, it eventually did.

"Goodnight, Aria," Brock smiled down at me. I was already smiling back.

"Goodnight," I replied, opening my front door and slipping inside. I watched while he turned and walked away. Headlights shone from the street and then faded into the distance. After locking the door, I kicked my booties off and turned around to be face-to-face with my father.

"Buronasera, mia canzone," he greeted me with a grin as I stumbled backwards into the door.

"Papa!" I shrieked. "Did you have to scare me like that?!"

He chuckled softly. "Just making sure you got home safely," he responded before waving towards the stairs. "Dormi bene."

Sleep well after being frightened half to death? Sure. "Dormi bene, Papa."

I went to my bedroom and changed my away message on AIM to one simple word: happy. I slipped into my pajamas and went through my nightly routine of face washing and teeth brushing. I tiptoed downstairs to the kitchen to grab a glass of water and made sure Oliver was fed before coming back up. A message was waiting for me:

FenderBear412: ur beautiful, aria gray. i hope we have 500 more nights like tonight

I could feel myself beaming all over. I guess he didn't actually make it to that party.

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