Hi. So this chapter is freakishly long. But I almost ended it in such a depressing manner! To be honest, I wasn't thinking much of how you guys would be affected. I was more like, "How can I do this to myself?! I cannot."

Even so, this young pallid peach kept writing and couldn't stop.

Enjoy! (And vote!)

Oh yes, the video attached is what Logan plays in this chapter. :3 BE IN LOVE, LADIES!

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-17-

Five days.

It'd been confirmed--that's how long we had left to stay at Martha's house. I wished for more time, but we'd already been intruding for longer than what was polite.

"Ugh," Anthony moaned after Mom told us. "But thank goodness. It's almost over. You forced me to come but it's been three weeks! Don't expect any favors from me soon, Mom! This is crossing the line."

"I'll ask favors from you as long as you're living under my roof, young man!" Mom responded. Typical.

"Well, Mother, as of now I seem to be living under Martha's roof!"

"Don't you sass me, mister!"

And so it went.

As you can imagine, I was very stressed out. Five days to decide whether to go after Stacey or let her go. Five days to find out what her problem was. Five days to sort out my stupid feelings and a bunch of other stuff I'd always assumed were girl problems. Then, there was the issue that I wouldn't come back for two years, and when those two years were over, I'd be an adult. Who knows? Maybe by then, I'd be over Stacey and I'd either look back on this conundrum and laugh or maybe not even look back on it at all.

Maybe I'd never be over her.

Oddly, I felt as if the latter was more likely. Besides, I didn't want to forget Stacey. What was going to happen if I didn't try to make a move now?

I didn't like to think about it, but I didn't have many other problems, especially ones so immediate.

Ugh.

Anthony elbowed me once Mom had walked away. "How's your little project going?"

I blinked. "What?"

"Project Woo Stacey."

"That...was never a thing."

"Sure it is. I'm the love therapist."

"And?"

"I can make projects if I want to."

I rolled my eyes.

"Now," he said. "You realize I need payment for all of this therapy."

"You stole my Twix before we left home. Consider that your payment, even though you're bugging me badly right now."

"Dude," Anthony said. "Five days." He then pulled a fun sized Twix out of his pocket and backed off into the shadows. (There was a cluster of trees behind him.)

Sadly, he was right. Five days. Every moment counted now. Before, when I needed something, I just thought about how I had two weeks left. Now I'm on the downside.

Need something. Did I need something? Did I really need to make a move on Stacey? If I didn't...

I needed to go find her. Even if I chickened out on discussing feelings (which I most likely would) and pressuring her into discussing what was bothering her, I couldn't lose her.

I stepped inside the house and looked around for her. She wasn't anywhere on the main floor, so I went down into the basement.

When I got down there, I heard noise. Piano noise, to be specific. I wandered into the room it came from and found Stacey sitting at a very dusty black piano. It wasn't a grand piano, just a regular household piano that looked like it hadn't been used in ages.

Stacey was hitting the same thing over and over again. C chord, C chord, C chord. I walked closer to her and she jumped, stopping abruptly.

"I was just--"

"Learning the C chord, I see," I said, smiling a little.

"Yeah. I found the piano and then used the Internet to try to do something with it."

"Do you know how to read notes?"

Stacey hung her head. "No. I wish."

"Here. Looks like you found middle C, so as long as you recognize that it's the one to the left of the two black keys, you'll be fine for starters. The one in between the two black keys is D, and then it goes up until G. After that, it starts at A again."

"Ah." Stacey's eyebrows lifted in understanding.

"Try to memorize that for now. Maybe later I'll show you how to read them on paper."

"That would be awesome." Stacey stared at the rows of keys and then added, without looking at me, "Can you play me something?"

"Uh, sure. I haven't memorized very many songs, though. I need sheet music for lots of it."

"Play what you can then." She scooted to the right of the bench so I could sit down. It was a rather small bench; it didn't even match the piano. When I sat down, I was pressed up to Stacey but not falling off of the edge.

I played the first few notes of a song but messed up quickly. I don't play in front of people very often, for one, and I was a little distracted having the girl I possibly have a crush on sitting so close to me, for another.

"Sorry," I said. I thought for a second to find a song I knew better.

Riptide by Vance Joy.

I found that song so mysterious and beautiful that I never got tired of it. I might have even been able to play it with my eyes closed.

I began slowly and quietly. A few seconds in, Stacey gasped, but I was slowly slipping away into the world of music and I didn't stop to see why.

That sounded super cheesy, but it was true. Music was what I went to when I was upset. Only I didn't just listen to it; that left too much room for my stress to take over. I needed to play it and get absorbed into it. The piano was perfect. It's a skill that requires thinking, seeing, and doing. It's difficult for stray thoughts to take over once you're concentrated.

Once I became comfortable, I began playing the keys harder, louder, and with more passion. My hands flew from chord to chord, reaching past Stacey to reach the high notes.

By the time the climax of the song came, I was banging the keys so hard, surely the whole house could hear it. Most everybody was outside, but maybe they could hear it, too. The end of the song was played slowly and quietly, like the beginning. When I hit the last note, it was barely audible.

I put my hands down, panting. My arms and fingers were tired. (It's weird, I know. Tired fingers--poor me.)

I turned and looked at Stacey. There were tears rolling down her cheeks. I raised my eyebrows.

Stacey sniffled. "That's my favorite song."

"Really?" I practically breathed the word.

Stacey nodded, wiping her face with her hand. "I like what it's about. How he has a girlfriend who everyone is jealous of, and he loves her, but then she slowly starts to slip away and change and be different. He still wants to be right there with her, even though she's not the same person he fell in love with. He wants to know if she's gonna stay."

Wow. I never actually understood the lyrics.

"It just reminds me," Stacey said, "of something I had to deal with. Kind of. A person can draw you in just like that, but they're never who they say they are. They're never who they appear to be. Yet you're still drawn to them and can't help but hope for an inkling of who they were, or who you thought they were. The singer still wants to be this girl's left hand man even though she's totally different. He treats her like royalty and he loves her even when she's singing the words wrong. And as for me, I just can't let go."

Stacey didn't look at me the whole time. She just played with her hands, keeping her voice steady. What in the world was she dealing with?

It was a mystery. I had clues: her sleeves (if that even had anything to do with anything), her random emotional breakouts, the random dude on her iMessage, the...

I was an idiot. Utopia told me someone was being mean to her over the phone. That Brody kid. Who else would be spamming her with texts that upset her so much? Was that who she couldn't let go of? Was she...in love?

A pang of jealousy hit me right in the chest and I clenched my hand on the piano bench. Whoever this Brody guy was, he certainly didn't deserve someone as amazing and awesome as Stacey.

. . . Did I?

"Logan?" Stacey looked at me with concern. "What's wrong?"

"I've asked you so many times what's wrong Stacey," I said. I could feel myself stepping over that line I was always too afraid to cross. My brain kept shouting: Warning! Warning! But I felt like I could say anything and I didn't need to worry about the consequences.

"You never tell me," I said. "Did you ever think that maybe I could help? Maybe I could take away some of your pain just by being someone to talk to. So far I've sat by and drove you to nowhere when you wanted, didn't push you when you were upset, but you know what? I want to know what's wrong with you. I hate feeling like we could be close but then being forced to forget about it each time you refuse to just let me know. Look, I don't know who this guy is, but he doesn't deserve you anymore than my brother deserves a llama."

There. I said it. Then I ruined it by talking about llamas. She didn't seem affected by the llama comment, though.

She didn't know everything. She didn't know that I kind of wanted to be more than just friends. But she knew I wanted to be close, and the fact that she did know was enough to bring my tomato face back.

"Logan," Stacey said, her voice calm and controlled at first, but rising with each word. "I want to be close, too. For years, even, I've struggled..." She didn't finish that thought. "I never realized..." Her voice squeaked on the last word.

She stood up and left then, leaving me alone with nothing but a dusty piano and my own thoughts.

»»»»»«««««

I sat on the hammock that night, unsure of what to do. Five days. Five days!

I had to talk to Stacey. It would be easier to just hide instead of face her after the things I said. Well, I didn't say anything mean, but I could have gone about it nicer.

Why did I have to mess everything up? If I could just keep things to myself, everyone else would be happier. That's what being in high school taught me.

Negative thoughts don't help anyone, I told myself yet again.

Alright. Man up, Logan.

I made up my mind and decided to go find Stacey no matter what. I'd talk to her even if I had to force the words out of my mouth. No matter how afraid I might have been, I'd do it.

As soon as I stood up, I realized it was raining. How did I not notice? It was coming down hard.

My phone also told me it was 10:30 PM. I could have sworn it was still light when I came out; now it was dark, especially so with the clouds.

I squinted my eyes to see through the pouring rain and found a silhouette of a girl leaning against a tree. That must've been Stacey.

Given the circumstances, that was pretty convenient.

I made my way across the yard, getting wet in the process. The whole time, I tried to think of what I would say, but came up with nothing.

I made my way to her. The tree made the ground a little more dry than everywhere else by shielding it from the rain. I stopped when I was a foot away from Stacey. She didn't speak, so I sat down.

"I love the rain," she said.

I didn't say anything. It was like I forgot how to talk.

We sat in silence for a long while, listening to the pitter-patter of the rain.

After a few minutes I said, "I'm so sorry."

Stacey sighed. "You shouldn't be. I thought about it, and you didn't say anything rude." She then added with a small smile: "You even said you wanted to be close. That's not rude."

"I raised my voice and lost my temper. Whether or not I was being rude doesn't matter. I feel terrible." Our voices were low. Even though we were far from the tents, it's kind of impossible to talk loudly at night.

"I'm sorry, too. You're right. I need to just tell you what's wrong."

I waited for her to say something after that, but she never did.

"Are you going to?" I asked.

She grimaced. "I don't know. I want to, but it's...hard."

What I did next took a lot of hesitation. It probably didn't even seem natural, I took so long to do it. I put my arm around her shoulder.

Then Stacey surprised me by leaning her head on my shoulder.

I mean, she'd done it before, but she had been crying and it seemed necessary. I mean, sure I was comforting her now, but... I just...

I was so hopelessly lost.

"Will I ever get to know?" I managed to say, despite my beating heart.

Holy cow, I hope she couldn't feel it.

She probably could.

She hesitated a little before answering. "I... Not yet."

I nodded. "Is there anything else you wanna talk about?"

"I don't know."

"Well, there were a few unfinished sentences earlier. You left me hanging."

Stacey froze. "What?"

"Something about struggling for years and never realizing something. Does that have anything to do with...the thing?"

"Well-"

"Be honest."

She sighed. "Okay. Well, that actually might be...a...different topic."

"Do I get to know?"

Stacey laughed nervously. "No."

"Ever?"

"You might figure it out on your own. Maybe you already have."

I racked my brain hard to make some sense of what she was saying, but came up with nothing.

Maybe girls are right. Maybe boys are dimwits. Or, maybe boys are right and girls are just confusing. It makes sense on both sides: I can never make sense of anything they say and they say weird stuff. It takes both sides to reach both conclusions.

"I don't think so," I finally said.

"Are you sure about that?"

I thought hard again. Nothing. "I think so."

"Well, good."

What. The. Heck.

Nope, there's no way I was a dimwit. Girls will be girls.

More silence. Then Stacey said, "Earlier, when you were playing the piano... This is gonna sound so weird, but... I could practically feel...emotion when you played. I don't know if it was the way your hands moved or the look on your face...but I sensed sadness, you know? Sorry, this is weird. I just..."

Shoot. She was breaking me down.

This time it was me who laughed nervously. "I don't know. Did it sound sad?"

"Well, the song is weird. It doesn't sound very sad, but it's definitely not happy. It sounds like the guy's predicament with this girl, which is hard to explain. Really hard, actually. It's sad and confused and dedicated and careless all at once, don't you think?"

"Yeah, that's a good description."

"I guess...when you played...there was passion. I wasn't expecting it, that's all."

"Me neither, actually."

"Give me a minute to just say weird stuff, alright?"

"Um, sure."

"I was scared. You looked at that piano like you wanted to kill it. Your face just..." She faltered.

I didn't realize I looked like that when I played, but I had a pretty good guess as to why.

It was why I played.

"Know what?" Stacey said. "You can pretend I never said anything. It was just...different. I'm used to you being carefree and light, and that seemed unusual."

I just nodded.

"So...," she continued. "What's up?"

Everything.

"Nothing."

"Right."

Absolutely not. I was just confused; that's all there was to it.

"Tell me about yourself," I blurted.

"Oh." Stacey sounded a little surprised. "Yeah, I suppose you don't know much."

"Go on," I choked.

"Okay, well, my middle name is Ray. Lovely, right?" Sarcasm. "My favorite colors are orange and turquoise. I really like llamas and baked potatoes. In my free time, I like to read and draw sketches. My closest friend is Kathryn. She's a little boy crazy and we mostly hang out at school. We've visited each other's houses a few times. Um, I'm fascinated by famous composers and artists; I read about them a lot. Everyone thinks I'm kind of a nerd, and when I talk to them, they tend to think I'm rude."

I stopped to think there. Sure, Stacey was a little rude to me when we first interacted over two weeks ago. I assumed it was because I was pranking her. She'd had a right to be rude to me.

If I hadn't been pranking her, would I even like her? Would I still feel this way?

"When I'm older," Stacey went on, "I might be a researcher or something along those lines. I'd like to help make a history textbook or something, as much as I hate textbooks in general. There's just something about old things.... I love reading history books. Call me a geek or whatever."

I soon discovered that my eyes were brimming with tears. Learning about Stacey just filled me with overwhelming happiness.

"Let's see...," she said. "I hate it when people flip their hair and do their makeup in class. I also hate it when people don't do their homework, show off their money, and use profanity. You know, you didn't fit in any of those categories and-" She stopped abruptly.

"And? I don't do my makeup in class."

I could feel her smile on my shoulder. "And that's why you're so cool."

I got the feeling that she was done talking, so I asked, "Remember when we played truth or dare?"

"Of course! Remember when you said your brother doesn't deserve a llama?"

I felt my face heat up. That'd come back to haunt me a lot, I feared.

"Did you mean Antoinette?" Stacey asked.

"Yeah. He's more of a cat person."

"I can see that, actually. So, what were you saying about truth or dare?"

"Nothing."

"Do you remember how I said I didn't believe you when you said you'd never kissed anyone?"

"Yeah. Why is that?"

"Because. It's so unlikely."

"How, exactly?"

"No reason. You really never have kissed anyone, have you?"

"Just your cheek."

"On a dare."

"Yep. There's no way I'd be able to do something like that on my own free will."

Stacey laughed. "You're an idiot."

"Yeah, sometimes I feel like one." Like now, for example.

She pulled out her phone and used her hand to shield it from the rain while she checked the time.

"We should probably get going," I suggested, eager to escape a conversation about kissing.

Stacey sighed. "I suppose." She stood up, leaving my side feeling cold with her absence.

I stood up to face her, putting my hands in my pockets. I was in the rain now, leaving the water to drip from my hair and past my eyes.

Stacey wasn't quite as wet as me. She was probably under the tree since before it started raining. With the raindrops in her hair, she just looked so beautiful.

I always found it stupid when guys said stuff like that. But looking at Stacey now, I understood it completely.

Yeah, I was so lost. I wasn't even sure where. I wasn't sure I wanted to get found, either.

Stacey stared at me, too. Was it possible she was having similar thoughts? I searched her cerulean eyes for any sign of an answer, but it just made me more confused.

Looking in someone's eyes doesn't do much if you're looking for something, by the way.

How was I supposed to back away from this moment? There was no way to do it naturally....

Unless...

I leaned forward and planted my lips softly against Stacey's cheek. Sure, the rain had me cold, but just then, I couldn't remember what cold felt like.

I pulled away and met her eyes again nervously.

Five days. Was this worth it?

Stacey drew a shaky breath and whispered, "You know, I wasn't daring you to kiss my cheek again."

"I know," I breathed.

Her lips twitched upward. "I want you to meet me out here tomorrow night again."

"I'll see you in the day, won't I?"

"Of course. Just trust me."

I nodded, unsure of how to leave.

"I'm still sorry," I said.

Stacey pursed her lips. "Okay. Thank you."

"Goodnight," I finally said.

She smiled. "Goodnight, Logan."

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Ugh, feels. MY FINGERS ARE SO COLD LIKE I CAN'T EVEN TYPE.

!!IMPORTANT!!

I know that there are at least 8 non-ghosties reading this. Half of you comment and the rest vote. THAT IS PERFECTLY FINE! But, I've been working on dedicating my chapters to the readers of the story, and I can't keep track of the voters because they get lost in my news feed and I can't find them like the commenters.

Ι understand what it's like to dislike commenting. Half the time, I can't think of words to say. But if you'd like a dedication, please comment on just this one chapter so I can see you when I start dedicating! Then you don't have to comment unless you feel like it. So, comment if you want a dedication!

And thanks to everyone for everything! Love ya!

Okay, about the story:

Who thinks they need to kiss?! *raises hand*

For some reason I find pleasure in dragging stuff out. XD

This story is actually almost over. >:~} But I've got a little surprise planned! zohappy might know it but she CANNOT TELL!! GOT IT?!

Fun Fact: When I first imagined Logan, he was blond and totally not even funny.

^GLAD I FIXED THAT!! :D

Vote and comment! It means so much!

*gives you chocolate pudding because that stuff is flipping nasty*

-Hanner