Semester Abroad

ch 7

CASSIE'S POV

Holy shit. I jerked awake at the sound of someone walking down the first step. It was John. He had just been in my room. Oh. My. God. He touched my arm. Oh my god. I got out of bed only to realize that I never changed out of my dress before I crashed. I hurriedly slipped into something more casual and headed downstairs. Only, on the second to last stair, I slipped. All the guys turned from their chairs and looked at me. Chad and John rushed over to help me but I had already pulled myself back up before they reached me.
That was really fucking embarrassing.

"Please just pretend like that never happened," I said as I walked back with John and Chad and sat down at the table. The guys all nodded their heads and looked down, continuing to eat their fake steaks and peas.

"So Cass, you going out again tonight?" Flea asked, breaking the silence.

"NO," I said adamantly, just then remembering last night's events once more. It was giving me a headache.

Uncle Chad started to open his mouth but I cut him off: "I don't wanna talk about it." He put his hands up in surrender.

John sighed deeply and we all turned in his direction. "You have any other plans for the night then?" he asked me.

"Yeah, I think I'm gonna work on some papers for Dylan," I responded.

"Sounds cool. Can I help?" John asked. I was flabbergasted. I don't know if there's much he can do to help, but I'd kill to have one-on-one time with him.

"Uh-uhh, sure," I responded, trying to mask the confusion and excitement in my face. John stood up with his plate and grabbed mine, taking them both to the sink to clean them off. Oh. I guess this is happening now then.

******

I followed him up the stairs and into my room. It was strange seeing him so confident in a place that was mine. It was exciting.

"So, whatcha been workin on?" John asked me.

"Just some freewrites to hand in to Dylan to show him what kind of stuff I could write for the newspaper."

"Can I read them?" John asked.

"No!" I exclaimed, backing up. "Those are personal, and it's not my best work anyway."

"Hey, songs are personal and you've heard plenty of those on our records," he added with a smirk.

"But that is your best work - you get to do however many takes you want until you get it perfect," I retorted.

"Fine! Then come with us to the studio tomorrow - you can see the whole process. All of my fails, retakes, and recordings. Then can I read one of your papers?" he begged.

"Deal," I said, lending him my hand to shake on it. "Now will you let me work? I've gotta get this done."

"Gladly," John said, leaning back onto my pillows. I turned around to the computer and started typing, but I felt I was being watched. I turned around, meeting his eyes.

"I can't work if you're going to be staring into my soul the whole time!" We both smiled. He rolled over, surrendering for good. I returned to typing and continued until I heard a faint snore coming from my bed. I smiled to myself and went on with my work.