Dedication to jules130 who told me to post it, plus helped me pick the title - it was an interesting experience XD - and made the cover which is awesome! By the way, I'm slowly rewriting the first chapters because I wrote these years ago and never got around to it, so bare with me until about chapter nineteen I think it is when I start writing for real! I really hope you like it!

“C’mon Hales!” Keely complained, digging her heels into the ground. The crowd around them was screeching with excitement, making her wince from the high pitches. Every other moment a wild boney elbow would catch her in passing, making her grimaces worsen as the crowd jostled them back and forth.

“Do we really have to do this?” she continued on after a short pause, her voice becoming just short of whiney.

The girl who was tugging her by the hand sent a bright expression over her shoulder, her dark eyes twinkling with excitement. “Yes we do!”

Unable to help herself, Keely gave one of the girls they were passing an incredulous look, seeing tears running down her face. Were tears really needed at this point? It wasn’t like they were going to see The Rolling Stones! “And why is that?!” asked she for what felt like the fiftieth time in the past hour, ducking to avoid the “Number One Marissa James’ Fan!” sign that gave a dangerous swing in her direction.

“I already have the tickets,” answered Haley cheerfully, waving them in the air with one of her perfectly manicured hands. Keely didn’t need to look at her hands to know they mimicked her best friend’s at the moment; it hadn’t been long since she’d been dragged to have a manicure. But the simple truth of the matter was, her hands were not made to be worked on every moment, they had much more important things to be doing. Not that anyone knew.

“You might want to stop doing that,” she observed, cringe when a high heel stabbed into her foot. She couldn’t hear the crunch of the bones, but she did feel it very clearly. “On second thought,” Keely added, limping along behind her friend, “Keep doing it.”

Haley just rolled her eyes, handing the tickets to the man at the front doors of the stadium for both of them.

“Can we back out now?” she enquired, not shameful at the hopeful tone in her voice as they were battered through the glass doors. Keely was finding her love of little children was not growing with the more time she spent around them, definitely not.

“You agreed, it’s my birthday present Keels! You’ll just have to suffer through the concert.”

“But all the music is so bad! So bad that the thought of lighting myself on fire and jumping off a cliff doesn’t seem that bad as long as I don’t have to go to this concert,” she rambled. Haley had begun dragging her through the crowd again; the screaming hadn’t stopped, but was only intensified by the enclosed space. “I still don’t know how you can listen to this fake, soulless crap that they call music,” Keely added, thinking longingly of her Bob Dylan record that was still in her record player in her bedroom.

“Say that a little louder and you won’t have a tongue to insult the band anymore,” Haley pointed out, sending wary glances about them in case someone decided to attack. “Anyways, you just have to sit through the concert, it’s not like you’ll have to meet them one day. And as long as you don’t start booing, you’ll make it out of here alive and make your best friend happy. All will be right in the world!”

Giving a deep sigh, Keely stepped up, wrapping her arm around the shoulder of her friend who stood just a hair shorter than she. “True,” she admitted, sending a furtive look to the girl who pranced by them wearing a Marissa James shirt from the tour. “But if I do start booing, then I’ll be attacked by ten year olds then be rushed to the hospital, therefore missing this concert and I’ll be saved from sitting on the floor where I’ll most probably meet my death.”

“Stop being so dramatic, you’ll survive,” Haley assured her before dragging Keely in two to the bathroom. “I want to check my hair before the show starts.”

Like it matters, Keely thought darkly in her head, but allowed herself to be heaved there anyways.

But, to be fair, it would matter to Haley. She was what one might call a down to earth diva. Well, down to earth was exaggerating, the girl was rather... demanding, to put it nicely. Keely hadn’t chosen her own outfit to school in years. But she was sure to be a famous fashion designer one day.

As they were washing their hands, she pondering the multiple ways she could get out of the concert, Keely couldn’t help but send a glance in her friend’s direction.

It really was hard to be confident when your best friend looked like that. Her blonde hair pin straight with a button nose, cute side bangs to match her consistently cheerful brown eyes and perfectly painted rosebud mouth. Yes, Haley really did make the picture of the cheerleader she was as she wore her always fashionable clothes.

And that in itself showed the differences in them. Even though they both were forced to endure the endless sports games each week in those short skirts, but the difference was only one enjoyed it while the other thought of sheet music. Three guesses who.

In her ripped jeans and slightly baggy Janis Joplin tee with her wavy ginger hair falling over her shoulders and bangs falling into her eyes, Keely didn’t exactly fit in. Not to mention that she felt a bit overage at her eighteen years old, although she wasn’t close to the oldest one there, although she suspected they were not there for Marissa James, but the other band. All some people needed was a pretty face to put behind the music, and it didn’t matter what the reality of the anything was, they just didn’t care about what made music... well music. Her best friend happened to be one of those people.

And Haley loved Marissa James.

“Did you see the second band, NSR?” Haley gushed excitedly as they walked down the empty streets, their arms hooked.

Keely’s mind was throbbing from the simulated bass beats that had been brought on for Marissa James, at least with the previous bands there had been actually instruments even if they had nothing else working in their favour. “You did drag me to the front,” she pointed out, leaning her head on her friend’s shoulder.

“Yeah, but they were, oh,” she sighed, “They were just so cute.”

Rolling her eyes, Keely just gave a half hearted shrug. “Yeah, they were cute, more than cute. I’ve seen pictures of them everywhere, isn’t their lead singer a complete tool or something? Always getting arrested or hooking up with some random chick?”

Haley clicked her tongue disapprovingly, “Aw, Keely, that’s mean. Since when do you read tabloids, let alone believe them? I thought that was my job.”

Snorting she couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face, that was true. Haley was addicted to gossip magazines; she knew more about celebrities than any normal person should and although she couldn’t tell you one abbreviation from the periodic table, she could recite the latest scandal of the beautiful people at any time of the day.

“Okay that was a bit mean; I don’t care what they do, honestly. Most of my favourite bands are from the sixties, what do you think they were doing? It’s all about the music, and every single musician – if you can call them that – was a sell out. The whole idea makes me sick.”

“Oh, stop the complaining, I liked them, most of the world does too.”

Keely couldn’t help but grumble, “Just give them a better option.”

“Don’t worry,” grinned Haley, much too used to conversations like these to be bothered, “You can listen to your music on the way home.”

That had her perking up instantly. “Who’s picking us up?”

"Tony," she answered easily. "And he's going to be waiting at the Starbucks down the road."

“You know,” Keely’s voice was casual, “There are probably about three Starbucks’ down the road. But at least Tony is picking us up,” she sighed; now smiling happily. "I left a CD in his car."

“I know what Starbucks,” Haley informed, “Just save the P.D.A until I'm gone.”

Sending her friend a joking pout, Keely answered, “I guess I could do that.” But to be honest, it wouldn’t be that hard. Passion wasn’t real except for in music, at least that was her experience, and those couples on the streets were just faking it.

“Ah, the sacrifices we make for being best friends. Even in the throes of young love,” Haley teased. “And, by the way, which CD is in Tony's truck?”

“Just one that I left in there the other night, it’s just a burnt one. There’s some Beatles, Foo Fighters, The Clash, The Black Keys, Peter Frampton, Hendrix,” she couldn’t help but trail off when they rounded the corner to see one of the many generic Starbucks that you could find in any city. Tony’s truck was sitting out front, the black paint gleaming in the darkness. “There’s more I can’t think of... oh, yeah, Robert Johnson.”

Haley just crinkled her nose in distaste as Keely straightened beside her, though keeping their arms twined together. “Is that that old guitar guy you made me listen to where the sound was really bad and annoying?”

She couldn’t help the incredulous, and slightly horrified, look that slipped onto her face when she looked at her best friend. “Well, of course the sound wasn’t good! It was recorded in the thirties, we’re lucky we even have it! He’s such an incredible guitarist-”

“I like it when you and Tony are fighting,” Haley interrupted thoughtfully.

"What?!" she laughed incredulously.

But the girl just gave a shrug, sending her a mischievous little look. “When we’re in the car together you just glare out the window, don’t even talk to him so he chooses the music just to piss you off. The stuff you play is good, but you know I need my Ke$ha fix each day.”

For a moment she just stared, but Keely just shrugged, letting go of the car to grab pull open the passenger’s door of the truck. There were some people you just can’t change, no matter how hard you try, but everyone has a right to their own taste in music... no matter how crappy it is. Anyways, differences are what make life interesting, right?

“Hey baby,” Tony greeted immediately, leaning across the seat, giving her a firm kiss.

And, with her only thoughts revolving around the fact that few people could carry out saying ‘baby’ without sounding idiotic and her boyfriend was not one of them, Keely deepened the kiss. It was habit.

“Keel, you promised,” Haley complained from the back seat.

Smirking slightly, Keely put her hands on Tony’s chest, shoving him away. “So sorry, but I did,” she pointed out, settling back comfortably in her seat. “You and Joe could have had the same consideration for me,” Keely felt the need to say, looking back in the mirror to see her friend. Her stomach sank with guilt when she saw Haley’s normally cheerful eyes flash.

But her thoughts were quickly distracted. “Promised what?” Tony asked, his brow furrowing beneath his shortly cut brown hair that laid flat despite all his work with hair gel.

“That we would save the P.D.A while Hales was here,” Keely explained.

“Well, let's drop her off, and I have a better idea,” Tony leered across the seat from her, his two hands on the steering wheel.

With her thoughts revolving around that CD she’d left in his car, Keely had time to send him a distracted tight lipped smile before running her hands along the creases of the seats. It had to be there somewhere!

“Uh, god, person back here!”

Still Keely barely registered her friend’s words as she had found the miraculous object in question, giving a happy exclamation as she slipped the CD in. And as the beginning guitar chords of CCR’s Bad Moon Rising rang through the truck, she sank back with a content sigh.

“Tony,” Keely groaned, breaking away from the kiss with her fingers slipping away from his hair, “I really have to go home.”

Even though she’d pulled away, he just kissed down her chin and to her neck, making Keely give an involuntary shiver that had very little to do with desire. Yes, she liked Tony, well she supposed she loved him, but did she have to want him every moment?

When his hands moved to the back of her neck, attempting to pull her closer, she just arched away from him. “Seriously, stop.”

“But we haven’t even done it yet.”

She paused, looking at him incredulously. She was sure not all football players were that dumb, she’d even met more than a few that were intelligent so was it just the quarterbacks? “Did you really think that we were going to do anything in the back of your truck?” she asked disbelievingly, batting away his hands.

Giving a loud groan in complaint, Tony fell back in his seat, sending her a grumpy expression. “Are you on your period or something?”

Her eyes bulged. “You’re kidding me, right?”

“Then what’s your problem?”

“My problem?!” she cried out, glaring daggers at him. It always seemed that whenever she and Tony were together it ended in a fight, never any length of time around each other could they stay being blissfully happy. “My problem is that I had to listen to terrible music all night, have a headache and now my boyfriend expects me to sleep with him the back of the car. That’s my problem, you jackass.”

“Marissa James isn’t bad,” Tony said, speaking in a calm righteous tone that just furthered her anger. “And I don't understand number two.”

“Oh my god,” she grumbled, pushing him away as he slid closer to her on the seat as she shoved herself further away to the point her back was pressing against the door. “Marissa James can’t even sing anyone who knows anything can tell that. And you don’t understand the second you’re an ass with the literate capability of a donkey.”

His eyes narrowed on her, and he snapped, “Most girls don’t have complaints.”

“Ass,” Keely repeated, grabbing her bag from the seat and shoving her way clumsily from the truck shoving her way out of the door with her shoulder. That last comment had done it, like she needed to be reminded of half the reasons they’d broken up multiple times over the past few years.

“Keely,” Tony's voice was weary. “We’ve been through this a million times. Get back in the truck, I’ll drive you home.”

Was it sick that it didn’t even insult her that he didn’t bother to move when she’d gotten out; just stayed put, leaning back in his chair? “No, I think you and your “most girls” have pretty much filled the space in there, I’m afraid I might suffocate.”

“Get back in the truck, Keely. And when you're done pmsing you'll call me again.”

“You're just a dick,” she said disbelievingly. “And you should have bloody well known I’d never have sex with you in the backseat of your truck. That’s for the rest of your girls.”

“Fine,” he yelled abruptly, leaning forward, “Walk home for all I care.” With the words, he grabbed the mix CD and threw it out the door, it landing by her feet in the gravel. “Have fun,” Tony told her, leaning across the seat to snap her door shut.

And with that, he gunned the engine and swung the wheel around, gravel spitting dangerously around her.

Furiously Keely kicked at the ground, shouting, “You jerk! That was a good CD!”

Grabbing it from the ground because she couldn’t bare to leave it there, Keely shoved it into her bag as she grabbed her cell phone, moving forward with short livid steps. But even as she began dialling the first number that came to her mind, she noticed the lack of bars at the top. Her hand tightening dangerously over the piece, Keely realized it was going to be a long walk home.