"Coming to dinner, sweetie? I'm headed down, now."

Justin thinks about it; he does. "Uh-"

"It's your favorite," Pattie grins. "Spaghetti."

But it isn't your spaghetti, Justin thinks and nearly says, but, contrary to popular belief, including his mothers, he actually isn't trying to add to the growing accumulation of grey hairs atop her head.

Justin lifts heavy lids toward the tiny figure of his mother in the doorway. He doesn't typically do 'dinner' based on principle, but on some nights, his mom's words are able to sway him just enough so that he sits in that cold-ass dining hall before Bingo begins before some meal that he often wishes he did not have to eat.

But tonight, well...tonight might just be different.

Contrary to popular belief, Justin does in fact realize that the shitty little kitchen in their shitty little room in this shitty little motel isn't big enough for actual pots and pans because the shitty little stove is barely a stove and there's no oven and only a microwave. Contrary to popular belief, Justin does realize that his mother does her best for the two of them with what she has and he does realize that right now, her best is Charming and he can understand that. He can.

Contrary to popular belief, almost everything Justin does is for the tiny little woman with too many worry lines who also happens to have given birth to him-almost everything Justin does he knows'll pay off in the long run. He knows that eventually they'll both get out of Charming and move to L.A. or New York or Miami or somewhere else where his mom won't have to struggle and where she'll be able to make the spaghetti he actually loves and where she'll smile more than she frowns.

But today is not that day, because Justin's phone is blowing up-it's ringing so much that it's now on silent to keep him sane-and since he's been back in his room, he's been reminded of the reason he was in this shitty mood in the first place-all before he met the weird girl at the front desk, Gypsy.

"Actually," Justin sighs, rising from the bed and rubbing his face with both hands, "Yeah, Ma," he says. "I'll come."

Pattie's face lights up instantly. "Great, babe," she says. "Be ready in five."

Justin nods and Pattie disappears. She goes to wait by the door for her son, who, unbeknownst to her, is only accompanying her to dinner because he's trying to eat with a certain girl with a weird name and sad eyes and a pretty face.

That girl does not show up for dinner.

Gypsy eats, but Justin does not know that she's taken her plate into the kitchen where she sits beside Ed on the stool she occupies at night when she bakes with Katy.

Justin attempts to shake off his disappointment. For Christ's sake, she called him 'Kenneth.' Why the hell does he even want to talk to her, anyway? Why's he even trying to see this crazy chick again?

Justin's got too much shit on his plate to figure some girl out, too.

Or, this is what he tells himself.

He isn't quite so sure that he believes it, though.

"Alright, kid. What's the matter?"

Gypsy looks from her spaghetti with a frown. "What do you mean?"

Ed shrugs. "You're quiet."

"I'm always quiet, Ed."

"You're never this quiet, Gypsy."

"I'm a thinker-I'm pensive and crap."

Ed snickers. "That's a load of rubbish."

Gypsy pauses and stares at Ed through narrowed eyes.

"And I think you're well aware of it."

She tears off a piece of garlic bread and stuffs it in her cheeks and stares again and Ed begins to laugh because she looks like an angry chipmunk.

"I'm fine," she says, although in all honesty, Ed is, in fact, very much correct in his observation and Gypsy is far from the 'fine' she'd like him, and herself, to believe.

Lucky for Gypsy, Ed isn't buying it.

"C'mon," he prods, tapping the pads of his fingers against her wrist. "You know you want to tell your Uncle Ed what's the matter."

But, Gypsy would rather not explain the reasons behind her quiet nature. For starters, she knows Ed'll tease her about Calum and boyfriends and relationships and once Ed knows, he'll tell someone and Sissie'll overhear and Gypsy would rather not have all of Charming being all up in her business and offering unwonted advice.

Except, try telling that to Ed.

"I didn't know you were my uncle," she says. "So much for our terrible family resemblance."

"Sounds like you need a smoke. D'you need a smoke, Gypsy?"

"I don't smoke, Ed."

"Y'sure?"

Gypsy narrows her eyes and takes another bite of pasta. "Thanks for trying to kill me-if you wanted me to die slowly and painfully from lung cancer, you should've just said so."

Ed winks. "Never, love."

So Gypsy caves with a very loud, very unladylike groan because it is Ed, after all, and she pulls her phone from her polka-dotted pockets, selecting her newest text and showing it to the red-haired chef.

"Okay," she sighs. "Read..." And she pauses to scroll through her newest message when Ed's eyes flicker to the clock above the stove.

"Shit," he says. "Hold that thought, Gyps-" He says, and he's halfway out of the kitchen when Gypsy whirls around in her seat. "Hold the phone," she exclaims. "Here I am about to spill my guts to you and you're leaving?"

Ed is cringing. "I've got to set up, Gyps."

"But, where are you going?"

"I've got to set up the dessert for tonight," he replies, pushing up his white sleeves. "Y'know how Sissie is."

"Tonight?" Gypsy asks, because she's not following. Dinner's nearly over. "What's tonight?"

But, then she realizes.

"Bingo?"

Ed's in the doorway, now. "Bingo."

With Ed gone, Gypsy realizes that she does not, actually, wish to be alone.

With Ed gone, she realizes that while Ed isn't her first choice in this bootleg therapy session, she's got to spill her guts to someone before she explodes.

That's the thing; Gypsy would rather be alone when she's with others, but when she's finally by herself, she's longing for company.

Justin is currently sick of his 'company.'

He's finished dinner-thank god-and is looking forward to passing out on his bed. He's beside his mother, of course, and he's wondering why the hell he came down for dinner tonight in the first place.

Oh, right.

Gypsy.

And that chick isn't even here, he thinks.

Not to mention, Sam isn't here tonight either, and whenever Justin is roped into dinner, he typically likes chillin' with Sam. They're pretty close, actually, thanks to surprisingly similar interests. Sam is cool. He's definitely the coolest misfit that's holed up in this motel.

Justin wonders if Gypsy's met Sam, and while the answer is 'yes,' Justin does not know the answer is 'yes' because typically, on nights that Gypsy eats, Justin works. Most nights that Gypsy is sitting down for continental dinners, Justin is roaming the city. He's typically posted up somewhere-not too far from The Strip, but far enough so that his mother worries and yells when he finally shows up to the motel 30 minutes to hours later than he's expected to have arrived home.

But Justin's mind quickly switches from thoughts of Gypsy to thoughts of Sissie, because his mom is calling her to their table.

Great.

"Sissie!" Pattie exclaims, because she catches sight of her at the same time as Justin. Pattie is waving her over and Justin is watching as Sissie begins to grin.

"Pattie!"

And the two women hug and smile and exchange words and laughter and more smiles until Sissie's eyes fall into his own.

"Justin," she nods, "I see you've joined your mom for dinner, today."'

"Yes ma'am," he replies, because Gypsy was, in fact, right about his mother raising him with better manners, and while the politeness is most certainly there, Justin is decidedly selective with whom he shares it.

Pattie is beaming at him.

"How nice," Sissie continues. "Are you staying for Bingo, too?"

Justin is quick to say, "No," before his mother can answer for him.

"I guess you can save that for the old folks," Sissie grins, all before she turns to Pattie and drops her voice and swats the woman's arm, "I can't get Gypsy to play with me, either."

And Justin does not hear these words very clearly over the blasts of the air conditioner, so he asks, quite possibly a bit too loudly, "Who?"

"Sissie's granddaughter, Jus," Pattie says. "She's staying here for the summer, babe."

"My granddaughter," Sissie nods happily. "I take it you two haven't met, yet?"

"Granddaughter?" Justin repeats, and he's wondering when Sissie ever mentioned even having a granddaughter as he watches her nod, "Yes," she says. "My granddaughter, Gypsy,"

"Oh," Justin is wondering how the two are related. "Gypsy," he nods and tries to ignore his mother's obvious look of confusion.

"Have you met?" Sissie asks.

"Uh...yeah," Justin replies. "I, like-I met her today."

Sissie and Pattie speak at the same time. "You did?"

Justin shrugs as if it's not as big a deal as he thinks it could be. "She gave me towels."

"Ah," Sissie nods knowingly, despite Pattie's lingering look of confusion. "She's working the desk."

"Still?" Justin asks. He didn't see her before dinner...

"Oh, no," Sissie replies quickly with a shake of her head and swat of her wrist. "Some nights she eats in the kitchen-with Ed."

Justin nods and fights the smirk he knows'll send his mother into a questioning frenzy of, "You like her, don't you, babe?" and "You can tell me, I'm your mother," when Justin isn't sure of anything except that he'd possibly like to see Gypsy again because aside from Sam, she's one of the few people his age that he actually enjoys talking to. "The kitchen...?"

Sissie nods. "She's still there, I think. She should be, knowing Gypsy."

Gypsy thinks, no, knows that things are complicated between her and Calum, but right now, she's stuck.

She's stuck not knowing what to do or what to say next. She stuck debating between thoughts of the words she'd like to say and those she thinks she should. There's a war raging between her heart and her mind, and she wishes, more than anything does she wish that for one second she could see Calum. She wants to see him because she'd be able to tell-boy, she would be able to tell instantly what to say or what to do. She knows him-despite how close she is to the other boys, she's closest to Calum. They're so alike and so different that somehow, words between them are simply unnecessary.

If she saw Calum, she'd know exactly what to say.

But she can't do that being stuck.

Gypsy can't do that being here.

She waits impatiently for Ed to return, because at this point she's really in need of someone to listen. She wishes Katy were available tonight, because what Gypsy needs is to talk and talk and possibly cry without judgement or interruption because the thoughts in her mind are weighing on her heart.

She really needs to have a good ol' heart-to-heart with her grandfather. He knows her better than anyone, including her mother and especially her father. Gypsy wishes that she could sit at his feet in the living room of his suite and tell him everything like she'd done since she was six, because she knows that he'll be honest and kind and leave her feeling better than before, except Gypsy is stubborn and for the week and a half that she's been at Charming, she's avoided Willie at all costs. He can really tell that there's something wrong with his granddaughter.

But, Gypsy is stubborn.

She doesn't give her grandfather the opportunity to question her since each time she feels his eyes dissecting her actions she is quick to remove herself from his sight.

She needs to talk to her grandfather but she just can't bring herself to do so.

Gypsy is really very stubborn.

And it sucks, too, because she was feeling pretty good until Justin left her in the lobby. He took his towels and Gypsy remained with "Always," her thoughts and two waiting texts from both Luke and Ashton that put her in a bad mood and force her to evade the prying eyes of her grandmother and go eat with Ed.

Ashton sends the list and Luke-well, then there's Luke.

Have you texted him, yet?

Gypsy replied as she headed to the kitchen to eat her dinner.

Shouldn't you know? Aren't you always together?

Luke must not have been busy, because his response came almost instantly.

Sassy pants.

This made Gypsy laugh, but before she could text back, Luke'd fired off another.

I've got to show you something, Gyp.

This made Gypsy frown.

What Luke

And it was then when Gypsy received her first set of lyrics.

Text him, Gyp, is her last text from Luke, and although she already has, Luke does not know this because he just wants Calum to be happy.

Because, Calum is not happy.

Hi, Cali.

Hi, Cali is the text from Gypsy that she sends before Justin knocks magazines onto the floor in the lobby and she's hunched over listening to "Always." This is also the text that Cal doesn't know how to respond to, because first of all, she's used the name she's called him since the day they met-the name that since then, since that day in 9th Grade when he was brand new to American soil, she uses when she's either angry or teasing or biting her lip before she kisses his own.

Calum can't exactly tell which is which through text.

Second of all, he's all of five seconds away from going onstage when he receives this damn text and his phone buzzes in his back pocket and his thoughts automatically switch from the show he and the boys are about to play to the girl who used to ride shotgun in his car and sing Green Day in a way that only she can-a way that causes a whole shit ton of butterflies to erupt in his stomach at the thought and he's filled with an overwhelming desire to pull the car over on their drive home from school and cup her face and kiss her lips because her eyes are shining and her curls are blowing out of his window and her hand is in his because she used to be his, too. He's thinking about the girl who has and continues to inspire the songs that he sings for other girls that somehow don't seem to touch him like this one-this Gypsy, does.

Except now, she is not his anymore, and although Cal's been repeating this mantra to himself for over a month, although things are clearly-painfully clearly-over, the words aren't really registering. His mind is saying that Gypsy is still his but because his heart feels too heavy in his chest and his lungs seem to work only when his mind is preoccupied by anything that does not remind him of his best friend turned ex-girlfriend, Calum knows that Gypsy is very obviously not his and that just isn't making any logical sense.

Calum reads the text and mouths the words without meaning to.

Hi, Cali.

He almost wishes that she didn't send this-not now, at least.

How does he respond to 'Hi, Cali?'

"Ready, mate?"

Calum looks up and throws his phone into his guitar case. "Yeah," he says, because the boys are ready to go onstage and while he was ready, now he isn't-not yet, at least. His thoughts are in Vegas and he's in Sydney and his friends can tell that something's off.

Luke places his hand on his shoulder. "You're sure, Cal?"

"Yeah," says Michael slowly with a raised eyebrow. Michael has known Calum the longest, so uncharacteristic things like this about his best friend don't exactly slip by unnoticed. "D'you need to talk about it, mate?"

"Nah," Calum says with a shake of his head. "I'm good. Are you?" He counters.

"Of course he's good," Ashton interjects, tapping his sticks on his back. "Who do'ya think he is?"

Michael is Michael and he's Calum and it is then, in this moment that he decides that he really needs to get over his best friend-"I've got to stop thinking about her, mate," he tells Luke softly after the show-and because it finally sounds like Calum really means it this time, Luke whips out his phone and texts Gypsy.

Have you texted him, yet?

Gypsy has, and as time ticks above her head in the kitchen, she remains overly anxious awaiting Calum's response.

What if he doesn't text her back?

No, he's got to.

But, what if he doesn't?

No way-it's Calum. He'd never do that to her.

Or would he?

Best friend/boyfriend Calum wouldn't do that, but...but, Calum is no longer her boyfriend, and they've barely been within ten feet of each other since the break-up.

"Shit," Gypsy grumbles. She's overthinking and she hates herself for thinking at all about this shit. "Fuck my life, man."

"Seriously?"

Gypsy whirls around because the new voice in the kitchen has startled her from her pity-party.

"Giving me towels was the best part of your day, huh?"

Gypsy snorts and Justin laughs, taking a seat across from her at the counter as she sighs out a, "Possibly."

Justin laughs again.

The kitchen falls to silence.

So, Gypsy shakes her head, because she actually does not believe that the tattooed boy from this evening is sitting across from her in the kitchen. "What are you doing here, Justin?" She asks. "Really."

Justin grins. "You just," he smiles wider, "you just like-you just called me Justin."

"That's your name, isn't it?"

"Yeah, but-"

"You like 'Kenny' better?"

"Not particularly," he shrugs. "And like, why do you go by 'Gypsy?' What's your real name?"

"Why don't you answer my question first?" Gypsy counters, although the words come out much more like a statement-or a command. "Why're you even here?"

He folds his hands before him. "Thought you might've missed me," he winks. "I didn't want you to worry, y'know."

Gypsy's eyes roll to the ceiling on impulse. "Thanks for the sentiment."

"God takes care of his angels, remember?"

"Eew," Gypsy exclaims. "You sound like Hugh Heffner and I'm some fake-boobed, plastic, bimbo Barbie."

"Last time I checked, they were Bunnies," he shakes his head. "Don't demean them like that."

Gypsy chokes on the word, "Demean?"

"Demean," Justin deadpans. "They've got hearts just like you or me," he says. "Their boobs may be a little bigger, but their hearts-"

Gypsy tugs on her shirt. "Are you calling my boobs small?"

Justin forces himself to keep his eyes on her own as he raises an eyebrow because her boobs are definitely not small. "Want me to take a look?"

And Justin is laughing again because Gypsy is blushing big time. "I walked right into that, didn't I?"

"Yep," Ed calls as he strides back into the kitchen. He knocks Justin's knuckles, returning to the metal island. "Nice one, mate."

Justin is still laughing-"Thanks, man."

"Right," Gypsy snorts, "because it's hilarious to diminish a woman's worth to her breasts. I'm in stitches, Justin. Really."

"But, look," Ed grins, squinting his eye and pointing to the curve in Gypsy's lips. "It's got you to smile, hasn't it?"

Gypsy looks away, but she's already betrayed herself, damn her.

"See?"

"She loves me," Justin grins, staring at Gypsy as he folds his arms, but Gypsy is childish and she sticks her tongue out, "As if," she says.

"Well, you're looking better, Gypsy," Ed says. "For a moment I thought we'd drown in your tears," he taps her nose. "Thought the salt water was about to flow from those pretty eyes, love."

"What's wrong?" Justin asks, peering across the island beneath a furrowed brow. He has not forgotten that she'd seemed upset pre-towels, too. "I mean," he shrugs in an attempt to come off as less concerned, "you're okay?" He doesn't like when girls cry. "Like, you're good, right?"

"I'm not about to die if that's what you mean," Gypsy replies rather brusquely. "I-" She looks between a brown and blue set of eyes locked intently on hers. "I broke up with my boyfriend and my friends are trying to get me to have fun, I guess," she pauses, "They're in-they're originally from Australia and they've left me here."

And she braces herself for the teasing because she's sitting with a boy she's called 'Kenneth' all day and a chef who's definitely got to have better things to do than listen to her whine.

Gypsy does not expect the nods of not only concern, but empathy.

"Shit," Justin says. "That sucks-I mean," He shakes his head, "I'm sorry, Gypsy."

She's visibly surprised. "Yeah, um...Thanks, Justin," she offers him a small smile and finds herself feeling better. She sighs out a laugh. "Thanks."

"Love," Ed shakes his head. "Seems it only gets more complicated with age."

"Well," Justin grunts, "that sucks balls, Ed. Thanks."

"Yeah," Gypsy laughs, and she catches Justin's eye, "That makes me feel much better."

"Well," Ed raps his knuckles on the island and rises from the table, "I think this calls for a drink-" He points to Gypsy and Justin. "Want a drink?"

"Fuck yeah," Justin nods, but Gypsy is wrinkling her nose. "What kind of drink, Ed?"

"Well, let's see what we've got, eh, Gyps?" And Justin watches with amusement as Ed crosses the floor and Gypsy crosses her arms.

"I've got a red wine, a Chardonnay, a six-pack of beer-but, that might be Willie's..." Ed pauses.

"Alcohol?" Gypsy isn't a drinker.

Justin can tell. "You don't drink?" He asks with a smirk.

Gypsy shakes her head. "Not really," because she's only had a few sips at the few house parties she's attended during school.

"Ah, but you've never had a broken heart before, either, yeah?" Ed asks, sticking his head from around the freezer door.

To that, Gypsy's got to say, "No."

"First time for everything, right, love?" And Ed brings over a bottle of not wine, not chardonnay and not beer but Vodka.

"Damn, Ed," Justin grins, as he traces his finger along the ice around the clear bottle. "Absolut? What the hell were you going to cook with that?"

Ed shrugs, "You never know."

Gypsy counts the three shot glasses in Ed's other hand and gulps. "But, my grandma..."

"Is in Bingo," Justin finishes. "That shit lasts for hours and b'sides," he shrugs, "who like, who cares, Gypsy? It's summer."

"But-"

"Live a little, Gypsy," Justin says, but he says it with wide, pleading eyes that remind her of Ashton telling her to have fun.

"He's right," Ed shrugs and Gypsy scowls, "Some influence you are, Ed."

"I'm the fun uncle, Gyp," and as Justin nods in agreement Gypsy sighs because Ed is already pouring shots for the three of them.

"Okay," Gypsy says, and Ed is sliding full glasses towards each of them as Justin smiles because she's doing it and he was sure she wouldn't. "Okay, but if I've got a hangover tomorrow-"

"You'll be just like the rest of us," Justin says. "Shut up and take the shot, Gypsy."

Gypsy opens her mouth to respond but she doesn't. She shuts her lips and wraps her fingers around the tiny glass that's cold from the chilled alcohol that smells a hell of a lot like chemistry.

"What're we drinking to?" Justin asks, raising his glass and propping himself on the stool. "To Ed's job? Because I think we need to drink to Ed's job."

"We need to pray for his job," Gypsy grins, "not drink to it."

"Let's drink to you both pissing off, yeah? Yeah," Ed says.

"Then, what?" Justin asks, smiling over the neck of the bottle.

"You pick," Gypsy tells the chef-she's ready to get this over with.

So, Ed raises his glass and points with his other hand to her. "Drink to getting drunk, because what doesn't kill you makes you stronger."

And there are nods before Absolut is burning throats and only Gypsy begins to cough.

"Jesus," she says. "That-that's-"

"Delicious," Justin laughs.

Ed is unscrewing the cap. "Ready for another round?"

"Another?"

"Another."

"Well," Gypsy sighs, and for some reason she's saying "Alright," despite the trail of warmth she feels from her throat into her esophagus. For some reason, Gypsy pushes her glass towards the chef.

"Cheers, Gypsy," Ed grins.

"Yeah, Gypsy," Justin says. "Cheers."

And this is how Gypsy checks off the first to-do on Ashton's list: 1. Get drunk.

-~*~-

Well...what do you think?

Okay, so first guys I've got to say that when I posted Chapter 5 a few days ago, I had almost exactly 550 reads and now I have 1.4K. Seriously, that's amazing and I thank you so much! I'm loving the response to this story because it's different than anything I've written before and I'm enjoying it tremendously. You guys are the best. :)

Also, gif to the right is Ashley Moore aka Gypsy (and aka Mischa if you're reading WAB and/or WAB2).

Love ya lots! Read and vote and comment! ❦