Annabelle sat at her desk and sighed loudly, head in her hands. She had woken up at seven for a college class--one more semester and she'd be out of there.

She'd gone back home to take a nap before showering and getting ready for work--the lunch rush at the local diner. After that, she went home to feed her dog, changed, and went to another diner for the dinner rush. After that she went home and babysat a neighbor's kid until nine, and then she went to the little coffeehouse and worked until midnight.

When she got home it was one-thirty in the morning. She showered, threw on pajamas and sat at her laptop to write the seventh chapter of her novel.

And now . . . she was exhausted. It was Friday, and she had the weekend off. She closed her laptop and rested her head in her arms.

She was woken at one in the afternoon by the pinging of her phone. She groaned and sat up, annoyed as she realized her face would have red marks on it for the next half hour from sleeping on the surface of her laptop.

Looking at her phone she saw that her brother had texted her--a lot.

Annie
Annie wake up
ANNIE
Addy called me again
ANNABELLE
WAKE THE FUCK UP.
SHIT
I just burned my fucking hand.
Where the fuck are you?
She called me again!!
Doesn't she know what no means?
Jesus Christ, Annie, she's fucking pregnant!!
I'm getting the beer.

Annabelle sighed. I was asleep. Slow down. Addy is pregnant?

It's about damn time! I'm already on my way to being drunk off my ass!

What else did Addy say?

Oh just that wants to date me again.
Probably wants money from me, the bitch.

You don't owe her anything. I told you that.

She's got a kid in her now, Annie.

*sigh* listen to me, alright?

Alright.

Lucas, she wasn't good. Not for you. It took you two years to get clean, and you know as well as I do that if you get back together with her you might go back. Drugs are scary shit, Lucas. You got lucky.

What am I supposed to do.

Block her number. Are you sure that it's your kid?

*sigh* Annie, I can't be positive with a girl like that. But the timing makes sense to me. You know, that one night I came home drunk?

Don't quit drugs just to go into liquor.

It's beer.

Don't become an alcoholic. Alcoholism can be just as dangerous as drug addiction.

I don't know any other way to cope, Annie.

I know. I'm in a bad place, too, Lukie.

You haven't called me that in awhile.
Since we were kids.

I miss you.

Miss you a lot more.
What if I come over tonight? We can watch those stupid horror movies you like.
Be miserable together.

Sure :)
Things will be okay, Lukie.

When?

I don't know, but they will be.

I trust you, Annie.
I'll see you tonight.
And no I won't wind up hungover. ;)

Annabeth smiled and put her phone down on the desk before opening her laptop and searching Pandora.

She stood up as the music started playing, stripping and getting in her shower. She left the bathroom door open so she could hear it over the water, and she hummed as she washed her hair.

And you keep running your hands down my body
But I still can't help feeling that to you I'm nobody
Your body is telling me yes but your eyes are saying no no no
Something about you says that you don't want me
You don't want to go but you're going to put on a show
I know the truth but you say you want to go home with me
What are we supposed to be?
I can't understand
Make me understand
And you keep running your hands down my body. . .

Annabelle shut off the water, still humming as she dried off and clasped her bra. She slid into her panties and pulled on a pair of sweatpants and an old KISS shirt before sitting back at the computer.

The song was just ending; Supposed to Be, Louis Willis.

She chewed her lip slightly, then opened a new tab in Google and searched the name Louis Willis. He was twenty-six, cute with brown hair and an upturned nose, eyes green as grass. He had really nice bone structure, and his music proved he had a nice voice.

She clicked on an interview video thst popped up; he was standing on a boardwalk, dressed in loose jeans and a white t-shirt. He had a Manchester United jacket on, and the wind was blowing his hair. It was short but thick, and it seemed unkempt but cute.

"What's the best thing about being a famous celebrity?" The interviewer was asking.

"I wanted to be a musician since I was a little kid, I remember running around playing air guitar with my sister when I was about five years old. So I think I'd say, just . . . being able to be where I am in my career, being able to call this my career. I'm really very grateful, some people took a chance on me and luckily I worked out." Louis started laughing now. "I will say though, being thrown so abruptly into this industry, I was only fifteen when I started writing and everything, I mean, I was signed to the label at seventeen. It definitely changes everything for you, your whole life is just flipped around and you're standing there not really sure . . . what to do or what's gonna happen, what might go wrong. I remember being terrified the label would drop me, for, like, two years before I finally realized they wouldn't do that because of the way the contract was written out."

Annabelle watched for the next few minutes before clicking back to the search results. She found a couple of songs that were recent releases, and within the hour she was following him on all his social media.

She was lingering at his Twitter when her brother texted again.

Annie
It won't stop
I keep seeing him
It isn't normal

Lucas, it is normal, after the stress you went through. He hurt us. He left scars and you're not past it yet. Why don't you come over early?

Thank you sissy. :/

Annabelle glanced back at twitter. From everything she'd read over her Google spree, Louis Willis had become somewhat of a lay-low kind of guy. Yes, he went out, did concerts and interviews and always spoke to fans if they stopped him. He was semi-active on social media, and responded to comments on the rare occasion. But he never made his presence known; in an interview he had once claimed to simply "stalk other celebs on social media because it's kind of fun getting to be the crazed fan once in awhile, instead of vice versa."

She didn't know what made her to do it; he had his account set to receive private messages--and she started to type.