I walk away from the church, frantically thinking of things I could say to go back for a few more minutes. "Hey! I forgot my guitar pick, I'm gonna go get it!" I yell, turning back to the church.

   I push open the glass door, taking care not to slam my guitar against it. I let the door shut with a soft thud behind me.

   I look around the sanctuary, taking note that he's the only one there, lying in the row of chairs closest to the kitchen. I set my guitar on a chair and walk to the stage, pretending not to notice him come up behind me.

   He watches me for a few seconds before he speaks. "What are you lookin' for?" I look up to answer and instantly regret my decision. His thumbs are tucked in his pockets and he's got his weight shifted onto one leg. His hair looks slightly windblow, (which makes him cuter, if possible) and his icy blue eyes are trained on me, searching me for answers. 

   "My pick." I reply, trying not to let the blush creep onto my face. "I can't find it though." I cringe inwardly as I say it. I don't even really play with a pick and he knows that. He walks over to the drumcage and leans against it, using it like a support. Maybe he needs it. I know I do. I'm so nervous, my knees are threatening to buckle.   

   I turn to go, dissapointment rising in me like high tide as I realize it's not gonna happen. I try not to let it show. "Madi!" He whisper-shouts. His tone is threaded with notes of urgency. 

   Here it goes. It's gonna happen. Oh no! I'm not ready. I need Icebreakers...and chapstick. Lots of chapstick. I want to do this but...oh stop procrastinating. Just do it. What if I ruin it? I'm gonna make this awkward and then- I shut out my negative thoughts and start to walk to the drumcage. 

   I'm almost there when I hear the clicking of heels in the hallway. I freeze and turn to the keyboard. I pretend to look for something. (Which at that moment was probably my dignity.) 

   Becky stops just out side the bathroom door and waves at me. I wave back and give her a nervous smile. It feels like my secret is written on my forehead in neon. She grins and pushes open the door, letting it creak shut behind her.

   I let out my breath and hurry to stand by him, hoping the drumcage hides us from the view of onlookers who may or may not choose to interrupt us.

   He's slouched lower, trying to accomodate to me height and I'm standing up as straight as I can, trying to raise up to my full 5' 4". "Hey shortstack." I whisper, attempting to lighten the nervous tension between us. He lets out a breathy chuckle and places a hand on his chest. "My heart's racing." He whispers. The blush on his cheeks is adorable. "How do you think I feel?" I ask, barely audible.

   Someone bursts into laughter in the next room. I need to hurry! Where do I put my hands?! Oh no! What do I do?!?! I think frantically. I place a hand on his shoulder and the other one on the back of his neck, using him to raise myself up. He gently grabs my waistand pulls me close to him. A gasp escapes my lips. I close my eyes and lean forwards, mirroring him. Our lips meet and my heart stops for a second...or two.

   I lose the ability to stand on the balls of my feet. My knees, once again, are threatening to give way. His hands tighten slightly on my waist. Maybe he knows. I can feel every one of his fingers throught the thin fabric of my skirt.

   I feel his tounge graze across my lips. My pounding heartbeat skyrockets. God, if we only had a bit more time. I inhale quickly through my nose, trying not to break this moment. I smeel the perfume I sprayed on not to long ago. I taste the remnants of the Icebreakers I've been popping like pills for the past two hours.

   Blush threatens to light my face on fire. I gently break away from him and take a deep breath. I trail my hand down his chest and turn to go, not because I want to, but because I have to. I've wasted too much time already "getting my pick." 

   "Goodnight beautiful." He murmurs. I turn back to him. There he is, leaning against the drumcage. Face flushes, eyes bright, and a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. Dead sexy. 

   I flutter my fingers in an attempt at a flirty wave. I jog out of the church, grabbing the guitar, and biting my lip, rembering the tast of his lips on mine.