Disclaimer: I don't own Big Time Rush or anything recognizable.

ranicious: Thank you! I'm sorry for the long wait but I hope you enjoy the chapter :) Thank you for reviewing!

A huge thank you to everyone out there who's still reading my stuff!

A/N: Yay! I'm on a roll today! Things are actually getting updated. I know it's been a really long time since I posted chapter three, and I'm sorry for the wait. Let's just say that things have gotten crazy for me. I'm going to try to update when I can, but I can't promise anything consistent. I'll do my best though :)

Enjoy the chapter! And please review :)

Chapter Four

Katie's POV

The rest of the day passed by quickly. James gave me his address in English as promised, and I quickly figured out that he only lived a couple of streets over from me. I avoided my friends at lunch, and instead hulled up in the library with 1984 and my laptop to get my English homework out of the way. When I finally checked my phone right before drama, I saw that Stephanie and Camille had both texted me about two million times to apologize for humiliating me. I rolled my eyes but texted them back to let them know that I forgave them.

James didn't mention the conversation that he and Kendall had walked in on with my friends. Instead, we chatted a little more about music before drama began. When school finally ended, I left the school, driving to the private dance studio where I took dance classes. I headed to the girls' locker room to change into my dance gear – yoga pants, a cropped tank top, and my sturdiest, lightest athletic shoes. I tied my hair up in a ponytail and headed to the dance studio.

I was the only one of my friends who took dance. Jo was on the cheerleading squad and was the editor of the school newspaper, Camille was the president of the drama club, and Stephanie ran the horror movie film club. We had all taken dance in middle school together, but I was the only one who had opted to continue. I loved it, more than almost anything. When the music was blasting, when the beat was pounding, when my brain was shut off and my body was moving on automatic, languidly and fluidly, I let myself go. I didn't have to think about the conversation in the hall that morning, or about the questions about James my parents were sure to ask, or Kendall's dumbass comments, or about James' mysterious past.

Which led me to the next question about James: Did he have a girlfriend back in Minnesota?

I set my tote bag down on the hard wooden floor, and began stretching out.

He didn't, right? I mean, he would have mentioned it last night over text or on IM. But it was one of the questions I had asked him that he hadn't answered.

But he'd been flirting with me. And he didn't seem like the kind of guy to flirt with a girl if he was in a relationship. And he'd had the opportunity to tell me if he had a girlfriend. But he was definitely hiding something. The fact that he wouldn't give me any specific details about his life in Sherwood told me that. And then there were the parts about him just seemingly dropping theater and hockey. I found it very interesting that those were two things he had rejoined the second he got out of Sherwood, Minnesota. But maybe that really did have to do with his parents' divorce. It more than likely did. But maybe I could ask him tomorrow…Preferably without letting on that Camille and I had internet stalked him. Because I was pretty sure he would be seriously creeped out if he found out about that.

Which reminded me, I needed to send him a friend request on Facebook.

I got up and padded over to my phone so that I could get into Facebook. I sent the request and went back to my stretching, just as Madame Du Pris walked in. She was a tall, slender blonde woman who, as she liked to tell us, had been such a beautiful dancer in her youth that she had managed to attract Monsieur Du Pris, a handsome eligible French bachelor who had come over to the States for business. Apparently they were still very much in love and he sponsored – AKA, completely funded – her dance studio.

Normally dance class was the best part of my Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. But today I was still thinking about James. I was distracted, and it must have showed, because Madame Du Pris called to me as the others filed out two hours later. "Mademoiselle Knight! May I speak to you for just a moment?"

I looked at her as I walked over to where I had left my stuff. "Sure. What can I do for you?"

"You appeared distracted. I could almost see the wheels turning in your head. I have never seen you less interested in dance. Is there something you would like to talk about?"

I shrugged. "It's nothing. Just some stupid teenage stuff."

She raised an eyebrow. "You've had stupid teenage stuff going on. This is different."

"It's really not. It's just a boy." I tightened my ponytail. "He's a complete mystery."

"How so?"

"He just…he's from Minnesota. He moved here a couple of weeks ago and we met the first day of school. And I really like him, but he doesn't like talking about his life in Minnesota. I mean, he really doesn't like talking about it. I really don't know anything about him except for some basic facts, and that he's really nice and funny, and I feel like he knows more about me. And I guess I'm just really confused about him."

Madame Du Pris looked at me. "Maybe something happened to him in Minnesota that's making him hesitate about opening up to you. And you've only known him for a few days. If he's not someone who opens up to others easily, that will make a difference. You may need to get to know him better before he'll be ready to talk."

"I guess." I hitched my bag over my shoulder. "He's just…it's so stupid, but there's just something about him. Maybe it's just the whole mystery element, but I'm really into him. But…he said it's lust at first sight."

"You two talked about it?"

"Kind of…not really. I mean, we've flirted. I'm pretty sure he's interested in me, too. But he doesn't believe in love at first sight, and I don't think it's really possible."

"Lust at first sight is a possibility," Madame Du Pris agreed. "That's how it was for Jacques and me. But lust can turn into love. And you're only sixteen. Right now, just enjoy spending time with this boy and try not to get too serious. There will be time for that later on."

"Thanks." I dug my car keys out of my bag. "I'll see you on Friday."

She nodded. "Good luck with him."

"Thanks," I said again. "I have a feeling I'm going to need it." I headed out and climbed into my car. I fished my phone out of my bag and checked it. Camille had texted me about getting a group together to go see a movie on Friday. I texted her back with, "Yeah, that'd be cool :) Want me to see if James can come?"

She replied right away. "Definitely! The more the merrier. Besides, maybe certain things will happen between you and James in a dark theater, *hint, hint, nudge, nudge* ;)"

I rolled my eyes and checked my other notifications. James had accepted my friend request.

Fifteen minutes later I pulled into the garage and walked into my house. My mom was home from work and in the process of making dinner – beef stew and a green salad. Most days when she worked she would prepare a slow cooker meal in the morning, but this morning she had had to go into work early. She was a real estate agent and had arranged to meet some clients at a prospective house at eight-thirty this morning. She usually didn't go into her office until nine.

"Hi, sweetie," she greeted me as I kicked off my shoes. "How was your day?"

"It was okay," I shrugged. "I'm going over to James' house tomorrow afternoon."

"Oh?" she raised an eyebrow. "Will his parents be there?"

Knowing that if I said that I had no idea, my mom would say no way in hell because she and my dad were adamant about chaperones and parental guidance when it came to strange boys that I was interested in and who might be interested in me, I nodded emphatically. "Oh yeah, his mom will be home. She's probably going to help us bake cupcakes." I mentally scolded myself, but I figured after Kendall's comment about James and me having sex this morning, there was no way my mom was going to be willing to let me go to his house unsupervised.

Mom smiled. "What kind of cupcakes are you planning on baking?"

"I think he said something about chocolate. And I'm going to help him unpack."

"It sounds like you two are getting close."

Not as close as I would like. "I hope so," I smiled and headed upstairs, hoping tomorrow would go well, and that maybe, just maybe, I would crack a couple of the Mysteries of James Diamond.

A girl could dream, after all.

Right?

James' POV

I didn't bother to warn my mom that I was planning on bringing a girl home the next day. That was mostly because she insisted that we watch this self-help mother/son bonding DVD together during our dinner of Thai takeout.

Nothing like eating Pad Thai while listening to some egotistical, self-centered psychologist yammer on and on about how she and her son used to be at complete odds, but now were practically Siamese twins.

"Titillating," I muttered as I shoveled the last bite of Pad Thai into my mouth. I swallowed the noodles and looked at my mom. "I'm finished. Can I go now?"

"Not yet, young man. I want to get through at least the first hour of this."

I groaned, collapsing back against the couch. "Seriously, bonding isn't our problem. The problem is that – "

"The problem is that I went wrong somewhere and screwed you up."

"Oh my God. We've been through this before. It's not your fault!"

"Maybe if I had just taken more time off from work, or if I had encouraged your father to spend more time with you…"

With the way she talked, you would have thought I had shot someone's brains out.

"Or maybe I'm the one who screwed up," I argued. "Or maybe…" I paused, biting off yet another idea that I had vaguely considered over the past few months. But it wasn't right. It wasn't true. There was no way it could be. It was my fault. I was the one to blame. It was so obvious. My mother was the only one who couldn't entirely accept it.

At last the hour was up and my mother resignedly shut the DVD player off, before flipping to TV Land to see what was playing. I padded into the kitchen, thinking about whipping myself up a chocolate milkshake. As I pulled out the chocolate ice cream, milk, and chocolate syrup, a thought struck me, and I shot a text to Katie: "How do you feel about chocolate milkshakes?"

She responded almost at once. "Love 'em. How do you feel about Oreo chocolate milkshakes?"

"Love 'em ;P We should make some tomorrow."

"Along with the cupcakes? Sounds like a very…sweet…afternoon ;)"

"Hope you don't have anything against sugar rushes."

I plunked a couple of scoops of ice cream, dumped in a cup of milk, and drizzled in some chocolate syrup before blending the ingredients together. Once everything had been mixed, I poured the concoction into a glass and took a sip. Perfecto.

I cleaned the kitchen back up and made sure that we had all the ingredients for chocolate cupcakes, before checking my phone. Katie had texted me back. "BTW, is your mom going to be home at any point tomorrow?"

My eyebrows shot up. Was there a particular reason why she was asking? Was she hoping my mom wouldn't be there, so that we could possibly…do stuff…? Or was she hoping my mom would be there, so that we couldn't possibly…do stuff? "She'll be home probably around 5."

"Cool :) I told my mom that your mom would be there, since otherwise my mom will freak and won't let me come over. She has this thing about underage sex and seems to think I'm going to engage in it."

"Oh. Yeah, my mom will be there for a little while, as long as you're planning on staying for that long."

"I am :)"

"Good :)"

As I took my phone and milkshake upstairs to my room, I flashed back to the conversation Kendall and I had walked in on in the hall that morning. It sounded like Katie had had a sex dream…and that it quite possibly involved me…And damn, I hoped that was true. Goodness knows she had been the one I thought of when I – ahem – took matters into my own hands the last couple of nights. I mean, I was pretty sure she was interested in me. Actually, not pretty sure. I was damn sure. But I liked the idea of her thinking or dreaming about me in bed. I liked the idea of her wanting me.

Katie and I texted back and forth a little more, but it wasn't long before she was apologizing, saying that dance had worn her out and she had to get some sleep. We said goodnight and I plopped down on my bed, my milkshake completely gone, my empty glass sitting on my nightstand. It occurred to me that I had accepted Katie's friend request earlier, but I hadn't bothered to check out her profile. And now was as good a time as any.

I grabbed my laptop, since it was better for profile stalking than my phone was, and logged into Facebook, before continuing onto Katie's page. It looked pretty normal. There were pictures that she and her friends had posted over the summer. She had a few cheerful statuses, nothing too dramatic like some girls. Her interests included dance, reading, and listening to music. I clicked on her liked books, and my eyebrows skyrocketed. Either her family had no clue how to use Facebook, or she was way braver than most people, because not only had she liked 50 Shades of Grey, but she had liked a few other erotic novels as well. Not that I minded. The idea of her lying in bed, squirming in pleasure as she reacted to one of the steamier bits of one of the novels, was enough to make me squirm in pleasure.

I took a deep breath, calming myself down, before continuing on. We liked a lot of the same music, had read quite a few of the same fantasy books, enjoyed plenty of the same movies, and watched a handful of the same shows. Supernatural and How to Get Away with Murder were just a couple.

As I scrolled deeper into her past, I saw "events" that Facebook had posted on her profile: Katie Knight is now single. Katie Knight is now in a relationship with Dak Zevon. Katie Knight Was Here with Jett Stetson.

Who the hell were Dak Zevon and Jett Stetson?!

Well, Dak Zevon was obvious. He and Katie had clearly dated for a few months last year. I clicked on his name so that I could view his profile picture. He was decent looking in a cookie-cutter, vanilla, totally boring sort of way. Brown hair. Brown eyes. A bland smile. Nothing special about him. His profile was open, and I was able to see that he was in a relationship with some blonde chick. At least I didn't have to worry about him as competition. For now.

There wasn't anything to get excited about when it came to Jett Stetson, either. He looked like your average shallow, vain, narcissistic asshole. In his profile picture he wore an Abercrombie and Fitch shirt. I only knew it was Abercrombie and Fitch because my mom was forever trying to get me to drop my t-shirts and dress like some prep school douche bag. Not that I had anything against fashion. I just preferred not to look like…well, like Jett Stetson.

Despite the fact that my gut instinct was telling me to get out now while I still could, I scrolled deeper through Katie's profile, and – yeah, I should have gotten out. I had just come across a picture Dak had apparently uploaded of him and Katie kissing. My stomach rolled, my jaw clenched, and there was a hot roaring noise in my ears. It was a long moment before I realized that I was…jealous.

And fuck. I hated it.

It's not like it matters, I told myself firmly as I logged out of my account, determined not to put myself through any more hell. That was last year, way before you and Katie met. And look at your relationship with Charissa. You have no right to be jealous. It's completely hypocritical. Besides, you and Katie aren't even together.

But it did matter. I didn't like seeing Katie kiss someone else, not even in a picture. Because the moment had been captured, frozen in time, and could never be completely erased, no matter how hard I wished it could be.

I tossed and turned that night, restless. I wondered how many other guys there had been before Dak. I wondered if they had posted pictures of themselves kissing her. And I wondered if she had been with any of them. Intimately. As in, sex. And then I immediately wished I hadn't wondered that, because all it did was make me want to kill something. It wasn't like it mattered in the grand scheme of things if she had slept with any of them. It wasn't like it was going to have this huge impact on my life. And the fact that the idea bothered me more than I cared to admit just made me feel like an even bigger hypocrite. I'd had sex. A lot of it. And how was Katie going to feel when she found out about that? Would she even care? Probably not too much. Wasn't it guys who got all weird about girls being with other guys, while girls weren't usually that phased about guys sleeping with other girls?

I shook my head. Great. Super. I had just confused myself. I had no idea what I was even thinking about. And I really needed to sleep. I was exhausted, and I still had two more days to get through before the weekend rolled around.

I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew my alarm was blaring and I was groaning into my pillow.

Fucking hell. I hated mornings.

The day dragged by slowly. Completely exhausted from the night before, I was sucking up as much Coke as I possibly could. I needed the caffeine.

As always, English class was one of the highlights of my day. One of the reasons why it was such a highlight came in the form of a certain petite brunette. Katie was in a simple pair of dark rinsed skinny jeans, a pink sweater, and ballet flats. She plopped down in her usual spot next to me, tossing her long dark hair over one shoulder. I caught a whiff of strawberries and cream, and her usual body mist.

"So," she said by way of greeting, "Camille's trying to get everyone to go see a movie with her tomorrow night. Any chance you're interested?"

"Depends on the movie," I replied, determined not to let onto the fact that the idea of her and me in a dark theater definitely interested me.

"Oh, it's that new romantic action comedy. All Down Hill, I believe."

"The one about the FBI agent who gets forced to play bodyguard to a spoiled rich girl?"

"That's the one."

"Sure, I'll go with you guys."

She beamed. "Awesome. I'll text you the details tonight. Or Kendall might. Either way, you'll hear from someone."

English began at that moment, and our conversation ended.

The rest of the day passed by a little more quickly after that, and before I knew it, the last bell was ringing and everyone was rushing to their lockers.

I headed home and threw my backpack in my bedroom and plugged my dying phone into the charger, before running a comb through my hair and deciding that I was acting like a fucking girl. Then I wondered if maybe I should change clothes.

Before I could even open my closet door, however, the doorbell rang.

Katie had arrived.

I hurried downstairs and threw open the door. She stood there, a small black purse over her shoulder.

"Where's your backpack?" was all I could think of to say.

"Oh, I left it in my car," she shrugged. "I keep my purse in my backpack at all times. It's more convenient to keep my keys and phone in, you know?"

I nodded, even though I had no idea what she was talking about. Weren't her jeans pockets big enough for her phone and keys?

She laughed as she stepped inside. "You look like I just spoke a different language."

"Why do you carry a purse around?" I asked. "I mean, can't you keep your phone and keys and stuff in your jeans pockets?"

Katie grinned. "Put your hands in my pockets."

"Excuse me?"

"Do it. You'll understand."

Shrugging, I forced my fingers into the front pockets of her jeans. I could only get two in. I paused, frowning.

Katie cracked up. "Exactly. Guy jeans have way bigger pockets than girl jeans, especially when you have to buy one of the smallest sizes. I sometimes have to get jeans from the kids' section because I can't find any that fit in juniors. They're all too long."

"That's insane," I agreed.

"Right? I'm a little jealous. You can keep your phone and your keys and your wallet in your pockets." She emphasized this by slipping her hands into my front jeans pockets.

"Hey, do you at least have decent back pockets?" I wanted to know.

She grinned impishly. "Figure it out."

I slipped my fingers out of her front pockets, and managed to slide four of my fingers into her back pockets. She was letting me touch her ass. She was totally letting me touch her ass. "Much better."

"Mmm hmm." She slipped her hands out of my pockets and dropped her purse on the floor. "So, are we going to stand around here with you touching my ass all afternoon, or are we going to unpack?"

"I have no issues with touching your ass all afternoon. It's a nice one."

Her grin widened. "You can thank years of dance for it."

I reluctantly withdrew my hands. "Unpacking it is. Come on, up to my room. And don't worry, I promise to be a perfect gentleman."

"But what if I don't want you to be a perfect gentleman?"

"My mom's going to be home within an hour and a half."

"Perfect gentleman it is."

"Damn straight." I smacked her ass and smirked when she yelped.

"That was not very gentlemanly," Katie grumbled as she followed me upstairs.

"Are you complaining?"

"Not particularly."

"Good." I led her up to my room, which was still strewn with cardboard boxes. I got into iTunes and turned my computer's volume on full blast so that one of my favorite playlists was pounding out.

"Nice choice in songs," Katie commented as I passed her a pair of scissors.

"You listen to Breaking Benjamin?"

"A little. I really like this song – Diary of Jane."

I smiled and knelt down on the floor next to her, getting to work.

Luckily I had already unpacked pretty much anything that might be embarrassing – such as boxers – so I was able to relax as we worked. About a half hour into it I suggested we run downstairs so that we could start on the cupcakes.

I pulled out the ingredients, and set to work on showing Katie how to make homemade chocolate cupcakes. She seemed to enjoy herself, and once the cupcakes were in the oven, we cleaned up the kitchen and headed back upstairs to resume packing.

"I guess this is one way to get to know you," Katie commented as she pulled out a Good Charlotte concert t-shirt.

I glanced at her. "You mean because I won't talk to you about my life back in northern Minnesota?"

Her eyes flicked up to mine. "So you are being mysterious and vague on purpose." It wasn't a question. It was a confirmation.

I nodded.

"Is there a specific reason for it…?"

I worked on unpacking a box laden with books. "I just – it wasn't a very happy time. My parents divorced, and I did some stupid shit."

"Does that involve a girl…?"

I paused, before slowly nodding. I knew we were treading on dangerous territory, but Katie had let me touch her ass earlier. The least I could do was give her a reason as to why I didn't like talking about my life in Minnesota.

"Are you two still together?"

"No." I brushed my bangs out of my eyes. "We – uh – we broke up last spring."

"Oh." She paused, before asking, "What was her name?"

"Charissa."

"Why'd you two break up?"

"It's a long, complicated story. But…basically, we weren't good for each other. It was a toxic relationship. Extremely toxic."

"Oh. How long were you two together?"

"For about a year and a half."

"Wow…" Katie blew her bangs out of her face. "Did you love her?"

"Does it matter?"

"I mean…maybe it shouldn't. But…" She shrugged, and I flashed back to the night before, when I had been boiling mad over the picture of her and Dak kissing. It mattered. It mattered because she liked me. Because she was going to be jealous, no matter what, but she wanted the facts. She wanted to know what she was dealing with. The problem was, I was never going to tell her exactly what she was dealing with. She was better off not knowing.

"I thought I loved her," I said quietly. "Maybe I did, for a little while. I don't know."

We fell silent, the only sounds being Aerosmith blaring in the background, and the ripping of packing tape.

And then Katie pulled out a box of condoms. She raised an eyebrow. "Really? You packed condoms?"

I blushed a bright red. "I was wondering where those went…"

She examined the box. "You packed a half-empty box of condoms? Dude, you're aware you can get them on the west coast, right?"

"I've heard."

She shook her head and tossed them to me. "Well, I guess that answered my next question."

"Which was?"

"Whether or not you're a virgin. Unless you've been using those condoms as water balloons, I'd say you've had sex."

"Do you care?"

"No," she said, just a little bit too quickly.

"Would it make you feel any better if I said I haven't had sex in almost six months?"

"I told you, James, I don't care. What you've done with other girls is in the past. It doesn't matter."

"Right."

"I really don't care."

"I believe you."

"No you don't. God, I wouldn't believe me." She took a deep breath, pushing her hair out of her face. "Look. Yes, it bugs me a little. I mean…okay, I guess it's pretty obvious that we're into each other. For some weird reason I'm drawn to you. Fuck, I sound totally stupid, like a character out of a bad romance novel. But whatever the reason, I like you and I'm jealous of whoever the hell this Charissa is. It doesn't really matter, it really doesn't. It's in the past and I get that. I guess it just bothers me a little is all."

I stared at her for a long moment, not really sure what to say. And then I blurted out, "Did you sleep with Dak or Jett?"

"What? No! Wait – how the hell did you find out about Dak and Jett?"

At that moment, the timer went off, signaling that the cupcakes were more than likely ready.

"We're continuing this discussion when we get downstairs," Katie threatened. "I want to know who told you about Dak and Jett."

I gulped. I really needed to learn how to keep my mouth shut.