More Scami Drabbles!

By Alicia Blade

Partly because people requested them, and partly because this couple is just so much fun to write. Enjoy and happy holidays!

Meeting the Roommies

Dedicated to Angie and R-chan.

It hadn't struck me that maybe I should be nervous until Amy swerved from the sidewalk and pulled me through the enormous glass doors of a condominium that was not quite what I had expected. I found myself in a plush, modern lobby, complete with stainless steel fixtures and a massive Georgia O'Keeffe painting behind the reception desk. Amy did not pause as she pulled me toward the elevators, though I was already beginning to feel dwarfed by the building's lushness and scale.

She had explained, of course, about her rich model roommate who could afford a nice condo in a nice part of town, so I had expected to be impressed. I had not expected to be stunned speechless, however, and instantly start comparing this first-rate accommodation with my own shoebox-sized dorm room.

And then the fact that Amy began to take on an air of awkward nervousness herself as we stepped into a waiting elevator and felt ourselves ascending did not at all abate my sudden unexpected anxiety.

"They're going to love you," she said, gripping my hand tighter through her white winter gloves. I glanced over at her, but she was staring at the elevator doors, her cheeks flushed from the cold December air.

In response, I squeezed her hand back. After all, we both knew that the comment was meant to comfort her, not me. Until this moment the possibility that her roommates might not like me had never seemed important. I really hadn't given them much thought at all, far too caught up in thoughts of Amy and our newfound relationship to plan out the impending meeting. And yet now, all of the sudden, this impending meeting loomed before me with mythical consequence on its shoulders.

Not only her roommates, but also her best friends. The catalysts of well-wishes and sisterly blessings, or the harbingers of disapproval—the first step toward relationship doom.

Melodramatic, perhaps, but this was nevertheless the crossroads I felt myself faced with in that moment as the metal elevator doors swung open and revealed a well-lit hallway before us.

People always think that meeting the parents is a big deal, the biggest deal. But somehow, judging from Amy's ever-tightening grip and pursing lips, I knew better. Meeting the best friends is the biggest deal.

And then she paused before one particular door and, without allowing herself to hesitate, burst inside.

We were in the living room of a condo that was a robust combination of class and immaturity, taste and youthfulness. And noise. A TV paused on a role-playing game sang to itself in the corner. A stove's fan hummed and whirred from somewhere unseen. Laughter filled the space, mixed with cheerful female voices.

The first sentence I could make out: "Did I just hear Amy come in?"

And a second voice: "Just in time!"

And then two girls appeared from around a short kitchen bar, saw me, and froze. They were both blonde, and they both looked momentarily surprised, but while one cast her eyes quickly toward Amy, the other kept them on me, pursing her lips and giving me a quick once-over. I gulped and drew an inch closer to Amy.

Then another girl emerged from the kitchen carrying a stack of five white dishes in her arms. She had black hair, and while she also paused and looked at me with surprise, her shock seemed short-lived as she quirked an eyebrow and called out, "Hey Leets, do you have enough for one extra?"

"One extra?" said another voice. And then there were four of them. This last girl, the tallest of the group, had brown hair tied back and wore an unembellished white apron and, when she spotted me, raised both eyebrows in surprise but managed to keep her jaw from dropping.

I cleared my throat.

"Guys," said Amy, "this is Scott."

I forced a grin, but did not bother to try and make it look less uncomfortable than it was.

"Hellooo, Scott," said one of the blondes, chewing on the nail of her pinkie finger and letting her eyes travel over me again. I drew another inch closer to Amy until my arm pushed up against her shoulder.

"Scott, this is Mina," she said, and the forward blonde wiggled her free fingers, "Serena, Raye, and Lita." To the girls, she said, "I'm sorry I didn't warn you he was coming. It was kind of last minute. Lita, is there enough food for dinner?"

"I don't mean to impose," I started, but was cut off when Lita, the tall brunette, flicked my comment away with her hand.

"There's always enough food," she said. "Go ahead and have a seat. It's just about done."

"I'll get another place setting," said Raye.

"I'll pour water for everyone," said Serena.

"I'll stay here admire the view," said Mina, but Serena grabbed her elbow and dragged her back behind the wall.

Before they were out of sight, though, I could hear Mina crane her head toward her friend and stage-whisper, "He's cute!"

I gulped and glanced at Amy, who slowly met my gaze and blushed. "So… those are my roommates."

It was not long before we were seated around their dining room table, filling our plates from a giant bowl of yakisoba. The silence was uncomfortable but not overwhelming, thanks in large part to the continued gaming music twinkling in the living room which gave the whole situation a peculiar dreamlike quality.

"So Amy tells us you play guitar?" said Serena after a long moment of traded grins and stifled giggles and much blushing on Amy's part.

"Yes," I answered, glad for a conversation topic. "A couple friends and I formed a band about a year ago."

"What kind of music?" asked Mina, twirling the noodles up in a pair of chopsticks.

"Um… rock… alternative rock."

"Are you any good?" said Raye.

I blinked at her, unsure how to respond.

"They're very good," Amy said for me. "At least, what I heard was really good."

I glanced at her. Her eyes briefly met mine, filled with stars, then turned back to her plate.

"Well if you got Amy to admit to liking rock music, I approve," said Lita.

Raye leaned forward, settling her chin upon her knuckles and smirking at the brunette. "Too bad your approval is the easiest to get."

Lita shrugged in response.

"Is yours the hardest?" I asked, drawing Raye's stare toward me.

Raye hesitated with an answer, but I was soon met with a resounding "Yes" from her four roommates—Amy included.

I chuckled and, strangely enough, felt my nervousness beginning to melt away. "Okay, then. What does a guy have to do to make you believe he might be worthy of Amy?"

Surprisingly enough, Raye actually looked as if she was pondering the question, and a glance around at the other girls showed that they were all wracking their brains for a response. I laughed. "I knew I had my work cut out for me, but come on."

"Well you're already a few points behind, I'm sorry to say," said Mina—with an honestly apologetic frown.

"I am? Why?"

"Because you broke the first two rules."

At my side, Amy heaved an annoyed sigh. I looked at her, but she was glaring at Mina. I turned back to the blonde, who was shrugging at Amy. "Well he did."

"I broke the rules," said Amy. "You can't blame him. He didn't even know."

"What rules?" Trying to act nonchalant, I swirled up another bunch of noodles and shoved them into my mouth—if I already had the approval of the chef, I didn't want to lose it, was the inherent logic. Although, somehow, the girls' combined intimidation was too humorous to be truly threatening. It was like some game of wit and courage that they felt compelled to play with their suitors and, for whatever reason, I wasn't particularly bothered by it. It was kind of refreshing.

"Rule number one," said Serena, ticking off her fingers with the ends of her chopsticks, "no hanky panky. And rule number two, curfew is at midnight."

Amy sighed again. I turned to her and gulped down my mouthful of yakisoba. "Curfew?"

"And if I recall correctly," said Raye, "she wasn't home until after seven o'clock in the morning after your first date. Which is way, way, way past curfew. You're lucky we haven't put up a restraining order."

"Okay… given that I was unaware of this restriction, do I get a one-time pass?"

Raye curled up a lip and narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "We'll see."

"And back to rule number one," I said, "what, exactly, constitutes hanky panky?"

Amy cleared her throat and leaned toward me, whispering, "Trust me, we've broken that rule."

"Oh."

"But it isn't like you didn't break rule number one with Daniel," she continued, looking at Raye, "or Serena and Darien, or Mina and… whoever she was in love with this last week."

"Man, have I turned into a prude or something?" asked Lita.

Mina suddenly squealed excitedly and bounced in her seat. "Hey, that reminds me, did I tell you guys about the sexy new bartender at—"

"Mina. Focus," said Raye.

"I think," said Serena with a raised voice, effectively pulling everyone's attention back to her, "that you can possibly still redeem yourself, depending on how you've thus far acted in accordance with rule number three."

"There's another rule?"

"The most important rule," Serena said with a serious nod. "Always treat her like a lady."

"Which includes the basic stuff," said Lita, "like opening doors and not staring at her breasts and stuff like that. But you should also refrain from sticky conversation topics, like politics and religion."

"Or ex-girlfriends," added Raye.

I shrugged innocently. "What ex-girlfriends?"

They all focused surprised looks on me. Lita was the first to laugh and flick her chopsticks toward me. "Exactly."

"Well, I think I can handle that rule," I said. "After all, I did defend her honor from a sexual predator and got a black eye." I paused a moment for them to be adequately impressed—wondering if Amy had told them the story already—then continued, "Plus, I wrote her a love song."

One might think that braving life and limb would get a strong reaction, but as it turned out, Amy's friends seemed much more taken with the idea of a love song written for her. I was quickly surrounded by astonished expressions and excited gasps and "Amy, you didn't tell us he wrote you a song" (I think that was Serena) and "Ugh, even I haven't had a guy write a love song about me!" (pretty sure that was Mina) and "Well aren't you just a regular Casanova" (maybe Lita?).

"Is the song any good?" asked Raye, and I couldn't tell if she was asking me or Amy.

Thankfully, Amy answered with a murmured, "It's beautiful."

"Well he has to play it for us," said Mina. "So we can adequately judge how flattering and romantic it is."

"I agree," said Serena. "And if it is a sufficiently sweet song that captures just how extraordinary and exceptional Amy is, and how no man could possibly ever come close to deserving her affections and yet you intend to make every possible attempt to make yourself worthy, then I think we might be able to overlook rules number one and two."

"I agree," said Mina. "But just this once."

"Works for me," said Lita. "Raye?"

Raye sighed, but there was a smile lurking beneath her chilled exterior. "I guess that would work for me too."

"So what do you say, Scott?" said Serena, leaning toward me and batting her lashes. "Will you come play for us?"

I chuckled, and then gave an awkward shrug. "If that's the price to pay for being allowed to continue dating Amy, I guess I can accept that."

"Great!" said Amy. She smiled brilliantly and pushed her chair back from the table. "On that note, we're going to go study for our finals together. Thanks for dinner, Lita."

I grabbed my not-empty plate of noodles as I was pulled away—they were far too delicious to give up—and called out, "It was nice meeting all of you," before being dragged down a hallway toward Amy's bedroom.

"What's the big rush?" I said, laughing, as she shut the door behind us. "I thought we were getting along pretty well."

"You were. They loved you," she said, leaning against the door with a sigh of relief. "But trust me—for the first few meetings, it's best to quit while you're ahead."

First Christmas

Dedicated to KaitlynFall.

The whole world had gone silent. The slushy streets. The snow-white park with its icicled trees. The midnight sky that had been filled with snowflakes hours before, now filled only with diamond stars. The condo.

Amy stared out at the city's expansive view and felt the oppressive silence of the condo pressing against her back. It was so rare to have the place to herself that she usually enjoyed these moments of freedom and tranquility, but on this particular day, the emptiness had a melancholy taste.

Four best friends. Two adoring parents. One amazing new boyfriend, who still tended to feel like a dream she was about to wake from.

And yet, here she was, all alone on Christmas Day.

Serena and Darien had treated themselves to a romantic getaway to the mountains. Raye was spending the day with Daniel and his father. Lita was working Martucci's lunch shift and then attending an impromptu party thrown by some of her coworkers. Mina was shopping—somehow she'd managed to track down a store that was open on Christmas Day and would, no doubt, be experiencing after-holiday-sale euphoria right about then.

Scott was approximately 40 miles away, celebrating the festivities with his parents and younger sister, aunts and uncles and two remaining grandparents. Though his family wasn't huge, it was without a doubt bigger than Amy's, and it turned out Christmas was a pretty big deal for them.

Evidently, it was no longer a big deal to her family. Her parents, whom she had spent every December 25th with for the past twenty-two years, were now enjoying a Pacific Island Cruise, something they'd won through a sweepstakes. How excited her mother had been when she'd called to tell Amy the news. How sure she'd been that Amy wouldn't mind. And in truth, she hadn't, at the time. It seemed like a wonderful getaway for her parents. She was glad they had the opportunity.

But now was she starting to mind.

Christmas Day, and Amy Mizuno was all alone.

She sighed, her breath fogging up the glass, and tried to picture what Scott was doing right then. Opening presents? Gorging himself on quiche and croissants? (Evidently, his mom made a killer brunch buffet.) Telling his family members all about his new girlfriend?

She couldn't help smiling at the idea and wondered what he would tell them. How he would describe her. If he would have a peculiar glint in his eye when he talked about her, like Amy's roommates insisted she got when she talked about him. The thought kept her from her sadness for mere moments, before the impossible pain of missing him returned. They hadn't been together for a full month yet. The relationship was still so new and exciting, and this would be the longest time they'd spent apart since the night she'd gone to see him at the Sunrise Café. She couldn't help missing him, even when she tried to convince herself how silly the emotion was. Even when she tried to look forward to seeing him again, and hearing about his holiday, and giving him his gift—they'd decided to wait and exchange them when he returned.

In her almost painful longing to see him, she imagined that she could hear him. Closing her eyes, she dreamt of his voice, accompanied by his guitar, singing a sweet, soft song, though she couldn't make out the words, even in her own imagination. But the sound warmed her and she forgot for a moment that she was alone. She pretended that he was with her, that he missed her as much as she missed him, that he couldn't stand to be separated during the holiday.

Which was probably a silly idea, and yet… the music did not fade with her own rationalization. She opened her eyes. The singing continued. Her heart jolted and she spun to face the empty living room, then marched to the front door. The music grew louder as she neared it and swung it open.

Unfazed by her sudden appearance, Scott just smiled and went on singing and playing his guitar until the song was finished. Amy's heart felt that it would choke her if it expanded anymore and she leaned against the doorframe, shaking her head at him, dazzled by how the mere thought of separation had made this surprise meeting seem like a Hollywood miracle.

The song came to an end. Scott's grin brightened and, before Amy's stunned expression could begin to fade, he bent down and kissed her. "Merry Christmas."

"What are you doing here?" she asked, holding the door while he gathered his guitar case and came into the living room.

"I couldn't do it," he said with a mild shrug. "I got half way to my parents and realized that I didn't want to spend this Christmas with them. So I called my mom and explained everything and got a get-out-of-Christmas free pass. She did have one condition, though."

"What's that?"

"She wants me to bring you home for New Year's." He looked at her mischievously as he set his guitar down on the sofa, draped his heavy winter jacket beside it, and returned to take her into his arms. "I hope you don't mind that I agreed."

Amy laughed, tying her arms around his neck. "That sounds nice."

"It's a date then." He leaned his forehead against hers, but the impending kiss was paused by a frown crossing his features. "Why is it so quiet in here?"

"My roommates are gone," she said, and proceeded to explain to him the plans of her four best friends, and she thought she did a pretty good job of keeping any sounds of self-pity from her voice, though she could tell by Scott's gently frowning eyes that he could tell exactly how miserable her friends' absence had made her. "So, we have the place to ourselves," she finished with a lightened tone and claimed the previously withheld kiss. His arms tightened around her waist in an embrace that was both familiar and exhilarating, as if her body would never quite adjust to the sensation of warmth and passion, comfort and belonging. It felt both like their first kiss and their one-millionth kiss, as his touches always did.

"I think," he said, smile wide when she broke away, "that I've chosen wisely, to come back."

Amy laughed and peeled herself from his embrace. "Can I give you your present?"

"I get a present?"

With a roll of her eyes, she skipped back to her bedroom, returning a moment later with a bright red envelope in hand. Scott quirked an eyebrow at it and then reached into his back pocket and produced an envelope as well.

"You go first," she said, passing him her envelope with flushed excitement.

He gave her the other envelope to hold—it was a plain white envelope, slightly crumpled from living in his pocket for too long. Amy hardly noticed it, too intent on watching Scott's expression as he peeled the flap to his gift and pulled out two tickets.

"The Strokes! Awesome!"

Amy cringed. "Please don't say awesome," she said, sure that the word would forever hold negative connotations for her.

Scott laughed at her and held up the two tickets. "Does this mean you'll be going to your first rock concert?"

"I guess that's what that means," she said. Though the idea was only slightly more appealing than it had been a month ago, the glow in Scott's gaze thrilled her.

"Just you wait, I'll have you head banging in no time," he teased, then glanced down at the crumpled envelope still in Amy's hand. "Your turn."

Scott wrapped his arms around her while Amy tore open the envelope and found two tickets waiting for her as well. She gasped when she read the headline. "Oh! You're taking me to the symphony!"

Scott chuckled, pleased at her enthusiasm. "We're both so self-sacrificing, aren't we?"

Amy beamed at him. "I think you'll enjoy it more than you realize."

"I'll enjoy seeing you dressed up again," he said, thinking of the short black cocktail dress she'd worn to the Sunrise Cafe. "By the way, I have one more gift for you."

Her eyes widened. "More?"

Nodding, Scott grabbed her hand and pulled her around to the other side of the sofa, seating himself first and then pulling her into his lap. Amy, more curious than surprised, allowed herself to snuggle into his embrace while he reached for the guitar and pulled it across them. She found herself pinned between the wooden body of the instrument and Scott's arms, soft worn cotton caressing her skin.

"I'm writing you a song," he said, fidgeting with the guitar's tuners.

"But you've already written me a song."

He glanced up at her, grinning slyly. "I hope you don't think 'Big Escape' is the only song of mine you've ever inspired."

Her eyes widened—he'd never confessed to writing more songs about her.

"But those were all written before I knew you," he continued, ignoring her surprise even as a subtle flash of embarrassment flickered in his eye and he returned his attention to the instrument. "So this one's different."

She pressed her lips together, unspeakably flattered. She couldn't pull her eyes from Scott's face as he strummed a few chords and fiddled some more and plucked the strings again. His gaze focused and thoughtful, his bangs—still dampened from the snow—hanging messily across his brow, his lips moving silently as he rehearsed some mystery lyrics to himself. Suddenly he looked up at her, catching her intense stare.

"What?"

She smiled and kissed him in response.

The moment she pulled away, a soft, humming chord echoed up through her chest. "Ready?" Scott asked.

Amy nodded and sunk against him, burying her head into the crook of his neck and shoulder as he began to play. First a long, graceful intro, lilting and slow and beautiful.

"My nurse came by to see me yesterday," he sang. "She says I've got a fever that I've got to allay. She says my blood is rushing and my heart beats too fast. She doesn't know I like it that way, to keep my nurse coming 'round everyday."

Amy giggled, and Scott suddenly stopped playing. Startled, Amy lifted her head from his shoulder and looked at him, and he returned a sheepish smile. "That's all I have so far," he said.

Amy beamed. "It's wonderful. I can't wait to hear the rest."

"That makes two of us," he joked, fingers mindlessly toying with the strings again, a jumble of notes filling the air, quiet and haphazard, and yet melodic and soothing. "I thought about getting you guitar lessons for Christmas."

"Guitar lessons? For me?"

"Yeah, Keith mentioned how we would probably get a bigger turn-out to our shows if we had a gorgeous female guitarist in the band."

Heat spread across Amy's cheeks, but Scott wasn't looking at her. "But then," he continued, "I thought that if you knew the science behind the music, you probably wouldn't be as impressed with me." He looked up at her. "And I really love the way you look at me when you're impressed."

She laughed and tied her hands behind his neck. "I don't think I'll ever stop being impressed with you."

The random chord progression magically evolved into the intro to Scott's new song again and Amy sunk against him, wholly content as she listened to him write her a song.

The Big Gig

Dedicated to Goddess_of_Ice.

"Guys, the table looks great," said Lita, taking in the expanse of memorabilia and souvenirs spread across the long table.

"Thanks," said Raye, leaning back in her chair, her feet propped up beside the stack of T-shirts. "Did you see the poster that Serena designed?" She gestured with her toes to the stack of concert posters and Lita snatched one up to get a closer look.

"Wow, that's very professional," she said, giving Serena an approving nod.

Serena beamed, still laying out the assortment of buttons and bumper stickers and keychains in as artful a display as possible. "I kind of stole the idea from the museum's new PR-campaign, but it's fitting, right?"

"Definitely. Has the band seen it yet?"

"Yep. Fully approved. We are going to make so many sales tonight."

Lita grinned, turning to stare out at the theater. Though it wasn't huge or fancy, it still held a lot more people than the cafes and bars The Blue Chairs had been playing at two years ago. People were filtering in, some claiming seats and tables in the back, others choosing to stand up by the stage in order to take in the music where it was the loudest. She spotted Amy standing before the stage, talking to Scott who was sitting cross-legged on the platform before her. Lita was still frequently amazed at the goggle-eyed gazes they persisted in bestowing each other, even now.

"Plus," Serena said, drawing Lita's attention back to her, "have you seen this yet?" She held up a cardstock CD case.

Lita's eyes bugged. " Theye finally finished it?"

"It's brilliant. Raye and I were listening to it on the drive over."

"I hope it sells well."

"Me too, but I think there's only one really important sale to make tonight," said Raye. Intrigued, Serena and Lita leaned down toward her. "Mina told me today that her agent finally agreed to come listen to them play. Plus he said he was going to bring someone from some big CD label."

"No way!" Serena gasped, clasping a hand to her heart.

"But don't tell Amy, because then she would tell Scott, and we don't want to make them nervous."

Serena squealed and bounced on the balls of her feet. "This is going to be the best night ever! With the new CD, and the music hotshot, plus..." She gasped and clamped a hand over her mouth. "Oops," she mumbled through her fingers. "Never mind."

Lita and Raye frowned at her. "Plus what?" Raye pressed, but Serena shook her head.

"Oh look!" she said, glad to change the subject. "Here comes Amy."

Amy was all smiles as she approached them, practically skipping through the crowd in her official Blue Chairs groupie T-shirt. The girl who had once been uncomfortable in these loud, poorly-lit venues was hardly recognizable anymore. Now she was a regular, recognized by all the other regulars as the lead singer's girlfriend and treated with the respect that such a title deserved.

"Wow, this looks amazing," she said as she approached, beaming at Raye and Serena's display.

"Thanks, Ames," said Raye. "When are they going to start?"

"Any minute now. I guess one of the other opening bands cancelled so they're trying to figure out how to lengthen their set right now. But they should start soo—"

She was interrupted by the lights going down and the crowd breaking into a roar of cheers.

"Or I guess they're starting now," she said. "Do you guys need my help here?"

Serena shook her head. "Go enjoy the show."

Grinning, Amy grasped Lita's hand and pulled her off into the crowd.

After two years of tagging along to dozens of Blue Chair gigs, Serena could sing the lyrics of every one of their songs—especially the ones about Amy. And there were a lot of those, though Amy tried to deny the fact that they really were all about her.

But even after hearing the songs a hundred times, Serena found that she still enjoyed them. It turned out to be the kind of music that one didn't tire of, and she especially never tired of seeing Amy light up like a Christmas tree every time Scott took the stage.

"Serena! Raye!"

They turned to see Mina emerging from the crowd, jiving to the Blue Chair's rocking beat as she walked, pretending not to notice the male stares that fixed on her as she passed by in her leather thigh-high boots and red plaid mini-skirt. She had Tommy, her agent, in tow, though he was talking to another man—or yelling, as the case was, to be heard above the music's roar—and Serena guessed he had to be the guy in the music industry. She straightened her spine, determined to sell that man a CD whether he liked it or not.

"The table looks so cute you guys," Mina said when she was close enough to be heard. "And look, we all match!" She unzipped her black leather jacket to show her Blue Chairs groupie T-shirt. "It doesn't really match the skirt, but you know, you've got to represent," she said with a wink.

She introduced Raye and Serena to the hotshot stranger and then the three of them disappeared into the crowd again.

The concert went on. Raye and Serena sung along to the songs beneath their breaths, and sold CDs and T-shirts, and made fun of the daydreamy gazes Amy focused on Scott all the time—until they switched to making fun of the daydreamy gazes they frequently gave their own boyfriends who, irritatingly, had both had to work that night.

"Forget the book, and girl, won't you stay?" Serena sang to herself as the band finished their most popular song to date. She handed another satisfied customer a CD and a handful of change just as Mina showed up again, this time sans accompaniment.

"That wasn't their last song, was it?" Mina asked. "Don't they usually close with that one?"

Serena shrugged and glanced up at the stage. "Yeah, but I don't think they're done yet. They're supposed to play for another half hour still."

Mina pulled herself onto the table, her legs kicking at its metal legs. "I think Rocky is really digging them," she said. "I'm surprised he hasn't bought a CD yet."

"Well don't let him leave without one," said Raye, reorganizing the bumper stickers that had become a jumbled mess on the table.

They all turned with surprise to hear Scott's voice ringing out over the crowded—speaking instead of singing for once.

"That song," he said, commanding semi-silence from the crowd, "was written a little over two years ago. And even though we've been playing it for so long, I bet most of you don't really know the story behind it."

Serena, Raye, and Mina traded surprised glances—they, of course, did know the story behind the song—and then mutually looked out over the sea of heads to find Amy and Lita in the chaos. They both looked surprised.

"I wrote it back when we were in college," Scott continued, "when I used to work at the college library. And there was this girl." His lips quirked and he shrugged, "'Cause the best songs are always about a girl, right? But anyway, I didn't know her at the time, but she used to come into the library and study. She was always... always... always reading something. And then one day I was sitting out under this tree," he gestured above him as if the red oak leaves were still there, dripping in the autumn air, "trying to write a song, and it was pouring down rain, and when I looked up, I saw her. That girl, waiting at the bus stop. Still reading. And anyway, that's what inspired the song."

He paused. The audience was clearly losing interesting, but Scott either didn't notice or didn't care. "But that's where the story gets really good. Because, you see, a couple months after that, I finally worked up the courage to actually introduce myself to the girl." His gaze fell on Amy, whose expression was a mixture of flattery and embarrassment. "And tonight, I'd like to introduce all of you to her as well. Amy, do you think you could come up here for a minute?"

Amy's embarrassment morphed into horror, but at Lita's urging, she somehow managed to push her way through the crowd and walk, slowly and self-consciously onto the stage, head ducked, glaring at Scott through her blue-tinted bangs.

His smile only widened and, when she was close enough, he took her hand.

The audience started to pay attention again.

"This is Amy," he said into the microphone, his gaze never leaving her. "She's the inspiration behind almost all of the songs on our new CD. Except for the ones Keith wrote…. Those ones are probably about someone else."

The audience chuckled. Amy's blush deepened. Keith leaned into his own microphone and joked, "That's what you think."

"But anyway," Scott continued, "not only is she beautiful, as you can tell, but she's also incredibly brilliant and sweet and dedicated and absolutely amazing in every way. And she also really, really hates being the center of attention, so I'll try to keep this short."

Amy bit down on her lip, terrified gaze locked on Scott, refusing to look out at the audience.

"Amy," he said, lifting her hand and kissing her knuckle, "I love you."

The crowd aawed. Serena pressed both hands to her chest to try and keep her heart from pounding its way out.

"I can't imagine my life without you," Scott said. "You inspire me and you make me happy and.... and I called you up here because..."

He pulled away from the microphone and wrapped both hands around her fingers now, and then determinedly lowered himself to one knee.

Mina and Raye gasped. Serena squealed. Though they could no longer hear what Scott was saying, there was no mistaking his intentions, especially when a black jewelry box materialized in his hand.

A moment later, tears in her eyes, Amy broke into a sunshining smile and nodded her head.

Scott stood and took her into his arms.

Then, as the crowd burst into applause, he pulled her down into a dip and kissed her. Amy's chiming laughter echoed throughout the theater as Scott lifted her back to her feet, kissed her again, and finally released her. As Amy made her way, trembling and bouncing, from the stage, her new diamond glinting on her finger, it was impossible to tell which of them had the bigger smile.

The music soon started up again and Amy grabbed Lita and the two of them rushed toward the table.

"You knew about this!" said Raye, smacking Serena on the shoulder. "That was the mysterious 'plus' from before!"

Serena nodded, uncanny tears pricking her eyes. "Scott asked me to sneak out one of her rings a week ago, so he could get her ring size."

"I can't believe you didn't tell us."

Serena ignored Raye's irritation and heaved a giant, wistful sigh. "I'm so happy for them."

Then Mina turned and cast a sly smile back at Serena and Raye.

"What?" said Raye, instantly suspicious.

"I was just thinking," said Mina, "that Daniel and Darien sure have their work cut out for them if they're going to beat that proposal."

Raye scoffed. "It's not a competition."

"Raye's right," said Serena, settling her chin into her palm. "The competition is: who gets to be maid of honor?"