You Belong With Me

We're sat on my couch. Just talking. I got him giggling again and I revel in it. She can't do that.

Just talking. Avoiding the subject of why he's really here, because answering that would hurt too much.

His phone rings. He sighs and picks it up. 'Hey babe.' Muffled screaming comes from the other end. 'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you – Portlyn!'

'Chad Dylan Cooper, don't even think about – ' the screaming becomes words. I sigh and reach for my iPod, having no desire to listen to them arguing. I press play. Taylor Swift's You Belong With Me comes on. How ironic.

You're on the phone with your girlfriend; she's upset. You betcha she is. I can't hear the words 'cause the songs on full blast but he's pacing, looking worried.

She's going off about something that you said, 'cause she doesn't get your humour like I do. To be honest, Chad's not that funny. He's too much of a drama snob to be that. But I do know when he doesn't mean what he says. His eyes shine. But they don't do that when she's around so maybe she can't tell.

I'm in the room, its a typical Tuesday night, I'm listening to the kind of music she doesn't like and she'll never know your story like I do. Chad has a habit of going out in the middle of the week. I don't get it. Something about 'less fans.' And as for Portlyn listening to Taylor Swift – well, she wouldn't be caught dead. Lady Gaga's more her thing: meaningless dance tracks that everyone else likes. And don't get me started on knowing him better than her. Better than anyone.

But she wears short skirts, I wear t-shirts. Well, Portlyn's the sluttiest girl I have acquaintance with. After she quit Mackenzie Falls she stopped wearing their uniform, but the skirts she wore were even shorter. I'm not fashion conscious and I do wear T-shirts but when I came to LA I decided I wanted to look good. Three guesses why.

She's cheer captain and I'm on the bleachers. Portlyn's at the forefront of Hollywood. Chad is furthering her career by dating her and he can't say no because it does him good too. Just like the feud between the Falls and us is continued because it's good for ratings. I'm on the number two show but I'll never be in the limelight like her.

Dreaming 'bout the day when you wake up and find that what you're looking for has been here the whole time. Chad already knows that I'd be better for him. I'm not blind to the way he looks at me but we both ignore it because Hollywood's a game to be played and only the biggest, baddest, best can win.

If you could see that I'm the one who understands you, been here all along so why can't you see? You belong with me, you belong with me. He might know that being with me would be better but he can't see that I feel the same way.

Walk in the streets with you in your worn out jeans, I cant help thinking this is how it ought to be, laughing on the park bench thinking to myself, 'Hey isn't this easy?' So easy. Like breathing. We did the whole just chatting thing this lunchtime. Minus scruffy jeans (he's CDC!) and actual streets and park benches (hallways of Condor Studios and prop room couch). Then Portlyn walked in and stole him away from me. Again.

And you've got a smile that could light up this whole town, I haven't seen it in a while, since she brought you down, you say you find I know you better than that. Hey, whatcha doing with a girl like that? Story of my life.

She wears high heels, I wear sneakers, she's cheer captain and I'm on the bleachers, dreaming 'bout the day when you wake up and find that what you're looking for has been here the whole time. If you could see that I'm the one who understands you, been here all along so why can't you see? You belong with me. Standing by you, waiting at your back door, all this time how could you not know baby, you belong with me. You belong with me. Of course I'm at his back door. I'm not good enough to be at the front. It's not that random being number two to the Falls. How does he not see how I feel?

During the instrumental I think of how we're enemies, we can't be together. But our flirt fights and the fact that his eyes can't lie and how he's here tonight, Tuesday, say differently. The riffs of the guitar solo reflect my moods – when we're together I'm happy and high but then he leaves to be with her and I come down again. He's a drug that's killing me.

Oh I remember you driving to my house in the middle of the night, I'm the one who makes you laugh when you know you're about to cry. I remember him turning up here. It was the middle of the night and I had work so I was a little slow answering the door. I had it assumed it was my mom coming back from her night shift and that she had forgotten her key.

'Chad,' I had said. Standard greeting.

'Sonny,' he had smirked. Standard reply.

'What are you doing here?' I'd asked, bleary eyed and wary. You can never be too careful.

'Um… Can I come in?'

'A little.' Chad had stepped in, just over the threshold in a pointed manner. He raised his eyebrows.

'Can I come in a little more?'

'Yeah, just dump yourself on my couch in the middle of the night, Cooper. And I'll be grounded for the rest of my life for having sex before I'm married.' It was a bad joke, not even funny really, but it had worked. He had laughed shakily and the look of anguish that hangs over his perfect face permanently now lifted slightly.

'Thanks, Munroe.'

In the present, I smile at the steadily pacing figure in front of me, remembering, and he pauses and frowns at me, confused.

And I know your favourite songs and you tell me about your dreams. Off by heart. I remembered them because I was scared that Portlyn might make him forget his egotistical dreams about himself and the songs he adores because I hate them (he's a Lady Gaga fan too).

I think I know where you belong, I think I know it's with me. Of course it's me. He hates me and loves me and kisses me goodbye on the cheek and he calls me to say goodnight and he won't leave me be until we do our 'Fine-fine-good-good' thing that I love and I'm cute and he's obnoxious and he has a schedule to annoy me by and I love love love him. How could it not be me?

Can't you see that I'm the one who understands you? Been here all along so why can't you see you belong with me. Standing by you, waiting at your back door. All this time how could you not know baby, you belong with me. You belong with me. Have you ever thought just maybe you belong with me? You belong with me.

The call ends just as the song does. I turn my iPod off and he sits down next to me, really close so I can't breathe.

'What were you listening to?' he asks, his eyes burning straight into me. I bury my face in his cheek to stop the pain and he wraps his arms around me.

'You belong with me,' I whisper. We both know I'm not answering the question. He kisses me softly.

'I can't stay, Sonny,' he says gently.

'I know.'

And we hold each other tightly for the last few minutes because we're both scared that if we let go the other will disappear out of our grasp forever.