A/N: So, here's the thing about this story. It's already done. Yeah. Finished, complete. It's not my best work, but it's not my worst, and I'm finally putting it up. This was NaNoWriMo...uhm...I think it was 2008. I think. Updates will be every Wednesday (so there'll be another chapter tomorrow!).


He'd never thought he'd be leaving it all behind: the fame, the fortune, everything he had lived for in recent years. He'd never thought he would be abandoning it all just because of one girl. Just because he'd gone to a nowhere town to play a concert for a contest. Just because, while he'd been there, he'd met her. If he could do it all over again…would he do it differently? Would he have chosen to ignore the call, chosen to never see her again? A different decision would have spared him the heartache, that much was certain.

But the truth of the matter was, he wouldn't have changed a single thing. Well, maybe one, but that was it. He promised.

"Are you ready?"

He turned and looked at the girl standing there: tanned skin, dark hair and eyes, an Italian accent to her voice. With a sigh, he turned and looked away, scanning the sea of waving lights in front of him, the fans waiting for the encore. Was he ready? He wasn't sure. He wasn't sure he would ever be ready.

"What am I talking about? Of course you're ready. You're always ready, when it comes to her. If she had told you to jump off a bridge, you would have done it."

"Only if it meant that she wouldn't do it herself," he replied sharply.

"Exactly. You would do absolutely anything for that girl. That American."

He shot her a venomous look. "Get off my stage," he growled. She let out a huff, turned on her heel, and stalked off.

That was the thing; he would have done anything for her. He would have given her the world, but she would have told him to put it right back where he found it.

He closed his eyes, listening to the shouting, before slowly opening them again and peering out. Cell phones and glow sticks were being waved in the air as people tried to gain the attention of the band. He watched it all from just out of sight, taking in the sights, sounds, and smells of it all. What was he going to do without all of this?

"You don't have to go, you know," Landon said.

"Yes," he said softly. "I do. And you know it."

A single spotlight abruptly flashed into existence, focused on the stool where Tory had been sitting earlier. He took a deep breath, picked up the care-worn acoustic guitar from its resting place beside him, and strode onto the stage into that single spotlight.

One last show, he thought. One last time. I can do it. For her.