Mr. and Mrs. Craven’s 2:39 pm

I’m glad I came home.  I’ve needed this.  I’ve been so run down lately, not sad or really even tired, just going non-stop.  I’ve been doing promotion for my next single, which was released last week.  Justin’s busy promoting, too.  God, he’s so damn busy.  Whenever I call him he’s going somewhere, to a shoot or an interview or something.  He’s sometimes a little short with me on the phone, but he always apologizes; and when he tells me he loves me or says, ‘thanks girl, I needed this,’ I know that he appreciates my calls and that he misses me like I miss him.  I saw him last week.  It’s not like it’s been forever.  It’s just different right now and difficult. We went from seeing each other every second on vacation and then almost every second on tour, to more separation and less time together.

But it’s not bad at all. 

It’s actually been really good between us.

Right now I’m doing an interview with Rolling Stone.  I did one during my first album, but it was a small one-page article and not a cover story.  I haven’t done the shoot yet, but I’m doing it with Patrick Demarchelier, so I’m super excited to get someone his caliber shooting me!  I’m even going to bring Megan. I know she’ll be stoked!  I’m going to start bringing her to more things with me.  Right now Johnny’s got a couple ladies who are so sweet and are helping me out, Marcie and Sonya.  They’re awesome and they’re gonna help me until I find someone else, or until I convince Megan that she can do this.

It’s weird now.  Like, I never really realized anything was wrong when I was with Angie, but now that I look back on it, so many things make sense—it all clicks. 

And it’s all wrong. 

I feel much more at ease with Johnny.  With Angie, I was afraid everything I did or said would stress her out, especially over the past two years.  In the beginning it was different, she was more at ease, more excited with me than frustrated at me.  I almost want to ask her and see if this was all part of her plan when she met me, of if she changed.  I’d like to think I wasn’t too naïve when I was starting out, that when she met me she really did want to succeed with me.  I’d like to think that maybe the business got to her, that maybe she really did think that this was the best way to sell my records.  But the truth is, I was naive.  I was eager, and she was there.  She was the first person who really seemed genuine and nice and thoroughly willing to help and go the extra mile for me.  So I didn’t question her like I should have.

Teddy and I had a long talk in New York about it.  We both were shocked but not really disappointed, and I was glad that I wasn’t the only one who had known her so long and had the blinds pulled over their eyes. 

I sigh and stretch in front of me, staring at the lady that’s sitting on my parents couch while I lay across the loveseat.  She’s cute as hell, all like girly rocker chick with her dyed hair and awesome make up.  She still looks very professional, though and she’s so nice.

Before, when I did my first interview with Rolling Stone, they sent this dude who was kind of a sleaze and spent the entire time looking at my boobs.  I’m just in stretch pants and one of Justin’s t-shirts now.  I’m at home and I don’t know what persuaded me to invite them to my actual home in Georgia, but I did. 

I sat down and talked to Johnny and told him that if someone wanted a story about me, then I was the one that was going to tell it.  We talked for a long while about it, about what I wanted to say and who I wanted to say it to, and he told me if I could handle it he would get Rolling Stone on the phone.

I told him I could handle it.

When I told Justin about it and told him I was a little scared because this would be the longest and probably the most read interview I had ever done, he put my mind at ease, him having done several Rolling Stone cover stories.  He had in a box somewhere in his office, and we went searching for them the other weekend.  I sat there and squealed over him shirtless and sexy and then made fun of him for half of the things he said in the articles.  He just sat behind his desk in his chair, rocking and smiling and laughing at me.

And then he got up, plucked one of the magazines from my hands and kneeled down, leaning over me.  He was just smiling at me while I asked him what he was doing, even though I knew what he was doing.

We made out on the floor of his office.  He was laying straight on me, pressing my back into the carpet. I bite my lip, thinking about how he asked me to bend over his desk.  He whispered it in my ear, that and so many other things that I really do not need to be thinking about right now.  His fingers were everywhere, skimming and brushing, but not touching enough.  It was the biggest tease.

But we didn’t get the chance to go through with it. Rachel came upstairs telling me that she had just finished making the popcorn and had put in the movie.  We were going to watch 80s Tom Cruise movies all night.  She’s staying in Justin’s guest room until Trace finishes moving out of the guest house.  Justin was grumpy for the rest of the night, horny and whiney, and he just got worse when Rachel and I started picking on him for getting way too into Cocktail.

Shortly after that, he ended up calling up a couple of his friends and hung out in his game room with them all night.  I didn’t bother me, I was having a blast with Rach.  He would glare at me when he’d come up to get more beers.  I’d just giggle at him in return, knowing he’d make me pay later that night. I went to bed before they even emerged and that was at like 2:30 in the morning.  Nothing happened and the next morning I let him sleep in because I could tell by his snoring that he had partied too hard.

At one point that night, when Trace showed up, I told him to call up Courtney and have her come hang with me and Rachel and watch movies, but he made some excuse for her, saying she had plans or something.

What ever.  She’s here now.

“So when you say you feel like you’ve been understandably naïve, what do you mean?” I blink, suck in a breath and shrug my shoulders.

“You’re getting all Oprah on me, Kendra.” I laugh and she smiles at me. “It’s just that, I know I’ve made mistakes.  I’ve been eager.  I’ve chosen people to be around me that haven’t had me in their best interest.  That probably sounds really selfish, but I think when you’re in this business and you’re a singer—the one in the spotlight—you have to be selfish to a certain extent.  If people around you only care about making money for themselves, then things can happen like that have happened to me. But at the same time I think it’s very understandable.  I mean, one minute I was singing karaoke and taking dance lessons, and the next I was in the studio, sending demo tapes to record labels.  The next thing I knew I was auditioning with Sony.  I didn’t really have time to sit down and think, is this the right decision, are the people around me deciding the right things.  I think anyone in my position would do the same thing.  I just was unlucky.”

I bite my lip, realizing I’ve rambled again to her.  She told me to stop apologizing for it about thirty minutes ago.  I just can’t help it, her questions have really made me think and discuss things.  Plus, I’m a rambler.

“Unlucky?  You have a record that’s almost double platinum, the hottest boyfriend and relationship in all of tabloid land, and you call it unlucky?

I nod and laugh. “Unlucky in certain aspects, in the business end, the end I’m so naïve at.  I’ve done really well in other fields.”

“One thing that I’ve noticed—and even though this is the first time I’ve interviewed with you, I do have collogues you’ve interviewed with before.  And so before this interview I asked them what you were like so that I could have a better idea of what I was in for—”

That’s funny, I was calling a couple people I knew in the business to see if they had had an interview with Kendra Hollis before as well.  “You wanted to know if I really was a diva, didn’t you?”

“Well yeah,” she says honestly. “And I think this is the thing that I’ve determined—which is the same as everyone else—you are a super star.  Rumor has it you’ll be going on a solo tour in a month or two and that you might go overseas.  You’re becoming a world famous starlet, you’re dating a world famous star, and yet, you don’t seem that way at all!” She says it in this astonished voice, as if I’m some special case. I look at her weird and then laugh. “Especially for someone who’s been around and toured and made music for three years now.  I wouldn’t call you a veteran, but you’re definitely not new at this either.”

“I guess I just don’t see any reason why it should change who I am,” I shrug.  “Who I am here at home and who I am out in LA or in New York, that doesn’t change, and I don’t think it should.  When I’m on stage I’m an entertainer, but I’m still me, it might just be one side of me, but it’s still part of Meredith Craven.”

I like this interview.  I feel like I’m giving good answers.  I hope I am, at least.  It really makes me think hard, ya know?  The stuff she’s asking—it’s not just like what’s my favorite food and what “inspires” me or some dumb crap like that. 

“Speaking of being home, I really do appreciate you allowing me to come here to interview you.  I know most people are really private, especially about having press come to your family home.  I think this shows a lot about you, that extra side you keep talking about.  I don’t think most people would assume that your parents would still be living in the same house you grew up in.”

I roll my eyes.  “I’ve offered, believe me, but daddy doesn’t want to move because he’ll have to find a new place for a deer stand in the woods, and probably where I’d move them to would be too fancy.  I did redo my momma’s kitchen, though.  She wanted more counter space.”

“And I’m totally putting it in Rolling Stone that your mother makes the best damned cookies.”   She points to the platter in front of us.  I told my mom she didn’t need to bake cookies, but she wouldn’t hear of it.  She’s always baking cookies for strangers.  I smirk.

Show off.

“I might even ask her for the recipe and put it in the article.  I’m slowly transferring us to a home and garden magazine, just you wait.”

“Country cookin’ you can’t beat it.”  I smile.

She tilts her head to the side and I like the way her hair looks especially against her neck.  I’d never dye my hair black with dark red streaks, but still I like the shape of it.  I need a haircut.  I’m usually always a long haired girl, but maybe I’ll go for something short.  Maybe I should wait until spring to do that.  Whatever, I shouldn’t be thinking about hair right now.

 “You think that’s something that makes you and Justin so compatible, your southern upbringings?”

She hasn’t asked me too much about Justin and honestly that’s surprised me.  She’s mentioned it here and there, but it’s not like the whole interview has been about him.  I like that.  And when she does bring him up, it’s always really positive, like now.  “I’m sure it doesn’t hurt.  I mean when I go home with him and he comes home with me, it’s natural, but that’s mainly because both of us have awesome families.  But yeah, I mean, I hadn’t really thought about it.  Though I think I’m more country than he is!  Don’t ever tell him that! He’s just been mister super star for far too long.  He doesn’t want people to know how much of a redneck he really is.”

“I actually grew up in West Virginia,” she says, widening her eyes and cringing.

“Really?”  I really am shocked. I’d never of guessed it.  Her accent is neutral, and he attitude screams “the city”.

She nods and puts her pen down on her paper. “Moved to New York when I was 18 and never went back, so I’ve lost a lot of it.  But sometimes when I come to places like this to do interviews, which isn’t often, part of me wants to go back.”

“Do I need to get the tissues?”  I joke.

She puts her hands up and reaches across us to the table in between and grabs the small recorder there.  “This is about you, not me!  Plus, I think I have enough material now to have a whole book about you.”

“Cravin’ It: the Meredith Craven unofficial biography,” I say dramatically, realizing the interview is almost over.  I wonder what time it is. I’m getting kind of hungry, maybe I can convince Courtney to go out with me in a little bit.

“Nice.”  She laughs, then sighs and shakes her head, looking back over her notebook. “Well, ok.  That’s it I think. We’ve covered all my questions, unless there’s anything else you wanna put on the record.”  She waves the recorder that’s in her left hand.

I shrug and it turns into a yawn and a stretch.“I think I’m good.  Oh man,” I say, snapping back into my lounged position and glancing at the clock on the Cable box.  “We talked for two hours!”

“You’re very easy to interview,” she replies, clicking the recorder off and sliding it into her bag by her feet.  I had to shoo DeeDee into my bedroom earier, because she kept trying to sniff Kendra’s bag to pieces.  “I felt like I was catching up with one of my old girlfriends more than anything.” 

I watch her get her bag up on the space beside her and put her pad and paper in it before opening her cell phone and mumbling a curse word when she realizes she gets no service out here.  I smile to myself.  I really do live in the boonies.

I look towards the kitchen and realize Courtney has her headphones in, so I sing in a loud voice, “Courtt…”

She jumps for a moment and pulls one of the pieces out of her ear and half closes her laptop, “You done?”

“Yup.”  I nod, stretch and sit up on the couch.  Kendra talks to me a few more minutes about possible release dates and tells me she'll be in touch with Johnny about more information, and that if I want a copy of the article before she prints it she can email it to me or something.  I've never had that offered before!

I’m going to have to remember her and give her more interviews in the future, if she wants them.  She leaves within fifteen minutes of our interview ending and tells me to say thanks to my mom for the cookies again.

When she leaves, I look at Court and pout, “Court…it’s sad.”

“What is?”  She says, looking down at her phone and pressing buttons from where she’s leaning against the back of the couch.  Courtney must get service.  Of course, I’m pretty sure we have the same phone company.  I don’t get service in my bedroom, though.  It’s absolutely ridiculous.

Last night Justin called and I could tell he was in one of his cocky moods because he kept trying to tease me, but I had to walk in the kitchen and just sit at the kitchen table and listen to him talk dirty and act ridiculous while I scolded him.  He knew I loved it.  It sucked that I couldn’t have just snuck into the den and laid down on the couch with a blanket and enjoyed what he was saying to me.  But Mom and Courtney were in there watching some movie.  So I was stuck.

I put my arm around her and look at her with big eyes, “That’s the last thing you’ll ever do for me.”

“You’re a nut,” she laughs.

“Oh come on," I laugh with her. "Give me some kind of sentimentality.”

“Boo hoo," she rolls her eyes at me.

“Now you’re a nut.” I nudge her and walk back into my parents’ living room and plop on the couch where Kendra had been.  DeeDee jumps up on the couch with me, coming from hiding in my room. I grab one of the two cookies left and also reach for the remote. I have to tap her nose to keep her from sniffing my cookie.  I wonder when mom and dad will be back.  They went into town for something when Kendra got here.  Maybe they just wanted to give me my space.  I know they're proud of me, but I think the whole celebrity stuff freaks them out a little bit.

Court’s just standing there on the other side of the couch looking off into space.  I bite into the cookie and wait for her to talk, cause I know she’s about to say something.  Sure enough, a moment later she says softly, “I guess I should get my stuff...”

“Hell no,” I say and then laugh.  I almost choke on my cookie and when I drop some on my shirt, DeeDee takes care of it for me even though I shouldn’t let her have it.

“What ?”

I clear my throat and press power on the remote. “Spend the night.”

“Are you serious?”

“Court," I whine.  "Come on, it’ll be fun, please.”  I know I sometimes annoy Courtney, but I also know that she does like me, and that whenever we do hang out we have a good time.  I know sometimes its just trying to get her over the whole initial idea of spending the night with my annoying self, but seriously.  I want to do something with her, have one last bash while she's my assistant.  I'm sure we'll hang out again.  It's not like I’ll never see her again.  In fact, now I hope maybe it'll be more relaxed between us since she won’t be so concerned about our professional relationship being too personal or something.  Now we can be friends without any weirdo drama.

I want to hang out with her, just me and her.

Cause I like Courtney.  I really do.  She's fun when she let’s go of this idea she thinks she has to be.

“I just don’t wanna bug you when you’re with your family.  Plus my flight leaves tomorrow morning at 8 am and I have a hotel booked in Atlanta.”

“I promise you won’t miss your flight.  And bug me and my parents? Please." I roll my eyes.  My parents love having company.  They don't care!  "We’ll have fun. We’ll watch some movies with DeeDee and eat really awesomely fatty food and you can dish to me about Trace, cause I know you want to…."  I narrow my eyes at her.  "I can see it in your eyes.” She shakes her head with closed eyes and I brighten my smile.   “I’ll get us some wine…”  She sighs and I can tell I’m wearing her down.  “Come on, I demand that your last assistantship thingy for me is getting drunk and watching Pretty Woman with me.”

She sighs loudly, and then after a moment I think she’s going to tell me that she hates me and leave or something ridiculous like that, but she doesn’t.  Instead she sucks in a huge breath, raises her head and looks at me. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Sure…”  I eye her carefully.

“I kind of have an old man crush on Richard Gere.”

I burst into a smile.  Yes!  The good Courtney!  The one that will let her hair down and not worry so much about what other people think of her!  “Me too!”

“Ok ok,” she laughs.  “We’ll go out and get whatever you want from the store and I will indulge in girliness with you once, only once.”

“You love it,” I shout at the ceiling, making DeeDee look up at me with big eyes from where she was resting her head on my feet. “You want it so bad.”

“Now you’re creeping me out.”  I just shrug at her.  “I’m going to go get some things together.   Justin and Johnny called so you need to call both of them back.”

“What did Johnny want?” I call out to her, now that she’s disappeared into the kitchen.

“Nothing bad, he just wanted to make sure the interview went well for you.”

I lower my voice, “And what did Justin want?” I laugh.

She comes back into view and rolls her eyes saying, “The whole conversation was like this, ‘oh hey Justin.’”  She lowers her voice to sound like a retard.  “‘Hey Courtney, tell Mere to give me a call back.  We just checked into the Ritz…What? No, Trace yes, You can talk to her.’  So then we had to have a little chat with Mr. Ayala.”

“Did you now?”  I say, seeing her blush. I like it, though. I like seeing her so animated about Trace and being silly about Justin.  They’ve been better, the two of them, not fighting like cats and dogs.  They’re cordial to each other and will occasionally joke around.  It makes everything much more relaxed.  I know it was a blow to Justin’s ego when it became pretty obvious how innocent Courtney was in all of this and how all his allegations about her were pretty much ridiculous.  But, he deserved it, and he needed it.

“Oh, shut up.”   She turns around so that I can’t see the smile on her face. She retreats back into the kitchen and I just snicker at myself and rub my hand over DeeDee’s head.

“I need details as to what’s going on with you two,” I call out to her.

“Nothing.”

I know she’s lying, so I turn off the TV, brush the crumbs off my shirt from my cookie and walk further into the kitchen.

“Are you guys dating now?”  I ask in such a snotty little voice, pushing my hip against the entrance to the kitchen. 

She shrugs and only says, “Kind of.”

“Well, do you go out to eat?”

“Yes.” She's trying not to pay attention to me, and she's trying to push stuff back into her satchel and rearrange it. But I’m not going to just ignore this.  Clearly she needs to talk about this with someone!

“Do you kiss and hold hands?” 

I walk further into the kitchen and smirk at her as it's clear, even though she's not looking at me, that she's blushing like hell and she says quietly, with a little laugh. “Yeah…”

I get closer to her and whisper, “Do you have kinky, butt slapping sex?”

“Meredith!” she yells and me and then bursts out laughing.

“What?"  I shrug and tease her and rock back against my heels, " Does he tell you he looveees you?”

“Will you shut up!?”  Her face is so red, but she's laughing and I’m glad that she's joking around with me even just a little bit.

I laugh and nudge her again before putting my arm around her like we’re the oldest friends.  I know she’s annoyed beyond belief, but now I know that she secretly likes the attention from me.   That’s such a bratty thing to say, but I know that she’s starting to come around with liking me, and I know for a fact she needs a friend, wants a friend.  And I try to be good for that.  I’ve learned now that she does really like me; she just had issues, we all did—still do.  I just know now that her distance didn’t have anything to do with me.  I know that this summer was hard on her, and she’s till trying to figure some stuff out.  I just want to try my best to show her a good time, cause Courtney needs a little fun in her life.  And with me and Trace by her side, it will be fun.  She’s just got to go with us on the ride.

 “You’re so dating! Why won’t you tell me?”

“Because I’m not even sure what we are right now.  Yes, we go out and yes we...ya know.”

“It’s called sex.” I whisper and she rolls her eyes.   “I know,” I rock back on my heels and look over when I hear DeeDee walk in and sniffle before going to the water bowl and slobbering the hell of out it.  “I know I’m adorable.”

“Call your boyfriend and we’ll go to the store,” she says, immediately handing over my phone.

“Fine.”  I huff, pretending to be mad.  I dial his number and walk back into the den, looking for my flip-flops while Justin’s phone rings.

After several rings I expect his voicemail to pick up, figuring he’s doing something important, but then I hear the ringing stop and I smile when I hear him clear his throat.  “Hey there,” he says calmly.  “How’d it go?”

“Great,” I say to him half in response to me finding my flip-flops barely sticking out from under one of the end tables.  “So apparently Courtney and Trace have kinky butt slapping sex.”

“Stop!”  I hear from the kitchen.

“And now she’s blushing,” I laugh.

“Hmm, butt slapping sex, eh?”  He completely ignores the fact that I’m talking to Courtney and his low, teasing voice makes me bite my lip. It reminds me of last night and all the things he was saying while I was sitting at the kitchen table in my pjs, crossing my legs tightly.  He’s too much sometimes.

“Perv.” It’s the only comeback I can think of.

Even though the conversation doesn’t last long, even though background noise comes over the line and in a flash he says, “Shit babe, I gotta go,” and the phone clicks, it’s totally ok.  I know how it is, and I know he’s stressed and being pulled in so many directions right now. I just wish that this time I was in New York able to call him up and ask him if he could take a break in my hotel room…like he did for me last spring.

I can’t believe it’s been that long and that so much has happened.  It’s all gone by so fast but at the same time, it hasn’t.  I mean, a lot of shit happened this summer to everyone…to me.   I still get a little jumpy when someone touches me on the shoulder. I’m still not fully confident in Johnny and WEG, which is really nothing to do with them and everything to do with my newfound trust issues.  The other day when my contract had been finalized and everything, I took a copy home and spent two full days reading every word…again, something I had already done.  I didn’t want to take any chances.  I had my contract with Sony faxed over, too so I could re-look at that.  I want to be smart.  I am smart.  I just want to be as on top of this as I can.  Justin says he’s proud of me, that I’m insane, but that he’s proud.  More importantly, I’m proud of myself and that’s what matters the most. 

I look into the kitchen and now Courtney’s on the phone, talking to someone in a low voice.  I think she’s leaving a voicemail.  I’m glad Courtney’s here, too. And I’m really glad she’s not gonna be my assistant any more. 

We talked about it, and we both decided this wasn’t good for either of us. Now, now maybe we can actually try to be friends instead of co-workers.

Everything’s ok, ya know?  It’s not perfect, it never was and never will be.  Justin’s nicer to Courtney now.  He’s still a prick sometimes, but he doesn’t pick her out to be the lone target.  He still has issues, lots of them.

And I love him more than ever.  He’s now helping Trace out with this clothing line.  They made up a name and it’s so cute, based on their grandpas.  I’ve already requested some jeans to rock.  I get excited and tell them I’ll be their spokeswoman, they both just roll their eyes at me and then I smack them both in the head.

It’s…better.  It’s like how it was back in the studio.  There’s an easiness around the two of them now that wasn’t there this whole summer.  That I hadn’t seen since I had been in New York with them. They’re best friends again, and I’m really happy about that.

Retrospect is a strange thing.  I’ve teased Justin about it a lot.  He’s going through this phase where he rambles about his childhood and about Trace and even about old girlfriends.  I don’t mind.  I listen to him and he always apologizes afterwards, even though there’s no need for him to.  But he’s been, I don’t know, calmer.  He’s promoting, he’s in the most stressful time of his whole damn career, but he’s calm.  He’s been grumpy, stressed, even short sometimes, but in the end he seems at ease with it all.  It’s a strange thing how it’s taken over him, and I know in a month he’ll stop thinking so much about his past and start looking forward, but it’s a good thing if it’s calmed him down.

Calm Justin is easy Justin, and easy Justin is the one I fell for.  I love all his many sides now, even the bad ones, but the easy Justin, the one that’s comfortable and strong, that’s the one I fell in love with in the beginning.  And that’s the one that has been doing a damn good job of making me smile every day.

It’s a silly thing to take a complex man and try to break up all his parts and personalities because he’s not that simple.  Neither am I.  No one is.  I’ve always known it, but the past few months have really shown it to me.  Everyone is complicated and contradictory and hypocritical to some extent.  Everyone has different sides they show to different people, some more extreme than others.

I’m just glad that I’ve got friends and people who love me and care about me—who show me all their sides.

Courtney’s telling me to stop daydreaming and get my shoes on so we can go to the store.  She makes some joke, some joke I only half hear and the part I do hear I don’t get.  But she’s laughing, not a mean laugh, but a light, fun laugh. 

And I’m really glad that there are people in the world, even though they have trouble showing me more than one side of them, who have started to open up and show me more.  I’m really, really glad Courtney is no longer my PA.  Really.  Now she can be my friend, something I’ve wanted for whatever reason, and something she can now feel comfortable about.

“Seriously? What are you doing?” she says coming into the den and giving me a weird look.  I guess it’s kind of weird, I’m just staring out of the window on the front door.  She rolls her eyes and scoffs at me.   “Don’t tell me that interview made you question the meaning of life and now we’re going to have to have a heart to heart the rest of the night and I don’t get to watch my Richard Gere.”

I laugh and walk back into the den and then to the kitchen and grab my purse off the counter, saying to her as I walk, “Don’t worry, you’ll get your Richie G.”

I look her way and she smiles at me. “Just don’t tell Trace.”

And some how, just like that, we are friends, not best friends, not even really close friends, but friendship is there.  All the stuff I took personally about Courtney not liking me and not wanting to be close with me fades, cause I get it now, and maybe I always got it—that it had nothing to do with me.  She had issues with opening up to people. And I have issues giving people their space. But it’s ok.

We’re getting over it now.

And yeah, as much as she might deny it or roll her eyes at it, we are friends.  And I’m grateful that I can say that.  I have a lot of friends, I do, but she knows me and she has seen sides of me few get to experience and even though I might have found her cold at times, she did help me out with things this summer, and for the most part she was there for me.  Maybe we’ve always been friends, but at least now it’s not weird.  It’s not strained.  I don’t feeling like some annoying little brat in her eyes, and I don’t see her as closed off and bitchy.

We’re friends, maybe we have for a while now, maybe it’s something that happened five minutes ago.  But whatever it is, it’s a damn cool thing.