Itty Bitty Stories

What the Heck, Beck

oh gosh. I don't know what this is. The ending is completely cheesy. And it felt so weird to write about an ACTUAL celebrity. In my story. It's freaking weird. How the hell do those people write fan-fictions about One Direction? *Shudders* I don't know. I think it's weird. Just read this.

Beckett Hewitt is ranked the third hottest teen in Hollywood.

He’s also the biggest thing in the movie industry right now.

He’s currently in my shed.

And he’s the only one who knows I listen to Jesse McCartney.

What the Heck, Beck

“Girl, there’s somethin’ bout me that you outta know! I’ve never felt the need to lose controllll! Always held on back and played it slow. But notttt this timmme! Baby don’t be gentle, I can handle anything!”

I spin around in my grey sweatpants, using the rake as a microphone. I should really be outside in the autumn breeze, raking up all the colorful leaves that lay dead on the ground. Instead, I’m in my fairly large shed, singing along to Jesse McCartney’s Right Where You Want Me.

I love the autumn time - especially in Pennsylvania. It’s the perfect season; it’s not too warm but not too cold. Sometimes it snows, like last week. I like a little wind every now and then. The weather, to me, is perfect. And I love to climb the trees that have no leaves. Better view of everything.

My shed isn’t a normal shed. It’s a garage turned into a shed. It’s kind of like my separate bedroom when I don’t want to sleep in my house. I have an extra bed in here, TV, radio, everything. Plus a desk where I keep all my shit. The shed isn’t connected to my house, it’s actually pretty far away.

I live in the mountains. Well, not necessarily. To get to my house, you gotta drive up these curvy hills and on each side of the road is drowning in a big forest. I see bears very often. It gets pretty cold up here, but I don’t mind it. I can handle the coldness. There’s a ton of houses up here too. There’s even a lake if you keep driving down the long twisted road. Needless to say, we don’t get many trick-or-treaters.

Which is why there’s a zero chance of anybody knowing I’m a closet lover of Jesse McCartney.

“BABY!” I belch out, gripping onto the end of the rake like it’s my lifeline, “Take me on a journey! I’ve been thinking I could use a little time alone with you! CRAZY! Let’s do something, maybe! YOU GOT ME RIGHT WHERE YOU WANT ME!”

I do a twirl, my knotty pony tail flying with me. It’s nine in the morning, and school is shut down because the roads are icy and there‘s still a loot of snow in random areas. Those roads aren’t going to warm up anytime soon, so I probably have a good four days of school off. Plus it’s bound to snow again, so that’s why I’m not in a rush to rake up those leaves outside. But my mom doesn’t think it’s going to snow again, so I’m kind of forced to.

“Girl, I’m gonna let you have you’re way with me, but when you move like that it’s hard to breathe. I never thought it could be like this, but I was wrong.”

I freeze up at the flawless male voice singing the song perfectly.