Nick Carter.
“Get out of my head, dammit!” I whispered furiously. I glanced around, hoping the curious looks people were shooting in my direction wasn’t really directed at me. God, I didn’t mean to say it that loudly.

I mean really, is it MY fault that darn blonde kid refuses to leave my mind? 24 hours a day, 7 days a week…it’s Nick this or Nick that. Really…even I’M getting annoyed. God knows how my friends are feeling. Well, welcome to a day in the life of a psycho Backstreet Boys fan…at least, that’s what they call me.

Now don’t get me wrong…I’m not an obsessed teeny without a life. Or a crazy stalker (hotels don’t count dammit!) who collects their grass. I just like them, that’s all. Afterall, have you SEEN this guy? We’re talking Nick “Charismatic Is My Middle Name” Carter here. It’s a wonder there are even women alive who DON’T like this man. Whether you’re white, black, outgoing, shy, superficial, or deep, you’ll still love him. In fact, now that I just noticed, it’s a wonder Nick isn’t a schizophrenic.

Yes. That’s right, I said schizophrenic. As in, psychotic, mentally imbalanced, multiple personality…not that I think he’s psychotic or mentally imbalanced (perhaps not too bright, but not IMBALANCED), but he DOES show the signs of multiple personalities. I mean, one minute he’s this, the next he’s completely opposite to what you thought he was. How, you ask?

Well *clears throat*, here goes. One minute, he can be your normal teenage boy trying to talk ghetto and act tough, the next he’s the clueless, dumb blond Kevin gets annoyed with all too often. And THEN he can be all serious and come out being DEEP. But of course, he’ll start goofing off with Brian and be so damn cute you wanna smack him. And NO, that’s not all. Then he starts being the heart-stealer and stands there looking like some Greek God…(just a metaphor – I have no idea what a Greek God looks like. I’m guessing a Greek God is, well, Greek, and I know Nick is not, but hell, it’s a good thing…REALLY). But wait – I have one more. Next he acts all…KINKY on me. Afterall, he didn’t hang out with AJ all these years and NOT get corrupted ya know. And still, he can be the ideal older brother looking out for Aaron.

“You suck,” I groaned to myself. Did you see what I was doing that whole time? Thinking about that GUY again. I told you I had a problem. Here I am, thinking Nick is confusing, when in fact, that’s not the confusing part. The confusing part is that I even care. He’s some random dude years older than me who doesn’t know I even exist, who happened to be lucky enough to be blessed with fame, fortune, and talent, and I’m busting brain cells trying to figure the blond one out. And I’m not succeeding either. I need a life, cause I’m obviously never gonna succeed unless by some miracle I meet him and – woah.

Yeah right. Yeah freaking right.

Nick really must be on my mind too much. Cause now I’m hallucinating. I mean, even if it WAS Nick Carter checking out teeny magazines…he wouldn’t be doing it in my neighbourhood Daisy Mart.

I rubbed my eyes. Maybe I need a drink. Perhaps the heat was getting to me. I rubbed. Nope, still there. He had on a baseball cap, but I could see the tufts of blond hair peeking out from underneath. He was the same height, build, everything. It had to be him. I stopped walking for a second. I saw him glance up and our eyes locked for a second before I turned away and became extremely interested in contact lenses solution on the shelf next to me. I didn’t even wear contacts. But hell, I’ll start for Nick. What should I do? Should I go up and talk to him? Or just watch him from here? Maybe I should accidentally bump into him. Yeah. God, this was stupid. For all the time I spend thinking about Nick, actually meeting him was one topic I never covered. Great. Another once-in-a-lifetime chance I’m gonna mess up. Really, how often do you see Nick Carter with no fans around and no bodyguard in sight? Oh, the joys of living in Florida. I’ve never been so glad I moved here 2 years ago. But that’s beyond the point. I might as well go over there. I formulated a plan to ‘casually’ start a conversation with him. Hey, maybe I’ll be able to solve the mystery once and for all too. I took a deep breath and walked over to the magazine racks. Picking up a glossy copy of Rolling Stone magazine, I glimpsed over the cover. I could feel Nick watching me out of the corner of his eye. I knew he was waiting for me to notice who was on the cover. I glanced up, a confused expression on my face. I studied him carefully as he pretended to read Tiger Beat. I flipped open Rolling Stone to the 3-page article on the Backstreet Boys. Finally, after staring at him for a while longer, I asked, “You’re Nick aren’t you? Nick Carter?”
He looked up and I could tell he was contemplating whether to say something along the lines of “No, but I get that all the time,” or –
“Yeah, that’s me. And you are?” he asked politely, sticking out his hand.
I smiled, “Melissa. You’re in Rolling Stone.” Well duh, Mel. Doesn’t take a genius to figure that out. I winced inwardly.
He laughed, “Yeah, I guess you found me. I take it you’ve never heard of the Backstreet Boys?”
I shook me head, feigning innocence.
“So I guess you haven’t heard of the Millennium either huh?”
I shook me head again. Good to know I wasn’t the only idiot in the convenience store.
“So…does Britney inspire you or something?” I laughed teasingly.
He blushed, glancing down at the copy of Tigerbeat in his hands. This was TOO CUTE. “Nah, I gotta check out the styles of those other boybands if I wanna stay on top ya know,” he joked, showing me a picture of Justin Timberlake.
I giggled. God, I can’t believe I just giggled. Yes, people, I have officially lost it.
“Well seeing that you’re not into us, what kinda music are you into?” Nick asked.
“I like old-school stuff. You know…stuff from the 80’s – I was influenced by my older brother,” I answered. And that’s the truth too – I mean, I love Nick, but I’m not gonna lie just to impress him. Just in case you thought I was…but of course, you didn’t right? And besides, there really is no need to scare the guy away by telling him I knew what hotel he stayed at when the Boys stopped by Los Angeles last time I was there visiting grandma.
“Yeah? Me too. Ya like Journey?” he asked.
“Oh yeah…love them,” I grinned. I love Journey, I really do. What, don't look at me like that, it's the TRUTH darnit!
“Yeah, they’re one of, in my opinion, they’re one of the best rock bands out there. I mean, they started the whole soft rock thing back in the 80’s ya know. They’ve influenced all the bands out there today, I think,” he told me.
I thought about it for a second. He was right. I watched him take off his hat, run a hand through his hair, and put the hat back on again. And hot too. Dayum, break me off a piece of that. I guess I may have been a bit obvious though, cause he caught me staring and winked at me. I blushed crazily, and I quickly turned back to the magazines on display.
“Hey, you want me to get you something? I was just gonna get a Popsicle for myself,” he offered.
“You really don’t have to,” I declined politely.
“No, it’s alright. Besides, you deserve it. It’s been a while since I actually had a decent conversation with a girl without her breaking down in tears,” he kidded.
I laughed too, “Okay, if you insist.” I followed him to the freezer at the back of the store where the frozen treats were stored. He reached down into the freezer and took out two orange juice pops.
I was contemplating whether to tell him I really didn't like juice pops when he turned and smiled at me, "One for my little brother."
I smiled back - I guess my problem was solved for me. I reached in and took a Fudgesicle from the freezer, then he led me back to the front of the store.
“Wassup, dawg?” he greeted the 20-something at the register. Apparently, Nick came to my neighbourhood convenience store more often than I thought he did. Geez, that's what happens when you're as oblivious to the world as I am.
“Good, man, how are you?” the man who’s nametag read ‘Dave’ replied. They launched into what I would call a ‘guy’ conversation for a little while until Nick realized I was still standing there.
“Sorry,” he whispered in my ear as Dave rang up the Popsicles.
I smiled reassuringly, “No problem.” He can whisper in my ear ANY DAY. He handed me my Fudgesicle again and we walked out of the store.
“Well, I’d stay but I gotta get back now,” he said to me as the door closed behind us. "Something tells me Aaron wouldn't be too happy with orange juice instead of a popsicle."
I laughed, “Alright. It was nice meeting you Nick.”
“You too. Thanks,” he said, heading down the street.
But I stood there, confused, “For what? I should be thanking you.”
“Thanks for treating me normally,” he called back over his shoulder. He waved, and I waved back.
“You’re welcome,” I called back hesitantly, but I don’t think he heard me.
What just happened still didn’t quite seem to have absorbed yet. I took a seat on the bench next to the store, sucking on the Fudgesicle Nick bought for me, and thinking about what just happened.

So I met Nick. Finally. But dammit, the conspiracy wasn’t solved, was it? Normal? Check. Slow? Check. Deep? Check. Made-to-order big bro? Yup. Cute? No kidding. Hot? Do you even need to ask? Sexy? Oh ya. There was no other explanation. I guess he IS schizophrenic.

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