charlotte adams is a ghost.
after her sudden and tragic death in 1995, she finds herself back on sunset boulevard, 25 years later, right where she left off.
charlotte has unfinished business; that's the whole point of being a ghost. maybe it has s...
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"is she here?" luke whispered.
it was 2:30 in the morning, and reggie, alex, and luke were just coming in to the studio.
when they found julie at the obviously over school dance, she'd essentially broken up the band. julie and the phantoms was over before it even got the chance to start.
so, the boys went to sunset boulevard and kicked at stones on the sidewalk, venting and brainstorming ideas to try and get julie to rejoin the band.
none of them were good, honestly.
reggie's suggestion of getting her a puppy or a hamster was shot down (they didn't have any money, and alex really didn't want to become a ghost criminal), and luke's idea of writing another song with her lyrics wasn't too great either.
alex made the executive decision to give julie her space for a day or two, and luke and reggie had to agree, however reluctantly. now, they were back in their studio, finally exhausted enough to sleep.
"of course she's not in here, dipshit." alex rolled his eyes. "she has a bedroom."
"i'm not talking about julie." luke shot back. "i meant char." he nodded to reggie, who was tiptoeing around the studio, looking high and low for any sign of the girl in the leather jacket.
a noise came from up in the loft, something that sounded like a soft sigh. reggie's ears perked up. "the loft." he said quietly. "she sleeps up there now."
"we should leave her alone, too." alex said. "she's probably not too happy with us, either."
"i guess we pissed both of our girls off today." luke let out a quiet chuckle. "point, caleb."
alex rolled his eyes as he settled into one of the couches. "good night, guys."
"night." luke yawned and flopped into the recliner. he fell asleep as soon as he hit the chair.
seeing that his friends were fast asleep, reggie pulled his and luke's songwriting notebook off of the coffee table and flipped to the next blank page.
chewing on the tip of his pencil, he scribbled down a few lyrics that had been swimming around in his brain all night.
your hand fits in mine like it's made just for me but bear this in mind, it was meant to be
then,
i'm joining up the dots with the freckles on your cheeks, and it all makes sense to me
