It's Behind Rehearsal Number One:

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It was easy falling asleep (and frankly quite comfy; I missed that bed when we had to get up to head back to the theater). Despite my eyes being shut, they were still fazed by the morning light coming through the window blinds when I woke up the next day. I rubbed my eyes, tried to sit up, and quickly discovered two things: 

1. Johnny was literally laying right next to me (if his dad walked in, we were both dead.). 

2. I was trapped, courtesy of a sleeping gorilla's arm. 

I could feel his breath on my neck as I tried to pry his arm off of me and get up. Frankly, I didn't want him to let go...until I remembered who his dad was. 

Only then had I began to grow afraid. 

"Johnny!" I whisper-yelled; I tried kicking him awake, I tried patting his arm (hard), I tried patting his face. He wouldn't budge. 

I looked around, my eyes catching something: 

His phone, on his nightstand. 

Why on earth he would put his phone in a place where I of all animals could grab it? I had no idea.
It was just within reach of the tips of my (fingers/pads), and I was able to grab it by the end. I pulled up a video and prayed he wouldn't kill me for this. 

HOOOOOONK HONK-HONK HONK-HOOOOOONK! 

"WHOA!" 

He just about fell out of the darn bed.

Well then...that worked; I sat up with a triumphant smirk on my face.

"Morning!" I greeted quickly before escaping that bed, "Know where the bathroom is? Ah-- actually, I'll find it myself while you get ready...bodyguard." 

With that, I walked out the door in search of the bathroom.

---

"I hope you realize there are other ways to grab people's attention than an airhorn, Y/N," he scolded, stopping at a red light. 

"I hope you realize that I was trapped in the prison that they call your arm, Johnny." 

"Huh, I knew it wasn't a stuffed animal I was holding." 

"So you knew?!" I asked, "Why? What? Why?" 

"Because I knew you'd react like this." 

"Wait, what?"

He only chuckled again. 

"I'm not an idiot, Y/N," he answered, "I already know about your crush." 

My blood ran cold.

"I--cr--you--yet, you didn't think to say anything?!" 

"Course not; I wanted to see how long until you realized."

"How long did you think that would be?" 

"I didn't; besides," he continued, "figured it was too early anyways." 

"For this?" I asked, "Or for you tell me you knew?" 

"Depends," he answered, "What do you mean by "this"?" 

I didn't answer.

"Unless you're referring to Stockholm Syndrome." 

"If you're implying that I have Stockholm Syndrome, then--" 

"--Oh, I'm not implying anything," he cut off as he parked the truck and unbuckled his seatbelt, "The way you're acting right now says enough." 

He stared at me as I looked back with mouth agape.

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