-CHAPTER TEN-

-Friday-

-The Tryst (Lunch Date)-

Continuously making out in the park with Troy is probably not the best way to convince myself of the fact that his body isn't super fine. (Which it still is.) And making out with him again to prove that making out with him isn't a big deal is a terrible idea. I really should have had my head examined after that. I couldn't look my mother in the eyes when I got back to the house, especially not after she asked if Troy and I had a good time at the park. I was flushing red and getting all embarrassed. I couldn't really face Troy again that night, either. I accidentally took the basketball home and I had to leave it outside on the patio for him to get because I was too flustered to just go over to my best friend's house and give it back to him. I'm such a wuss. I don't even have the guts to fight with Briton anymore. Not really, anyway.

-x-

-x-

"…periods one, two, and six are canceled today. Sweet." Jason and I turned away from the closed classroom door and stood awkwardly for a moment before moving down the hall slowly, lightly bumping into people as we walked into the less busy intersection of two hallways. I opened my mouth to suggest we go to the gym or maybe hang out in the cafeteria, but he cut me off. "Hey, does Miss Yu have class this period?" I shook my head, and he instantly made a beeline for the other hallway before I could get a single syllable out of my mouth. "I'll catch you later," he called back at me. "I have to go talk to her about my last test grade. She said that I might be able to take a make-up exam. Maybe I can get it over with now before she sends the copy of that 41 percent home."

"Oh, I'll come—"

"Nah. You don't have to."

And that was that. After the bell rang the hallways cleared and I was left alone, wandering aimlessly through the hallway before finding myself standing in front of my locker. Now, I'm not really a clingy person. I can be on my own. I actually end up on my own a lot. Kind of. My mom ends up having late meetings a lot so I eat dinner alone and then hang out in my room and do homework or listen to music or go on the computer or sneak over into Troy's backyard and steal one of his basketballs practice free throws and such. I don't mind being left home alone, but, personally, being alone at school kind of makes me feel like a loser. I don't know why. Maybe it's because when I look around nobody else is ever alone, and this little thing in my brain goes 'Why can't Ibe so fun to hang around that I'm never alone and I can always find someone to talk with no matter where I am?' (But then the random people that I'm looking at do something really stupid and I'm suddenly reminded of why I really don't like many people. Wow. That makes me sound really… dark. Kittens! Rainbows! Lollipops! Actually, scratch that. I don't really like cats. Make it puppies!)

So there I was. Alone at my locker, staring at the boring creamy white paint as I redid my combination and put my math book away. Somewhere inside I knew that I was being a little (okay, very) overdramatic, but another part trumped that part, and I stood there being bitter and angry about being left alone to wallow in my distorted mind of loner-loserdom. Pulling out my iPod, I set it to shuffle and then stuffed it back in my pocket, because I didn't really have a preference towards what song was playing—I just wanted to hear another person's voice. (Although, when it started playing the Hamster Dance, I admit that I changed it. Helpful hint: never let Jason and Zeke play around with your iTunes program when you're still logged into your account at the iTunes store.)

I was a bit oblivious as I wallowed, I must say. I was blankly staring into my locker and wondering if there was any way for me to possibly organize it more (but there wasn't). I don't know how long I was staring before someone came up behind me and yanked one of the headphones out of my ear. I looked left for whoever did it—hoping that they were about to save my from my boredom—but found nobody, and when I turned to the left I nearly screamed, coming face to face with an overly enthusiastic grinning Briton. Thank you, fate. There is no better way to cheer up a wallowing-in-loner-loserdom Gabriella than to throw a cocky quarterback into her life! Seriously. Someone up there hates me.

"Gabriella." I groaned and turned away, letting my head fall forward against the door of my locker. Once again, I was being overdramatic. The vibrating thunk reverberated through the hallway, and I winced (because that metal was way harder than it had originally seemed) as Briton reached out to steady the shaking metal door. "I didn't know that you had off this period, too." Frowning and reaching up to gently massage the part of my skull that I was pretty sure I had just bashed in, I continued to root around in my bag, searching for a book that didn't exist.

"I don't," I replied tersely, taking out a dictionary that I didn't need and then stuffing it back on the shelf. "My math class got canceled today."

"Oh. Sweet. I've had, like, one canceled class all year. And it was gym so it was kind of whatever because we all ended up outside anyway." I closed my locker quietly, a bit disappointed that I wasn't able to slam it without risking getting yelled at by all the teachers nearby. Glancing down the hallway, I hoped to catch a glimpse of someone familiar, maybe on his way to the bathroom, but I had no such luck and turned around to find Briton looking down at me with an extremely stupid grin on his face. To be fair, although Briton rarely deserves fairness, it wasn't his fault that I was in such a crabby mood, and it wasn't really right for me to take out my bitterness on him. After all, I had been the one standing in the hallway looking all depressed and wanting someone to talk to. Technically, fate, or karma, was only doing her job. But Briton has an aura of annoyingness to begin with, Jason had left me by myself, and it felt like Briton was asking for it in my head.

"What do you even want?" I asked, adjusting the strap of my bag on my shoulder. "Why can't you just leave me alone? Are you this annoying with everyone you know?"

He shrugged lamely and stepped back as I pushed past him. "I was just saying hello."

"Well don't. Just leave me alone." I stalked down the hallway, but he followed me. He is in fairly decent shape, so I probably should have expected that he would be able to keep up with me, but that doesn't mean that it bothered me any less when he continued to walk beside me as though he didn't even notice that I was trying to get away from him. Why did I have to be so easily excitable? Maybe if I could control my temper a little better I wouldn't have problems like large obnoxious quarterbacks following me around in the hallways and making lists and stalking me at the park after school.

"Jeez," he scoffed, flicking my arm. "And you think that I'm the one that has two personalities. What crawled up your ass and died since yesterday afternoon?"

"There is nothing up my ass," I snapped back, flicking his arm in return before hesitating at the corner and heading towards the cafeteria and the courtyard. "And yesterday was a fluke." He scoffed again. "Look, I'm just…"

"Oh," he said suddenly, lowering his voice, "Is it, you know… that time…?"

Why is it that guys think that anytime a girl is annoyed it's always because of her cycle? "I don't have my period," I hissed, glowering at him as two teachers passed, both of them giving me funny looks, "Not that my bodily functions are any of your business anyway. I'm just not in a good mood, okay? So why don't you be a good little boy and go find some other poor defenseless girl to bother."

He started laughing and, ignoring my last comment, asked, "How could you not be in a good mood? You have a canceled class. That's forty-five minutes of no learning more than you thought would have had today. Today is a good day for you. Plus," he added, reaching out and prodding his finger against my temple. "It's forty-five minutes of more time with me. It's like Christmas came early for fuck's sake."

"I was sold until your last point," I retorted, ducking into the cafeteria, "And stop touching me." It wasn't completely full and actually looked pretty empty for a lunch period, but it was a nice day out so most of the guys had probably already headed outside to the wall ball courts. I didn't see Taylor or Davidin there anywhere, but I was pretty sure that they would have disappeared to the library. I couldn't see any of Briton's friends lurking in the corners, either, which meant that I wasn't going to be able to ditch him anytime soon. Goodie.

"Wanna hang out?" he offered, following me towards the front of the lunch line as I reached for a tray of French fries. I rolled my eyes, moving past the stacks of Vitamin Water, and smiled at the elderly lunch lady, reaching into my pocket to pull out a few dollars. Briton stepped in front of me and shook her hand, saying "'Sup Alice?" and picking up my fries. And then walking away with them. I gaped after him, taking my sweet time in noticing that Alice was opening the cash register and putting in the money that he'd sneakily handed her before. I also took my time in noticing that, as he gestured for me to follow him into the courtyard, he was slowly eating my fries. Rushing after him, I muttered angrily to myself, finally catching up as he pushed open the door.

"Can I have my food back?"

"Technically," he said, holding the door open for me as I stepped out into the warmth, squinting up at the sun, "It's my food. Because, you know, I paid for them." He popped another fry into his mouth. "But I'm in a giving mood right now, so I guess I'll share." I reached out to snatch them back from him, but he held them above his head, smirking at me as I realized that my short little arms just weren't going to cut it.

"Briton, seriously—"

"Say please," he taunted, lowering them slightly. I glared at him as he moved towards one of the bright red tables in the courtyard, sitting down with my food. I followed him again, trying to take the tray back, but he moved it out of my reach. "Have a seat, Montez. Let's bond over fried greasy food." I tried—and failed—to grab the friesagain before finally taking a seat across from him, dropping my bag to the ground with a resounding thump.

"You're fucking lucky that I'm hungry," I growled, snatching the edge of the tray and tugging the fries towards me on the tabletop. "Because if I wasn't, I would totally be kicking your ass right now." He smiled at me, pulling them back so that they sat directly in the middle.

"You're fucking lucky that I'm sharing," he teased. "After all, I bought the fries and I don't technically have to share them with you at all." I rolled my eyes, grabbing a particularly crispy one off the top and popping it into my mouth, crunching it between my teeth with satisfaction. There's nothing like fried greasiness wrapped around a previously healthy chunk of potato. It was almost enough to make me forget about the overbearing sack of irritation sharing my lunch.

"Can you at least avoid eating everything?" I sighed, flicking his finger away from the longest fry, draped across the entire pile.

"I can't help it. I'm like a vacuum." He snatched the fry that I picked right out of my fingers, over-exaggeratedly sucking it into his mouth. "You'd better eat fast or you're gonna totally miss out." I rolled my eyes and he glared at me, "Can you get over yourself already, Montez?" I started, sitting up straight and staring at him open-mouthed. "You were totally chill yesterday when we were hanging out at the park."

"We were not hanging out," I stuttered indignantly, but he talked over me.

"There was no bitching, there were no insults—well, okay, there were a few insults, but they were jokes. You were joking around like a normal person and everything was fine—nobody spontaneously combusted or anything—so come down of your Bolton high-horse and fucking relax. Contrary to what you may think, you're not too good to share a tray of fries with the lowly Briton Walker. So shut up with the eye-rolling and the 'you're an ass' and just fucking eat." I stared at him and my stomach clenched around itself, frowning at him as he shifted casually through the mountain of fries. He'd just ripped me a new one, and there he was, pulling out a short fry and wrinkling his nose, acting like he hadn't just verbally slapped me in the face. "These are missing something," he said thoughtfully, holding up another fry to examine it in the sunlight as though he hadn't just told me off beyond all reason and left me with the feeling of having been punched in the stomach. "Ah ha," he exclaimed, stuffing it into his mouth as he rose from his seat. "We forgot the ketchup."

"We?" I muttered after him huffily, picking at the side of my finger. "I believe you were the one to leave the lunchroom with the food. You forgot the ketchup."

It is never fun to be told off. When some random kid in your math class tells you to shut up because your jokes aren't funny, it hurts a little, but it's easy to brush off because, really, what the hell do they know? When a friend tells you that they're sick and tired of hearing you talk about getting a new touch-screen phone, it hurts a little and it kind of lasts for a little while because you just wanted to share how excited you were but you can understand that at some point it became bragging. When a guy that you've probably had about ten minutes of worthwhile conversation with tells you that you're acting like a snobby two-faced bitch, it hurts because it's like, damn, that's really how you come off to people. And it hurts more than a little. And I don't think that I'm too good for Briton. Well, there was never actually a decision process where I weeded through all the boys in East High and sorted them into piles of worthy and not worthy. Troy and Briton never got along. By default that seemed to mean that Briton and I wouldn't get along, either.

He does have a point though. I am kind of a bitch when it comes to him. But it's not totally my fault. He is clearly an instigator. I mean, come on. There's clearly instigation taking place all the time. Like when he talks about how sucky Troy is. Or when he… tries to be nice to me in parks. (Okay. It's a lame argument. Fine. Shut up.) But I guess I could try to be a little more open minded and not blindly bitchy to him. Fine. God.

Slouching as I leaned my elbows against the white plastic, I sighed and drummed my fingers against the tabletop. I figured that if I were in one of those older television shows, I would be the little girl who had to stay after class to clap erasers and write "I must not be awfully mean to Briton" over and over again on the blackboard. Tracing my fingertip over the table, I carefully outlined the words in script.

"I… must… not… be—"

"Whoa, you're still here," he said excitedly, plopping back down into his seat with two little cups of ketchup as I cleared my throat and pulled my arms back to my lap. "I kind of though you would have ditched while I was gone. I forgot to bind you to the bench with the shackles I brought." He smiled, and I was kind of freaked out by the way I just immediately smiled back at him. Catching myself before I broke out into a full on grin, I reached out for one of the small cups.

"You were going to come back bearing ketchup," I shrugged, mumbling softly and picking another fry off the stack. "Like I was gonna miss that. Please."

He continued to smile. "Okay. It's not exactly an admission of non-hatred, but I'll take what I can get." Then he winked at me and I immediately looked back down at my food. We ate in silence for the next few minutes, except for the one brief moment where he cleared this throat because our fingers collided while reaching for the same fry. Then he chuckled lightly.

"What?" I asked, glancing over my shoulder. I didn't mean to be acting all suspicious of him and expecting that his weird friends were standing behind my back making monkey faces, but it's required that I be cut some slack because I only made the promise to myself to be nicer about six minutes ago. Old habits die hard.

"Nothing," he said. "It's just that the freshmen all look very confused."

I rolled my eyes and cursed under my breath. Like I said, old habits die hard. "Well, I can't imagine why. I mean, it's not like last week you sent around a list likening me to the black plague, or anything. It's not like you warned them to stay away from me or risk diseases and broken bones."

"I'm allowed to break my own rules if I want to. I made 'em, and I can ignore them if I so choose." Watching as he grabbed another fry, I giggled, to my absolute horror, as he left a large spot of ketchup sitting below his bottom lip. I stuck my hand into my back pocket and came out with a tissue, sticking it against his face and laughing at the bemused look in his eyes.

"You have stuff on your face."

"Oh, thanks."

He finished wiping off his chin, and I bit down on my bottom lip, dropping my eyes to the tabletop. I glanced at him really quickly and watched his eyes—his really, really, really, really green eyes—dart around. He's rather attractive. There's no denying that anymore. He's tall and he's tan and his hair always looks good. It's not too long and it's not too short. And his eyes are so bright. It's almost like there are these little neon light bulbs behind his eye sockets that light up his eyes and make the green so green. I may reserve the right to call him a jerk and whatnot, but I just can't call him ugly without lying.

"I think you're faking this one," I said suddenly, dipping another fry into the ketchup.

"Huh?"

"You said that I didn't know which personality you were faking. I think you're faking the whole jerkface kindly paying for my lunch and claiming to be a good guy at heart thing. I think you're faking it."

He dropped the tissue onto the tabletop and leaned forward slightly. "Why would I fake that?"

"Because you think it'll get you girls. Which it might."

"Oh really?" he chuckled, raising his eyebrows.

"Yeah. The girls who still believe that underneath this male bravado thing there actually can be a decent person. The girls with the bad-boy complex who want a guy who's all tough on the outside but is a total goofball inside."

"And are you falling for it?" he asked, popping two more fries into his mouth. I shook my head and leaned forward to place my elbows on the table, ignoring the fact that it kind of brought our faces closer together and meant that I could kind of feel his shallow breath against my cheek.

"Not at all."

He smiled, and I noticed how perfect his teeth were. "Then it's not working very well, is it?"

-x-

-x-

It felt weird to spend a half hour talking to Briton in the courtyard while we shared the remainder of a tray of French fries. Instead of randomly spewing out insults, we'd actually started legitimately talking about things that I would talk to (dare I say it!) a friend about. I couldn't begin to explain why we were suddenly able to discuss the horrors of homework and the awesomeness that used to be the Rugrats. I don't know why the very sight of him didn't make me want to puke up my small breakfast, and I don't know why it seemed like a switch had been flipped and we were able to talk. We just were. For some reason, we were able to carry on a totally normal conversation. (I know. Bugging out. And I know. That switch was probably me. But I don't particularly want to hear that I'm the reason that Briton and I can't get along and that is has absolutely nothing to do with him. I just don't.)

The French fries were almost gone when he suddenly got very quiet. I stopped talking for a while too, mostly since he stopped answering me and I felt like a doofus talking to myself, and we sat there exchanging these shy little glances. He kept smiling at me and I felt my arms getting tingly.

Then he licked his lips and asked me a question I hadn't been expecting.

"So, are you actually planning on going to that dance thing next week?"

I shrugged, "I dunno. I don't really like going because I usually spend all my time babysitting Troy and Chad to make sure that they don't get too drunk on spiked punch. I'd rather just stay home, but I kind of feel like I have to go, you know? Keep 'em out of trouble."

He nodded at me and pulled his iPod out of his pocket. "I heard they're getting a DJ or something so that there'll be good music at least." He held out an ear bud to me, and I took it from him, craning my neck forward to relieve the tension on the short white wire and unintentionally bringing our faces very close together once again. Nothing was playing, and I glanced down.

"Can I…?" I asked, pointing at his iPod as I shifted to kneel on the bench seat.

"Yeah, sure. Go ahead."

I picked it up and scrolled down to the shuffling option, clicking the center of the wheel and relaxing my shoulders as I waited for the music to begin. A song I didn't know started, and I drummed my finger on the table while I waited for it to get better.

"So—"

My fingers hit against something and I jolted, staring down at his hand sitting flat beside the empty tray of fries. I hurriedly looked back up. "Sorry. That's uh…" I stopped drumming my fingers and moved my hand away. "Sorry."

"No, no, it's okay."

"You were saying?"

He swallowed, "No, I was just saying… So, you guys all go… You guys go to the dances as a group?" I blinked. "I mean, they don't get dates or anything, huh?"

I shook my head. "Um, we used to do that all the time. And we skipped most of the dances last year. But I don't think they're planning on getting dates. So I guess we were going to go as a group. Which is good. Because it means I don't have to bribe someone to be my date."

"Oh, oh." He swallowed again. "So, you wouldn't be interested in going with, like, a date then. Since you're going as a group."

I stared at him for a good while. Why was everyone making such a big deal out of this dance? It was a random dance! It wasn't prom. It wasn't homecoming. It wasn't even the Halloween or Christmas or Valentine's Day dance or anything. It was just some stupid dance. Nobody ever cared about them before. Why now? What's in the water in this town?

"I don't think so."

"You don't think so."

"No, I don't think so."

"Oh."

I glanced around the courtyard, my eyes flickering around and my foot trying to casually keep time with the new song playing, when I felt something against my hand. I glanced down and found his hand there again, but this time he was the one who had done the touching. I looked at him and felt my forehead wrinkle.

"What are you doing?"

His eyes—those bright green orbs that seem like lights are making them shine—widened, and he yanked his hand back as though I dropped a match on his skin. "Nothing. I'm not doing anything." Pulling the bud out of his ear, he grabbed the tray and jumped to his feet, bringing them to the trashcan without another word. I took three deep breaths before he came back, telling myself to calm down and that the period would be over soon, and the hazy fog of awkward discomfort that had just settled around the table would soon be gone and I would be free to go to class.

Briton came back to sit down, not bothering to pick up the headphone again, and I skipped to the next song seeing as he wouldn't mind. The song was "Can't Fight This Feeling" and it made me want to reach across and slap him. I mean… What are the chances?

He coughed. "Are you totally sure that you wouldn't want to take a date?"

The bell rang suddenly and I hesitated in standing. Was I still supposed to answer that with an awkward, "Yeah, I'm pretty sure…" or was I supposed to ignore it and pretend to have been saved by the bell? Briton stared back at me, his mouth opening slightly several times as though he wanted to say something, maybe to repeat his question. I raised an eyebrow nervously and, finally, he managed, "Where, uh… Where are you going? This period, I mean. To class. Which class?"

"Um, science," I told him. "It's back in the four-hundred wing."

"Oh, cool," he said, following my lead and rising to his feet. "My class is back that way, too. I'll walk with you." He held the door open for me as we walked back into the building, and I walked beside him down the hallway, switching the headphone to sit in my left ear as he fell into step on my right. "So…"

"Alright, just stop," I said, taking a deep breath. "I'm not stupid. I know you're asking me to the dance. Again." He averted his eyes very quickly. "Why? Why would you want to go on a date with me?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"That's not an answer."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Montez, hanging out with guys so much has totally warped your mind. Aside from the fact that you're intensely hot, you're, like, the perfect girl. You need to get some new friends who—"

"You're a liar. And I like my friends," I insisted, cutting him off. "And I'm not going to go out and get some girl friends just so that guys in this school feel more comfortable asking me out."

"Not the point." He slung his arm around my shoulders. "It's not about the guys being comfortable asking you out. It's about you being comfortable being asked out. You're awesome. And guys don't ask you out when you hang with your dweebs because they're all threatened by whatever mysterious hold Bolton has on you, so you don't see it. But I see it. And I'm telling you that you're awesome. And I'm asking you out. So this is like the epitome of awesomeness for you."

"You think a lot of yourself, don't you?"

"Of course." He squeezed my shoulder. "But I think a lot of you, too."

I hated that my breath actually caught in my throat. "Shut up."

"So defensive," he teased, "And about a small compliment."

"Shut up." I crossed my arms as he pulled me closer to him, staring at my feet.

"God, what would you do if I called you sexy?"

I ducked my head, "Shut up!"

"Oh-ho," he chuckled, "Montez you are the most gorgeous creature that I have ever shared a meal with."

"Briton."

"You take my breath away."

"I'm not listening."

"So beautiful."

"Oh look. My classroom."

He followed me to the door and dropped his arm from my shoulders, grabbing for my hand and bringing it up to his mouth, managing his brush his lips against the back of my palm before I could yank it away. "How lovely thou art."

"Briton!"

"Alright, alright. I'll leave you alone. But I'm not gonna let this go, because you are ridiculously oblivious to how hot you are and I think someone needs to remind you that just because you hang out with guys who have no idea what they're missing doesn't mean that other people haven't noticed your supreme sexiness." I cocked my head and clicked my tongue, rolling my eyes. "But I'll go now because I think Bolton's about to blow his top and I'm about to be late—" He smirked, "Not that I care, of course. But I'll see you later."

"Don't count on it, Mr. Bad-Boy-complex," I replied.

He grinned, "Well, now I have to count on it. You're about to induce stalker-Briton. Dude, don't say I didn't warn you about the shrunken heads and stuff."

"Ah, to the contrary, I'm looking forward to them. A person can never have enough miniaturized severed heads."

"See you later," he winked, "Sexy."

"Shut up!" I squealed, shoving at his arm as he walked away. He flashed me a grin and a thumbs up as he rounded a corner, and I tried to fight the way the corners of my mouth pulled up, putting a hand over my mouth as I backed into my science classroom.

Troy was glaring at me as I walked over to him. The smile disappeared and I lowered my hand. It was actually more of a glower. He was pissed.

"Really?" he demanded the second I took my seat beside him at the lab bench. "Really, you're hanging with Briton Walker again?"

I frowned, pulling my binder out of my bag. Hello, big brother. Nice to see you, too. "What's the big deal?"

"The big deal is that it's Briton Walker."

"It's not like we're getting engaged. We just shared some fries in the courtyard." Overreaction much?

"You shared fries with him? You actually sat down and ate lunch with him?"

"He stole my food right off the lunch line!" I defended.

His eyes widened, "He stole—"

"No, okay, he actually paid for it. But that's not the point."

"No, you're right. The point is that you sat down and ate lunch that Walker paid for. You went on a lunch date with him."

"I did not."

"You totally did. You had a romantic little in-school lunch date in the courtyard. And you were totally flirting with him just now."

"I was not!"

"You touched his arm!"

"So?"

"So," he emphasized, "Touching a guy's arm is, like, the most obvious girl flirting move ever."

I blinked. "I touch your arm all the time. That's how I get your attention."

"N-not the point," he blanched, turning away from me and staring at the front of the room. His ears turned red. "That's different. You're not interested in me. I'm your friend."

"I'm not interested in him either. Just because he spent the better half of the period trying to convince me to go to the dance—"

"Does he have no boundaries?" he hissed, his fists clenching.

"It's not like I'm going to say yes."

"But still—"

"Can you just leave it?"

"Why are you defending him?" he demanded. "God, he stalks you for a day and a half and suddenly you're like all the other idiot girls drooling over him."

"Screw you," I snapped. "I'm not drooling over anyone. And even if I was it wouldn't be any of your business who I decided to drool over."

"He's an ass!"

"And if I wanted to drool over him I would, and you couldn't stop me!"

"Do you hear yourself?"

"Do you hear yourself? You sound like a jealous boyfriend! Or a brother with a daddy complex!" I think I like saying that people have complexes. I think it makes me feel powerful. I think I have some sort of a power-tripping complex. (That's a joke.)

The bell rang again and I turned away from Troy, reaching for my science book and slamming it down on the desk, narrowly avoiding crushing his thumb beneath its eight hundred or so pages.

"Gabriella!" Mrs. Cavalari called my name and I looked up. "No electronics in my classroom. You know the rule. Put it away." I frowned, confused, until Troy reached over and tugged the headphone from my ear. Reaching into my pocket, my eyes widened as I found Briton's iPod nestled inside.

-x-

-x-

I felt him come up behind me before he put his hands on my waist before he said anything. His head dropped onto my shoulder and he sighed. I refused to lean back into him, keeping my spine rigid, and he moved his hands to cup my elbows. "Guess who's a jackass?"

I only needed the one guess. "You."

"Yup." Troy moved to lean against the lockers beside mine, his arms crossed. "I'm a jackass."

"Yup."

He watched me pull my jacket out of my locker and swing it around my shoulders. "I don't like it when you're mad at me. It makes school really boring." I shrugged and pushed my locker closed. It didn't sound like much of an apology to me. "It's really hard to not talk to you." He laughed lightly to himself. "Or, you know, to talk to you and not get talked back to." I shrugged again and walked off down the hallway. He followed, pulling me off to a fairly empty spot. "Look, I'm sorry that I was acting like a jerk, but I just don't get how you can be all nice to him and stuff. I thought you hated him."

"I do," I said. "Well, okay, maybe I don't totally hate him. But I don't really like him either. It's not like he's my new best friend or anything. I'm just trying not to be such a ridiculous… so unnecessarily evil to him."

"Yeah, that would be the part that I don't get. Because it's not unnecessary. He's a jerk."

"I know you think he's a jerk. But aside from the list he really hasn't done very much to me."

"You're always fighting with him," he pointed out. "Aren't you?"

"Yeah," I admitted, "But it's usually because I let some tiny little snide comment go straight to my pride."

"Well, fine. But what happened to 'your enemies are my enemies' and stuff?"

"I don't know. I just… I've never know Briton as anything other than the biggest jerk who ever walked the planet. But that's because of you," I explained. "I'd never really talked to him before. And then I talked to him for a little bit and…" I hesitated. "I don't know. I guess it just seemed to me like he didn't deserve all the crap that I was giving him."

"But he does."

"To you," I added, "To me he's just kind of annoying. So I'm laying off."

"Since when does laying off consist of flirting and lunch dates?"

"It wasn't a lunch date, and there was no flirting," I said. "Just leave it alone, okay?"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Look, I don't want to be Aaron or your dad. But because I'm your number one best friend it means it's my business who you drool over. Because I have to make sure that the guys aren't asses. Like Briton."

"And I told you," I insisted, "That I'm not drooling over Briton."

"Promise?" He held out his pinky finger. I smiled, wrapping my finger around his.

"Promise."

He tugged me closer via pinky and wrapped me in a hug. "Dude, you're my lunch date."

"Only when you have good food. Or money."

"No. Always."

"Only—"

"No," he said, ruffling his hands through my hair and laughing as I pathetically tried to fight him off. "My lunch date."

-x-

-x-

Author's Note: So, it has been many months since I updated, and I have no excuses. I had a lot of this chapter written a while ago, but I just wasn't feeling it for a long time and that's why nothing came about. I feel completely awful, because I really do love this story and I know that some people out there love it too and I hate disappointing people when more and more time goes by without anything from me. But I guess what's done is done, and now all I can say about that is that I'm truly very sorry for the wait. There is no excuse for me making such loyal and patient readers wait for over six months for a simple chapter update. On the good news front, I have some time off this upcoming week, so I'll try to do as much writing as possible.

I think I'm falling in love with Briton. But at the same time, I really want to be hugged via pinky. Good thing I'm the author and my imagination can have its cake and eat it too!

Okay, time once again to ask for the comments and constructive criticism. I don't really deserve the thoughtful consideration that so many of you have given me, but your reviews and enthusiasm for my work have really been a large part of what drives me to write. Today, when I was finishing up this last section, I took a break to look back at all the wonderful comments and I just said to myself, "That's it. If I can't bring myself to finish this for me, I'm going to finish it for them."