Chapter 011

Authoress' Note:

I know I am a bad bad writer, not updating for so long. The reason why is that my beta for this story ripped apart my writing (in a constructive way) and I decided to back track and revamp. Not only did I rework Why Me, but I also went through the monstrous job of editing Lucky Me. With everything finally finished and me at least pleased with the results thus far, I decided to post the next chapter. I do know where the story is going and how to get there so I hope that the next chapter won't take years to get out! Thank you for reading!

WARNING: this chapter has not been betaed. Have mercy.

Fun should not be in the word dysfunctional.

Anyone who even thought that four teenage girls sharing a room was like a constant slumber party needed to drop a hammer on their little toe for a crude wake-up call. Most mornings were a test of nerves as we danced around each other trying to get ready for the day, and we learned to live like that. However, attempting to get ready after the mission alarm sounded at three-thirty in the morning wasn't a challenge—it was a death-defying circus act we could have charged people to see.

"Ow!"

"Stop shoving!"

My elbow met someone's back.

"Whose hand is that?!"

I had a foot shoved in my face as another one stomped on my hand.

"That was my eye!"

I caught someone else's hair in my zipper.

"Ouch."

Yes, we were scampering around in the dark, trying to remember where we had thrown our respective uniform bits and doing our best to avoid groping and being groped by accident.

The light bulb had blown the night before, so we didn't pay any attention to it, figuring we could change it in the morning. How were we supposed to know that Cyclops would pull the 'suit-up-and-ship-out' alarm?

Muttering and sporting a few new bruises, I was the last to leave the room. In truth, I didn't know why I even had to be suited up and in the command room; since Cyclops had made it very clear I wasn't mission-ready.

If I was ever asked to serve coffee and tea again while the others were filled in on their current mission trajectories, I was going to break a coffee pot over Dad's head.

As I entered the War Room, running a hand through my hair, I paused. The tension was near explosive, the air so heavy it made it hard to breath. Whatever this was, it was personal or debatable. I flicked my eyes to each of the people, who were ignoring me. I noted the standing- off pair were Cyclops and Wolverine. Both were cross-armed and glaring at the other. Pixie edged away from where she stood behind Wolverine and Emma muttered something under her breath.

When the doors whooshed closed it broke the whipcord tension as both males jerked their attention to me. I blinked, lost.

Under their scrutiny and snarls, I felt my nerves fray.

I decided to stay silent, as to not have the tension shifted to me, and Wolverine turned stiffly back to Cyclops.

"You're full of it," he growled low.

I finally exhaled when Dad's eyes moved back to Mr. Logan. Whatever he responded was so quiet I couldn't hear it.

Deciding to get answers from a bystander, I picked my way to Anole, who was leaned against one of the control panels near the door. As quietly as I could, I questioned what they were going on about.

"A mission and some," he paused and gave me an apologetic look before finishing, "other things."

Lifting an eyebrow in question, I huffed and crossed my arms. Scott was still hiding things from me about the Redeemer they had in custody.

Before I could try any to pull off any 'cute' girl tricks, the icy-white she-wolf attacked me.

Okay, so Emma only said she needed to speak with me in private and latched onto my arm before dragging me out of the room and down the hall. She removed her manicured claws from my arm only after we were on the veranda, the French doors securely shut behind us.

She was going to kill me and have the wild forest creatures eat my corpse. I was so sure of this.

After Emma actually got around to talking about what it was she wanted me to do, I was hoping for those vicious forest creatures to come and eat me alive.

"I'm sorry," I started with a ticking eyebrow and nervous laugh, "what is it you want me to do?"

One finely contoured eyebrow rose as if to question my question.

"I believe your reaction is evidence enough that you heard me perfectly," Emma answered coolly as she pushed off the rail on which she'd been leaning, "So go pack your bags, he'll be here by eight."

"But-but –me?" I was frantic to get out of the way of the bus she wanted to throw me under. "Why not someone who—who wants to?" I was whining, too. Whining was one of the best ways of scuttling from situations because a girl's voice can get high-pitched and annoying quickly. Most of the time people will agree to do or not to do whatever it was just to shut the whiner up.

Of course, this was the first time the technique was tried on a diamond-hearted, plastic-reconstructed nightmare in white.

"Unlike you, Kookie, when faced with a problem, I think it through, not just jump to conclusions and into action blindly."

I hmmphed, twisting my head to the side.

"You are the ideal choice simply because you have a history with him, are around the same age, and you haven't been on camera. The other girls have whether it be accident or on purpose and therefore would put the infiltration at risk," Emma clipped the last word like a rosebush. "Furthermore, because of the wide span of the operation, it would take a great deal of time to pinpoint the who and how of the thievery. With you on the inside, you can find out how deeply rooted this mess is and the persons involved."

She stuck her hip out to the right, cocked her head to the left, and propped a hand on the right side of her hip. Truth told, she looked as if she might break into a stuck-up version of 'I'm a Little Teapot'.

"Any other questions?" Emma requested snidely. When I just clicked my teeth together and glared at the ground, she added, "Good, then go pack."

Apparently, what I could and could not live with did not matter. At seven thirty, Chris pulled up to the front of the complex and I sighed as I dropped my head back to stare at the sky. Just my crummy luck! Just as I was about to break down into a pathetic, bemoaning mess (again), I twisted my head to the side to watch as he exited the car.

I clicked my teeth (that were pinching and itching like fire ants were dancing on my gums) together in silent aggravation and bent down to grab my bag when it was stolen from underneath my fingertips. When I glanced up, all I saw was the back of Chris with my bag slung over a shoulder, heading to the car.

"Ready to roll, tweety?" he questioned, slamming the trunk shut. I was cemented to the sidewalk, not wanting to move. This was not a smart idea. Why did Emma pick me to do this?

I watched with unamused, half-lidded eyes as he walked around and popped open the passenger side door and met my stare. With a deep, suffering sigh, I dragged my feet toward his car. It wasn't that Chris and I had a horrible relationship, oh no, it was far from that. Besides the flirty, sometimes suggestive remarks, we were getting along better than ever.

Which in itself was creepy. Another creep-out factor was that I admitted (to myself) that Chris was now hot.

For this, I should be given a thorough mental evaluation.

I mean, hello, I had Bobby now as my boyfriend. So why on earth did I need to even give my arch-friend-nemesis a second checking-you-out glance?

"Why do I always get stuck with you?" I grumped as we pulled away from the complex in Chris' car.

"Just lucky I guess."

The creepiest thing was that I was going to be living with him and pretending to be his sister.

At least I wasn't going to have to fake being his girlfriend. That would have gone from creepy and awkward to homicidal.

But still, an apartment with just him and me. Alone. I briefly wondered if he jacked up the heat in the car as I started to fan myself.

"Besides, don't pretend you haven't been dreaming of having me alone in the dark."

"Only if that included a blunt object and your head meeting," was my snappy reply, but he quickly trumped me.

"Like my headboard?"

I just knew from the base of my neck to my hairline was a brilliant red. He was a bad, bad influence on my innocent imagination. Okay, so it couldn't really be all that innocent if I could kinda key in to what he was referring to, about, or whatever.

"Just. Drive," I growled out, making sure that I glared at him for all I was worth.

"You want me bad, huh?" He turned to me and smiled.

I snapped my teeth together in frustration and decided to try not totalk to him as much as possible.

"You're mad," Chris stated semi-seriously. Since he had just been laughing so hard tears had come to his eyes, I knew he was still being a brat.

I glared at him with a fist itching to break his nose. Instead I stomped to the couch and dropped down on it, arms crossed.

We had made it to his place which turned out to be a row house split into apartments. As he was being all macho and taking my bag (like I couldn't handle it because it's not like I had super strength or anything, oh wait, I did) when one of his neighbors came out. It was innocent enough, until the elderly woman, smiled at me and asked Chris if I was his 'little lady'.

As I went to correct her, I found it hard to talk when Chris wrapped his free arm around my shoulders, reeled me in and toward him then planted his lips on mine. I was so stunned that I just stood there like an affronted possum.

"Yup, finally talked her out of Washington and into moving down here with me," he replied after he'd released my mouth from his.

When I scowled up at Chris, he grinned like a crocodile that spotted a fat calf.

"Oh, that's lovely," the clueless lady approved. "It must have been hard to get your parents to agree."

"Nah, her parents adore me." Just to add to the act, he then grabbed my hand, interlaced our fingers, and squeezed.

I gave an evil little grin as I returned the gesture— super strength and all. He groaned as his knees all but buckled underneath him, that did not go unnoticed by the woman and she asked if he was all right.

Turning to the lady, I smiled as sickly sweet as I could, my grip on Chris never easing up.

"My step-mom actually couldn't wait to get me out of the house." I tried to sound light-hearted but it came out as somewhat psycho even to my ears.

After that performance, Chris made excuses and led me up to his— now our —apartment.

Which was why he was being stupid asking if I was mad. I sat on the couch and wondered how thick the walls were and if his screams for mercy would be heard.

"This was so not what was supposed to happen," I pointed out, frowning, "I was supposed to be your sister, not your girlfriend."

At that, he promptly snorted.

"Like hell I was going to live in a one bedroom apartment with my sister. I told Emma I wouldn't do it."

"She told me I was going to be your sister!" I yelped, jumping up to my feet and staring at him wide-eyed, anger redirected for the moment. "She tricked me!"

Chris gave a half smirk as he faced me after dropping my bag on the ground.

"You don't have to pretend you were fooled, Ker," he said as he walked around the counter of the kitchen to the fridge to fetch a drink. "I don't mind you wanting to be with me."

Stomping my foot in anger and emphasis I all but screamed at him, "I don't want to be with you! I want to be back at the complex with Bobby."

Chris' smile faltered for a heartbeat before he cracked open the soda can he'd fished out of the refrigerator.

"He's in Europe," he stated without a hint of doubt.

Darn him! Yes, Bobby was on some sort of nicety-nice mission on a different continent and didn't know the very real danger his cute, innocent girlfriend was in!

"Th-that doesn't matter!" I defended, lamely I might add. "The point is I'm here under false pretenses and—and it isn't right."

Chris took a sip, put his can down and jammed his hands in his back pockets as he slowly drew closer to me. When he was arm's length away, he stopped and leaned forward until we were eye level.

I swallowed hard and felt my girly-girl preen before my weed whacker of common sense took her down.

"You were going to be under 'false pretenses' no matter what."

He looked to the side for a heartbeat before focusing back on me and his eyes had a charming yet dangerous glint in them—an alluring dangerous glint in them.

"And think of it this way, we can play house," he purred out, "We can play a lot of things together."

My mouth hung open for a split second before I snapped it shut.

"Now," he started, standing up to his full height (meaning that he wasn't right in my face anymore), "I guess you'll want to familiarize yourself with the apartment, we should probably start with the bed—"

Before he could draw his next breath, my fist met his abs (not too hard, I didn't want to be arrested for murder). As he gasped for air, I moved around him, and went to fetch a drink from his fridge.

I was not going to fall for his tricks, I was not!

"No," I ground out, my hands balled into fists, and my feet planted firmly on the slightly dingy area rug Chris had on the floor to tell the kitchen section from the living room part. I was a pillar of stubborn stone, etched in determination, and cemented by common sense. There was nothing that would convince me to move from my spot (only figuratively since I didn't plan on spending the rest of the night standing up).

However, given the little imp who was bare-chested with his arms crossed, and one ankle over the other as he leaned against the doorjamb leading to his bedroom, had other ideas. At least the smirk he was wearing made me believe he had other ideas.

"Come on," Chris pressed, "where else are you going to sleep? The couch? It isn't comfortable, smells weird when it gets warm, and I got it second hand."

I glanced over my shoulder, disgusted that I had actually sat on that questionably sanitary piece of furniture. Whipping my head around, I shook my head slowly in revulsion.

"Then why do you keep it?"

He shrugged.

"Because it's paid for."

I rolled my eyes and huffed as I crossed my arms.

"There's always the floor."

"You'd sleep on the floor?" He asked, incredulously.

"No, you'd sleep on the floor and I would sleep on the bed behind a locked door."

At that, Chris snorted and shook his head.

"That is not going to happen, lil bird."

Given that I spent months sleeping on concrete, steel, and a pile of hay, one would think that sleeping on a lumpy, gross couch wouldn't be such a big deal. But the longer I thought about it, the more my want to be comfort grew.

"I don't want to share a bed with you!" I stated firmly when his logic and my exhaustion collided. When logic couldn't suffice, I tried being a giant baby. "My luck you'll turn into this man-beast octopus with hands everywhere!"

The sigh he gave was similar to those that Dad and Dr. Nemesis gave me after I got back from spacing out during whatever they were saying.

"Look, I'm tired, you're tired, and there is one bed. We are supposed to be a couple, it's normal to share a bed," Chris stated flatly, all playfulness aside and his old irritation coming forward. "I have to get up to work in the morning and meet with Mari to get the stuff for your volunteer work."

Argh! My shoulders slumped down in defeat. Just when I was acting like a spoiled (though completely legitimate) child, Chris had to go all mature and adult on me.

Throwing up my hands, I grabbed my bag from on the couch where I had thrown it and marched up to him. Pointing a finger in his face while giving him the firmest, scariest glare I could, I growled, "Try anything and I will hog tie you and throw you out the window, got it?"

"Fine," he relented, rolling his eyes and turning on his heel to face the inside of the bedroom. He waited until I was a good two steps into the bedroom before adding, "Sounds kinda kinky actually."

The air got knocked out of him as my bag hit him square in the stomach.

Thankfully, I was able to get ready behind a locked door. It was weird because of the bathroom door didn't swing in, it swung out. However, once I saw how tiny the bathroom was, I quickly understood why it did that. If the door was to open into the bathroom, then you'd have to walk into the shower, and close the door before you could use the sink or toilet.

I made a mental note not to complain about sharing a nice sized bathroom with my roommates for at least two weeks when I got back.

Huffing, I exited the safety of the bathroom and glared as I edged closer to the bed. Chris was already in bed, under the sheets with his arms folded behind his head and eyes closed.

"You just going to stand there staring at me or are you going to get in?"

Putting away my toothbrush and stuff, I walked to the bed and as quickly as I had touched the edge of the blankets, I yanked it back.

"You are wearing something under the covers, aren't you?"

Chris opened both eyes, turned on his side and propped himself on one elbow.

"I'm wearing shorts," he said in a neutral voice before he looked at my sleepwear and an eyebrow rose. "As of now."

I rolled my eyes, yanked all but the flat sheet back and slid into the bed. I didn't slide too far but just enough that I wouldn't fall over the side.

"What's so bad about this again?" Chris questioned, I didn't have to look at him to know the cocky arse smirk of his was there.

I karate chopped the space on the bed between us.

"Any part of you that crosses this line is going to be ripped off and fed to the starving children in Africa."

Chris rolled his eyes before closing them as he returned to the position he'd been in when I had come out of the bathroom, arms behind his head and eyes closed.

"You'll look for any excuse to get your hands on me."

I scoffed.

"Besides, you really need to learn how much fun crossing lines are." He had that smirk on his face as he cracked one eye and watched as I glowered at him. "And any lines you want to cross," he made his voice dip a bit lower, "I am more than willing to accept."

When he closed his eyes again, a smug expression on his face, I raised my arm and brought it down on his unprotected stomach in the same way I did the bed.

He 'ummph'ed and lurched up, doing a funny looking crunch, from being caught totally unaware.

"You're right, that was fun." I grabbed the top of the comforter and dropped down to the mattress with my back to him. "Good night."

He coughed in reply.

"Could you repeat that, I think I misheard you." Bobby's voice was incredibly flat; I knew he didn't mishear me because of the reaction. As I saw it, it was a chance for me to say something other than what I said but there was no way to do that! Well, not without lying.

"I said that I have to spend the next month or however long with Chris." I picked at Chris' laptop stickers nervously, just so I wouldn't have to make eye contact with Bobby.

"Yeah, and now tell me why this is a good idea," he demanded.

I sighed and looked at the screen. Bobby's scowling face filled most of it, and who could really blame him? He was on a mission across the world that would take a few weeks. It was some messy diplomatic-dancing-on-eggshells-with-a-smile type ordeal when it came to whatever country and the problems within it.

I called him up on the X-Men version of Skype and he had been in a good mood until he noticed the background wasn't my bedroom. Then he just had to ask why.

"I can't tell you it's a good idea because it's not. It's Emma's idea and Scott backed her up." I ran my hands through my hair. "Like it or not what she says goes and she said I needed to go, so I'm gone."

I just left out the part where she lied and made me believe I would be Chris' sister and not his live in girlfriend. Oh, and I didn't feel the need to bring up Chris' flirty ways or the impromptu kiss. Or us sharing a bed. That was alllll no-need information.

Somehow I doubted that information would put Bobby's mind at ease.

He was biting the inside of his lower lip, I guess to keep from erupting in a very colorful description of what he thought about Emma, Chris, me, or all of the above. Blue eyes glared at something that was off screen before turning back to face the computer.

"They threw you in shark-infested waters wearing a meat bikini you know," Bobby grumbled out and I couldn't help but chuckle at his take on the mission.

Yeah, I know, I agreed on the inside.

I had a half smile on my face from his comment. Propping my elbows on the counter top, I tucked my hands underneath my chin and sighed. It was around three in the afternoon, Chris had been called into work so I was left to add my supposedly 'feminine touches' to our 'love nest' as he put it. I tromped on his toes for those comments. But the joke was on me as he was wearing steel toed boots and I was bare footed.

"At least they are putting me to work instead of just answering phones."

Bobby laughed.

"Yeah, and ticking off random allies on the way."

"Like I knew Captain America's real name was Mr. Rogers! I thought it was that Stark guy paying me back for hanging up on him—you know, repeatedly."

"And Summers is just so exotic?"

I wrinkled my nose and stuck my tongue out. After another half hour, and a ton of reassurance that Chris and I weren't going to do anything, Bobby and I hung up. I promptly groaned and lightly banged my head on the counter.

The mission was going to be a nightmare.

All Chris told me was that I'd be volunteering at the—sperm bank with the most recent thefts. Ugh! He had someone who was setting me up with an easy few hours of paperwork or whatever while I was there. And because of my last name and the potential of being traced back to the X-peoples, I was getting a temporary new identity.

Chris and Emma came up with my new name: Carrie Andrews. As if that wasn't eye-rolling enough, Chris decided that I preferred to go by 'Carrie Ann'. The only reason I couldn't hurt him was because his friend didn't give over the schedule and other stuff that I would need to have in order to get into the volunteer position.

I huffed. This was going to be a long day.

I groaned in exhaustion after I did an unglorious belly flop on the bed with my arms and legs spread. I had been two days since I started to be Chris' "live-in girlfriend". Due to my paranoia, my sleep was so light that I started to get bags under my eyes. I was on such high alert and tensed sleeping in the same bed that my muscles ached. To top it off, I hadn't been comfortable at night since I was sleeping in jeans, socks, underwear, bra, shirt and sweatshirt (still never returned it to Josh).

How was Chris doing?

He was sleeping like a baby. The boy didn't even snore. He woke up each day groggy but without any of the pains I was going through. When he'd set off to work, I would try to go back to sleep but the daylight was too bright and there wasn't anything thick enough to block it out.

I had turned into a couch potato until I realized that even though it wasn't the gourmet kitchen I'd been practicing in, he still had a kitchen so I could cook.

But no food.

The guy was living on canned pasta and Ramen noodles.

In his refrigerator was another life from that used to be Chinese takeout and several different flavors of soda. Armed with his debit card (the guy really needed to learn to take his wallet into the bathroom with him while he showered) I hit the grocery stores. It had taken up a few hours and after putting it all away, I felt utterly drained.

That was why I was snuggling up in the empty, yet strangely ultra comfy bed and quilt.

The night when I had cried my heart out and confessed the horrors of what I had endured, Bobby coughed up some information that the X had collected since I came back.

It wasn't anything spectacular but it was disturbing. From what they were able to recover from the laboratories at the facilities they were able to locate, the Redeemers were up to more than just trapping and eating used-to-be mutants. The whackos were actually trying to breed the 'flat-lined' mutants. The X teams had found several dead prisoners who were in various stages of pregnancy. All of women were shot in the head, and in different degrees of decay.

I shivered just thinking about it. It made me glad that I didn't get my way and go on the missions to the Redeemers' hideouts.

Just the thought of them didn't cause me to have another flash back, but my heart started to beat faster, my adrenaline musta got the notice and started to kick in, and because of that, my eyes started to feel like someone sprayed air freshener in them. My gums hurt most of the time but it was nothing I couldn't ignore, but when my mutation got going, they almost felt like they were being carved into from the inside out.

Letting out a low moan, I dragged a pillow over my face and hoped for sleep.

My legs burned, my lungs were trying to snap my ribs to expand more than they were naturally allowed.

"I—hate—you," I huffed and puffed as I tried to keep up with Chris. We were running, up hills, down hills and it was barely light out. The only reason I hadn't stopped running was because I was fully intent on catching Chris and crippling him.

Who in their right mind would wake up at four in the morning for a little 'jog'? He got me out of the bed and apartment by promising fresh cinnamon rolls for breakfast from the local fabulous bakery. Had I known I had to go to hell and back with him laughing and taunting me just ten feet ahead at all times, I would have gone Hansel and Gretel on him and shoved him in an oven and gone back to bed.

"Hate," I forced out again as I wobbley topped the hill that would lead us back to the apartment…and my final resting place.

"What are you talking about, bird brain? You've been after me all morning."

"Only so I," I whined out a low noise, "can hurt you."

"Oh, hurts so good."

"Hate. Hate. Hate."

We did end up at the bakery but before the apartment so I knew we were ripe. Sweaty, hot, and I was fairly certain my muscles had detached from my bones. When we entered the shop, I found the first empty chair and flopped into it, head against the top back and trying to get my breathing back to normal.

Chris apparently was buddies with the owner's daughter (big surprise there). When he rang the bell on the counter, this pretty brunette with her hair shoved up under a mesh hairnet came out with a smile. She squealed when he smiled at her and launched at him, and squished herself against him in a hug. There was an itch just under my skin as she kept groping onto him. Her hands were on his back, not actually anywhere in the no-zones, but still, she coulda at least pretended she wasn't trying to tattoo herself to Chris.

She pulled back when her eyes landed on me. I knew I was looking great— red, blotchy skin all shiny from sweat and probably smelled like the bottom of a never-washed gym bag.

"So this is your girlfriend?" I lolled my head away from them. Let Chris do the talking since he was doing everything else. My throat was dry from breathing through my mouth, so I had to force myself to swallow and then sat up.

"Yeah, she just got here last week. Carrie-Ann this is Rebecca," Chris pointed between us, like he wasn't just letting her hang all over him. "Rebecca's brother owns the shop."

"Nice to meet you," I forced out with a nod, because she didn't offer her hand and I didn't want to extend my slick fist—I mean hand.

After asking if he could grab some things from the back, Rebecca and I were left alone. I eyed her and she did the same to me. From the way she leaned on one foot, and crossed her arms low against her stomach, the territorial vibe was nearly tangible. Obviously this girl had the hots for Chris, and whether he was showing off that fact to get me upset (totally wasn't happening) or was just that clueless, I'd beat the jerk out of him later.

"Chris talks about you a lot, like every time I see him really," she finally broke the silence but not the mood. Her smile was a tad too wide, showing the strain at facing the obstacle (current 'girlfriend') in her romantic life (I assumed). "Ever since I met him really."

Fine, she tossed the ball into my court, guess I could play nice.

"When was that? He only ever talked about, you know," I reflected her smile and gestured around the empty café section of the store. "The bakery."

"Oh," was her reply as she shifted from one foot to the other and flicked her eyes over the empty tables before meeting mine again. "How long have you two been together?"

Eep. That was going to be tricky considering I had no idea when Chris might have told her or when he started to talk about me or whatever.

"A while, we met back in school." Not a lie, we did meet at a school, but not a solid answer, thus proving once again that vagueness was my friend.

"So a few years then?" She stepped closer, her hands gripping the sides of her clean black apron as a funny little smile pulled at her lips. "That would make sense why he talks about you so much, he must really love you."

If I wasn't drowning in my own pool of sweat and trying to keep my legs from falling off from the burn and thousand pounds that they put on due to the monstrous run, I might have shown a bit more of a reaction. Instead, all I did was shrug.

"I didn't do anything to encourage it."

There was my honest answer; met my quota for this conversation.

Her eyebrows nearly touched at my supremely lack luster reaction. I guess I should have been all a twitter but I was one busted, hurting twitterless girl. She said something else and then disappeared into the back of the bakery, to the kitchen I would think.

I closed my eyes and let my head rest against the thin metal rod that made up the back of the chair. It wasn't until Chris slammed down a glass on the table and I jolted, my spine straight and eyes wide and blurry that I even realized I'd been asleep.

"You are really out of shape if a few little hills can wipe you out," he sighed, dropping down in the empty seat a little in front and the left of me. One of his knees bumped one of mine. "Drink that." He motioned with his chin, to the glass he'd put down.

"What is it?" I felt my throat tighten in reaction to seeing the green-orange sludge in the glass. I guess it was protesting, saying that it wasn't going to let that liquid monster anywhere near my stomach.

"Protein smoothie-shake-thing." He gave a one-shoulder shrug.

"I think you got the thing part right," I poked at it to see if it would growl or try to climb out of the cup in order to bite me. "Is it going to kill me since I didn't drop dead on a hill?"

"I was actually waiting to see if you'd trip," Chris smirked when I shot him an evil glare. "And don't worry, I'm not trying to kill you, Carrie-Ann, I'm not into necrophilia."

"Necko—what?"

"Never mind, just drink."

"Fine, but if I pass out from disgust, I'm expecting you to piggy back me all the way to the apartment."

"Deal, I'll even start CPR before we leave."