WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME. I have way too many unfinished fics up now, and this is just adding to that pile. But I leave for school in a month, and I don't foresee being able to write much while I'm there, so I'm trying to get as much done as I can, this new fic is from my queue of stories. Hopefully, I can get this one done fairly quickly, I may not finish my longer ones now, just wait for Thanksgiving/winter break or something T_T

ANYWAY. Please leave me a review, I really want to know what you all think about my latest stories. I have a ton of other style fics if this one doesn't suit you, and I'll be updating hopefully all of those this week.

"Mason-" Gale hissed, his neck red.

"What?" She turned around, looking at him sharply.

"How... How can you read that without blushing up to your hair?" He questioned, gesturing to her phone, which had a very graphic scene from her latest fanfiction obsession.

"I'm used to it." She shrugged.

Gale shuddered and turned back to the whiteboard at the front of the class.

She contemplated him for a brief moment before turning back to ignoring the teacher. Why would he talk to her today? She's been sitting in front of him for most of the semester, why would he pick now to speak to her? She shook herself mentally and focused back on the high-intensity scene she was reading.

After class, he didn't meet her eyes, though she faced him for a second.

"What's your deal, champ?"

"What do you mean?" He frowned in confusion.

"Goody two shoes, never get in trouble, probably a straight A student, am I wrong?" She pauses, daring him to deny it. He doesn't, so she continues. "What inspires you to be so much better than the rest of us in this dump?" Gale Hawthorne shrugs.

"I never had a reason worth destroying what I have."

"People like you sicken me." She sneers, turning away from him. He rolls his eyes.

"I don't really... care?" It came out sounding like a question, and he cleared his throat, wondering why being around Johanna Mason made him so jittery. "I have a good opportunity here and I don't want to waste it." He grimaced, that sentence didn't help his image with her. She didn't miss it.

"Aaaaaand, that's my queue to leave you to your miserable little life." She grabbed her studded black backpack, swinging it over her shoulder, and marched out of the classroom.

Gale watched her leave, scowling. Johanna Mason acted like she had her life together, and she seemed cool and confident. He wondered what she was hiding behind that impassive face.