For the first time in a very long time, you're scared shitless (Not that you'd ever admit it). No, you just have too much damned pride to admit anything that could be misconstrued as a sign of weakness. But, as you stare at the imposing double doors of OCD (BOCD, you correct yourself), you suddenly thank God for Claire (A novelty for you).
Speaking of the blonde, you can't help but feel a slight twinge of jealousy inside yourself as you glance at her nervously biting her thumbnail. No, you're not jealous of her looks, or anything on that level (You're Massie Block, for Christ's sake) but, you do admit you envy Claire's openness, the fact that she could display her fear and unbridled nervousness so publicly, so openly. It's a trait about her that unnerves you. (You can't help but think to yourself maybe that's why Cam chose her, the clichéd bubbly blonde, over you, the stoic, just-plain-bitchy brunette) Squaring your shoulders, you ignore your desire to, just once, lodge a crack in your brilliant façade and show your emotions. Why don't you, you ask? It's simple, really. You're Massie Block, and Massie Block wasn't the type of person allowed to parade her emotions and inner thoughts around, because to people that was a sign of weakness. And, if there was anything you hated, it was the idea of anyone thinking of you as weak.
Deciding that enough was enough, you reach out with your right hand and grip the door handle (There was only a few minutes left before people would start to arrive, and you didn't want to be caught staring at a damn door like a moron). Just as you are about to turn the handle and enter the dreaded halls of BOCD, you feel a hand grip yours. Giving it's owner what you hope looked like a reassuring smile, rather than a flash of teeth, you open the door; your heart pounding loudly in your ears, palms sweating and your breathing erratic.
It's now or never, you think as you walk towards your locker, the other members of the Pretty Committee already assembled there, like diligent servants you can't help but thinking. But, it's not the time for your cynicism, you remind yourself with a mental slap.
So, it's with a sigh you take your cappuccino from Dylan, shooting her a grateful look, and ready yourself for what could be the biggest act of your life; pretending that the events that took place before your oh-so-fabulous summer never existed; pretending that you weren't hurt by Derrick's words (And honestly, people thought Claire was the actress of your little group).
But, before you could even begin to ponder your thoughts, a familiar voice snaps you back into reality.
"Massie."
So, it's time to forget your emotions and slap a smirk on your face, for appearance's sake, because you are Massie Block, and if there's one thing Massie Block knows how to do, it's pretend.
AN: I honestly have no idea what inspired that... Written mostly at four in the morning, so excuse me if it's a little odd. BTW, if you didn't figure it out, this is written in 2nd person and the 'you' here refers to Massie. Gotta go now but, who knows... I might do a companion piece to this... Maybe in Derrick's POV :/...
xoxo, k
