Okay. So this is my first fanfiction. Try to be nice? Please? I apologize in advance for any crappy cliched plots, typos, or OOCs.

So I had a problem. A really big problem. Yeah. But hey, I'm freakin' Max Ride, right? My life is always filled with problems. Yay for me, I know. I mean, I had the whole save-the-world problem just a couple of months ago, there's the creepy Eraser-attack feelings, the M-Geeks and Flyboys killing the flock paranoia, and all that other stuff which makes my skin crawl.

I sat on my bed, the eraser of a pencil between my lips as I chewed on the pencil. A blank notebook was out on my lap. (It's supposed to be my science notebook, but I never take notes. Don't tell Mom. She thinks I'm a 'role model' to the kids and all that crap.) We were staying with Mom for a couple of months, until Jeb came around with his "Max, you must save the whole world—again!" and ruin our happy little vacation. Well, it had been happy so far.

That was, of course, excluding my big problem.

My problem? I'll give you a hint. It involved a dark-haired bird-boy who I just happened to know for my whole life. Yeah. It was Fang. And now what did he do this time, dear reader who happens to be invading my privacy? Well…nothing, actually.

I know, you're going, like, "What the hell, Max? Why're you mad at Fang for nothing? Don't you want some peace-and-quiet crap for once?"

First of all, you try having peace and quiet when Nudge is rambling on and on, making Gazzy overuse his 'digestive problem,' which leads to Angel whacking her brother on the way to escape the smell, Gazzy yelling at Angel, Nudge siding with Angel and Iggy siding with Gazzy—leading to a giant screaming contest—and Iggy letting his tomato soup and grilled cheese burn. That puts him in a bad mood, which makes him blow up something and set the living room on fire. Then we have to evacuate and tell the neighbors it was nothing, which is getting considerable harder to do, as this is, like, an everyday situation.

So, yeah. Peace and quiet, much? I thought not. But this, to me, was an even bigger headache than Nudge begging me to buy that 'cute pink dress with the sequins and pearl buttons' and Iggy burning tonight's cheesy lasagna, (heaven on earth). That's just my opinion, though.

It'd been two years. Two freakin' years and now I was sixteen. Remember in that book that dear little James Patterson wrote—cough, cough blackmailed me into telling him, cough, cough—when I'd been doped up on enough Valium to kill an elephant or a tiger? I'd said some pretty embarrassing things to Fang, if you'd read that book, and he'd been holding it over my head for this whole time.

Take last week on Wednesday evening. I'd just put Angel and Nudge to bed, and told Fang to wrangle Gazzy into the bath, and he'd been kicking and screaming to as he was dragged up the stairs and locked in the bathroom. At least, that's what I'd thought. I heard Gazzy yelling "Fnick, no! Lemme go! Lemme go! Ow! Iggy, help!"

Half an hour later with three stories about Princess Angel, Fairy Nudge, Prince Gazzy, and Fairy Iggy (which, trust me, was hilarious), Pixie Sticks, and Evil Queen Janssen, the two girls were asleep.

I walked downstairs, tying my hair into a loose ponytail, shorter strands falling out of the ponytail the moment I tied it. What can I say? My hair is a lost cause. So I grabbed an apple from the kitchen counter and entered the living room, hearing the T.V. on. Well, let's see…A tall, strawberry-blond head, a shaggy black head…mmm…you did not just hear that…and a small spiky blond hair. Good.

Whoa, what? Small spiky blond head? What's wrong with this picture?

What in the name of hell, heaven, and chocolate-chip cookies was Gazzy doing downstairs when I'd specifically told Fang to put him to sleep? No, not in that way. As annoying as Gazzy got, I'd never kill him. I think.

I stormed over to the sofa and grabbed Gazzy by his left ear.

"What're you doing down here, Mister?" I barked crisply. Gazzy flinched and looked pleadingly at Iggy and Fang. Iggy, sensing his partner-in-crime-and-bombs looking at him, leapt up. He strode over to me and released my grip from Gazzy's ear.

"Oh, uh, hi Max," he weakly began. "We were, y'know, just gonna tell Gazzer to go to sleep…right Gaz?"

Gazzy nodded weakly. "Yeah! That's right!" He gave me a wobbly smile. It was the kind that said Max, don't kill me! It's not a lie, I promise! Er…Maybe, I think? Yeah, it's the truth! And of course, the whole smile was a lie. But I digress. It's a pyro and a stink-bomb-blaster. How good with lies can they get?

Don't answer that.

I rolled my eyes and sniffed Gazzy, groaning. Then I spun around, glaring at Fang.

"What frickin' part of 'Can you give Gazzy a bath?' don't you understand, you jerk?" I snapped. I mean, come on. It's not that hard…Actually, it is. That kid doesn't whoop Eraser butt for nothing. Not to mention, when he's covered with bubbles and soap, the Gazzer is slippery. He's known for slipping out of the bathroom and locking himself in his room before he realizes he needs to get the soap and shampoo out of his hair and body. Smart, huh?

And what was stupid Fang's response? A shrug.

A shrug. A freakin' damned shrug!

I could have killed him. Killed him with my half-eaten apple in my right hand. How, you ask? Too bad. Why would I tell you?

"Iggy, upstairs. Now. It's eleven o'clock. Turn off the T.V." Iggy stuck out his tongue, but missed me by about two feet.

"Fine," he grumbled, walking up the stairs. Yeah, that's me—Mad Max. The 'Mad' is capitalized for a reason. Mess with an angry Max and heads will roll, blood will stain carpets, and windows will break. It has happened—in the E house, when Iggy was still innocent…ish.

"You too, Gazzy. Tomorrow, I will personally force you to have a bath. We clear?"

Gazzy nodded sheepishly. He was scared, I realized. I softened my voice.

"Hey, it's not your fault. I blame these two, 'kay? Just go upstairs and Iggy'll tuck you in. Unless you want me to?"

Gazzy grinned happily, smug that he wasn't at fault. Well, maybe a little bit, but he's eleven, and he's still my little trooper. So I cut him some slack. As for Iggy, it wasn't his fault. I hadn't asked him to give Gazzy a bath, had I? (The answer's no, idiots.)

So I waited for the two to tromp up the stairs, almost waking up the sleeping girls upstairs with their elephant feet. Then I turned my attention to Fang.

"What's this supposed to mean?" I demanded, demonstrating a shrug.

Guess what was his response? Answer 1: I'm sorry Max, I'm so sorry. I should have done everything you said. I'll never do it again, I promise. Answer 2: I wanted to get you down here alone so I could tell you I love you. And no, I did not feel any tingles at the possibility of that answer. Besides, we almost always talked alone after the kids were asleep. Yes, Iggy's a kid. He acts like one. And that's too sappy for my taste. Just...ugh. But anyways, here's Answer 3: He just shrugs.

Congratulations, people that picked Answer 3! As for the rest, what sort of insert-synonym-for-mentally-degrading word people are you? Hmm? I'm waiting.

Still waiting.

Still waiting.

Oh, whatever. I'll just get on with the stupid flashback.

"I hate, hate, HATE, you!" I snapped. So what if I was angry? I hadn't had a night of sleep in three weeks. Angel had been having nightmares for weeks, and she hadn't let me get a minute of rest. But that's what I do. She calls me her 'mother.' She's sweet, isn't she?

Fang chortled. "Nah. I don't think so."

"Oh, yes I do, you ass! And you can just damn yourself to hell!" I know, overreacting, much? But I just was at my last inch of patience.

"No. You love me thiiiis much!" he laughed. And I lost it.

"Shut up, you bastard!" I snapped. He just laughed again.

"Go to sleep, Max. You need it. I'll take care of Angel tonight. You're going insane from not sleeping." Wow. New record of words for Fang!

I spun away on my heel, and stomped up the stairs. I'd never admit it, but I did need that rest. It was a whole new world when I woke up, and by the way Fang smirked at me during breakfast, he knew it too. I never told him how good my sleep was, though.

But that leaves me here, in my room, with a notebook and a chewed-up pencil. My door was closed but not locked, and I could hear Angel and Nudge laughing as they did God-knows-what in their room. Gazzy and Iggy were suspiciously silent, and Fang was, well, somewhere, being Mr. Dark, Tall, Emo, and Handsome.

Right. Delete, burn, chop, and repeat process to the last word. Handsome?! Damn, I need more rest. What about 'hot'?

Shut the freak up, Voice! I screamed. Perfect timing, eh?

You never denied my question. It sounded freaking smug and like Fang when he thinks I'm defeated. But Maximum Ride is never defeated. So shove that up your butt, Fang and Voice!

He's my damn brother! I shot back. Why the heck would I like my brother? Isn't that incest? That's illegal. God, you're messed up.

Keep telling yourself that.

Shut the *censored* up! And yes, I used the real word. Thank God Angel wasn't reading my mind.

Thankfully, the stupid Voice shut up. So, now to my problem. Dang, it's been four pages and I haven't told you yet? I'm turning into Nudge.

So it had been two years, correct? Yup. And had Fang ever said that to me, even when he was on Valium? (He had surgery for at least fifteen broken bones, the igiot. Yeah, that's right. Igiot. It's based on a combination of 'Iggy' and 'idiot.' They're pretty much synonyms anyways)

No.

And—I'll deny I ever said this—it hurt. I mean, there was the whole boyfriend-girlfriendish kissing scene in Max—yup, I got my own little book named after moi, but we had stopped after that. It would hurt the Flock too much, so we'd stopped, to the chagrin (fancy big words! I get bonus points!) of Nudge and Angel. Oh well. Sucks to be them, doesn't it?

But he hadn't ever said he even liked me. It was probably just a puny little crush. He'd always liked those freaky redheads, anyways. I mean, I'm brown-haired and brown-eyed. Nothing special about me.

Well, except for the wings. But hey, Mr. You-love-me-thiiiis-much has 'em too. So I'm not too special in his eyes. Besides, he probably would want a normal, pretty red-haired girl with pale skin and giant peridot eyes. (Ella kept on telling Nudge synonyms for colors in the dictionary at her request. I was 'playing' hide-and-seek with Angel, which kinda sucks when she's a mind reader. Sad, much?)

Me? Well, let's see. I've got un-barfed chocolate eyes and boring brown hair with stupid blond streaks. I'm a lucky girl. Mom had dragged us to a hair salon and the woman had chopped off my split-end hair until it was ragged-looking. Apparently it was fashionable. I didn't really give a crap.

Nudge said it looked nice. Gazzy just had his 'huh?' face on, and Iggy—well, remember this: He can't freakin' see! Angel just smiled, and Fang gave his typical shrug.

"I like it." His words…so simple and to the point…makes me wanna murder him with a machete…Just sayin'. At least he didn't say he hated it.

But really? All I really wanted was for him to say he at least liked me. Not my hair. He didn't have to 'love' me. All he had to do was admit he liked me, even if he didn't like me anymore, but he liked me a long time ago. I didn't care.

I knew the truth was that he probably—scratch that, definitely—was having a good time when I wasn't around. Yesterday he had been smirking (because the Fangster is just too manly to laugh. Or is that emo?) at Iggy and Gazzy when they blew up yet another lamp.

When I came into the room, however, he stopped. Just like that. His mask was on and there was no emotion. I quickly excused myself after telling the pyros they had to pay for the lamp and clean up and locked my door. No, I didn't cry. In case you forgot, I'm Maximum Ride.

Since when do I cry?

Since Fang ignores you, Maximum.

Didn't I tell you to, I don't know, SHUT UP? I mentally screamed. 'Cause, hello, I don't want the Flock thinking I need to check into a shrink. And by the way, I didn't cry.

At this, I swear I heard a freakin' chuckle from the Voice.

You should know I communicate with you in times of need, the Voice said.

Whoa. Hold on a second. Times of need. A) Who says that? B) In what world and dimension does me wanting Fang to stop acting like a rock count as me being—excuse me while I spit out that word—needy?

Just leave me alone! Suddenly there was a knock at my door.

"Max, you okay?" It was Iggy. "Max, you in there?"

"Yeah. I'm okay."

"Can I come in?" His voice was worried. "You were screaming 'Just leave me alone!' Was it the Voice again?"

"Yeah, it was the Voice. Seriously, I'm okay. Tell the Flock it's nothing. It's just some stupid crap about saving the world and that stuff," I lied swiftly. Please don't figure it out, please don't figure it out…I prayed to the big guy upstairs. Iggy was our lie-buster of the Flock. It's kind of hard to miss a lie when your other senses are sharpened to a near-perfect sense and you've got a sixth sense that's almost as sharp as mine. I heard his footsteps going down the stairs and let out a sigh of relief.

Emphasis on almost as sharp as mine. Because I'm Maximum Ride and I can fly solo.

Yeah, right. I need my Flock for everything. And I need Fang for everything. I need him to lean on, support me, and I need him to care for me.

It was Iggy who asked if I was okay when I screamed, not Fang. And damn, it hurt me like someone ripped a chunk of me out. I'll deny I ever wrote this, okay? Good.

Yeah, I never wrote that.

So I stared at my empty 'science' notebook. I groaned and sat down. Now, what to write?

Once there was a girl. Her name was Maximum 'Charging Off' Ride, but everyone called her Max. And the truth about her, behind her badass façade, was that she was in love.

No. Just no. Ugh. All the stupid sap? Gross! I began scrubbing at the words with my eraser. About half it was gone before I deemed the sappy words nonexistent.

Now what? Let's try again, shall we?

(Heh. I sound so old-fashioned when I say 'shall we.' It's kind of funny to say, too.)

She was in love. It rocked her world and ripped away the foundations…She craved i—

NO! STOP TAKING OVER MY BRAIN, CUPID! I'LL SHOOT YOU WITH YOUR OWN ARROWS AND SEE HOW YOU LIKE IT! LEAVE ME ALONE!

Ah, that felt good. But I digress.

So I slammed my book shut and tromped down the stairs to the kitchen. Might as well not work on an empty stomach, right?

As long as I didn't bump into the Fangster, I was perfectly okay. As I slipped in the kitchen, grabbing an apple, I slammed right into Gazzy. He was carrying a bottle of vinegar and baking soda. Capital uh-oh.

Gazzy grinned at me. "Hi Max!" He quickly shoved the baking soda under his shirt and spilled half the bottle of vinegar on the floor as he tried to hide the glass bottle. I raised my eyebrows and Gazzy sheepishly grinned again. "I'm building a volcano with Iggy. We already have the lava and the explosion, and Iggy's getting the special acid. Don't worry…its outside."

I groaned. "Gaz? Does this 'project' include any of Angel's, Nudge's, or my stuff?"

"Nope! We're only using one of Fang's shirts and Iggy's sunglasses." Then he ran out of the kitchen, past my super-ninja reflexes and was gone. I'd deal with the pyromaniacs later—I think. I grabbed a paper towel and began wiping up the vinegar, crinkling my nose at the smell.

I polished off my apple and grabbed a box of Ritz crackers. Don't ask why. It was the closest thing to my hand. As I began working my cracker-disappearing magic, I felt the hairs on the back of my neck prickle.

Let's see…Erasers, Flyboys, or M-Geeks? Or, I dunno, Fang? Well, sorry, buddy, but this time you're paying. Now, should I kick him, punch him, or just take the nice, shiny silver knife close to my hand and castrate Mr. Emo? Oh, the possibilities…

"Pikachu is real. Didja know that?" Then I threw a fist of cracker crumbs into his face. Fang's face? Priceless. Just so, damn freaking priceless!

It was a combination of WTF, Damnit-I-Can't-Believe-I-Fell-For-That-Stupid-Trick, and Max-is-So-*censored*-Dead. Which proves how much of a moron he is, 'cause I've kicked his butt in everything. And it was, of course, his hot, sexy, kissable face.

Whoa. What the hell is up with me and random sentences today? Delete, cuss, and burn.

"Pikachu? Where the hell did you come up with that crap?" His voice was like a chocolate-chip cookie. Y'know, it was smooth, dark, and goddamn irresistible. Fine, I'll admit it. He (as in Fang Ride himself) was goddamn irresistible.

And yeah, I'd fallen. Fallen for him.

Dammit.

And did he so much as like me back? No. So it was a lost cause. Yeah, I'm admitting I like Fangles. So what? I'm pretty sure you, as in the rabid fangirl staring at what I'm writing and again, frickin' invading my privacy, have a crush on Fang too, (probably a freaky OMGILOVEYOUFANGANDICAN'TLIVEWITHOUTYOU crush. And how do I know this? Well…There's an interesting website called Fanfiction. Have you heard of it? Yup. You have.)

I can read your mind. Like right now, you're thinking 'Oh no you can't, Max,' or 'Oh, really'? Yeah. I'm psychic, so don't forget the awesome powers of Max!

"Uh, Max? Hello? You in there?" Fang's voice broke me out of my mental rant and made me blink. He waved his olive hand over my face.

"Yeah. Say what again?"

"Pikachu. Where'd you come up with that electricity-charged rat?" he asked, one eyebrow cocked in a smooth arch. I hated the fact that he could do that when all I could do was just raise both eyebrows. Note to self: Beat freaking Fang in an eyebrow raising competition someday and rub it in his face. Because I'm just so badass and awesome and immature that I have to beat Fang in an eyebrow-raising competition.

"Iggy's obsessed with Pokémon. He's in a relationship with Pikachu. She's his girlfriend." I stumbled over the word 'girlfriend.' God, what the hell was up with me today? I couldn't even form a complete, sensible sentence without messing up my words!

DIE, CUPID, DIE! *shoots a million pink (blegh) love arrows at the fat flying baby and laughs* TAKE THAT, SUCKER! AND THAT! PEW PEW PEW! (That was the sound of the arrows hitting Cupid.) Oh, that felt really good.

But Fang was now staring at me with a Maybe-We-Should-Check-Max-Into-A-Shrink look on his face. Or maybe that was what he looked like when I started randomly laughing in the middle of the kitchen. Oh well. Fangy's a big boy, right? He can deal with Max bursting into laughter at random times in random places.

Good.

"Wait, lemme get this straight: Iggy's dating a rat named Pikachu? And how do you know that Pikachu's a girl?" Apparently Iggy dating a rat can cause Fang to actually start talking. I should thank Iggy for that.

"I'm not dating Pikachu. How would I know it's a girl? And if it was, I'm not lesbian!" I pointed out. Fang smirked at me and I stuck out my tongue at him. He rolled his eyes, but that's what Fang always does, so I wasn't worried.

He muttered something under his breath, something like, "Thank God she's not lesbian," but I'm not sure. It could have been something like, "Thank God she's not loopy." Which, I am totally not! Fnick is! Not me!

…

Well? He is crazy! "We are freakin' ballerinas! You are a fridge with wings?" Which boy calls him a ballerina? I began to laugh again. Fang in a pink tutu and leo-whatever-the-heck-it's-called? I would pay to see that. And videotape that and post it on Nudge's Youtube account, or Fang's blog with a post from Max.

Fang swatted my head. "Max! Hello!"

"Oh, hi." He scowled at me and I smiled somewhat innocently. Okay, maybe not that innocently. But I can pull off an Angel pretty well, I think. Emphasis on 'I think.'

Fang hopped up on the counter, pushing aside a few piles of Ella's old homework and Mom's medical files. He looked at me, and I stared right back. Yes, we are that immature to have a staring contest when we're sixteen. Well, actually I'm sixteen. Fang's turning sixteen in a few weeks, considering I'm four months older than him. So stick that in your juice box and suck it, Fang!

The kitchen door swung open and Ella bounded in. "Hi guys!" she chirped, sounding way too happy. Uh-oh. "Guess what?" None of us responded.

"Guess what?" Ella persisted. I shrugged, my eyes slightly watering. Fang's eyes were perfectly fine. Finally, my sister realized we were having a staring contest and scowled at us, snapping her fingers in front of Fang's face. He blinked once, slowly, and I cackled.

"I won, I won, I won!" I sang happily, spinning around the kitchen happily. "Nick lost, Nick lost, Nick lost!" Nothing annoys Fang so much as one of the Flock calling him 'Nick,' the name he uses in public.

His eyes slit together icily and I could feel his pissed-off glare boring holes into my back. "Max…" he warned coldly. I ignored him again.

He slid off the counter. "Max…"

That was when Ella stamped her foot angrily. "Stop it, you guys!" she snapped. "Can't I tell you something? Max, stop annoying Fang. Fang, don't kill Max, or I'll let Gazzy let one rip tonight in your room." That shut us up. Who knew my little sis was so intimidating?

Oh, you did? Hmm…Well, if you know so much about the Flock and everyone around us, why don't you just take a break and buy us a box of Sees candy? The caramel pops are Nudge's favorite. I like Hershey's better. But Sees Candy is farther away, so you can just leave and buy some chocolate now. 'Kay?

Darn. Go away, you freaky fangirl!

Okay, back to my rant.

Ella was happily chatting away, opening the refrigerator and pulling out a carton of cranberry juice. "So, Iggy asked Nudge out!" At this point, I began choking on my spit and had to have Fang whack me on the back multiple times, harder than necessary. Ow, goddamnit!

"And Shaw Akers asked me out last week so we're going on a double-date! Isn't that awesome? I really think you two should get together, since the sexual tension around you guys is killing me and the Fax…"

"The 'Fax'?" I interrupted, but Ella ignored me.

"…and it's sooo annoying and why can't you guys get together, because you'd look sooo cute, like yin and yang!"

Sexual tension and Fax? Ella's been hanging out too much with Iggy and Nudge. That much I know.

"And Iggy never told me he liked Nudge because…" I demanded.

"I knew," Fang blatantly announced. At this point, I was getting pissed. "And you didn't tell me because?"

"You'd say no. That's what Iggy thought."

"So?" Ella quietly left the kitchen with her juice carton. "I knew Nudge liked Ig."

Fang shrugged. "Well, they're together now. So what?"

I rolled my eyes. "I'm trying to hold the Flock together. You're my second-in-command. Why don't you tell me anything anymore?"

"It's nothing you really need to know," Fang simply said. "You know Nudge likes Iggy. I know Iggy likes Nudge. Angel reads minds. They're obviously gonna get together."

I hate you logic! Go and have sex with yourself! (Since I'm not allowed to say the F-word or "Screw you" when Angel might be listening, 'go and have sex with yourself' is the easiest way out.

Max, what's sex? I groaned. It's kinda sad that Angel's eight and doesn't know what sex is. I'd tell Nudge to give her the Talk later. Why Nudge? 'Cause repeating that freaky piece of knowledge once scarred me for life. Repeating it twice would be hell.

Iggy gave Gazzy the Talk already, and I shoved Fang into the room with them, 'cause, hey, he's not getting off that easily.

Sweetie, it's nothing you need to worry about. Nudge'll tell you about it when you're older, or you'll learn about it in school. (Yeah, we do go to school…Like once a month. We mostly skip it. Well, whaddya think we did? Actually do our homework and be perfect kids? The closest perfect kid we got was Nudge. She loved school, and went there like once a week, in contrast to the rest of the Flock.)

M'kay. Do ya know where Ella is? Nudge really wants to show her how to redesign her jeans, especially the ones with the torn knees. She calls them 'really cute.' I like Nudge's pink skirt better, though.

Oh, great. Angel's turning into a fashionista? God, save me!

No? No one listening to me? Ah, well. That's what I get most of the time. On with the story that I keep on getting sidetracked with!

But anyways, I hate Fang's logic, and I made that a point to elaborate that to him with a couple of colorful hmmphs and words. Fang chuckled at my indignation (wow, I really am turning into the next James Patterson author dude, aren't I?) and hopped back up on the counter like the fluffy white bunny rabbit he is. Yes, Fang is fluffy, white, and cuddly.

If you actually believed that, well…I'm ashamed! Now go away because you're not worthy enough to be poking through what I've written and die already! Okay, I really need my rest. No, don't look at me like that.

"So, what did you come down here for? I'm guessing you didn't come down here to throw crackers at me and start a Pikachu argument, right?"

I flinched. "I was hungry. Jeez." Unfortunately for me, Fang caught my slight flinch.

"Well, something's wrong. You don't usually twitch this much, Miss Rabbit."

Hey, that was my joke about Fang being a rabbit! He can't just flip it around on me! The horror! It's my joke, not yours, Fang! Mine!

That was just weird.

…

Yeah.

I opened my mouth to protest that nothing was wrong, that I was perfectly fine, and that Fang didn't need to worry about me. (Even though he says that it's his job to worry about me—both in the good and bad way….I don't get shivers when he says he has to worry about me. Don't worry. I'm not that crazy, even though I might like him—emphasis on…oh, crap, I already admitted I liked it. *Cue string of serious cuss words*)

I really wasn't supposed to tell you that, but now that you know, ya know. Sadness. Yup. So anyways, Fang stared at me with a seriously deep, dark, smoldering, sexy look, and I could feel myself melting like an ice cube in summer, or the sticky green slime from Iggy's new bomb oozing all over the floor. That, by the way, was not fun to clean up. And that wasn't a good simile. At all. Me—a pile of slimy green goop from a bomb? As Nudge would say—ewww!

I opened my mouth and closed it for the second time, probably doing a near-perfect imitation of a goldfish. That, ladies, gentlemen, and crazy fangirls, is bad. Really, really freakin' bad.

I took a deep breath and hopped off the counter, tilting up my chin to stare at Fang right in his mind-boggling hot black eyes. Oh, God. This was an extremely bad idea, and I don't have bad ideas. Ever. Then I opened my mouth, but Fang cut me to the talking, which was weird.

"Max? You okay?"

Dear Jesus, help me.

Chapter 1 is now complete! Y'know, this was supposed to be a one-shot...but I have a habit of making things too long. So I cut this into a two-shot. Drop me a review, please? As long as it's not a flame, I'm okay.