Loath to Love You

by L.R.Owen

AU Sharmen One Shot - The line between love and hate is thin. Though Shane didn't realize how thin it really was until one night at a party changes everything, and the unexpected happens - she falls for enemy number 1, Carmen Morales.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, all characters are property of I.C. and Showtime.

AU Teenage Sharmen One Shot

Shane

Fuck! Don't look down, you idiot!

I berate myself, while wondering simultaneously what I must look like sitting astride this wooden beam, after I've already peered over the edge of my dangling my feet towards the mellifluous river raging a hundred or so feet below.

That's a long way to free-fall.

My current locale might lead the un-expecting onlooker to believe that I'm completely and certifiably insane. And while I wouldn't technically disagree with their assessment considering the reason I'm up here, it isn't like I'm suicidal.

Hell, even if I was, free-falling to my death wouldn't make it onto my hypothetical list of preferred ways to die. I happen to have a not so little, not at all irrational fear of heights, among other things, like spiders – I shiver just thinking about those creepy little fuckers.

I simply needed to clear my head and think this shit through before I inevitably make this whole situation ten times worse. Though, if you ask me, I'm still not a hundred percent sure what it is that has landed me in the shithouse yet. This place as it turns out just so happens to be the only one in town that it not only gets dark enough for optimal star gazing but it's also quiet, something I desperately need.

Honestly, when I started out I wasn't sure where I'd end up. I just kept on pushing forward, putting one foot in front of the other, until I found myself at the old bridge. The one I've started to think of as our bridge. Though usually, it's you out here, not me – I never had the guts to join you before.

I'd heard the train approaching off in the distance as I was walking by and suddenly that look of excitement you always get on your face, when we are here, appeared inside my head, the image of you, taking off towards the bridge as you taunt me mercilessly for being such a pussy, suddenly on instant replay. As usual, I didn't give what I was about to do a second thought and before I knew it I was very cautiously navigating my way down through the thick girders until I was seated just under the raised tracks on the platform, straddling a wooden beam. I had only been there for a few minutes, leaned back and looking up through the metal slats, mesmerized by the ethereal glow of the stars, when I felt it.

Unlike you, I stayed seated because I didn't have the guts to stand up. My fear of slipping off and plummeting to my death was still very much alive in the forefront of my mind.

The girders started to tremble. A low whistle rang out in the west. Everything around me seemed to thicken with this buzz, one that almost mimicked what I'd felt happening inside of me only a few hours ago. The tremor turned into a rumble, and I hung on with one arm wrapped tight around a metal support beam as the train grew close.

The rumbling became an earthquake, rattling the structure, and the obnoxiously loud sound of the horn blaring drowned out every nerve-wracking thought going through my head instantly. The train was over me then, sharp gusts of wind blowing the hair back and out of my eyes. It had only taken me a moment to realize I was smiling – a really, really wide smile. It was one of those rare smiles – like when you're three and still untouched and unaffected by all the negativity of the world or when you're simply too happy to care that you look like a complete fool, nor do you care what anyone else might think of you.

The moment was staggering.

And I suddenly knew what you meant that night when you'd said I was missing out on something that would change my life forever.

It had been such a long time since I'd smiled that way that the memory, of the last time I had, brought tears to my eyes.

I'd hung onto the girder even tighter then – impossibly tight – hugging it as though there'd been nothing solid and still in the world. I let the tears fall freely down my cheeks because I truly hadn't felt anything so solid, so real and tangible in a very long time.

As the last boxcar passed overhead and the roar started to die down, I fell slack against the girder unable to move and so that's where I stayed.

I've been sitting here for a few hours now, going over every encounter in my head, and trying to figure out how this happened.

So far, I've come to the realization that you, Carmen de la Pica Morales, are going to be the death of me.

There's really no question about it. It's a simple fact. My eventual end will come at your hand. You hold all the cards now. Because guess what, I fold. Honestly, I'm actually beginning to believe the pretty little vixen that you are, cheated and stole the entire deck before the dealer and I even made it to the hypothetical table.

Our first encounter served as the catalyst for our mutual animosity towards one another. To be quite frank, since our first… erm, altercation at the local playground, we downright hated each other for those some odd years before the school district redrew the county lines and we were enrolled in two very different middle schools. I ended up at Camden Grove Middle, while you were sent to St. Mary's Prep.

That day at the playground, I was all of five and a quarter and you had just turned four. The pretty little thing that you were, in your then favorite denim overalls and red t-shirt, had taken me by surprise and because of this, I had unwittingly given you the upper hand in our somewhat bizarre relationship.

You appeared - a small shadow above me - where I sat cross-legged in the sandbox playing with my best friend Mark Wayland, and then took my newly acquired happy meal toys from our hands and said in a very matter of fact four year old way, that 'boys shouldn't be playing with dolls'.

First of all, I'm no boy and second, those toys I'd been content playing with weren't dolls. They were collectable Toy Story action figures. So, I did what any other kid at that age would have. I pushed you down and snatched Buzz and Woody back out of your tiny little hands.

Thinking about it now, I have to laugh. I mean I was five, for christ sake. I didn't know any better and I certainly didn't mean to make the girl cry.

And boy did you ever.

Your pretty, little face had scrunched up, becoming slightly obscured by the long thick locks of brown hair that had fallen from your pink floral ponytail, and big fat sopping wet tears began to roll down your reddening cheeks in rivers. Those tears were soon accompanied by the worst, most gut wrenching, cringe inducing, and ear piercing sound I have ever heard in my life by far.

To be honest, I have never been good when it comes to crying girls, or maybe, considering my recent epiphany, I just can't hack it when you cry. Either way, I felt like an ass… erm or as much of an ass as a five year old could be, just standing there, wide eyed and terrified as I watched you. I was downright petrified because I didn't know what to do to make you stop.

It wasn't like you had an off button and poking you just made you cry harder and, not that I thought it at all possible before I did it, but louder too.

The madness didn't end there, either. Oh no, because just when I thought the worst of the whole ordeal was over, both of our moms appeared out of nowhere like those mutant ninja turtle I used to watch fight crime on TV every Sunday morning.

Okay, I'll admit, I still watch them sometimes and I named my first pet Shredder but that's totally beside the point.

The key point here is that you, little miss Carmen de la pica Morales, had gotten me in trouble. Which in turn led to my mother humiliating the shit out of me in front of my friends on the playground as she swatted my behind for being a complete terror and not sharing with, and I quote, 'poor innocent little Carmen'.

"Innocent, my ass." I mutter, barely suppressing the cringe induced by the memory of my mother's shrilling and disappointed voice as it echoes in my head.

The little girl I knew back then may very well have been the epitome of innocence, with her rosy baby cheeks, favorite overalls, and ponytails. That girl I could understand, that girl I could figure out.

But the wild, free-spirited, and captivatingly beautiful young woman you reentered my life as our junior year of high school last year is a mystery hidden behind a deceivingly coy smile and I have yet to figure her out.

You are an enigma, an unsolvable brain teaser, a constant test of my will. It's infuriating and invigorating all at once. I can't tell what you're going to do next half the time and the other half I'm clinging onto you with planted feet and slippery fingertips as you seem to forever be running from something.

This of course brings me right back to why I'm sitting all by my lonesome as I dangle my feet above the raging river that lay below.

It's kind of a funny story, really.

All that time gone by, all those years, I lived with the misguided assumption that you somewhat halfheartedly indulged my presence in your life, like an annoying pest that won't go away, and that those feelings were mutual. To be honest, it had been all too easy, thinking I hated everything I assumed I knew about you for all those years when you weren't there to contradict the ill-seeded memory I'd clung onto for so long. I really hadn't given it a second thought after that day on the playground.

My hatred just was.

Not that your reappearance in my life changed my opinion all that much, considering that the first day you arrived to school at East High, you started our literal war off by actually tripping me up in the cafeteria. I was heading to sit with my boy, Mark and his girl Sara at the back tables but instead, I ended up with my first week's worth of detention at East after my tray wound up in the lap of the then very popular and very powerful, Senior captain of the cheer squad, Lucia Torres.

It would have been a blessing had that moment cemented my status as a social outcaste for the remainder of my high school existence at EHS. I could have handled being somewhat invisible.

Sadly, that was only the beginning.

In retrospect, I probably only made the situation worse when I retaliated. I'll never forget the look on your gorgeous face when you opened your locker that following Monday and a hundred or so strategically placed boxes of assorted condoms fell out to lie in a pile around your feet - Mark's idea actually. Mark snickering and clapping me on the back as we watched you turn red in the cheeks, as other students circled the area, drew your attention our way and boy, if looks could kill I'd have died right then and there in that hallway surrounded by our peers.

Your revenge, I must admit, was EPIC.

You had managed to enlist the help of the guys in shop class and they'd dismantled our only means of transportation – i.e. Mark's piece of shift Geo. Mark and I had spent the next month on a warped fucking treasure hunt looking for the pieces, pieces you'd somehow managed to have scattered all over Camden Grove County during the few hours we'd spent in detention for the condom prank that same afternoon.

I should thank you too because if I hadn't been forced by Mark's dad to help reassemble the piece of shit, I never would've learned that I actually have a knack for repair work.

I'll admit too that after the initial shock and anger wore off, I was rather pleased to find out that you weren't just another pretty face. Not that I would admit to anyone else that I thought you were a freaking genius or easy on the eyes either. In the end however, even the acknowledgment that you could do worse wasn't enough to stop me. I was never one to back down from a challenge and your reappearance was just the push I needed to step up my game.

Though, your beauty, your genius mind, and the fact that your quick witted tongue could rival Alice's, only made matters worse. I lost count last year of all the times we'd gone toe to toe in heated arguments during class debates – our teachers quickly learned not to pit us against each other if they wanted to avoid bloodshed.

It was shortly after Christmas Break that thing really took a turn for the worse because to my utmost horror, you started dating the other ban of my existence – Lucia Torres.

Together, you formed a formidable team and I, even with Mark and Alice by my side, had no chance against you.

So I spent most of last year leading up to Lucia's recent graduation in my own personal hell.

And once again because of this, I felt it only natural that my hatred towards everything about you was what it was. Hate. I never thought to question it.

That is until I stopped seeing you as the enemy long enough to catch a glimpse of something I'd been blind to for years. It was only then, literally with the speed of a fucking freight train barreling through town at midnight, that I began questioning everything I once thought I knew.

And fuck me, if I haven't finally come to the heart pounding, tremor induced realization that I'm kind of, sort of, completely head over heels in love with you. The same girl, who will be the death of me, and in all honesty, probably really hates me now. I know this because you blatant me told me so and now refuse to even talk to me.

"God, how am I going to fix this?" I wonder aloud with a defeated sigh.

Two Months Earlier

I shuffle my feet around nervously as I step out onto the deck and shut the door behind me. While I'm relieved to hear the pulsing music and the crowd's voices dull to a quiet murmur, I'm also suddenly very aware that this is probably… no scratch that, this is definitely a very bad idea.

Your back is to me. You're facing the empty street and you're sitting curled up at the edge of the porch with your arms wrapped around your legs and your chin is resting on your raised knees. As I move around to the other side of the steps, cautious enough to leave several feet between us, I'm finally given a small glimpse of your face. It's obstructed from my view, hidden in the porch's shadow, and I'm not entirely sure I know what I'm seeing. You look completely vacant, like the lights are on but no one is home, while you stare out at nothing, lost by whatever is going on behind your dark misty eyes.

"Carm…?" I only partially manage to say before my mouth goes dry, a lump forming where your name died off.

Your head snaps, your entire body jerking in response to the sound of my voice. It's glaringly apparent now that my presence has gone entirely unnoticed before I spoke up.

You tilt your face up, settling me with an odd look of confusion, like you can't figure out what I could possibly want. Without the shadows to hide you, I can see the tears I hadn't before, the ones lining your cheeks and slipping from your red rimmed eyes. Both of these, tail-tale signs that you've been crying and before I can stop myself I uttered the stupidest fucking question anyone has ever asked in the history of the world. I swear sometimes I really do think that the wires attaching my brain to my mouth have a disconnect somewhere in there.

"Are you okay?"

"Like, you even care." You scuff bitterly; jerking your body to face away from me once again and wiping furiously at your cheeks with your long sleeve as more tears spill forth. "You probably just want to rub it in some more don't you."

It isn't a question and I involuntarily step back as if physically assaulted by your snarky response.

Although, I can't blame you for it, I mean really, who am I to ask if you're okay.

To be honest I was already wondering why I even cared bothering to begin with. We aren't friends, not really, even though we share several, and it shouldn't matter to me that you just walked in on Lucia and Molly going at it in a drunken haze on her parent's king-sized bed, just moments after I'd accidentally stumbled through the door looking for an empty bathroom.

But for some reason, I do care. I really fucking care and that shit bothers me, more than I want to admit.

This is Carmen Morales, I argue with myself, the ultimate ban of my existence, for crying out loud.

There're so many reasons why I knew should have just walked away and let you be, but again, as I turn to do so, I have that nagging guilty feeling digging into the pit of my stomach, that tells me I just can't.

With a sigh, I shrug to myself in defeat and plopped down onto the steps beside you, once again cautious enough to leave as much space between us as possible, lest you decide to snap at me again or worse. Your tiny hands are surprisingly lethal when you're provoked.

"What are you doing?" You ask, after a few minutes, sounding just as annoyed as I feel by my reluctance to leave you alone.

I chance a glance in your direction and you're regarding me with this look of suspicion in your big brown eyes. It's the first time I've noticed how deep they are before, but it's not in that bottomless way either that I've seen in so many other brown eyes. They're full, warm even and they kinda look a bit like melted chocolate.

I shrug again, partly because I'm not sure where my head just went and because I'm not sure what I'm doing right now either, and I sure as shit am not going to admit that to you. Then, I leaned back on my hands and began staring up into the clear night sky.

The idea is almost instantaneous as I catch sight of all the stars and then I glance out at the road. It's deserted and as something Papi said earlier, registers in my head, I'm on my feet and in the street before I can stop myself. I can feel your eyes following me, probably wondering if I've finally lost my fucking mind.

Maybe I have.

But I'll be damned if I'm gonna chance letting Lucia find you upset like you are. I may be an asshole most of the time but that bitch doesn't deserve your tears. I've always thought you could do better, even if I'll deny thinking that till the day I die. Plus Alice, Dana, and Sara love you and would promptly kick my ass if they found out I was a dick to you after everything that's happened tonight, so I'll lie to myself and say I'm doing this for them.

Once I make it to the center of the road, my feet straddling the yellow lines, I'm surrounded by a calm that is opposite the frantic energy emanating from Lucia's house, where the heaving bass and beats of the music can be heard streaming out of the open windows.

I glance back over at you and you haven't moved but you're also not actively trying to ignore my presence anymore either. I stick one of my hands into the pocket of my jeans and start fiddling nervously with my lighter. I want a cigarette but you hate when I smoke around you and oddly enough, right now I don't want to take the chance of turning you off.

"This shit is horrible." I tell you and then you do this thing where you look around as if there has to be someone else out there with us because I can't possibly be talking to you. I snicker quietly because it's kind of fucking adorable.

Finding no one, you pause to just stare at me before hesitantly asking, "Sorry?"

"The music," I explain, still not completely knowing where I'm going with this, as I gesture back towards the house. I just needed to start a conversation to get your attention and I know music is your thing. "It's fucking awful. They play it at every party. It's tired."

You're up off the porch and walking towards me so we won't have to yell to hear each other, when you smile, almost shyly in response to what I've said, before saying, "I wouldn't hold your breath. I think Chris Brown might be a staple of teenage seduction for years to come."

I make a face and you laugh, "Is that what that is? Shit, I've been doing it wrong all this time. I mean who needs romance when a line like 'Shawty let me holla at you, you so hot-hot-hot.' will get the same results."

You're in hysterics by the time I finish. You're bent over, hair falling and covering your face, hands on your knees, only feet away, because I've just quoted, singing off key and very badly I realize, the only Chris Brown lyric I know and I pause, grinning wildly because so far my unplanned plan is working, to take a really good look at you.

Your hair is loose and windswept, so you have to use your hand to brush it back out of your face. You have on a white long sleeve t-shirt that rides up as you do this, allowing me to see that sliver of golden skin peeking out at your hip. The shirt sticks to your curves almost as sinfully as the tight jeans you have on. I gulp nervously as my eyes hit your feet, because fuck me, you're hot. You're wearing black and silver puma's and dangling around your wrist is one of those pink stretchy breast cancer awareness bracelets that were being sold at the beginning of the school year. I look back up, shaking the weird feeling I have to kiss the shit out of you off, because I don't know where the fuck that came from, and I find that you're still busy trying to control yourself. Apparently you can't stop replaying what I've just done inside your head because every time you look my way, you have to turn away again to keep from laughing again. Your cheeks and eyes are still a bit red but not as much as they were before on the porch.

"How come you're still here?" I ask, probably a little to bluntly, what I've been wondering since I saw you on the porch from the front living room window shortly after you finished tarring into Lucia and then promptly bolted from the master bedroom.

You stop laughing at me long enough to toss me another skeptical look, like you still don't know what I'm up to and you're not sure if you can trust me. I shrug that guilty feeling off again, the one that's gnawing at my gut, because I know I've never given you any reason to trust me before.

This is fucking confusing enough, me holding an actual conversation with you and neither of us are arguing or going for each other's throats, without throwing my weird new feelings into the whole mix.

"I… Lucia was my ride." You finally say in defeat, and it's so soft I almost don't catch it before you're shaking your head.

You're still angry, livid even, I can tell. Your eyes are almost black and they spit fire when you toss a glance up at a window on the second floor of the house. I shudder because I've seen that look, the one that means you're almost five seconds away from heading back inside and rip the place and everyone inside apart like Carrie from Carrie 2.

"Lay with me." I say suddenly and once again I've gotten your attention and you're looking at me like I've lost my mind. I roll my eyes and grab your arm as I plop down onto the asphalt. "Come on."

You pull back, looking both directions and shaking your head. "We're in the middle of the street!" You exclaim incredulously as if I somehow forgot. "You're serious?"

I nod, looking around deliberately, "Be daring. No cars. Come on. I mean unless, of course, you're too chicken?" I goad you, knowing the second I see your eyes spark with fire again that I have you.

I hold out my hand, to help you down, but like I expected, you smack it away and I'm snickering to myself as you drop down beside me.

"Ass." You mutter, probably realizing what I just did, as you rest back onto the cool ground.

"Bitch." I counter just as quietly, sue me it's a reflex, before we both go silent and simply gaze up at the stars in the sky, though you keep doing this thing where you pop your head up to look both ways down the street every so often.

I don't tell you the streets been closed off by security for the party by request of the Torres family because this is too much fun and I know I'll be teasing you about it for days, maybe weeks even.

"Sorry about Lucia." I tell you, not caring about the funny looks several people, who are either coming or going, have shot us as they pass by.

You sign, "It's whatever at this point. She's… It's been different between us since she graduated. I guess I know why now. I'm more pissed off that she thought I'd put up with something like that, especially after seeing them together." Then you turn your head to look at me, a grimace on your face. "Sorry about Molly."

I laugh but it's humorless, before saying, "Don't be. That was over before it even started."

"Why?"

I didn't expect you to ask me that, but the curious look on your face, the one that causes you to squint your eyes a little and your bottom lip to pucker out is enough of a reason to believe you're actually interested in what I could have to say.

"Her mother despises me. Juvenile delinquent, remember?" I say, lifting the arm im not lying back with my head on and pointing my thumb back in at my chest.

You snort a laugh, elbowing me in the side, "You wish."

I shrug, laughing a little too before I grimace and say, "Nah, really she just doesn't think someone like me is good enough for her little princess."

That gets your attention and you look so confused. "Someone like you?"

"Carmen, the Kroll's are like old money rich, like they're lawyers and doctors and oil money rich. Like I have a dent in my car door so I bought a new one because I couldn't be bothered to just get it fixed, wealthy," I tell you with a deep sigh. Then snicker when you whisper tell me that I should stop using the word 'Like' because I sound like a valley girl, before I continue on. "I live in a single wide trailer with Mark and his dad, I have no real family, I'm one strike away from landing my ass in juvi or worse, and I'm a self satisfied grease monkey. It doesn't take rocket science to figure out Phyllis thinks I'm going nowhere fast."

"What a bitch!" You shout when I'm done and I'm the one laughing hysterically now because I'm imagining the tight, constipated look that would no doubt take over Phyllis' face if anyone ever actually called her that in person.

I've calmed down and we are silent for a while again before I feel you reach over and touch my hand. I turn my head to look over at you, maybe a little shocked by the physical contact and the fact that it's not uncomfortable, before you speak, your voice almost sounding concerned. "You don't think that do you? That you're not worth it, her, Molly I mean."

I smirk at the way you stumble over your words, "Fuck no! I'm awesome. Even my awesomeness is in awe of it's on awesome."

You're laughing again when you tell me I'm so full of it and it's enough to break the slight tension that I could feel taking over the space between us.

It's weird and if I didn't know better, because of the way my stomach just flipped, I would have thought we just had our first moment.

Nope. Fuck that, must've been that sushi I had earlier. I told Alice it smelled different.

I notice more people are starting to leave the party and I know it was getting late. It's weird because I suddenly don't like the idea that you'll be leaving me soon.

"Um, do you think, did you maybe want a ride home? You know, since Lucia was your ride and all." I stutter out, suddenly nervous and unsure of where we go from here.

I just know I don't want to go back to being your enemy any more. I hadn't really thought this far ahead when I decided to cheer you up but then you're smiling at me, beaming really and I don't feel so nervous anymore.

"Okay, well, let me just go grab Mark's keys." I say, sitting up to stand, because I need a little space before my mixed up feelings start to give me whiplash, but your hand on my wrist stops me short. "What?"

You look almost shy again all of the sudden, that nervous energy between us is back too, though I don't know why. "I didn't mean….We don't have to leave yet do we? I mean can we just lie here a bit longer?"

I nod dumbly and lay back down because fuck if I'm gonna go anywhere with your warm hand in mine, sending these weird confusing little shocks of electricity up my arm and down my spine. "Um… yeah, sure."

I don't bother repressing my smile once I've settled because you haven't let go of my hand either.

You're outside waiting for me on the porch, talking to another one of your friends, when I head inside to find Mark a little later. I'm not surprised you don't come in with me. You're still not ready to face Lucia again, even if you don't say so out loud. You don't have too because I already know.

I find Mark a few minutes later, reclining with a beer in his hand on the black leather love seat in the Torres' family game room. The room is a bit crowded as I squeeze through two people talking in the doorway of all places, even though the party has pretty much winded down for the night, but I easily spot Sara and Dana, playing what looks to be an intense game of pool, a few feet away and Alice is talking to Papi in the corner. I snicker quietly because I know by the way she's gesturing wildly with her arms, hands, and even her feet, that she's completely wasted. Though I do feel bad leaving Dana to deal with her when they finally head out, just not enough to stick around.

"Hey, give me your keys." I tell Mark once I've reached him.

He gives me a look, like he's surprised I'm here, even though we drove over together earlier tonight, so I know he's a little buzzed at least.

"What? Why?" He asks in that annoyingly curious, somewhat questioning way, after he's shaken himself out of it.

I sigh because I know you're still waiting and I don't want to be away from you for too long. Again I find it weird to feel like that but I shrug it off to wonder about later.

"Doesn't matter. Sara drove right?" I ask, already knowing she did, while pointing over at her at the exact moment she starts jumping up and down, her arms, hands around the pool stick, held up high in the air.

I'm assuming she just won and seeing the look of disappointment on Dana's face, the one she is barely able to keep in place while she is trying to hide her smile, I know I'm right.

Mark nods slowly once we turn away from the victory lap/dance Sara has apparently decided is necessary as she starts bounding around the room.

"Good then she can drop you at home and you can get the keys back in the morning. Now come on, stop being a bitch and hand them over." I argue impatiently.

Now he's regarding me with a different look, like he's trying to figure something out but the light bulb is busted. It makes him look a little constipated to be honest and I snicker.

"How much have you had to drink?" He asks warily.

I roll my eyes.

"I haven't touched an alcoholic beverage all night, mother." I answer as slowly and as sarcastically as I can before laughing at the affronted look on his face. "You fucking idiot, you asked me to be DD remember. You know before Sara's boss let her have the night off and she showed up here."

"Oh right. Sorry but you know how I am about my ride." He explains a bit sheepishly for being such a pain.

I snort, "Mark, it's not a ride. It's a two toned, piece of shit Geo Metro that's barely safe enough for us to drive. It doesn't even have seat belts. Now, keys please."

"Well if you're gonna talk about her like that, I don..." I don't give him a chance to finish that sentence because now I know he's just fucking with me and I jump his ass, causing him to cry out in a wailing squeal that he should be ashamed of as a man for making when my knees impact with his side after he turns to protect himself.

He weakly fights me off but not before I get a hold of the key ring sticking out of his jacket pocket and I smack him in the back of the head as I bolt up and off of the couch.

"Asshole, you made me spill my beer!" He whines like a bitch and I'm still laughing and slightly out of breath when I place a playful goodbye kiss on Sara's cheek as I run by her out of the room.

It's silent inside the car as I drive us towards your house but surprisingly it's not uncomfortable, just quiet, save for our breathing and the few noises the Metro makes on turns. You have one of your legs up in the seat, curled under you as you lean against the door, your head resting against your folded arm.

Your eyes are closed but I know you're not asleep because I haven't been able to keep my eyes from flickering between you and the road since we left the party.

"We're gonna crash if you don't stop that."

I jump when I hear your voice, causing me to jerk the steering wheel to the left and the car to swerve and jerk violently before I manage to get it back under control and then your eyes are open and they connect with mine.

"Sorry." I mumble sheepishly and take a deep breath, my eyes glued back on the road again just as we come to the bridge on the edge of town and I slow down the car so that when we pass over the train tracks the too low undercarriage doesn't get ripped to pieces.

We swerve again when you grab onto my arm, suddenly shooting up straight in your seat, and you yell at me to pull over.

"What? Why?" I ask curiously, though I'm already slowing us down and pulling off into the dirt and I cringe a bit as I hear rocks crunching under the tires.

"Just do it, Shane." You order, smacking my arm again as you continue to bounce excitedly in the passenger seat.

As soon as I've parked, you're out and walking around to the front of the car. I follow quickly, stepping out into the dirt and then I hear it, the horn of the annoying freight train that can be heard barreling through town at two in the morning on every Friday night without fail.

"What are you doing?" I ask when I reach you by the hood and you grab my arm again and start pulling me towards the bridge.

You tug while I dig into the dirt with my shoes. "Hurry. It's coming!" You exclaim, far too excited about something and then it clicks, the light bulb comically flickering on inside my head, and I yank my arm back out of your hand.

You want to trestle the bridge, the one that looks ancient and unstable and should have been condemned and shut down years before we were even born, instead of just being reinforced with steel beams.

"Oh, fuck no. Nu uh." I say vehemently, shaking my head and crossing my arms as I quickly back up until I hit the hood of the car.

You stop and turn back to look at me once you've made it to the edge of the incline, where there's this little dip of an alcove that everyone knows can be used to access the underside of the bridge if you know to look for it.

"What? Oh come on. What about all that 'Be Daring' stuff, you were spewing earlier? This is like a hundred times safer than lying in the middle of the street and star gazing." You argue, looking somewhat exasperated with my unwillingness to concede and go along with your idea.

I'm down right incredulous at this point and spout off what I had no intention of ever telling you before this moment, "That Street was closed for the party!"

You laugh, and it loud enough to hear from where you've moved to stand on one of the support beams, "Oh don't be such a pussy, Shane. Unless..." Your voice trails off as you stop mid-climb out towards the outer beams and you turn back to stare at me, the look of gleeful surprise on your face.

"What?" I have to yell to ask because the look on your face is making me uncomfortable because I know you know and I know you're gonna give me shit for it too.

"Oh my god, you are! You're afraid of heights!" You bellow, laughing manically at this point, like it's the funniest thing in the world and to you, it probably is.

"Ha! No!" I try to protest, to act affronted that you would ever think such a thing about me because I'm Shane fucking McCutcheon, I'm a bad ass, I'm… you don't believe me for a second. It's written all over your face, your right eyebrow has even risen up high on your forehead. "What? I'm not. It's more the idea of plummeting to my death that terrifies the shit out of me!"

"Semantics!" You yell back as you continue moving until you're about two thirds of the way into the center and can't go any further. "Whatever, it's your loss!"

"You're fucking crazy!" I shout just as the train starts off over the bridge, the conductor blaring that loud ass, annoying horn again, while the power of the beast rattling the ground beneath my feet.

You just smile as you stand beneath said beast, your hair being swept around and then in a move that scares the living shit out of me, you throw your arms out as you start shouting, like you want the world to know how thrilling and exciting what your doing is, though I can't really hear you from here, as this look of pure illation covers your face.

I'm struck stupid where I stand because as I watch you I find myself thinking that I've never seen anything more beautiful in all my life.

If I were of the right mind to understand what was happening inside of me when you look back over at me and fucking beam, I might have also realized that I was already falling for you.

"Tell me." I all but demand, the minute I've found you at your locker, two weeks later.

"No!" You cry out and glare at me, looking downright flustered, as you slam your locker door closed and swiftly turn to head towards our first class of the day and I follow after you.

It's a Monday and I'd had every intention of skipping and hanging out behind the gymnasium with my smokes, since Evil Ms. Baxter is sure to have planned her usual and has pop quiz all lined up for us, which I'll no doubt fail miserably, but I overheard Mark and Alice talking and well, I just have to know.

It's almost too good to be true and I can almost taste the victory. I really shouldn't be this excited, but I am because this doesn't normally happen and usually the shoe it on the other foot.

"Tell me!"

"No!"

"Please."

"God, you're annoying." You argue hotly, speeding up as you round the corner.

"Never said I wasn't." I counter, because honestly I've never claimed otherwise and then I turn back to the more important subject at hand. "Now tell me."

You shot me another glare before changing directions so suddenly that as I follow you I do this twirl thing that makes me kinda dizzy. I yelp-choke when you grab onto the back of my thermal long sleeve by the collar and yank me back with you into the little nook of a space near the cafeteria between the drink machines.

"You're really gonna make me say it." You ask before sighing when I nod my head emphatically yes, my smug grin already starting to take over my face.

"Fine." You concede with a heavy sigh, like what you're about to say is really hard to do. "You're right. I was wrong."

I can't help but fuck with you and so I lean in, hand up and curved around my ear, "Sorry, what was that again? I couldn't here you."

I'm already snickering when you smack my arm and say, "Don't be an ass." before leaving the nook and heading back towards class again.

"Sorry, I couldn't help myself." I tell you once I've caught up and I'm back in step with you.

"Yeah, whatever." You grumble quietly but won't look at me and shit, I think maybe I should have just let it go.

It was only a guess after all that the writers of your favorite show would kill off a character at the start of the new season. Then I have a light bulb moment.

"Hey, Carm?"

"What?" You ask, the tone of your voice letting me know not to fuck with you any more.

"You want skip first period with me." You stop short again and turn to regard me with that look, the one that somewhere between confusion and like you think I've just lost my damn mind, so I quickly add that, "I've got skittles."

"Cheater." You mutter, but you're slowly spreading grin is enough of an answer and I nod, shrugging the fact that yeah, I'm cheating because I've recently learned of your unhealthy addiction to the things off, before I grin back at you and pull you out the side doors with me.

I crouch down low, behind the wrought iron fence lining the west end of the grounds, as soon as we stop. I can feel Mark moving around behind me, his boots shifting noisily in the dirt.

"Nervous?"

"More like bored out of my damn mind." He grumbles quietly, shifting once more, this time dropping onto his butt in the grass as he leans back against an old tree stump. "Is this really necessary? You do realize Sara is going to have my ass in the shit house if I'm late, right?" He continues in a depressing tone.

I snicker quietly, "You're such a bitch."

He shrugs my teasing comment off and lights up a cigarette. The small flame illuminates his shadowy features in the dark, causing the whites of his amber eyes to shimmer. My fingers twitch as he exhales lazy smoke rings and they swirl around us. The nagging, always constant thought of just lighting one up, flitters through my mind again. I push it back, because I'm trying to quit, opting instead to return my focus inside the gates.

"You can't tell me you're not even a little curious of the out come."

Mark snorts, and I turn giving him a look, "What?"

"Curiosity killed the cat, Milo."

I grin at the use of my old nickname, "Well fuck Otis, I guess it's a good thing we're not cats then, isn't it."

In the distance, some odd fifty yards away, I can make out the night shift security guard's massive and grisly frame as he makes his hourly rounds, the florescent glow of his cheap flashlight never reaching far enough for me to worry about being seen.

"Come on." I tell Mark once the guard is out of sight.

I stand up, quickly rubbing my sweaty hands on my grease stained jeans before I reach out for the fencing. It's cold to the touch and the iron flecks scratch against my palms like sandpaper.

"Are you sure about this, Shane?" Mark begins and I pause hearing his voice suddenly turn hesitant, carrying the weight of his ever constant worry. "I mean, don't you think this is taking everything a bit too far?"

I feel my face harden, my teeth grinding together as I speak, "You bitching out on me now?"

"I'm fuckin' serious, Shane." He argues, grabbing my arm and forcing me to actually turn and look at him. "What's gotten into you lately?"

A part of me knows I should listen to him. I know I should just let this go once and for all and move on but another part of me refuses to give in. I refuse to let this be just another punch-line, another joke, another mistake that gets over looked because of pedigree and social standing.

You deserve better than that after what Lucia pulled at the Homecoming game last week. She's lucky her cousin Papi is a good friend and knew to hold me back or I might've killed her for what she insinuated about you for all of the student body to hear.

You held your own though, dishing it back just as good, and I was fucking proud and awed by your strength.

Mark's hand, still lightly holding onto my arm, keeps me from doing what my head and heart are screaming for me to, as I am powerless to shake him off.

"Are you in or not, Mark?" I ask him as calmly as I can, but even I can hear the anger dripping from my lips.

His dark, amber eyes hold my gaze for only a few moments before he drops them to glance down at our feet. He knows I won't back down, that I can't, not this time. The bitch went too far.

"I… Shane?" He pleads, a final desperate plea, as he releases my arm and takes a few steps back, his actions answering for him. "Let's just go… we can go anywhere, anywhere but here."

I watch him, as he struggles internally with his decision, for a moment before I sigh and hoist myself up and over the tall fence with a practiced ease.

"Shit, Shane… duck!"

I do as ordered and drop down into the high grass the second my feet hit the dirt, and I just barely dodge getting tagged by one of the roving guard's searchlights as he drives up and flashes the fence line. Once I'm sure it clear, I glance back towards Mark, and grin when his head pops up from behind the tree stump, a twig stick out of his hair.

"…. are one fuckin' crazy bitch." I only hear half of what he grumbles to himself and I laugh at the frazzled look on his face.

"What? Did the little baby piss himself?"

"Oh, fuck off." He jokingly growls, wiping the dirt he's collected from his khakis and dress shirt before tossing my bag over the fence to me. "And don't do anything stupid, like… oh, I don't know… getting caught." I hear him warn albeit in a sarcastic tone as I crouch low and make my way in to the eerily quiet gated community.

Even though he may think it, I'm not mad at Mark for ditching, not even the least bit disappointed, not really. He's got more to lose if caught. Despite what most people think, he's the smart one with the academic scholarships already lined up complete with a full ride to the college of his choosing, and a fuck awesome girlfriend who can hold her own in a room full of drunken rowdy men without even breaking a sweat. Sara is kinda awesome like that. But what Mark needs to understand is that sometimes there are going to be things I do that he won't agree with, that he can't because we deal with situations in completely different ways. It's why my mom started calling us Milo and Otis as kids. He's my Otis, he's always been there, protesting the whole time, that I've gone too far and am about to face plant, hard. I usually don't listen but he's always got my back and always been there when I need a hand to get back on my feet.

Every massive house I pass is spread out a good distance from the other and makes it harder to creep about without the nagging thought that I could be spotted. Every lawn is freshly manicured, has an extensive garden, and overpriced cars litter the area. It's a stark contradiction to the neighborhood I live in.

I don't envy these people, though. I use to, but not anymore. It's all plastic, all fake, and the shield of expensive taste they wear on a daily bases is as transparent as the glass windows on their homes. Most of them should really heed the saying, 'those in glass houses shouldn't caste the first stone' but, as Lucia proved the other night, they don't.

Nothing of true value lay inside these overgrown houses; it's all material bullshit that will never truly make anyone happy.

Three streets in, I can no longer see if Mark is still outside the fence or if he's high tailed it out of there. I turn right, onto the familiar street and stand a little straighter as my target house comes into view. I slide my backpack from around on my shoulder, pulling it to my front and unclasp the zipper so that I can pull out my weapons of choice.

It's time for a little overdue payback.

I'm panting and my hands are stained as I reach the entrance to my neighborhood about an hour or so later. It's not quiet compared to the eerily silent gated community where I'd been. There is a small stereo speaker system halfway hanging out of my neighbor's window, a Latino rappers' harsh tone filling the night air with insults aimed at those who wronged him. Something I can relate too.

Mark had called, ordering me to run and I had, ditching my only just completed project immediately, as the sound of sirens reached my ears. I'd jumped the closest fence I could find as a way out of the gated community and took off through the woods, like I knew Mark would.

It was exhilarating and I can't stop laughing as I bounce with energy, shaking my hands at my sides like a boxer would after stepping into the ring. I hate running just about as much as I hate broccoli and spinach, but for once, I don't mind and I can't wipe this stupid smile off my face.

As I get closer to home, people I know, teenagers and adults, from all over this side of the tracks, can be seen gathered miss haply in odd areas on my neighbor's small gated lawn and porch. Another family gathering is still in full swing and it won't be uncommon for it to carry on later into the night.

Every so often, someone looks up, nodding my way in a show of mutual respect or just as a plain old greeting. I nod back completely unfazed by everything that is going on around me as I search for a specific head in the crowd.

I come up empty handed but shrug it off.

I hop up the three rotting porch steps in one go as soon as I'm through the rusty chain link gate surrounding home sweet home, a single wide tin can. The rickety old wooden frame whines and wobbles as I pull out my keys, unlocking the front door and I push it open as quietly as possible, knowing it will let out a loud squeal if I'm not careful.

I'm not really worried though because I know Mark's dad, Drew, is already out, working the night shift again and Mark is probably on his way to pick up Sara. Marks' mom and two sisters live on the other side of town with his step-dad.

It's dark and all the lights are off, but the TV set up on the right corner wall mount is on, illuminating the open living space of the mobile home I've shared with Mark and his dad for the last two years of my life since my mom passed away.

Nothing special, just an old couch, a ratty recliner, and a small coffee table make up our living room space. My small room is at the front, Marks is just before it, though more often than not he's at Sara's and his dads' is in the far back, past the living room and kitchen areas that make up the center. The kitchen is bare, save for the minimal appliances and a small foldable, vinyl topped table and chairs that is set up in the center as our makeshift dining area that we hardly ever use.

I stop at the refrigerator, after scrubbing the paint off my hands, before I head back to my room. Swinging open the door, the condiments on the side shelf jiggle a bit as I lean my weight on top of it while I reach over and down inside to grab a soda. I hesitate for only a moment, seeing the half case of beer Drew probably bought earlier today, but I think its better I keep my head clear since it is a school night and I shut the fridge door with the back of my foot as I turn away from temptation.

I head back towards my room and cautiously side-step the two feral, stray cats that always manage to get into the house, lazing by the closed bathroom door that's cattycorner to my room.

I'm not really in the mood to chance going another round with one or both of them and their sharp ass claws tonight by attempting to kick them out again.

My door is still wide open how I left it. It's not like Drew is one for snooping to begin with anymore and to be honest, I have nothing to hide, not from him or Mark for that matter.

My room is cramped and small. It's maybe a little larger than a walk in closet. My twin bed is in the far corner where it fills up most of the space. Random clashing posters, framed photographs, and a few random canvasses from my oil painting days litter and hide most of the puck pink and green walls from sight. My laundry lay carelessly in scattered piles on the hard scratchy carpet and a few more blank canvases I never got around to using were left abandoned and leaning up against the wall beside my tiny dresser.

The current condition of my room wasn't much different than of how I usually kept it but it was slightly messier these days. Maybe even a little chaotic, but it works for me and the fact that you're an extreme neat freak, and it always gets a rise out of you that I refuse to clean up, is enough that I just let it be until I can't stand it anymore. We may be friends now but I still can't help this need I have always had to fuck with you. You're kinda hot when you're angry.

Dropping my bag in the corner, I place my coke can on my small dresser as I plop down onto my bed and slip off my spray paint stained t-shirt. I flop back onto my comforter and pillow, toeing off my shoes and socks, as I sigh, starring up at the glow-in-the-dark universe adorning my small ceiling.

I smile because you're the one who put most of them there about two weeks after we started hanging out. You'd been affronted enough by my oversight, when I'd commented that I'd never had glow-in-the-dark anything on my ceiling as a kid after seeing the ones on your ceiling, that you promptly dragged my ass to the store and bought three jumbo packs. We spent over three hours that night putting them up before we crashed together on my bed.

I'm asleep and dreaming of you and faraway places the second my eyes slip closed.

Though, it feels like I just fell asleep minutes ago when I'm jostled awake as the loud bang of the front door rings out, echoing through my tin can home and into my room through the open door. I hear footsteps in the kitchen and what sounds like someone going through the fridge and tiny pantry before they approach the hall to my room, padding over the fugly green carpet Drew is constantly saying he's gonna rip up one day but still hasn't and then your all too familiar, and way to cheery voice reaches my ears, "Move your feet, McCutcheon." as you kick said feet.

"Go away, Carm." I groan into my pillow, swatting at you aimlessly as my bed dips to the right while simultaneously trying to block out the light from the sun breaking in through the curtains as I slip back into unconsciousness.

It's not long after that I'm snapped awake once more. You've started giggling softly and you're bouncing up and down on the edge of my bed, which in turn is causing my body to bounce too as a result.

"Make it stop." I whine to whatever force or god will listen and let me go back to sleep for a few more hours.

"Come on, get up, get up, get up… it's the start of a brand new day." You order in a playfully sing-song voice that you know grates on my nerves this time of the morning.

I am not a morning person. I'll usually be somewhat of a grouch until noon, at least. You know this but it's never stopped you from pestering me at the crack ass of dawn. Though I've begrudgingly noticed that on the days when you do pop up to wake me up, my mood is somewhat disgustingly sunny by the start of first period. Alice has noticed this too and, of course, bugs me constantly to tell her the reason for it. I'm not completely sure why it is myself that you have this affect on me, so usually I stay quiet and let her guess for herself. It's rather amusing, the stuff she's come up with before.

Giving in, I rub the sleep from my eyes and roll over to face you. I can see you've got a bowl of something in your hand but your body is tilted away from me, leaving me to have to frown at your back.

"Stop pouting. Mark was ready to storm in here and dump a bucket of cold water on you before I stopped him." You reveal, leaving me a little speechless by how well you know me because I was pouting, as you happily giving away my best friend's ill-conceived intentions.

"How'd you manage that?" I ask curiously, my voice a little gruff in my own ears and I toss you a sleepy grin when you glance back at me. Your eyes sparkle with mirth as they slowly trail over my body, still clad in yesterday's jeans and undershirt, and I feel myself get kind of hot.

You shrug once your eyes have come full circle back up to mine before you turn back to whatever it is in the bowl in your hand, "I may have reminded him that you like to sleep butt ass naked every now and then."

I snicker as I finally push myself up, my legs straddling the sides of your waist as I do. "Shit, you're a genius. I've been trying to figure out a way to scare him enough that he'll stop bugging me in the morning for years. The ass still wakes me up ever Sunday morning at the crack ass of dawn to watch old re-runs of our favorite cartoons." I complain, though I've come to enjoy what we dubbed cartoons, cereal and P.J. Sundays. I'm also somewhat marveling at you and a bit fascinated by the way your mind works. "Tell me beautiful? Where have you been all my life?"

I'm laying the sarcasm on thickly, on purpose as I reach around you and quickly steer the spoonful of what I now can see is cereal that you have in your hand, into my mouth. Your cheeks have turned pink as you blush and I hid my laughter, almost choking on a mouthful of coco puffs as I chew.

Your reactions are the most interesting and confusing thing I've ever tried to figure out, because I've noticed that since the night several weeks ago when we first started talking that you're only tough as nails whenever I'm not catching you off guard by teasing you mercilessly. We still fight and bicker like we did before but it's different now, though I'm still not sure what's changed. Nor do I know how we've become so comfortable with each other so quickly that it felt almost effortless, the way in which our lives have rearranged to include each other in such a solid way. Whereas before we would simply acknowledge that we were going to have to be stuck together for an unknown amount of time because of our mutual friends, now we actively go out of our way to include each other and if we don't talk at least once a day then I'm left feeling completely off and agitated until we do speak again. Though, I haven't figured out if you're as bothered by not speaking daily as I am yet.

You must've seen my grin because you deliver as swift elbow to my stomach, proving me wrong about my silent assumption that you have gone soft on me. "Ass. Just for that you can get your own breakfast."

I snicker quietly, unfazed by the blow and teasingly smack a kiss to your still reddening and warm cheek as I stand up and head for the bathroom. I know I need a shower if I'm going to feel at least slightly human this morning. I'm not laughing long though before I feel the heel of your shoe shove into my jean clad ass and I jerk forward, tripping over a random pile of clothes splayed across my floor.

"You better hurry up too. Don't want to be late for class. Mrs. Baxter might even keep you after again."

I'm in a tangled mess of varying fabrics and I'm thinking I should really clean my room soon as I blink up at you as you voice the uncomfortable notion. I can't help by stare after you as you step over my fallen form and walk down the hall towards the door, your hips swaying hypnotically. You start humming contentedly to yourself around another mouthful of cocoa puffs and then you throw a coy, little grin over your shoulder at me before heading outside where I know the others are probably impatiently waiting.

"Bitch."

I whisper hiss as I roll my eyes, realizing I've just been had and drop my head into the pile of clothes where I lay, groaning loudly for several moments. But with the threat, of creepy, evil old, Mrs. I-don't-know-what-personal-space-is Baxter keeping me after class again, still fresh enough in my mind, I quickly crawl my way into the bathroom, my imaginary tail lifeless between my legs.

We're all at lunch in the cafeteria and I've just sat down, straddling the bench beside you, and I'm mid-bite into a French fry that I snagged off your tray, when I see the look on your face. It's that warning one, that's somewhere between complete annoyance, exasperation, and acceptance, like you can't believe I just did something.

I see it often.

"What?" I ask as I pick up your new coke can and pop it open before taking a sip.

You scuff, snatching the can back out of my hand. "Must you always steal my food? Why didn't you get your own, if you were so hungry?"

"Yeah, seriously Shane! The line was right there when you came in…" I'm mid shrug when Alice cuts in, having pushed her body between us and acting affronted – though I've spied the hand that's snaked its way around your other shoulder, heading straight for your tray. You catch it too and smack her hand away. "Oww, Carmen! It's called sharing you know? That thing you apparently failed to learn in the kindergarten."

Everyone's laughing by the time Alice flops down onto the bench opposite the two us, next to Dana, because this is a common occurrence with all of us that never seems to get old.

"Woman is violent when it comes to her food." Mark jokes with a mock scared look on his face, still laughing as Alice rubs her dramatically limp hand like the swat actually hurt, but he kind of makes a valid point – not that it stops me from snagging another fry, this time with ketchup.

"Her stuff always tastes better." I finally explain to the group once everyone's calmed down.

You shot me a sharp look, before a knowing grin appears on your face. "Liar, you're just too lazy to stand in line and get your own."

Sara nods, casting a look of distain towards the lunch line entrance. "That line does take forever. I was stuck in it for a whole lunch period once."

"No I'm serious." I say, then seeing the ketchup on the end of my fry my argument comes to mind. "It's like ketchup in the packets verses the bottled stuff." You're all looking at me funny now so I have to explain because apparently if I don't you'll all think I've gone loco. "I mean… you know how it tastes different, in the packets than from a bottle. Or how the ketchup in the packets at McDonalds taste different from the ones you get at Burger King."

Mark groans, tossing down his chicken wrap onto the table with a look of disgust. "Man, why'd you have to go there. Now I want a cheese burger."

I snicker quietly to myself because the man whines like bitch so often I'm starting to wonder if he's lost his balls and become a woman without telling me. Not that I'd care either way. He'd make an attractive enough female. I'm not sure how Sara would take it though.

"Oh! I know what you mean. It's the same with soda in a can; it tastes different when it comes out of a fountain machine." Sara says, pulling me back from the scary bizarre place my head had gone off too – I blame Alice, while she pats Mark consolingly on the back. She's already grabbed the chicken wrap he threw down and then takes a huge bite once she's finished.

"Or a bottle." Dana agrees, entering the conversation and receiving a nod from Sara in agreement.

I nod too. "Exactly! See, they understand, Carm. I can't help it if your taste buds have failed you." I turn and tell you this with another shrug, while I go in for one of your chicken nuggets this time.

"You're an idiot." You say with a sigh but you're smiling and you still push your tray over to sit between us to share, so I know I've just won this round.

It doesn't happen often, so I reveal in my victory silently inside my head for the rest of lunch. I can tell you know what I'm doing because you're suddenly giggling which causes me to smile.

"Hey, where'd you disappear to last night anyways? You never stopped by so I could go over that worksheet with you." You ask out of the blue as we are waiting for Alice and the others out on the lot and I balk because I don't know how you will react to what I've done.

Once again, I've done something before thinking it through.

"Um… I, well…"

The squealing of tires cuts my rambling short and we, along with the rest of the student body, turn to see a very familiar car speeding through the lot before it comes to screeching stop in front of the sidewalk we're are standing on. The driver side door flies open and Lucia steps out, her face red and livid.

"Lucia?" You ask incredulously at the same moment she starts yelling. "You're dead McCutcheon!"

"Shit!" I whisper hiss, my eyes widening and I take a step back because fuck I was not expecting her to put two and two together so quickly.

I mean no one could blame me for being surprised, not really. Lucia's never been what you'd call smart.

"I know it was you." She's yelling manically as she rounds the front of the car.

"And what is it exactly that you think that you know was me?" I ask, in a roundabout way that causes you to turn and look at me funny, while I'm trying to appear to Lucia at least that I'm both bewildered and completely affronted by the accusation.

Lucia stops short, her face pulling back in this puzzled way. She looks constipated. "What?"

See what I mean, I'm not exactly dealing the sharpest tool in the shed here. It wasn't till after you two broke up that I realized you were the brains of that operation. She was just the brawn and the money, hence the reason she's still living with her parents and dropped out of college after only a month.

She shakes it off quickly though and starts for me again but you step in front of her before she can reach me and put your arms out to stop her. "Lucia? What are you doing here? And what happened to your car?"

You're clearly annoyed by her sudden appearance and what I know you now know I've done to cause it, especially considering the last time you both… erm spoke it ended badly, hence my reasons for revenge last night. But you also can't stop laughing because Lucia's new beamer, the one she's been parading around town since she got it for graduation this past summer, is covered in rainbows, hearts, and other froufrou gouty designs in a multiple assortment of spray paint colors.

What, at least I went with something tasteful to match her chipper, preppy Queen-bee cheerleader personality. I could've gone the opposite route and done something completely vulgar, like Mark's idea to slap a giant dick, complete with balls, on both sides of the thing, with 'I like'em meaty' written on the hood.

Okay, so maybe it wasn't Mark's idea – it was Alice's.

"She happened!" Lucia exclaims, yelling real loud even though we are standing right in front of her, as she points behind you to me and then gestures back towards my recent masterpiece. "She also t-peed my house and threw eggs all over the front and back doors – I couldn't leave the house without being covered in slime."

I snicker quietly, picturing it in my head but I tramp that shit down and cough when you warn me with a swift elbow to the gut. "Sorry." I mutter the apology into your ear and you shiver.

Interesting.

"Well isn't that just fucking cute. You're fucking her now too?" Lucia barks, still obnoxiously loud, having caught the action and read it wrong, I think because I'm not sure what that was either, but once again she's going too far.

"What the hell is your problem? You keep show up, acting like tough shit and ragging on her like she fucked up when we both know it was you who couldn't keep your damn pants up long enough to realize what a good thing you had." I spit, side stepping you and getting up in her face. "And I swear if you don't back off, I'll..."

She pushes me, her hands shoving at my chest cuts my warning short, and her face is back in mine in an instant. She's really ugly up close like this, with her face all twisted in that annoyingly smug way. "Oh, I'd love for you to try it McCutcheon. What would it be for you? Strike three, right?"

"Shane, come on. She's not worth it." You're at my back then, trying to calm me down while pulling on my arm. "Come on."

I tense but only for a moment and then I let you pull me away from her before I do what my body and mind were screaming and snarling at me to do at the Homecoming game. As much as I would love to lay her out, even though she called my trump card because yeah, it would be strike three, I wouldn't do that to you or the others. I may be an ass, but I'm loyal as fuck to the people I care about and I refuse to get my ass locked up until I'm 21 over her and put you and the other guys through that because while I know you'd stick by me, I'd still hurt you.

I've done enough of that for the guilt to last me a life time, especially since I found out that all the bullshit I put you through last year was for nothing but a stupid misunderstanding. Because you see, you've told me how you never meant to trip me that first day last year on the morning after we'd crashed on my bed together – you just so happened to have drop your backpack in the wrong place, a little too far out into the center aisle you admitted, at the wrong time.

I repeat: I know I'm an asshole but I'm all about changing my strips and all that jazz, at least where you're concerned.

"Lucia, considering you're here and not the cops, I'm gonna go out on a limb and say you don't have any proof that Shane did anything, so I suggest you leave before I call the cops myself and report you for harassment." You turn back to tell her, the threat clearly laid out for even an idiot like Lucia to catch on to, as soon as I'm behind you again and on the sidewalk. "I have enough witnesses after what you did at the game and here today to prove it."

"You should listen to her Lucy." I hear Papi agree with you and it catches all of our attention.

She's standing with Mark, Alice, and the others at the center of the circle the student body that has formed around the three of us. Mark shots me a look that says, 'I told you so, dumb ass.' and I smile weakly, knowing Otis was right again after all.

Lucia takes a look around at everyone surrounding us before she shakes her head, her face scrunching up with the realization dawning on her that she doesn't have a chance in hell of provoking me without it landing herself in the same boat I'm in.

With a huff, she storms back to her car and hightails it out of the lot, her tires squealing and burning marks into the asphalt as she goes.

You hit me on the arm, hard, the second she's gone.

"Oww… that shit hurts Carmen." I whine, rubbing at the muscle and skin through my denim jacket as it smarts like a motherfucker. "Violent woman! I think that one's gonna bruise."

I try to make a joke, to lighten the tension that suddenly so thick you could cut it with a knife, but you aren't listening or don't hear me and instead you smack my other arm, just as hard, if not harder than you did on the first blow. You keep going too, spewing something I don't fucking understand in Spanish, and it gets to the point that I have nowhere to go as I've unwittingly back myself up into a corner of the fence lining the football field and Alice, Papi, and Mark are forced to step in.

"What the hell, Carm?" I ask once they've pulled you off of me. I'm both angry because of the sudden physical attack but hesitant as to knowing the reason for it because you've never gone off on anyone like that before. Your bark has always been worse than your bite, so you normally don't have too.

You're spitting fire as you shrug out of Mark's arms so fast I don't have a chance to react before you're back in my face and shoving me backwards again with your hands on my chest. "Yeah, Shane, you tell me, what the hell?"

Then just as quickly, you're walking away from me and because I'm an idiot I reach out to try and stop you because I don't want to fight with you but I also need to know what I've done to make you so angry so I can fix this.

"Wait, Carm?"

You swirl around and your hand flies up so fast that even I can't catch it with my quick reflexes before it connects soundly with my right cheek. It's a broke swing, but even still, my head wipes to the side, the area of contact pulsing with heat and stinging. I turn, my eyes suddenly burning, to look at you and I see tears streaming down your face and the look you give me is enough to crush and pulverize that last hopeful and living part of my soul.

"I hate you." You don't scream it at me like I would have expected either before you storm off again.

No, the admission of hate comes out in the most devastatingly, barely there whisper I've ever heard and this time I let you go because I'm too shocked by what just happened to move, or speak, or think straight.

The only thing that registers is that I'm in love with you.

And I've probably already lost you too.

It's later that night that I ended up at the train tracks, wallowing in self pity and trying to figure out how to fix everything. Though I'm still confused as to what I did to make you so angry. It been a week and you still won't speak to me. I tried texting, calling, passing you notes in class that you promptly threw away or didn't bother picking up to begin with. I've had one of our friends try to relay messages even though I felt like shit for putting them in the middle like that, and I even showed up at your house a few times but you had your mom or one of your sisters lie for you and say you weren't home.

I knew they were lying because I could see it in their eyes. You Morales' are always wearing your hearts on your sleeves and you're shit liars too.

I've been a fucking mess over everything to the point of self induced nausea and I'm at work on a Saturday, my usual off day. I arrived bright and early too, unable to lay awake in my bed any longer. I'd hoped to put all this nervous energy I have into something constructive but it's a slow day and I've only had all of three measly lube and filter jobs since I started seven hours ago. So now I'm in the back, taking out my frustration on the old, lost cause engine that my boss and the owner of Hale Automotive & Body Shop, Rosalie, refuses to toss out in the scrap heap for some reason.

I'm rather appreciative that it's here, at the moment, because I feel it's better to tare into this mangled mess than chance letting my thoughts get to me while working on a customer's vehicle.

Rose has been watching me like a hawk since I showed up and she keeps walking back and forth just inside of the raised garage door that leads to the back and looking in with that concerned albeit slightly pitying look on her face that just pisses me off even more.

I swear I see it everywhere I go these days. It even fucking taunts me in my sleep.

I finally snap when I catch sight of her at the door again. "What?" I yell and lose my concentration long enough that my left hand slips, the sharp edges of a jagged bolt snagging and tearing into the flesh of my palm. "Shit! Son of a Bitch! You Fucking Motherfucker!" I shout at the evil piece of machinery as if it's the cause of all my problem, tossing out the harshest swear words I can think of, as I clutch my wounded palm against my chest.

I take a swing with the wrench in my right hand at the engine, but of course my luck just has to be in the shitter so it ends up ricocheting back into my skull and busting my eyebrow before I release it to clatter to the floor. "Fuck!"

"Here, let me see it." Rose is at my side in an instant, as calm as a cucumber, holding her hand out and placing a clean rag, into my good one, that I quickly press into my bleeding eyebrow, wincing at the sting and my eyes starts smarting.

I look at her warily through my good eye, already feeling my eye start to swell up, before holding out my injured appendage, whining the whole time as she starts poking and prodding at it. "Oww, oww... Rose, you're hurting me."

She looks up and shots me a sharp look, "Stop being such a pussy."

"Oh, fuck you." I spit back whipping my hand out of her grasp.

"Sorry I'm married."

I'm so caught off guard by her retort that I start laughing and then I can't stop until I realize, I'm not laughing anymore, I'm fucking crying and I drop to my ass on the cold ground and lean back against the leg of the work table.

She plops down next to me, taking my hand and carefully wrapping it in another clean towel that she swiped out of the box on the wall to apply pressure. "Girl troubles?"

I shrug, not really wanting to talk about it, but I still tell her, "I fucked up." anyways. The woman has a scary way of getting information out of you, especially when you're reluctant to give it.

She sighs and then shakes her head. "Shane, everyone fucks up sometimes, it's usually how we learn. Hell, if I had a dollar for every time Emmett did something fucked up that pissed me the hell off in just the first year of our marriage, I'd be divorced and loaded."

I snicker-sniffle because I know Emmett does screw up a lot. I've seen it and experience the epic-ness of it firsthand. It's kinda funny and intimidating as hell, the way that man cowards to Rose when she's spitting mad at him, even though he's built like a Mack Truck and tall as a sky scrapper.

The sound of feet shuffling into the inner garage, and the assistance bell at the counter, catches our attention just as I'm about to ask if she knew what I could do to fix the mess I've made.

"Everything okay back here?" I hear a familiar voice and look up to find Sara standing in the doorway.

I nod, and then look back at Rose who is already up and about to head for the door to assist whoever is up front.

"That hand and brow are gonna need stitches. You should go ahead and take off to get that checked out. Grab some money out of the petty cash box to cover the expenses. I'll need the paperwork by tomorrow to file a workman's comp form with the insurance company for the reimbursement." She tells me, already at the door and I nod before she smiles warmly at Sara. "You think you can manage her?" She asks her, pointing back at me with a playfully skeptical look. "She's been an emotional tornado since she got here."

Sara is Emmett little cousin and the two of them have been thick as thieves since Emmett brought Rose home for the first time years ago. Something about kindred spirits, being the tough as nail women they both are in spite of their good looks or whatever, I don't know.

"Oh, I'll handle her all right." Sara insinuates with a look that makes my skin crawl and I'm suddenly nervous and in no hurry to leave and go anywhere with her at the moment. "Then she'll answer to the wolves."

Rose barks a very unladylike laugh, one I've heard before, and she tosses me a look, "You really fucked up."

It's not a question and I groan loudly in defeat into my good hand, and then I yelp when the tip of my finger nicks the gash on my eyebrow, as the two of them snicker and head out front. I take a moment to collect my things, having some issues when I struggle to pull my shop work shirt on over my blood stained thermal, and I try to get my wits about me. Because if I know Sara, like I Know Sara, she's about to have my ass chewed up and spit out six ways from Sunday.

I'm on edge. I've been on edge since we left the shop, since we arrived and while we waited in the ER for over an hour for me to be taken on back for an X-ray of my skull and while the evil boy-who-looks-all of-12-years-old doctor poked and prodded at my cut palm for 30 straight minutes before jabbing me with a tetanus shot and then a numbing agent, and then used 25 stitches to close me up, and now we are in the car.

Sara hasn't said much of a word to me in regards to my epic screw up. In fact she's been downright pleasant this whole time, so of course, I'm on fucking edge – even these, loopy, fan-fucking-tastic pain meds I was prescribed aren't helping me in that department.

I'm a masochist because of course once the silence has gotten too much for me, I ask, albeit hesitantly, "Where are we going?"

"Carmen's," Is her blunt, no way I can misinterpret that, answer.

"Fuck." I hiss, now wanting to go back to the ER and let that damn doctor pick at my hand for another… oh I don't know… decade. "Do we have too?"

"Yes, you big baby, we have too. We're all tired of this shit. You two are going to talk whether you like it or not and if she happens to smack you around a bit more, so be it." Sara argues hotly, giving me the side-eye as she grips the steering wheel tighter.

"Gee, thanks. That makes me feel a whole lot better."

Sara snorts, "I'm not here to make you feel better, Shane. I'm here to knock some goddamned sense into your head. I mean, how could you?"

I'm suddenly confused and turn away from the window to stare at her. "Wha…"

She doesn't let me finish though as she continues on, and now here it comes, what I've been waiting for since we left the shop. "First, you get the girl to actually like you, which by the way is a god given miracle after all the shit you pulled last year." I have to agree with her there but don't bother voicing that because she's still going strong – oddly, this is one of the reasons I love her. Sara doesn't take my shit, she just hands it right back to me in a steaming pile with a little something extra sprinkled on top. "Then you string the poor girl along, never making a move but messing with her emotions like they have an on, off switch after you've made the girl fall in love with you…"

That's got my attention and I shoot up straight in my seat, almost smacking my head against the roof of the car. "Wait! What?"

Sara tosses me a look, one that tells me she isn't pleased that I cut her off mid-rant before the look changes just as suddenly to one of incredulity. "Oh, my god! Seriously Shane? Please tell me that, for the love of all that is holy in this world, even you're not that damn stupid." She's slamming on the breaks and suddenly we are parked in the dirt on the side of the road somewhere between Carmen's place and the hospital.

"You know I've never noticed before but you really do tap into those southern religious roots when you're angry." I don't know why I just said that, maybe because I'm a grade A idiot and a glutton for punishment, but when she winds her arm back and smacks upside the back of my head, I don't really blame her. Still, as I hold my arms up as if she's gonna take another swing, and she just might, I protest, "Injured! I'm injured woman, stop with the hitting."

"Now is not the time to be funny, Shane Rayden McCutcheon!" She's screeching at me now and she's three named me so I know to shut the fuck up.

I sigh, taking a deep, deep breath because I know she's right. "Sorry, reflex."

"You!" She exclaims, her hands fisting the air and I know she's imagining them on my throat, throttling me. Then she sighs before taking a deep breath. It's long and winded, like she's just run half a marathon and is not looking forward to other half she still has to go. "Are the dumbest, most asinine, completely arrogant, self-centered, asshole of a smart person I know."

My eyes have gone wide by the time she finishes that little diatribe and pauses to take another deep, long winded breather.

"Wow, lay it on me. Tell me how you really feel, Sara." I mutter, my eyes burning with stubborn tears as I turn to stare out the window.

I hear her sigh before she starts again, only now her voice is barely above a whisper. "But you're also, Shane. You're also the best, most fiercely loyal, extremely caring, sickeningly sweet, hysterically funny, and generously big hearted, friend I've ever had the pleasure of having," I've turned back to her by the time she gets near the end of her list, wiping at the tears that have fallen. "Even when you're busy fucking up all the time."

I do that snicker-sniffle thing again and meet her eyes. "You're pretty okay too."

She laughs and just like that the crippling tension between the two us melts away and we are silent, just processing everything for several long moments before she asks, her head tilted as her curious nature takes over, "You really didn't know?"

"No. I knew how I felt but she… One moment I think, yeah this could be something, she likes me but then the next she's just Carmen again – that little girl I pushed down at the playground. She may wear her heart on her sleeve but I can never seem to get a good read on her." I say with a sigh and a shrug, slumping back into my seat.

"Well then you do have a lot to make up for." She tells me and I look at her for clarification.

She snickers, shaking her head at me. "Shane, the girl thinks you've been fucking with her emotions. Then you go and pull that shit with Lucia, making her think your friendship or whatever the fuck is going on with you two, is all a ploy, like it's all been a game to one up her ex-bitch-from-hell, acting like you don't give two-shits about what would happen to you if… god forbid, if you had left finger prints or something incriminating…"

"I used gloves." I interject weakly and then shut my mouth because of the look she shoots me.

"That's beside the point, Shane. Even Mark telling you it was a bad idea didn't stop you. You still did it. You still went off on an ill-thought out rampage because you felt justified, and I'll admit after what she did at the game, it was," She quickly spits out seeing that I'm about to interject again before she continues, "But, and this is the big BUT here Shane, it wasn't your fight. Carmen is a big girl, and with her big girl pants on she handled Lucia that night, and quiet beautifully I might add, just as she did last week in the parking lot. She doesn't need you fighting her battles for her, and she doesn't want you fighting them when she does need your help at the expense of losing you completely."

I stay silent for a long moment after she's finished and Sara's kind enough to gives me the time to process everything. It doesn't take long, even with the meds kicking in, to realize that once again she right and it's like a big neon sign going off in my head, flashing ding, ding, ding.

"She hates me." I whisper quietly before Sara turns the car back on and clips her seat belt back in place.

"Carmen doesn't hate you, Shane. I don't think she ever really has. She's just, how can I say this, um… wallowing deeply in her heavy dislike with you right now. But that's all about to change, isn't it?" The way she asks that, as she drives us back onto the road and towards your place, lets me know it's a rhetorical question.

I sigh and slouch back into my seat, thinking that, if Sara's right and you do or did love me than maybe, just maybe I can pull my head out of my ass, where it's apparently been taking up residence for the past two months, I can fix this.

That glimmer of hope is the only thing keeping me from flinging myself out of this car and into oncoming traffic.

Everyone is already at your house and piled around the living room watching a movie when we enter through your front door without so much as knocking. I'm pulling the only preemptive survival tactic I can think might work to save my ass if you strike as I trail in slowly behind Sara, who is all but dragging me by the arm like a petulant three year old.

That speck of hope, the one I'd been so grateful for and had puffed up my chest with, like I was readying myself for battle, magically went poof and disappeared into thin air the second we pulled in and parked in the driveway.

All because I knew you were inside the house.

I catch your eyes across the room the moment we are fully inside the door, and Sara has closed and surreptitiously locked it behind us, and you're up on your feet in an instant.

"What is she doing…? Oh my god! What happened to your face? And your hand?" You exclaim in concerned shock, cutting you previous angry question short the second Sara steps out from between us and I throw up said hand to protect myself as you charge forward.

You're on me then for a completely different reason, looking down at my bandaged hand and then you're holding my chin and forcing my face down towards you, so you can get a better look at my eyebrow that is still swollen and held together with those butterfly wing strips. Your apparent concern is enough to ignite that spark of hope in my chest once again and I toss a glance at Sara, who is giving me an 'I told you so,' look when I hear the others snickering quietly behind your back.

"Who did this to you? I'm gonna kick their ass." You all but demand, fire in your eyes that for once isn't really directed at me but still sort of is, before Sara's somewhat obnoxious laughter pulls your attention away from me.

"The idiot did it to herself." Sara exclaims and I shot her a dirty look, which she laughs off as she drops onto Marks lap where he's sitting on the end of the couch, before I explain further that it was a work related accident.

You nod, once what I've said registers, and then you quickly drop my injured hand, like I've just burned you, as you step away, "Oh, right. Well, in that case, I'm still not speaking to you. Please leave."

You tell me all of this over your shoulder, your voice completely vacant of emotion, as you head off towards the kitchen before I have the chance to open my mouth and say anything more.

I watch you go, at a loss and a bit fearful as I hear the sounds of cabinets and drawers being slammed, and then I look to the others. Everyone else has relaxed back to start up the rest of the movie, though I can tell by the way they keep side-eying me that they're all just waiting for me to leave the room so they can start laughing at my expense.

"Assholes." I mutter, causing them to snicker, when I realize none of them are going to be of any help before I square my shoulders and follow after you.

When I find you, you're standing by the far counter and you're murderously staring down the popcorn you've got popping away inside of the microwave. If I wasn't so terrified, because I know I'm the reason for that look on your face, I would've probably made a joke or done something else inappropriate like tell you that you look hot, to get you to laugh.

I have a feeling though that that won't work this time and while I'm an idiot, I'm not completely stupid.

"Carm…"

"I thought I asked you to leave."

I take a deep breath and slowly edge my way around the island in the center of the room to get closer to you. "I need to talk to you."

You let loose a humorless laugh, your back still to me as the microwave beeps and you jam your fist into the button to pop the door of it open harder than is necessary. "Yeah, well that sounds like a personal problem because I have nothing to say to you."

You immediately start to round the other side of the corner to head back into the living room, after you've emptied the bag into a large bowl, but I'm faster and block your path.

"Carm, please." I beg, my patience warring a little thin too when I reach out to stop you, as you try to nudge by me with a shoulder jab to my chest.

"Move, Shane." You hiss lowly, refusing to so much as look at me, when I keep stepping back in front of you.

"No, damnit, I'm serious, Carmen. Talk to me!"

You throw the plastic bowl down onto the island and it clatters, tipping wildly and the popcorn falls over the side, scattering out all over the counter top, as you whirl around and step back. You look up at me finally and your eyes are spitting fire, you're gloriously livid, and you're shaking just a bit in that way you do when you're body becomes somewhat out of your own control as you practically growl at me and I can't help but to think that I've never seen you more beautiful and I want to kiss you until you're making that noise for a whole other reason.

"Why, why should I? Huh, Shane? So you can just keep using me to get back at Lucia!"

"Fuck Lucia! Fuck her! I don't give a shit about her." I argue fiercely, trying to explain myself but also tired of fighting with you about her. "The only thing I care about is what she was saying about you at that game. That she has the fucking gull to keep showing up after she fucking cheated on you, at a party she knew you'd be attending. I care that even after that she still walks around this town like she fucking owns it and could give two shits about the people who actually matter…"

"So it was all to get back at her." You but in, apparently not having heard a word I've said.

I step back, having followed your retreat into the space between the island and the opposite countertop. I scrunch up my face in exasperation, not bothered enough by the resulting sting of my eyebrow to stop, and I'll admit I'm a bit confused by how you could think that.

"What! No! I mean yes but, fuck!" I shout in frustration, after stumbling over my words, before I take a deep breath and drop my arms back to my sides, the ones I didn't realized I was gesturing wildly with before. "Look I know, okay. I know it wasn't my fight and that I shouldn't have gone off and done what I did. But you've gotta understand, Carmen, that sometimes when the people I care about get hurt or are being fucked with, that I react the only way I've ever known how. I don't think first. I act first. You handled Lucia at the game, knocked her down a peg or two yes, but by then I was already formulating a plan of attack in the back of my head because you didn't and don't and never will deserve all the shit she's been putting you through."

"Why would what she did or said matter to you, if you hate me so much." You somewhat sadly counter the second I've finished and I can feel my eyebrows shoot up into my hairline as my eyes widen in shock.

"I don't hate you! I happen to be in love with your stubborn, confusing, ass." I shout back in my anger, over the fact that you would think such a thing, before a tense quiet calm falls over the two of us and it suddenly registers in my head what I just said.

Your eyes are wide open, big and clearly surprised, as you whisper-hiss, "I can't believe you just said that."

I somewhat parrot you in agreement, just as quietly but more so in my own shock, "I can't believe I just said that."

Then, as we're silently staring at each other and both of us are breathing heavily, the bubble that's been surrounding the two of us pops and other voices start trickling in.

"I can't believe she just said that." I hear Dana murmur quietly, followed by Alice saying, not so quietly and with a snicker, "Believe it, she said that."

Sara speaks up next, "This is so much better than that soap opera you watch, babe."

Papi's next, with a gleefully questioning and somewhat disbelieving laugh, "Mark watches soaps?"

"Sara, Sons of Anarchy is not a soap."

We both turn, just as Mark pipes up with an argument to what Sara said, to find them all standing on the opposite side of the island, closest to the archway that separates the living room from the kitchen. Alice even has the bowl of popcorn, the same one you spilled earlier, in her hand, and she's munching away. None of them are really paying us enough attention at the moment to realize we are staring at them now.

Sara laughs at him before shooting her boyfriend a look, "Babe, any show you spend hours crying about after they kill off your favorite character is a soap."

"I told you I just had something in my eye." He counters hotly, his arms held out at his sides with an incredulous look on his face.

"Do you all fucking mind?" I bark loud enough that they all stop and turn back towards us.

Mark, Sara, Papi, and Dana all look a bit sheepish, but not Alice. Though, I'm not really surprised by her reactions any more. She just shakes her head, takes another handful of popcorn to her mouth before saying around said mouthful. "Nah, this is the most entertaining thing I've witnessed all year. Please carry on."

Dana sighs quietly as she reaches out to pull her girlfriend out of the room, "Alice, come on."

Alice whines, fighting her for a moment, "But baby! It was just getting good. I think Carmen might even smack her again."

"Alice." I hiss with a scowl, but warily shoot a side glance your way when you snicker quietly beside me, because you just might.

"Fine. You people suck." She grumbles, taking the popcorn with her as she turns to leave the room with the other, who've been waiting by the archway, before she turns to look at Mark curiously, "So Mark, you cried about Opie too? Man, I'm still pissed at the writers for doing that."

Mark glares at her, "I wasn't fucking crying! I had something in my eye."

Sara laughs loudly and I hear her say, "You mean other than your giant man tears." even from all the way in the other room, followed shortly after by the others laughter.

You're still giggling at our friends oddly normal behavior when I turn back to look at you and I sigh, causing you to look back at me and you sober up, catching my eyes.

"I meant it, what I said, you know." I say a bit sheepishly, remembering how I practically screamed it at you, as I take a step toward you.

You don't move back, thankfully, but you still look suspicious, like you don't know if you can trust me.

"I don't know if I believe..." You start to say, but I don't give you a chance to finish that sentence and I quickly step into your space and kiss you, hard, because fuck me, if I wasn't right, because I know you and I just have to kiss you now before you manage to talk yourself out of believing a word I've said this afternoon.

You freeze under me at first, making this funny squeaky noise in the back of your throat and I'm scared you're about to push me away, as I've pressed you back into the counter in my haste. But then just as quickly you're kissing me back and I grin, tilting my head to the right, my lips parting and I suck your bottom lip into my mouth, swiping it with the tip of my tongue to deepen the kiss.

Your hands move from my chest, up into the hair at the nap of my neck and you're tugging me into you with as much vigor as I'm using to push my body closer. You're still too far away, so I crouch down, our lips still attached, and drop my good hand down to your thigh to lift you onto the countertop. Our mouths part for a second to long when I do this and you wrap your legs around me, yanking me forward. I snicker quietly, loving that you're being just as affected by me as I am by you and you moan breathlessly. The vibrations tickling my lips and tongue as I trail them down the side of your neck and I find a particularly sensitive spot just below your ear that has you gripping my hair in even tighter fists and you almost growl.

"Ahh… my eyes!" I suddenly hear Mark exclaim and I let out a whine as I fall slack against you, my head falling to rest on your heaving chest. "Sara! Why'd you tell me to go in there?! Go get your own damn drink."

You start laughing, loud and somewhat breathless, and I can't be upset for long that the mood has suddenly been ruined by the reminder that we aren't alone, like a cold blast of water, because I love the sound of your laugh.

I hear footsteps approaching and pull back just enough to see a sheepish looking Sara round the corner and enter the kitchen. "Opps. Sorry guys. I'll just… yeah." She says, quickly trailing off as she, just as quickly, grabs a coke from the fridge and then hightails it out of the room.

I look up at you and you're already smiling down at me, "I love my friends. I shouldn't want to kill them right?"

"No, Shane. You shouldn't." You agree with a little giggle that is really fucking cute as you shake your head at me before you take a deep breath and rest your forehead against mine as you stare into my eyes, my soul maybe. "What took you so long?" You ask after a moment of calm silence.

I grimace a little while standing up straighter and I pulling you closer as I look down at my feet and you loosely wrap your arms around my neck, "I'm sorry. I should've done that that night out at the bridge like I wanted too. I'm an idiot."

You snicker and then you're angling my face back towards yours and you're kissing me again, only unlike before it's playful and even a bit chaste, but it's fucking wonderful too.

"I love you." I mumble between pecks and you pull away a little to fucking beam at me before you kiss me again and you say, just as quietly, a hair away from my lips as you stare into my eyes, the words that I'm dying to hear, the ones that crush my soul and jump start my heart all at once.

"I love you too."

I sigh breathless and hug you around the waist, my head falling to rest in the croak of your neck. "Say that again."

"I love you." You whisper into my ear, before you pull me back to look at you and continue. "But it's probably a good thing Mark stopped us from going any farther earlier."

I raise my good brow, confused all of the sudden, "What? Why?"

You laugh and say, "I have a three date rule."

Again I'm confused before you give me a look and reach down to tug on my belt loop and that neon sign in my head is flashing and ringing, Ding, Ding, Ding, all over again.

I laugh and nod. "Oh… okay." I say and then another light bulb flashes, and I ask, "Um… what's today again?"

You look confused now and a little concerned. I snicker as you reply slowly that it's still Saturday, as if you think I've finally lost my mind.

"Spend the day with me tomorrow? Breakfast, lunch, and dinner. That counts as three dates, right?" I ask, slightly nervous that I just asked you out on what would be our first date but to excited about the prospect to stop myself

"Why? You in some kind of a rush?" You ask with a look of suspicion that isn't really coming off right considering you're laughing at my dumb ass and smiling too.

I shrug it off, before saying the cheesiest but truest thing I can possibly think of, "Only to make up for lost time."

You hum pleasantly for a second before grinning again, "Good answer."

"I know right. I'm awesome like that." I mumble against your lips as we start kissing again and then it registers that you never answered my question and I jerk back, our lips parting with a pop, leaving you with a funny look on your face that's almost enough to crack me up but I don't because I need an answer. "So wait. That was a yes, right?"

You start laughing at me again but it's okay and I don't even bother pouting. Instead I'm smiling like a lunatic, because while you're trying to muffle said laughter behind your hands, you're also nodding that it was in fact a yes.

"Yes! It's a date." I say with fist pump that makes you laugh louder, if that's possible before I remember something else and emend my statement, "Erm... three dates. Shit, I need start planning."

Now you're in hysterics as you slip-fall off the counter and we head out of the room, "You're an idiot." You tell me over your shoulder.

I wrap by arms around you from behind as I reach you and give you a playful glare as you look back at me before grinning widely and shrugging helplessly as I say, "Your idiot." And then you flash me that beaming smile again and pop up onto your tip toes to kiss the shit out of me, like I haven't just said the stupidest, goofiest thing ever, so I guess it's alright.

As we rejoin our friends in the living room, where Alice, Mark, and Papi are in a heated argument over which movie to put in next, just like that night out at the tracks, it hits me, that feeling that all is suddenly solid, right, and whole in the world.

And fuck me, I'm so in love with you that, after you've pull me down and thrown you legs across mine on the end of the couch, I'm smiling like a goofy bastard the rest of the night.

"Shane!" I hear you call out from down the hall, where you're in my kitchen looking for an afternoon snack before we start studying for a test I'm probably going to fail either way.

"What?!"

"You're dead McCutcheon!"

"Oh, shit." I whisper hiss as I look around for a place to hide from you, while experiencing a bit of déjà vu, before I quickly realize in my frantic haste that I actually don't know what is I've done to piss you off this time.

Sue me, it's a reflex. You can be scary when you're angry and it's only gotten worse since we started dating three months ago.

I can hear you heading my way, stomping really and I whimper like a bitch because unless I want to jump out of my window I have no escape.

"When were you planning on telling me about this?" You demand the second you enter the room

In your hand you're holding up two piece of paper stapled together and you're waving them around so fast I can't see what it actually is. So I shrug and then flinch back when you step forward and try to push them into my chest causing them to drop to the floor.

You snicker, probably at the look on my face, as you plop down onto my bed next to your book bag. "I wasn't gonna hit you, ya big pussy."

I stick my tongue out at you, once of course your back is turned to me because I'm not an idiot so much anymore, before bending over and picking up the papers.

"What is it?" I ask wondering what could possibly cause you to want to kill me.

Though, you haven't started in on me yet like usual, so I'm a little suspicious and a bit nervous.

"Your report card. You're failing three courses and that letter on the back says if you don't get them brought up to at least a D-, you'll be repeating the year, Shane."

I scrunch up my face at the idea of being stuck in that hellhole another year and drop down onto my back on my bed with a heavy sigh, "Fuck me."

My mood quickly lifts however when you toss one of your legs over both of mine and swing around to straddle my waist. "What are you doing?" I ask hesitantly curious because of the strangeness of your behavior.

You're supposes to be mad, eyes spitting fire, and yelling at me about how much of a fuck up I am. Not grinning at me all sexy, vixen like and straddling my waist like I've just done or said the right thing so it must be happy fun time. You confuse me, woman.

"First, I'm going to fuck you." You tell me as if I should have already known that and then you laugh while I watch with wide eyes as you reach down, your fingers curling around the edge of your t-shirt before you wipe it up and over your head and are left in only jeans and lacy green bra. "And I'm going to fucked you so thoroughly that you'll be thinking about it for days, baby. And you know I can, you know just how good we can be together, don't you Shane?" You fucking purr the question before you suck my earlobe between your plump lips, having leaned down and pressed your warm chest against mine suggestively, and I nod dumbly and raise my hands up to grip your thighs tightly because fuck yes, I do know. Then you continue, "And then I'm going to withhold said happy fun time, as I know you like to call it, until your grades are back up."

By the time you sit back up, resting with your ass on my thighs, with an evil grin plastered across your face, I'm already choking out with a half whimper, half shout, "What?!"

"You heard me. Now get naked." You order, already reaching down and undoing my belt buckle.

I growl and flip us, causing you to laugh as we bounce once before stilling, "Not fair, Carmen." I argue with a pout, not at all liking the idea of being blackmailed with sex.

"I never said it was fair, but I'll be damned if you don't graduate with the rest of us." You counter with a sigh as you reach up and push the hair out of my face.

I kiss you, because I can't not when you look at me like that, all caring and shit, before pulling back and holding myself up on my arms and elbows.

"Bitch." I mutter.

"Asshole." You snap back.

And just like that, I'm not so angry or upset, instead I'm smiling and you're smiling too because we love each other even when we really, really want to hate each other too.

"So… sexy fun time?" I check with a cork of my eyebrow, having felt you wrap your legs around me after a few moments.

You laugh, highly amused thankfully, and it's loud and full bodied so it makes you, me, and the bed shake and I can't help but grin down at you as I think that you look fucking beautiful.

And you're all mine too.

The End