Disclaimer: I do not own My So-Called Life or any of the characters from the amazing show.
Summary: This pretty much begins where the last episode of the show left off. It's somewhat how I figured the show would go.
A/N: This is my first fanfiction so don't be overly critical. Don't jump to conclussions about the story. It may seem like so-and-so is going to end up with so-and-so, but remember that this story takes place in a high school. Relationships are going to change, or else there wouldn't be any of the drama we all love so much. Please tell me if any of the names or details are inaccurate or if the characters are acting out of character.
The night was oddly beautiful and perfect considering all that had happened. The stars were shining just as brightly as the full moon overhead. The houses on the street released an orange glow from each well lit window. The streetlamps had only just come on several minutes earlier. Everything was quiet except for the steady hum of the crickets and a lone boy riding his bike in circles. The boy was quite a sight to see. One minute he seemed to be muttering to himself. The next minute he would end up hitting his head on the handlebars a few times. Finally, he just stopped the bike and stared at the spot where she had been moments before.
"Oh my God… what have I done? I'm such an idiot," thought Brian Krakow as he continued staring down the road. "Why did I let her get into Jordon Catalano's car? I should have told her to stop. I should have told her everything about how I, like, feel… but I… I said I would help him with the letter. So isn't this all my own fault? I mean... how could she have even believed that Jordan could write that in the first place? Well… I guess she made herself believe what she wanted to believe. Why am I defending everyone? Shouldn't I be finding someone to blame for all this… isn't that, like, the right of a teenager… the right to blame others for your problems?
"But how could she get into that car after she found out I wrote the letter? Oh God! I can picture what they're doing right now in his car. I think I'm going to be sick! Not only am I lusting after my neighbor… but now I'm picturing her doing it in the back of Jordan's car. Great… now I'm a huge pervert! I'm a pervert… and Jordan Catalano gets Angela. What do I get? I get… I get… like, my bike."
He kicked his bike and began riding in circles once again.
Several miles away Jordan Catalano's red convertible was speeding down a back road. Anyone who didn't know Jordan very well would think he was acting completely normal, but his fingers were twitching ever so slightly on the steering wheel. Occasionally he would chance a glance at the red headed girl next to him, but she never returned the fleeting look. She was staring too intently out the window, apparently loss in thought.
Oh my God… Brian wrote that letter to me. Brian… my, like, dorky neighbor wrote me a passionate love letter? How does that make, like, any sense at all? Neighbors totally don't write each other love letters. They let you borrow, like, cups of sugar and tools... or something. I mean, if Brian wrote the letter… then I forgave Jordan for, like, no reason. So… why am I in his car? How could I have believed Jordan wrote that letter in the first place? He can barely, like, form coherent sentences. Ok… that was totally mean. But… he kinda deserves it. Right? God… I must be an incredibly shallow person. Brian writes me, like, this amazing letter… and still I go off with Jordan Catalano. But if I am shallow… would I be thinking about all of this stuff in the first place? Maybe I'm an introspectively shallow person… does that term even, like, exist?
Suddenly, Angela Chase escapes from her thoughts. She turns to Jordan and wills herself not to be sucked into his intense eyes, his gorgeous mouth, and his – FOCUS!
"Jordan," she begins wearily, "I'm not really feeling too well right now."
Jordan's face falls slightly at her words. "What's wrong?" he asks. His voice is deep and hypnotically slow and airy. "Did you talk to Brain or something?"
"His name's Brian," she responded a little too irritably. "And no… why?"
"I don't know… I just… you know… saw you talking to him." Jordan had stopped glancing at her and was now focusing all his attention on the road, something he never usually does.
"He's my neighbor," she muttered. "We, you know, occasionally exchange words."
Jordan simply nodded. After a few seconds of awkward silence he makes a very sharp u-turn and heads back in the direction they came from.
"So I guess I'll take you home," he sighed.
Angela didn't respond. She just went back to staring out the window.
