Stupid boy. Stupid Patrick "I'm a selfish womanizer" Verona. How could he say that? She may not have admitted it but she was happy on that roof…for a second. Why would she think he would treat her differently? How could she fall for that stupid, stupid line. Especially when she had seen him with that so-called stalker not an hour before he slipped up to the roof. He'd pretended to be so aloof, so mysterious. Hardly. It was just an act to get under her skin.

Well, probably not her skin specifically. Judging by the rumors that spread like wildfire, no pun intended, he'd been using this act for ages.

Stupid self. Really she only had herself to blame.

Kat Stratford looked down at her journal. She was sitting on her bed, cross-legged, staring at a mostly blank page. "Stupid Boy" was scrolled neatly across the top. She never really wrote in her book much, mostly snippets of songs she liked or quotes filled the pages. She had a few photos of her mother and her friends from Ohio taped in there and a few short pieces of horrendous poetry from her first year of High School when she thought writing poetry would help her feel deep and introspective. There weren't many proper journal entries. She'd only picked up the journal for an eighth grade writing assignment in English class anyway. She'd never intended it to be a diary or anything. She considered one of her best features to be the fact that she always spoke her mind. So why write it down? She wasn't hiding anything. Only now, she was.

Embarrassment. She had thought he actually liked her. That their verbal sparring had actually led to a MUTUAL attraction. Clearly she had been wrong. He thought they could be…what? Friends with benefits? Unlikely. More like antagonists with benefits. So messed up.

Sure, she'd read Pride and Prejudice, she knew the story. But that is just what it was, a story. No man and woman find true love through mutual disdain. It's a sexist book anyway. Mr. Darcy is a total asshat. He treats Elizabeth terribly and throughout most of the book she sees that quite clearly and then when he admits he wants her she just gives in. And a double wedding? Please.

Double weddings only work in Shakespeare. Even then they are only acceptable because she has to admit he did a lot to further the art of story-telling. Look at Petruchio and Katherine for instance. Petruchio is a total womanizer and a pompous ass and Katherine is a typical man-eating shrew (what a sexist word) who wants nothing to do with him. Suddenly though she thinks he likes her and they get married! He literally starves her and keeps her from sleeping in order to "tame" her. How awful. Then she gives this stupid speech at the end about how grateful women should be for husbands. Right.

Kat sighs and looks down at the page one last time before closing the journal and setting it on her bedside table. She walks over and takes out the Beatles album Patrick had picked out. It was one of her mom's favorites, one of her favorites too. Maybe he was a royal bastard up on that roof, but she had to give him some credit. He had good taste in music.

*tap*

Ugh. Not again, please not again. She refuses to look at her window.

*tap*

Shit. Kat shoves the album back in the box spins around and stares at her window. Thank god she closed it because stupid Patrick Verona is standing on her balcony. She stares back at him without moving. He gestures at the window and she shakes her head 'no'. He makes some exasperated jerking motion with his hand and she can practically hear his frustration. With groan she walks across her bedroom and opens her window.

"I don't get you. Either you want to know what it feels like to be tasered or you are suffering amnesia and forgot I'm not a slut. In both cases I don't care and I want you away from my window."

He sighs.

"Can I come in?" What a jerk.

"No. I think you've been in my room enough tonight. Thanks for saving my records, good job. But the house didn't burn down and I'm still not one of your bimbos, so go away."

"Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean…" he trails off.

"What?" Her hand is on her hip now. She is completely ready to let him have it as soon as she hears whatever pathetic excuse he comes up with for his behavior.

"I didn't mean what you think I meant. Why do you do this? Why do you make me work so hard to just talk to you?!?" If it wasn't 1 am it was clear he would have been yelling.

The nerve of him.

"Why should it be easy!?!" She tried her best to make her whisper sound indignant. He still laughed.

"Nothing with you is easy. I don't expect it to be, but you purposely misunderstood me."

"I don't think so, you made yourself very clear. We can make out and it doesn't have to mean anything. Well you're half right, because it didn't mean anything. I was wrong to think you were different. I can't believe I fell for it. And for the record, it won't happen it again. Now get off my balcony." He shook his head.

"No. You are going to listen to me."

"I will do no such thing." She backed up and crossed her arms. Patrick seemed to take this as his in and launched himself through the window.

"Oh yes you will because I'm not leaving until you do." He took a step toward her and she backed up. "Kat, I don't think you're a slut. I didn't mean that. In fact I know you're not. I just meant…I meant, I don't know what I meant. You're different. When you look at me you don't see Patrick Verona the cannibal or the murderer. You just see…me. If we make out, or go out, you won't start picking out a dress and asking my opinion on wedding invitations. You have your own life and your own goals and you're smart. You're even pretty cute, when you aren't trying to run me over. You won't text me a million times a day or obsess over me."

She rolled her eyes at him and thought about that girl from earlier, the bubbly blond who looked like she had no business hanging out with a supposed cannibal.

"Well, more than you already do." He smirked when she huffed at him.

"Oh my god." She wanted to laugh. She didn't, but she wanted to. He must have seen a little bit of the smile that peeked out though because he grinned bigger.

"Look, that's all I meant. I like you. I really do, I don't know why, but I do. You might hate me, but I don't hate you and I didn't want you going to bed thinking I thought less of you. So, goodnight."

Speechless. Katarina Stratford was completely speechless. He turned to leave but she reached out to him before she even made the conscious decision. He looked back and regarded her, not saying anything.

"Patrick, I…I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, you know, make you think I hated you." He smiled and she noticed his eyes crinkle a little at the sides.

"It's okay. I know what it sounded like up there." She smiled at him as he turned more to face her and stepped just a fraction closer. She looked up at him, floored by how tall he looked in her room.

"It did sound pretty bad, you should probably work on your delivery Verona."

"Thanks, I'll try to remember that next time I attempt to kiss you." Her heart sped up as he moved closer to her. She could feel the heat beneath the fabric of his shirt wrapped around his bicep where she was still holding on.

"Next time?" He bent towards her, his lips hovering just above hers.

"Now." This time when their lips met she wasn't worried about a fire destroying her house or blond bimbos waiting around for him, she just thought of Patrick and how she may have been just a little bit wrong about him being stupid. Really only time would tell and tonight there would be plenty of time.