A/N: If you hate my writing, just say so. I can change it in a snap. Just say so.
Iggy: I'm getting the idea that you want to die.
Me: Sort of. It's getting hard to write with homeworks at the top of my head. Uhhhh...
Max: Why don't I write your stories?
Fang: NOOO!
Me: What was that? You just said no to Max.
Fang: (whispers to Aya) Don't ever let her write any of your stories. Don't.
Me: (whispers back) OK...
Chapter 1
Fang POV
"When are you going to stop pretending you're gay?"
...
OK - before you freak out - let me clear things out.
One, I'm Fang. Two, I'm not gay. And three, I AM NOT GAY.
If any dudes are reading this, I have a question for you.
Do you hate being the center of attention?
Unless you're a self-centered dude, don't bother reading this. Because your opinion is useless to me.
A lot of people have been asking me that earlier question for years. (i.e. Iggy and his siblings.)
At first, they were cool with it. And I was totally into it. I hated the attention girls were giving me.
I'm a loner, and a proud one at that. When I started highschool, I assumed I would be the kid who nobody knows. The kid no one wants to be with. Instead, I was the most popular guy in the school.
During the first few weeks, I ignored it. Then, it became a deadly virus seeping through my pores, torturing me through a slow and painful death. I used to flinch every morning, knowing the day would be even worse than the last.
So when I graduated, I followed Iggy's family to his parents' "little" house in the Hamptons. I was close to them and I felt like I was home whenever I'm with Iggy's family.
My adoptive sister, Nudge, came with us too. Truthfully, she only came to be with Iggy. She had had this huge crush on him since she was five. It freaks me out.
Nudge knew I hated attention and she came up with the solution to my problem.
Pretend to be gay and girls would just shut you out completely like you have leprosy.
It worked and that was the first time I ever got my first taste of sweet, sweet freedom. Freedom from attention.
I admit, I did attract some gay guys too, but I just ignore them. Or when they got too close, I would punch them in the gut and they would always cry back to their mommies. That's how vulnerable they are.
I'm nothing like Iggy. I hardly speak or express my emotions. I'm not rich like them and I decided to live in my own - and with Nudge - in an apartment because their wealth clearly overwhelmed me. I would sometimes visit, just for a couple of hours.
More about me being "gay."
To pay for my community college expenses, I work as a bartender in a famous bar here. I was going to take the job to be a cashier wearing a silly chicken hat but the bartender just clicked with me.
(I did sound a bit emotional there. Savor it. It won't happen again.)
Why am I saying all these to you?
Because there's one girl who's threatening to destroy my cover.
I don't know anything about her. All I know is that her smile is contagious and I want to run my fingers through her silky brown hair.
And kill me now, she's wearing tight skinny jeans and a fitted leather jacket.
Pure evil torture.
Whoever she is, I want her gone. I don't want my reputation ruined by a smokin' hot girl in skinny jeans and leather jacket and hair as brown as the cappucino I had this morning.
But the thought of her gone just breaks my heart.
WHAT'S UP WITH THESE SICK HORMONES?
A/N: I forgot. This is a new story. The idea came to me while watching Eat Pray Love in the movies a while ago. So weird... My good ideas usually come from the bathroom.
Iggy: Disclaimer: Aya doesn't own James Patterson.
Max: Of course she doesn't. And don't you say she doesn't own Maximum Ride instead of that?
Iggy: Yeah, but when you dig deeper, James Patterson owns Maximum Ride. So Aya doesn't own JPatt.
Fang: That name sounds like a name of a pop boy band.
Me: I totally agree. RnR?