Author's Note: Every break I take from Colour Me Surprised produces a new oneshot, so I figure, hey, why not make a collection of these oneshots? So that's what I'm doing. Enjoy! And please, if you're going to flame me, don't do so because you disagree with this coupling, or any of the later ones for that matter. I'd rather receive criticism based on my writing abilities, instead of which characters I decide to pair up. You're entitled to your opinions and views, as I am my own. By writing these, I'm simply commenting on the most interesting "what if" scenarios.

Disclaimer: Zoey 101 and all related characters are not my own.


Raspberry Lip Gloss

She's scooting closer to me; I edge away slowly, deliberately. I can't lead her on any longer, it's getting too dangerous. I'm perilously close to losing my sanity; she's perilously close to learning the truth.

The temperature is rising and it's not just me. My eye is on the thermometer hanging outside the science classroom window, its red liquid taunting me. 37 degrees, it reads. Right now, I'd be happy if it were minus 50. Minus 50 would give an excuse for more clothes, more layers between her ever approaching body and my own.

Her bony hand comes to rest on my thigh; I almost jump a mile. She notices this and smiles coyly at me, flipping a purple strand of hair behind her ear. Oh no, she's taking it as anxious anticipation; my own nervous invitation to her. Unfortunately, she's wrong. She's been wrong (so very wrong) this past week, more wrong than I've ever seen one person be.

It started (always starts) with assumptions; assuming that a prolonged silence means yes and a sweaty palm means more. Meaningful looks have meant no and head scratching has become an invitation to come closer. She believes so intently in these interpretations that I myself have come to believe that my body is not in correspondence with my mind, with my heart.

Her knee is touching mine, sending out a static shock so powerful that it makes me consider it twice; was it friction, or was it something more?

Her breath is humid upon my neck, her soft voice making my hairs stand up on end.

"Chase… are you okay?" she whispers smoothly. I shut my eyes firmly, attempting to squeeze every inch of common sense back into my body.

"F-fine," I manage to stutter, my voice raspy and low. My throat has seemingly closed up; I can make no more sound. She slides onto my lap with practiced ease, arms dangling loosely around my neck. I open my eyes timidly to see her own, dark brown and dangerous, staring back at me. A mischievous smile is forming on her lip, lips that are coming closer by the second.

Try as I might, I cannot pull my head away; it's trapped, trapped by the spindly arms holding it firmly in place. Slim fingers push my head ever so gently towards her own. I close my eyes, preparing for the worst.

Her lips, shining in pale pink glory, meet mine, lightly at first. I desperately try to refrain from responding, but to no avail. Her kiss is intoxicating, it's drawing me in. She tastes of raspberry lip gloss, artificial and seductive; I pull my head back, trying to get a word in.

"Lola–" I mumble, lips moving awkwardly against hers, vibrating as my voice breaks the hold.

"Shhh," is all she utters before pulling me deeper, down into the depths I've been so afraid to explore. Her lips are smooth, making me self-conscious about the quality of my own. Unintentionally I relax into her grip, my hands responding to her touch, finding their way across her small back. I trace her all-too prominent spine, an action that is answered with wild hands roaming through my unmanageable hair.

My lips suddenly encounter something new, something different. Her lips have opened, letting forth her tongue. It brushes my lower lip lightly, yet forcibly enough for my mouth to open as well, allowing entry. Her reaction is somewhat ecstatic as she pushes her body roughly onto mine. My mind is screaming, demanding that I let her go but I can't. My body isn't listening to my commands. And by now I know that I'm enjoying this much more than I should be.

I break away from her suddenly, though not by my own doing. She has pulled away on her own accord, smiling dreamily at me as she settles her head into the dip between my head and my shoulder. We stop when she decides; that's how it has always been, and how it will always be. I look around me to see a few people staring at us, at the scene we had just caused. Yet one face stands out more than the rest in my eyes: Zoey.

She's standing by the fountain with Nicole, looking in our direction with disbelief. Finding my gaze she crosses her arms and cocks an eyebrow, telling me that she's not amused. Lola, spotting her friends, smiles sheepishly and twinkles her fingers at them. Not knowing what to do, I follow suit, giving a wave, rather stupidly, in Zoey's direction.

Zoey scoffs, rolls her eyes and stomps off, all in one fluid motion, leaving a bewildered Nicole in her wake. The brunette gives me a menacing glare before rushing off to comfort her best friend.

I can't believe what I've done. In the space of 6 minutes, I have completely and utterly ruined my chances at ever being loved by Zoey. A sigh below my ear jolts me back to reality and I look down at the petite actress in my arm. She gazes up at me adoringly and snuggles closer, making me feel like such a user. I mean, I'm thinking about another girl while I still have one right next to me, the one that stole my first kiss many weeks ago.

And I know deep down that the girl beside me isn't a pawn, so what right do I have to treat her like one? Unfortunately, she's not a queen either; she's my friend, and I can't deceive her any longer. For I know now that in leading her on, I am indeed deceiving her. The girl who had been standing before me moments ago is undeniably my true queen, yet the sad truth is that I doubt I am her king.

You see, my life is like a game of chess, yet the pieces have feelings, voices and body temperatures. Chess is a game of strategy, trickery and cunning, all of which I'm not overly capable.

And it's for this reason that I'm not surprised how complicated I've made my life with one idiotic move: I've always been complete shit at chess.