A/N: This is an extra going-away gift for my FANGtastic readers, and I'm the one going away… MAKES SENSE.
So, here's But Not Really in Fang's POV: I'm Not Overreacting!
Chapter 1
It all starts the night of that party… thing. The mayhem, I mean.
I'm not saying that my life was ever perfect. But it doesn't get any better. Not right away, anyways.
So, Ella, Max's half-sister, and Nudge, Max's half-sister's best friend, insists that Iggy and I go to this party, for reasons unknown.
I decide to make Iggy go because I was sick of him making goo-goo eyes – wait, no, that doesn't make any sense. I'm sick of him not getting anywhere with Ella. The half-sister, not the half-sister's best friend.
"Shut it," Iggy reminds me nicely as we reach the Martinez's apartment.
"My lips are sealed," I say. Sure, I'm not a talkative guy, but I can't exactly zip my mouth shut because Iggy's blind. I get tricked into talking all the time.
The door opens, and Ella ushers us in. The half-sister, not the… you know what? Forget it. Catch on or don't.
"She's in the shower," she whispers, showing us into Max's room. As I make myself comfortable on Max's bed and Iggy stands staring in Ella's general direction, Ella shares a few more words with us.
"Stay here, then you can ambush her."
You know, the normal, loving sister sort of stuff.
"I need to go now, Nudge is waiting."
"Bye," Iggy says.
"Bye, Ig," Ella waves, closing the door.
About a second later, she opens it again.
"Bye, Fang."
I look at her in acknowledgement and she closes the door again.
Iggy waits in the same place, probably waiting for Ella's footsteps to die down. And then he turns to me.
"Dude," he says, raising a suggestive eyebrow. "You're in Max's bed."
I roll my eyes, not freaking out at how he knows that or anything. He's pretty good at orientating himself around, and at guessing where everyone is.
He's a good guesser.
He told me once that he makes an invisible in his mind. I respect him for that. Which is why I'm making him come to this party and get a girlfriend.
"I'm rolling my eyes, Ig."
He sighs.
"So, anything interesting in here?"
I sweep the room with my eyes.
"There's a bra hanging off of the bedside lamp. How it got there is besides me."
Iggy grins mischievously.
"Our Maxy's all grown up. She can throw underwear onto her lamps and everything."
Then he freezes.
"She's coming."
I get up from the bed and look around for a weapon. Sure, think that I'm overreacting. She's only a girl.
But I'm not.
Overreacting, that is.
… And I'm also not a girl.
Iggy hides behind her door, and I hear that the footsteps are closer.
So, instead of looking for a physical weapon, I decide to go for a more psychological approach.
The door slams open, and there stands Max, in all of her clean glory. Trust me on this when I say this doesn't happen often.
"Who's in my- Fang, what are you doing in my bed?"
xxx
The battle was long, and hard, and once again: I'm not overreacting.
"I still can't believe you bit me," I mutter as we come up to Nudge's mansion. Yeah, I said mansion.
Max scowls at me, as if it were my fault that she decided to chomp on my arm.
"You brought this upon yourselves," she snaps at us. Yeah, I was just begging you to sink your teeth into my skin. In a totally, non-sexual, non-creepy, non-vampire, non-emo way. Jeez. "You practically broke an entry!"
"It's only one party," Iggy growls, still sore where Max punched him in the stomach.
Yeah. She punched a blind guy.
Told you I wasn't overreacting.
"And we're all going," Iggy continues. "And Nudge admires you. For no obvious reason." He mumbles the last part, and I don't think that Max hears him.
"I hardly know her," Max grumbles.
What Max doesn't know is that she has that sort of effect on people. You know, everyone that meets her is unspeakably attracted to her. Even the grown-ups that hate her can't get enough of her teasing them and questioning everything they believe in.
Why don't I let her know how awesome she is? you wonder.
She'd just get bigheaded, and stop hanging out with us low-lifes.
And I'm being sarcastic. She'd get bigheaded, sure, but she'd keep on hanging out with us, and rub in how awesome she is.
Not going to happen.
We reach the door, and a look flickers across Max's face. I know that look as well as I know her. She's going to try and make a break for it…
And then the door opens, and of course, suddenly that idea is ridiculous in Max-land.
No. I'm not bitter. I'm not the bitter type. Ok, that's a lie, but this Dylan guy just generally gets on my nerves. And there's a long list of Things That Get On My Nerves, but Dylan makes it to the top ten, right up there with clowns and people that think they're better than me. And people who assume I'm emo. Which is generally everyone, but I'm not, so they're annoying.
"Hi, Dylan," Max says, trying so hard to keep it cool. I look away.
"Hi Max, Ig, Fang."
Judging by the fact that my name is last, I'm just going to go all out and say that Dylan isn't too fond of me either. And no, I'm not paranoid.
"I didn't know that you'd come," Dylan says to Max. "Ella was saying something about your cousins coming over, and you wanting to stay and greet them…"
Oh. Angel and the Gasman. Max is not going to be happy… Ouch, she's glaring at me. Better be gone soon before her glare turns me into ashes or something.
"Oh, there's Bridgid," I lie – something I'm pretty good at, seeing as I don't show emotion at all – before pushing past Dylan, maybe treading on his foot, into the house.
And, if you think about it, the 'maybe' isn't too necessary. Meaning it's not necessary at all, meaning I'm just messing with you and putting words in places where they aren't needed just to annoy you.
Whatever.
So, I weave through the party without drawing too much attention. Except I do, for some reason.
"Hi," a redhead says, grabbing onto my arm and pulling me to a halt. Whoa, what? "Aren't you just extremely attractive?" She lets out a high pitched giggle and pushes me against a wall. Now I'm very confused. "Wanna make out?" Her breath smells like alcohol.
Mystery solved.
"Uh, no thanks," I say as nicely as I can, tearing myself away from her. She lets out an upset sigh, but as soon as I'm gone she's already grabbed onto another guy.
Okay…
"Fang!" another voice calls out. I barely hear it over the roar of the (very bad) music, but I do see Bridgid waving her arms at me from across the room.
I push my way through the crowd, hoping that nobody else grabs my arm and pushes me against a wall.
Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't mind, but Bridgid is here.
Bridgid's like, one of the most awesome people I've ever met. And I'm not exaggerating. She's a close second to Max. I mean, Max kind of beats Bridgid to the punch, seeing as I've known Max for a large part of my life.
And Max… Well, I kind of-
"What are you doing here?" Bridgid asks over the roar of the music. It's a surprise I can hear her, then again, she is leaning real close…
Iggy says – don't ask me why I'm listening to Iggy, I honestly don't know – that stuff like that might make Max a bit jeal-
"I brought along a friend," I say, nodding towards Iggy and Max. They've ditched Dylan and Max is looking at Ella, looking pretty pissed. She probably worked out that she was behind the whole letting-us-into-the-house thing. "Two friends," I correct myself. Because Max is my friend.
OK, sorry, that was a bit 'no-freaking-duh' of me.
"Dylan!" someone screams out loudly. Wow, that guy just follows me – or rather, Max around like a bad smell. And, now that you mention, he could use deodorant. And no, I do not know what he smells like. Because that would be creepy.
And then, Ella grabs my arm and pulls me away from Bridgid.
Well, aren't I just the womanizer tonight?
Not with anyone that matters, but still.
"Fang!" she says, pulling me into a corner.
OK, womanizing aside, this'll get awkward.
"Listen, Ella, it's not that I don't like you, but-"
"No, shut up," she says quickly, shaking her head. "You like Max, right?"
And now is when my expressionless mask drops.
For only a second, because I'm that good, but…
"What?" Oh, there's a dangerous tone in there. Sadly, I don't think Ella picks it up.
"Oh, whatever, the point is, we're all going to play Spin-the-bottle later, and you're playing."
Say wha?
And yes, I did actually think that.
"What makes you think that I'd want to play?"
Ella frowns.
"I just said," she tells me over the roar of the music.
I regard her with my best death glare. The girl seems unfazed.
Interesting…
"I'll see you later," I mutter, pushing past her.
"You sure are talkative!" she calls after me.
Pft.
See, talking is for idiots. I mean, you risk:
Confessions of emotion (that, as far as anyone but me is concerned, I don't have)
Getting your sexuality questioned (believe me, with Iggy, anything's possible)
Getting punched in the face. (Don't ask.)
Spouting out random facts to fill silence. I mean, why would you want that?
Sure, if you don't have an Iggy, or you aren't annoyed by having emotions, or don't have a tendency to speak to everyone in a dark, venomous way, you're free to go.
I spend the next half an hour brooding (hey, I have an image to keep up) and being hit on by drunk girls that have issues. My brooding scares some of them away, but other girls seems to be attracted to it or something.
Why am I here again?
Oh, yeah. Iggy. Where is he, anyways? I mean, he just left me to brood in a corner-
"Fang! Girls! Spin-The-Bottle! Now!"
OK. That might be enough of an explanation for him, but…
"What?"
He grabs my shirt.
"NOW!" he repeats.
Well, he's sure is enthusiastic.
"Man, I really don't think-"
"Sure you do. Max is going to play."
OK, that makes me laugh. And very few things make me laugh. If someone really cares about me, they'd make a list, and then try and win me over with that list. Just saying.
"No she's not, Ig."
He looks at me with his blind eyes – creepy – and he looks completely serious.
"She. Will. Play."
I stare at him in disbelief. (Emotion, yay! … I did not just think 'yay!')
"Ig, do you like Max?"
He lets go of my shirt.
"What? No! GAWD, no! Why would you suggest such a thing! Excuse me while I go and throw up!"
Hm. Legit reaction… I think.
OK, its official, I'm paranoid.
And then he runs off – to throw up? Way too legit – and I'm left standing in a circle.
Nudge claps.
"Fang!" she says happily.
Oh, yay.
Now, I'm not sure how it happened. I'm really not.
But suddenly, the crazy redhead that had cornered me before was sitting in front of me, blowing me kisses until Nudge told her to stop… or until Bridgid death glare'd her (new verb, keep with the times), I'm not sure. But I was sure that having girls fighting over me was hot.
Hey, I'm a guy!
Moving on…
So, we're soon playing Spin-the-bottle, and yes, Max is here. (Why am I here?) If it affected him in anyway, I'd be glaring at Iggy. He seems to be having a great time.
Basta-
"Max, it's your turn."
My senses go into hyper-alert.
I know Max. She wouldn't go in that odd little closet with any guy, would she?
I know, I know, I'm not supposed to care too much… And you're supposed to shut up.
So, as I was saying… or thinking… Whatever,
In the end, Max is here.
I'm here.
But this is ax. Max is smarter than me. She's got to be here for a reason.
Then I notice Dylan looking at her in a way that should be illegal, and all of my hyper-alert senses basically just think a whole load of swear words. Not going to share.
But when Max speaks, I can breathe again.
"Pass," she says casually, taking off her other shoe. Oh, look at that. She'd done the same the other two times.
I should get a label. A big sticker. Maybe a cool Wal-Mart-style thing, saying: Hi, my name is: Paranoid.
Nudge goes into the Closet of Doom, as I've renamed it, and there's an empty gap between Max and me. I kind of really want to move closer to her, but I don't. I'm not some kind of freak.
OK, so maybe I am. The whole time Nudge is in that closet, I'm having this really odd, surreal inner battle to move maybe just a little bit closer to Max. I mean, I can smell her shampoo – lemon, if you're interested, which of course, you're not – from here. And noo, that's not creepy at all.
Nudge comes bouncing back happily, a rather red-faced Aden sits back down into the circle.
Man, that's just plain wrong. I mean, how old is Nudge? Thirteen.
Then again, Ella is thirteen, and I'm trying to hook her up with Iggy… And that's completely out of character. Maybe it's because I'm slowly turning insane… maybe, in a few years, I'll be that serial killer, dressed in black, creepy around your house…- And I'm going to stop right there because I'm scaring myself.
Oh, and I repeat: I'm not emo.
Maybe I should go into silly little details like my conscience later.
My go.
Since I'm cool and collected, I have to spin the bottle.
Trust me, the five minutes battling off Lissa (the crazy redhead) is something that I'd really like to forget. Sure, I do forget it when it's Max's turn to spin the bottle…
I spin the bottle.
And then I stare at it in bewilderment.
In a me-like, emotionless way.
Nudge lets out a squeal from beside me, and starts clapping and bouncing up and down.
Oohh damn…
I focus on looking cool, collected and uncaring as I say:
"Come on then, Max."
If you're new and think that this is a Cliffhanger, just go read But Not Really. Same thing, really. But plus 10 more chapters.