A/N: This was my characterization test. After doing character bios in Drama I, I better understand how to get inside a character's head. Here I put that practice to use. You should enjoy it, and I did try to make it more interesting though some switch-ups. Hope you enjoy!

"Swallowing the Spite"

I watched as he picked at his nails, seemingly nervous, waiting for me to approach. I wondered why he was getting so worked up about it. This was something that we'd been planning for weeks, and I was so glad that we were finally going to get it over with and move along with our lives.

Taking one giant step forward, I almost topple onto the table that sits in front of him as another student flies past me, a huge brown cardboard box in his arms. Then I realized why he was so nervous. Maybe I would change my mind, and his girlfriend would have to choose between us. Of course, many would assume that she would choose him, since she was truly, madly, and deeply in love with him. Unfortunately for him, things didn't usually work out in his favor. Besides the fact that he was a horrible person in itself, he didn't deserve someone like her. A much better person for the candidate would be...say, Zoey. I love her, she's like a sister to me, but she wouldn't care how he treated her friends. With Quinn it does matter, and that's why I feel closer to her on a personal level. Aside from the fact that we also hang out more, she truly takes the time to understand people's true feelings and motives. She is a true mediator and motivator, and that's why I'm thankful to have her in my life.

Slipping into the hardback chair across from him, I wait for him to start off the conversation. To my surprise, he doesn't even acknowledge me, he only rests his elbows on the table. "So...what are we going to do about this?" he asks, raising his eyes to meet mine.

That's when I realize they're bloodshot. His hair is also frazzled. He looks as if he hasn't slept in days. I can't help but to notice that his arms are less toned, which probably means that he'd taken less time tanning and working out to think about Quinn, me and the whole mess we are going through. "I didn't come her to sit and stare at you," he goes on, groaning. "I just want to get this over with, I just want to see the love of my life happy again."

"So do I," I remind him, my face hard as ice.

She's sitting in front of me, and I know why we're doing this. Secretly, we want to be able to get along. We want to be friends. Although I've told her time and time again that she's the one preventing it, she won't admit to the fact. Currently, I am downright annoyed. I don't care about her and her petty problems with her star quarterback boyfriend and his anger management issues and all the other bullshit she's got going on.

This is just like how it is with my dad and his girlfriends. I always hate the new slut he brings to our townhouse over the summer, and he always makes me take her out to coffee. No, not Brandon or Davis or Connor or Arlynn, but me. Just because I was born last. Just because he never actually married my mom and I'm a bastard because of that. It's unfair, but my protests get me nowhere.

Coping. That's what he always tries to explain to me. Apparently, I suck at doing that. Somehow, I have grasped the concept, though. Through my interpersonal relationships. Like with Chase, Michael, Quinn, I guess Zoey...maybe Lola. Back then I guess Nicole and Dana, too. All the things I told them I told them in confidence, whether the information was supposed to remain confidential or not. But you know what's sad? I learned all of this crap in counseling. Counseling. My dad enrolled me in this program, so I'd make better choices and learn how to avoid making the same mistakes.

So I cursed him. I yelled and screamed and shouted and I might have even cried. He didn't understand why it was so hard for me sometimes. It was all his fault I was even at PCA. Not that I didn't enjoy it, but it was he who convinced my mom that I was a delinquent and that I needed the opportunity to make positive social choices. As much as I wanted my mom to understand that PCA wasn't the best place for me to do that, I couldn't quite persuade her, and she let my dad be the dictator once again.

Worried. That's what I am right now. About Quinn. As much as my love for her is undying, and will remain that way, I can't help it that my mind runs off without me sometimes. What if she chooses Lola as her friend and dumps me as her boyfriend? Maybe Lola will open her big yap and tell her that it's because of my actions that we're all tangled up in this in the first place. She'll tell her that if I wasn't always such an egotistical sexist jerk, she wouldn't ridicule me because she wouldn't have anything to ridicule me about. Frankly, I don't get it. It's all one big maze to me.

I knew she'd understand it, though. Quinn will listen to anything Lola says because she's the sister she was supposed to have but will never have because she died at birth. The reason she told me that is because as she matured, she realized it was something she should keep close to her heart and locked inside her mind. At a certain time, she told me that she wanted to share it with the first person she loved with all her heart. And by the looks of things - like her eyes welling up with tears, and her cheeks turning a blotchy red and her bottom lip jumping up and down - that person is me.

I can't tell her that, though. I hate her and she hates me. It's because she hates me that I hate her. When she first came here, I ignored her like she was a pesky fly buzzing around the room. But she chose to resent me, maybe because of her slowly developing insanity. Being as mature as I could be in such a situation, I didn't hold it against her. Maybe she was fighting someone like I was. After all, I wouldn't wish a demon like my dad into anyone's life.

"I just want to let you know that Quinn is my sister," I declare, "we're almost family."

"She's going to be my wife," he spits, slamming his fist down onto the table.

"Oh yeah?" I inquire harshly, tilting my head to one side. "When did you propose?"

"Two Sundays ago. And she...she said yes," he announces, his voice dropping on the last word.

"Then what's there to be sad about? Why are we here?" she retorts, appearing to spit fire.

Through my sleepy eyes, I see her clutch the strap of her bag more tightly and purse her lips. "Quinn took it back...she took it back because she said she wasn't sure about something. And I'm pretty damn sure that something is you."

"Well, if you weren't Logan Reese, I would be happy as a million suns for Quinn. But you...you're awful. You use females and then toss them away like used condoms when they don't appeal to you anymore. You dislike people for no reason, and use their flaws against them. You act the way you do for no reason. When I was new, I thought you were racist. The way you treated Michael as if he was just another slave getting paid to obey you... it sickened me. I'm pretty sure not a soul has ever done anything wrong or bad to you with the way you've grown up your whole life. And instead of being thankful, and showing sympathy towards those less fortunate than you, you make fun of them. Sir, those are the reasons why I have always despised you and always will," I announced, my voice rising and dropping where necessary. My little rant sure as hell scared him though. I had expected him to interject, but he sat there, stunned into silence.

Pressing my palms down flat onto the table, I heave one great big sigh. Now I understand why Lola is such a great actress. Because she can pretend. She can pretend that everything that comes out if her mouth is true.

"Look Martinez. I don't know if a bird shit on your face the other day, or if someone spits in your coffee every morning, and to tell you the truth, I really don't care. I just want my girlfriend back. We've got ten minutes to settle this because personally, I've got better things to do with my time."

"Whatever," she replies, retrieving a cell phone from her purse. Most likely to text someone useless information or make an unnecessary call.

"The only reason I treat you a certain way, well in your eyes at least, is because of how you treat me. Back in freshman year when you were new, I didn't say a word to you. You were roomed with Nicole and Zoey, and they all thought you were off your nut. But guess what? I didn't say anything because I knew the kind of shit people would say if they found out about me. About how my dad treats me. When I saw how you dressed and acted, how your voice sounded... to be honest, I couldn't have disagreed with my friends more at that point. Deep down, I wanted to connect with you... have a heart to heart," I explained, my heart clenching in my chest with each word I spoke. Watching as her eyes seemed to cloud over, I stopped, waiting for her to say something.

"So then why didn't you?" came her strangled reply. Although I didn't know if there was a frog caught in her throat or not, I did know one thing... she was about to cry. Tough as I am, I'm not of those guys who hates it when girls cry. It just annoys me that people are so sensitive when there is much worse going on around them. But maybe she was on her period, or maybe she and Vince had hit a rough spot, or worse yet... maybe she feared she was pregnant. "Why didn't you try to talk to me? You saw that I needed friends." When no reply came, she continued on. "Oh, please! What I was thinking to even assume that you had or could have possibly had a conscience. You probably just wanted to stick your tongue down my throat!"

"Now that's where the line is drawn!" I shouted, pointing an index finger at her. "Don't even try to associate me now with the old person that I used to be." Lowering my voice, I looked away as I saw her raise the back of her hand to her face. "Just for the record, I didn't want to touch you... not even with a twenty foot pole. But I did want to see what was going on with you, where you were coming from. Because I have those same problems with my dad. He has all the money, and he uses it against me. In the end, we end up trying to blackmail each other and he just deducts tens of thousands from my trust fund when he pleases. I may be wealthy, but I don't get along with either of my parents. My siblings, who I barely get to see nicknamed our father Hitler. That's how bad he is. My mother lets him walk all over her, just because she feels bad about the fact that she let him get her pregnant out of wedlock. It really pisses me off, and I'm sure you guys have seen how Malcolm can get, but it gets worse. He's hit us before. And I'm pretty sure he's hit every single one of his wives. At the end of the day though, I don't give a flying fuck what happens to my dad. Because...because he's going to rot in hell anyway."

Sobs were echoing out of her throat, and her head was completely in her hands now. I knew that the ten minutes were far gone, but now I wanted to see what she had to say. Somewhere inside of me wanted to find out if Lola Martinez actually had a heart.

"Wow," I croaked after ten minutes of crying my eyes out. "And I thought my step-dad was bad." I figured I could take all the time I needed, since I'd sat and listened to Logan moan about his dad. But his story really hit me. I didn't think he had another side to him, but I was wrong. Since he'd made me his therapist, now he was going to be mine.

"On the other hand, what you said about how I treated you... it might be somewhat true..." she stammers, but I know she's not done. "But it's only because I wanted to be like everyone else... I wanted to fit in for once. And when I saw Zoey and Nicole and almost all of the girls on campus teasing you, poking fun at you and calling you a jerk, I just had to go along with them and make it as part of the norm."

After a few tense moments of complete silence, where I was sure he was going to get up and walk away, I decided I had better say something if I wanted him to stay. Not that he'd listen, but maybe he would show me some sympathy... or at least pity.

"He's a drunk," I finally announced. "He drinks all the time. He forces himself on my mom, and he started... he started touching me right before I left for PCA. My sister never admitted it, but I think that... I'm pretty sure that he assaulted her." Choking on air, on tears, on my heart, I waited for Logan to start laughing. In some twisted way, I sort of wanted him to. Maybe that would give me the courage to stand up for myself.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. A few seconds later, I hear the sound of a zipper and then I feel him settle down on my side of the table. "But you see... I was right. Something was going on with you, and I was just determined to figure out what. And I know, and now you know. So that's over with. We both know that we won't be discussing this conversation with anyone else, so it's okay."

Pulling out what looked like a wallet from his pocket, he tossed it down onto the table in front of me. I didn't dare open it, so he reached for it instead. Pulling up the top flap, he unzipped another part and pulled out what I thought was a slip of paper.

But it was a picture. Refusing to look, I kept my head down and hoped he wouldn't try to force me to. As I'd predicted. He tapped me on the shoulder until I actually raised my head, very much annoyed. "What?" I shouted, feeling the extreme swelling of my eyes as I blinked. He pointed, and I saw him and Quinn. Their cheeks were pressed together, and they were both grinning like idiots.

"That's us. On my bed, right after I proposed to her," he told me, thrusting the picture into my hands. I wasn't prepared for this and I knew it. Something inside my soul told me not to look, but I did anyway. Right away, I saw love... true love. Friendship, very close friendship to the highest degree. Two people that made each other very happy. "You see how happy Quinn is with me in her life? How she maintains her health and doesn't really try to blow things up anymore? That's in part because of the big role I have in some of her decision making. I want that Quinn back. I love her no less now than I did before, but I want her to look at me like she did after I asked her that particular question. Those gleaming eyes, that bright smile, the tears of joy... and I want that all and I want it forever."

"Okay," I respond, handing the picture back to him. "But now I have something to show you." Unzipping my Gucci clutch, I reach in and pull out my cell phone once again. "Here," I say, placing my phone delicately into his rough, worn palms. Instantly, he begins flipping through the pictures of me, Quinn and some of Zoey. As he scrolls through, I watch his facial expressions change with our antics and zaniness that we decided to preserve on film. "Do you see how happy she is with me as a friend?"

"Yeah," he tells me, nodding slowly.

"We have to make this work. You and I have to be civil, because we both want her in our lives, right?" I inquire, sniffling a little too noisily.

"Absolutely," he responds, closing my cell phone and handing it back to me. "So... if we're going to do this... uh, how about we, uh... hang out? Go for coffee, or ice cream... er..."

"Yeah, totally! I'd love to!" I proclaim, now a little too chirpy. "But we have to go for ice cream. I downed like five cups of espresso this morning because I was so nervous." Admitting something like that took guts, but I realize that I'm not so intimidated by the mere sight of him anymore.

"Espresso? More like plain black. That's what starts my day," he responds sort of awkwardly.

"Well duh, you're gonna prefer black. You're a guy!" I yell, pushing his shoulder.

"Whatever," he mumbles, rising to his feet. I stand a little shakily, and then we step out from the bench. Hastily, he throws his arm around my shoulder, maybe in an attempt to comfort me. He reminded me of Vince when we first started going out.

Although I was pleased that we'd finally gotten over that bump in the road, I wasn't just going to let him wind his arm around my shoulder like we were suddenly best friends. "We're just going to get some ice cream and try to... bond," I forced out. "We're not brother and sister-in-law quite yet."

"Pish posh," he jokes as we walk on. I'm now confident that we have somewhere to start.

As we stroll down the campus, probably getting odd looks from our classmates who secretly enjoy our childish banter, I realize that I, we, just made a life changing decision together. We both stepped up, showing signs of maturity, because we both want something, someone. In our lives, we all have to come to the conclusion that not everything is in our grasp, but when it is, we should talk it out if there is conflict. Do what is best for ourselves and if possible, everyone else that is involved in the situation.

He laughs out of nowhere, and I do, too. We don't look at each other, but I'm happy that everything (hopefully) is cool between us now. This is what becoming an adult is all about. Taking steps in the right direction. Eliminating the problem, finding a solution. Swallowing the spite. Like we'll do after we graduate. Like we're doing right now.

Maybe Quinn and Logan will become newlyweds right out of high school, maybe they won't. What I do know is that when they do get married, I'll be there. I'll be in attendance as the maid of honor and as a friend of the groom.

A/N: There's no romantic stuff in there, so... don't hate. I just always loved their scarce interactions, and I gave them some background. Review please.