The Misunderstanding
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James Ashworth.
The name itself made me sick in the stomach. And unfortunately, it was a name I had to hear on a daily basis.
Why?
Because of my roommate, Charlotte. Dear Charlotte was the type of girl who chased after guys. Not just any guy. It's the frat boys, the jock boys, the preppy boys; the type of boys who would give her some kind of recognition in the school.
Or more specifically, all the jerks.
Now, I would normally never care what kind of taste my roommate has in guys. But Charlotte was the type of girl who liked to show off. The thing she liked to talk about the most was who she hooked up with at the latest fraternity party. Usually, at around 3 A.M., she comes back to the dorm in a drunken stupor and wakes me up with whatever she stumbles on. I, being the light sleeper and kind person that I am, would usually help her to her bed. And usually, she would tell me about all the guys she met. And usually, the name James Ashworth would come up.
"You know, James Ashworth was there tonight," Charlotte once said to me, on another one of her nights out. She gave me a big, drunken smile and continued, dreamily, "He told me that I looked…hot."
I would usually never say anything when she went on one of her drunken speeches. But whenever she said something about that damned James Ashworth, I would cringe. I mean seriously, who do girls even like him? He might be somewhat handsome, and obviously rich, but it doesn't take away from the fact that he was a complete jerk!
I was telling this to my friend Ellie once after I was kicked out of my room because Charlotte had some guy from the football team with her, and I had nowhere to go.
"Have you ever thought that perhaps you are just jealous?" Ellie asked nonchalantly as she momentarily took off her ear plugs that were blasting some kind of heavy metal music.
I looked at her incredulously and said, "Ellie! How can you say that? Why would I ever be jealous of Charlotte?"
"Because," Ellie answered with a bored look on her face, "Whenever you come here now, you are always talking about either Charlotte or James. It's always James this, James that, Charlotte this…."
Alright, so perhaps you are asking how I, Anne Hayward, incarnation of Mary Bennet herself, can be friends with such a straight-talking, sarcastic, anti-social, heavy metal-loving girl like Ellie. Well, you see, we are both outcasts. We just don't fit in anywhere else. And when that happens, you naturally gravitate towards the only other person who does not have a lab partner during freshman year Biology class.
Now that I think about it, our friendship was essentially formed from the dissection of animal testicles. That's got to say something about our friendship.
Anyways, I paid no heed to Ellie's comment because I know that was completely wrong. I mean I am a Mary Bennet. Mary Bennet could never be jealous of a girl like Charlotte. Plus, I was already in love with someone else.
"James Ashworth is a moronic, arrogant idiot. Why would I ever have any sort of liking towards him when I have my Michael?" I said.
Alright, so technically Michael was not "mine" no matter how much I fantasized about it. I mean Michael was the epitome of Mr. Darcy: handsome, smart, passionate, opinionated, and most of all, kind!
I met Michael when I was just a freshman. It was during the beginning of the school year and I was still not sure about where everything was. On my way to the cafeteria, I got a little lost and found myself in the middle of a political demonstration held by the school's Democrat club. At the time, I really did not have much of an opinion in politics, but nevertheless found myself shouting random things along with the student Democrats there.
So it was there that I first met Michael. He stood a few feet away from me, but even amongst all the shouting, I could only hear his voice. It was as if he shone above all others. That passionate flare in his eyes and the way he so assertively waves his sign…I thought I had fallen in love.
From then on, I joined the Dartmouth Democrats and began my passionate work to reform the country. I started working for The Dartmouth, the school newspaper because Michael was also a freshman reporter for the newspaper. I joined the Chess Club though I knew nothing about Chess (and still suck) because Michael was a part of the team. I started going to the library constantly in hopes of seeing him there. I even took a political science class during freshman year just so that I could be in the same class with him.
I know, I sound like a stalker. But that was the way I was back then: completely in love, and completely ready to do anything to make him like me. So after three years of secretly harboring my love towards him, I could safely say that we were friends. Perhaps even close friends.
Anyways, enough about that, back to the story here. So about two month after "The Incident" (yes I decided to just call it that because of the painful memories it evoked) I was at the library again, reading a book one autumn afternoon. I was no longer banned (thank God!), and had just been exiled from my room because this time Charlotte was with a lacrosse player. Of course, I was filled with self-pity and angry at the world; so, I sat down on "The Chair".
With particular anger towards the male sex, I grabbed the first feminist book I could find and started reading it. Just as I was getting to the part about castrating every male in the world, I heard a giggle behind me.
I turned around, and found a guy with his back to me, making out with a girl.
"We're in a library!" The girl's shrill voice sounded in fake protest.
"Nobody comes here anyways," the guy's ruffled voice replied as he walked backwards towards where I was sitting.
I could only stare aghast at the audacity of the two while in my mind, the words from the book echoed.
Yes, perfect timing for a hormonal male to barge in just as I was reading about cutting off testicles.
Just as the man was ready to sit down, I pushed him off and yelled, "What do you think you are doing?!"
He turned around in surprise and I gasped when I recognized the person in front of me.
Yep, you guessed it, it was James Ashworth.
Perfect timing indeed.
James stared at me for a moment before he recognized me, "You're that ugly chair girl!"
"The ugly chair girl"?! Is he just asking for some serious feminist butt kicking?
Before I could punch him in the face, he laughed and turned toward the girl standing behind him with a pout on her face.
"Sorry about this, Alexis," he said as he kissed her on the cheek, "Why don't I call you later?"
The girl glared at me. Yes, me! What did I ever do to her?
Anyways, I paid no attention to them, and by the time the girl left, I had already gotten back to my book and reading about sterilizing all men.
"You know, you never told me your name," James suddenly appeared in front of me with a smirk on his face.
"I don't think it's necessary," I said without looking up at him.
Before I knew it, he abruptly grabbed the bottom of my chin and turned my face towards him. I looked up.
Holy crap. His face was just a couple of inches away from mine; so close that I can feel his breath on my face. It suddenly felt really hot in the room.
Now, do not misunderstand. This was not because of James Ashworth. I would have reacted the same way if it was Mr. Collins.
"Well," said James, lazily, "I should get the name of the girl who is not only sitting on my chair, but also ruined a chance with a perfectly find girl."
"Well first of all, get your hand off of me," I said indignantly. I might be "ugly", but I still do not appreciate sexual harassment of this kind.
He grinned and took his hand from my chin. The grin widened as he promptly placed both of his hands on the arm rests beside me. My eyes widened when I felt his arms were on either sides of me. I was trapped.
"What do you think you are doing?" I asked, a little breathlessly, trying to hide how flustered I was at the moment.
"What do you think?" He whispered and leaned in even further until I was crushed against the back of the chair and his face was just inches away from mine, "I'm taking my compensation."
He leaned until his lips were almost touching mine while my heart pounded against my chest. And for some reason, I was completely frozen.
A shiver came down my spine when I felt the tip of his lips touch mine, his body practically on top of mine, his breath –
"James Cornelius Ashworth!" A stern voice broke the moment.
I swore under my breath, immediately pushed James off of me and jumped off from the chair as if there was a spring under me.
I looked over to the direction of the voice. Crap. Standing just a few feet from us, a group of fancily dressed people were standing in a cluster. In front, a woman in a pantsuit was staring us, horrified.
"Mom?" James suddenly exclaimed.
MOM?! I gasped and looked at the middle-aged woman again. Yep, there was no denying it. It was definitely Mrs. Ashworth, wife of Senator Edward Ashworth, mother of…
I mentally hit myself in the head and berated myself for not punching that stupid James and leaving before he – Damn it! I started panicking. Mrs. Ashworth is definitely going to call Senator Ashworth, who will call the Secret Police, who will take down my family first. Then, they will come after me, kick me out of school – or worse yet, make me mysteriously disappear from the face of the Earth? Then that stupid James will laugh alongside Charlotte at my funeral – that is, if the NSA will actually let me have one after they are done disposing my body at some unknown US secret base. Then –
My worried were interrupted when Mrs. Ashworth started walking towards me.
Forget about the Secret Police! I would be lucky if that lady doesn't kill me on sight!
To my surprise, she held out her hand to me and smiled, "So you must be the girl James always talks about."
I'm sorry, what?
I stared sideways at James, who also looked stunned.
"Uh…" I managed to utter, "I don't –"
I was interrupted when, to my surprise, James swiftly put his arm around my waist (Eek!) and pulled me closer to him.
"Right! This is her," he said with a laugh, "I guess I really can't hide her anymore!"
Mrs. Ashworth turned to me, took my hand in hers and patted it. "What is your name?" She asked, "James never told it to me because he was afraid I would do a complete background check on you!"
She laughed. I could only stare at her, my mind completely blank.
"I'm just kidding," Mrs. Ashworth laughed again, "But do tell me your name."
"Uh…" I sounded like a complete delinquent, but seriously, who could have sounded all smart in this kind of situation? Finally, I was able to sputter out, "My name…is…uh…Anne! Uh…Anne Hayward."
"What a lovely name!" Mrs. Ashworth exclaimed. She turned towards James and said, "I'm sorry, James. I'm afraid I must go right now. But you have to promise me to bring Anne to Thanksgiving with you this year." She turned to me and bid me a goodbye before setting off somewhere else along with the entourage behind her.
What the hell just happened?
I just stood there, not understanding the full situation at all. I slowly turned to James, who laughed awkwardly.
"Well, I guess you are coming over for Thanksgiving."
I stared at him, and asked, "What did you tell your mother about me?"
James laughed again, "Don't flatter yourself. I never talked to my mother about you specifically."
"Then what was that right now?"
"Well…You see... I have been telling my mother that I have been dating this girl for a few months. Obviously, she doesn't really exist…" He paused, and grinned at me, "So I guess she just assumed that you were the girl I was talking about."
I blinked, not believing what I was hearing. Finally, I was able to say, "Are you saying…that your mother thinks we are dating?"
"Haha…uh…yeah, I guess so."
I guess so? Does he even understand the magnitude of the problem here? This could potentially lead to some nasty misunderstandings!
"Are you an idiot?!" I yelled at him, "You could have just said we broke up!"
James laughed bitterly. "Believe me, if I said that, my mother would find a way to get us back together."
Seriously, what is this? Catch 22? Is there really no way out of this?
Fuming inside and having no other things to say, I sat down again and just glared at the rug under my foot. After a long silence, James walked up to me again.
"Here," he said, "Why don't I offer you a...a deal?"
I looked up at him and said, suspiciously, "What kind of deal?"
"Pretend to be my girlfriend."
You have got to be kidding me.
Since when did this turn into one of those cheesy romantic comedies?
A/N I really cannot believe so many people reviewed! Thanks you so much! Special shout out to The Mystic Limner, who reminded me to update this story. Hope everyone likes this!
REVIEW please! I really love getting feedback (good or bad).
