Thank you for the constructive criticism, it really means a lot to me. Because I have free time, I'll be writing a lot now (:

Disclaimer: you know the drill. I'm not Lisi

It was 10:43 pm on that very same Tuesday night, when I probably should've been doing my never-ending chemistry homework, when I posed the question to my closest friend, Dylan Marvil.

"What should I wear for school tomorrow?" I wondered aloud, rifling through my closet.

A pause. A very long pause.
I pressed my earlobe on the receiver to make sure we hadn't been disconnected.

Oh God, did she overdose on Twinkies again?

"Dylan?" I asked tentatively, hoping that I wouldn't hear a crème-muffled response. "Are you there?"

I looked at my chemistry homework, which appeared to have got it on and multiplied in my folder.
Seven sheets?

"What did you just ask me?" She asked solemnly.

"I asked you what to wear tomorrow," I said slowly, tapping on my receiver to make sure that all the phone lines were connected.

"Massie, in the two years we've known each other, you've never asked me that," she sounded half awe-struck, half of something else.

The Marvil marveled.

I smiled at my dorky play on words before my smile melted into a frown.

"And why can't I ask?" I asked defensively.

Oh great, now I'm on the defensive. Keep calm and have a cupcake.

"Because you've never asked… And this is only the crème on top of the delicate flamed Alaska!" She warned. I could imagine her face getting redder to match her hair. "You've been acting really weird lately…"

"Oh yeah?" I asked huffily. "How is that?"

"You asked me for lipstick yesterday, Massie."
"How is that weird?"
"This June, you told me that the first and last time you've ever worn lipstick was at your third grade dance recital."

A pause in the conversation, before I hastily added, "It was sixth grade."
Why was she so on my case anyways?
"I'm on your case because you're acting really, really weird."
Oh shit, I said that out loud.
"Yes, Massie, you did."

That answer left me stunned. My hands clammed up and I stammered for an answer.

"Well," I growled because I had nothing more intelligent to say, "I'll decide what to wear tomorrow all by myself. Thanks for being such a help," I added snarkily.

Oh great, the pod people are already starting to rub off on me.

"Fine," Dylan replied, and I could tell she was hurt, "I'll see you tomorrow. Maybe you should ask Olivia Ryan for advice," she said before hanging up abruptly.

I threw my silver phone onto the wooden floor and sighed indignantly.

Then I stopped, wondering if Dylan was right or simply being overemotional.

Nah, I decided as I picked out a tight sweater I had never worn before, she's just PMSing. And anyways, I thought loftily to myself, if this outfit gets me noticed, I can set her up with Chris Pl-

I stopped myself before I went any further, horrified at my stream-of-consciousness, which I attributed to lack of sleep.

-

The next day, I wore the new sweater and jeans that weren't completely loose. I even stooped down to the point of mascara, and then quickly wiped it off when I realized that the make-up fumes might lead to even more delirious thoughts regarding certain people.

My day went pretty normally, until I reached world history. I stared down at my notebook, willing myself not to look up.

A swirl of Armani Code lured my olfactory senses into a trap, and when I looked up, I was looking right into the eyes of Cam-CAMERON. Cameron Fisher.

"Hey," he smiled. "I like your sweater."

And then the heavens opened and the chorus began singing.

"Thanks," I managed to stutter. One of my eyes began doing that weird twitch-blink thing, and I realized after he turned around that I had been holding in my breath.
I let it out as quietly as possible to not make him confuse my sigh with a dream-like swoon.

I did not just use the word 'swoon'. The faster I get out of here, the better.

Mrs. Clarkson once again began a pointless spiel on Greece, even going as far as to bore us with a lecture on life in ancient Athens and Sparta. I stared at the back of Cam-CAMERON's dark head and wondered how he managed to get it looking so perfect every day.

I silently cursed myself for becoming such a fan!girl.

Soon I'd be wearing those shirts with "Team Cam" written on them [or worse, underwear], watching for his every move, following his Facebook profile and activity, monitoring his activities with girls, and possibly staking out his house.

This wasn't going to end well, I thought, attempting to keep my eyes open through the lecture.

I don't know when I tuned out, but I suddenly got a vivid picture in my head. One that I am ashamed to admit, but it happened nevertheless.

Cameronus tied on his leather sandals and adjusted his tunic. He was about to go out to the acropolis and… sell turnips? No, something better. Manlier.
He was going to go fight for democracy and present his ideas to the public in ideas that would later make Rousseau and Montesquieu tremble with brilliance.

I, as the woman of the house, was perched on what resembled a column, sewing or embroidering [did they embroider back then? I don't care. It's my fantasy, it can play out as I'd like]. My hair was up and I had a long, flowing tunic.

I looked at him as he carried several packages out the door, resembling a statue of Zeus.

"Mass, I'm going to the acropolis. Be safe. Protect yourself." He warned.

"I'm completely safe," I fluttered my eyelashes. "Why should you worry, my darling?" I asked as perfect Greek goddess and god children [ours, I presumed] ran around my feet, hosting their own miniature Olympics.

"We might be going to war with Sparta soon." He whispered, so that the children did not hear.

"But… But… Why?" I asked, locking eyes with him.

He shook his head. "Tensions have been rising since the end of the Persian Wars. With the creation of the Delian League and everything –" His voice trailed off. "I… I just hope that you stay safe. Be careful."

I blinked rapidly. I comforted Cameron, telling him that I was sure that Pericles would sufficiently fortify Athens as he had promised to.
He looked at me and smiled gently – benevolently. He bade me farewell and left, leaving me with the children and the slaves.

But somehow, I knew that everything was going to be alright, just as long as Cam was -

"Miss Block, you're so enraptured by this, aren't you?" Mrs. Clarkson asked me sarcastically.

I jolted awake, the lights seeming way too bright. The entire class looked at me, some giggling and others completely unaware. At least two people were having a snooze-fest of their own.

"Oh. No ma'am. I'm really sorry about this." I honestly confessed.

Mrs. Clarkson looked at me suspiciously and then turned to poke the other poor souls who had fallen asleep.

Cam turned around to face me.
"You looked nice dreaming," Cam smiled. "You looked like you were having a better time than we were here."

As I usually react when confronting someone I had just dreamt of, all the color rushed to my cheeks. I willed my paleness to shine through for once and not make Cam believe that I was blushing because he had spoken to me.

"Yeah, I'm really tired," I feigned a yawn.
Tired of this situation, that's what I mean.

"Well, sleep always does the body good. I love to sleep…It's quite entertaining…"

Somehow, I felt an innuendo lying within his words.
I'm looking for an innuendo, aren't I?

So I just tittered and was shaken out of my dreamlike phase by the loud, harsh bell. I almost spilled all my books, but Cam, of course, swooped in and saved the day.

"Thanks," I said, not willing myself to meet his gaze.

"No problem," he said, hitching his backpack on himself and exiting the classroom.

I sighed.
This was going to be a very long rest of the year.

***
Thanks so much to the reviewers :] You really make me happy and the advice is priceless to a newbie like me ! Thanks ! 3