2. CAUGHT GAWKING
"ANA, PLEASE TELL us what really happened," Daiane begged me, pulling my arm.
I frowned, and shook my head. "I already told you; I accidentally brushed my arm against his, flinched away from it because—you should have felt it!—it was scorching hot," I said quickly, eyes widening as I spoke more and more. "And then he got mad at me, and ya' know—yelled at me, and so, so. . ." I trailed off with a sigh, fidgeting under their gazes. They didn't believe that the cause of Paul's outburst was because I flinched away from his arm when I touched it, by accident.
Lidia hummed beside me, thinking. "Well, that was rude."
"Are you siding with him?" I asked hotly, turning my head to narrow my eyes at her. "Because that's rude, for me, at least." I felt a tad hurt that one of my best friends wasn't siding with me. After all, wasn't it a best friend's job to side with their best friend?
She frowned. "No, I'm not siding with anyone, really. Because let's face it: you would have gotten angry or insulted if Paul'd brushed his arm against your's, and then flinched away from it as if though it were a disease."
I opened my mouth to protest, but Daiane spoke before me.
"We saw your face, Ana." she murmured quietly. "We wanted to see how it was going with Jacob, but we saw you pull away from Paul's arm—your face was. . . how can I explain it for you so you can see how insulting looking it was, that made Paul a bit angry?"
I snorted. A bit angry?
Daiane paused, and made a face. She screwed up her nose, and widened her eyes. Her mouth fell open, and stared wide-eyed at me, as though something was horribly wrong.
No, that's not how I looked. They're exaggerating it.
Lidia sighed loudly, eyeing my face. "That was how you looked, Ana. Daiane's not exaggerating anything."
A frown tugged down my lips, and I flushed. "Oh," I said quietly. "Oh."
"Yeah," they both said together, nodding sympathetically.
So maybe I did deserve getting yelled at. I knew that if someone I had gotten into a fight with, like Paul for example, had looked at me like that. . . I would have felt insulted and hurt. My mind jumped to other, surprising thoughts: Had Paul felt hurt? Better yet: Had I hurt Paul?
Now was not the time to feel sorry for myself.
"Either way," Daiane added in quickly, "that didn't give him any right to scream at you!" She was frowning now, staring at me and then at Lidia, who was nodding along to what she had just said.
"Yeah," Lidia agreed. "That jerk shouldn't have screamed at you—especially in front of everyone."
I felt a rush of gratitude for both of my best friends. A slow, small smile made it's way to my lips, making the frown disappear. "Thanks," I murmured, staring at the ground as I spoke. "Glad to know both of you at least side with me. . . sort of," I said, shooting Lidia a mocking glare. She merely grinned at me.
We continued to walk, none of us speaking. I sighed loudly, annoyed with the silence. I knew they had more stuff to say.
"What's on your minds?" I finally asked both of them, my eye twitching. "I mean, just spit it out."
Both of my friends seemed to hesitate, before Daiane spoke first. "Well, you know, I think both me and Lidia are both wondering whether," she exhaled loudly, pausing. Then she continued, in a rush now, "What are you going to do tomorrow, you know, with Paul?"
To be honest, I hadn't even thought of that. I was trying not to think about Paul or anything about him. If I did, I would just end up getting upset, even though I had insulted him today, I was angry and humiliated. My friends were right; he had no right to scream at me. It was idiotic, and useless. I bet he did it on purpose.
My jaws clenched at the thought of this, and any remorse I felt earlier on, went away.
"Nothing," I said shortly, trying to calm myself. "I won't let him know how upset he made me," I clarified.
"That'll probably be the most mature choice," Lidia murmured, nodding along.
Although Daiane had other thoughts. "No, I think you should—I don't know, this is just me saying—probably get him in trouble?" She looked at both Lidia's and I's incredulous stares. "What?" she asked defensively. "He shouldn't have yelled at you!"
I was still looking at her as though she'd grown a second head.
"What?" she asked in a high-pitched voice, looking away from me. She must've felt self-conscious.
"You—goody, goody Daiane—suggest I get someone in trouble?"
She giggled suddenly. "Yep."
We walked in comfortable silence now, staring at our usual, boring surroundings. I inhaled loudly, closing my eyes and smelling the scent of the woods, happy that I didn't smell any gas and such. That was the good part of living near woods: you smell mother nature. Don't get me wrong, I'm not one of those "save mother Earth" people who ties themselves onto trees, but I hate it when people throw stuff on the floor.
I absolutely hated it with a passion.
"Well, bye," I said, waving at my friends. Lucky them, they're next door neighbors, while I live a few minutes away.
They chuckled at my grumpy face, and stuck their tongues out.
I ignored their, "Bye-bye Looser" comments, and instead, I kept on walking.
No one was home when I arrived home, which surprised me. I was always used to having my mom at the house, cooking something. But I was oddly surprised to not finding her here.
"Must be gossiping," I mumbled to myself with a roll of my eyes. "Typical her."
When I walked into my bedroom, I was met with the sight of a messy bed. I shrugged, smiling sheepishly to myself. I never really bothered to clean anything in the mornings. I was always in a rush to get to school in time. Getting early to clean up wasn't even popping into my head. No way was I waking up earlier than six-fourty in the morning.
Instead of cleaning up the mess, I plopped myself into bed, and threw my backpack down beside it. I exhaled loudly when my head collided with my pillow, and smiled in content. I was dead tired, and rather sleepy. But apparently, I couldn't go to sleep—my mind was being stubborn. It wanted to keep thinking.
Now that I was alone, without anyone to bother me, I felt unneeded tears begin to bubble in my eyes.
I scowled at myself and wiped them away harshly, glaring up at the ceiling.
Paul's fierce, wild eyes kept on appearing on my mind, chilling me. I felt a rush of fear overwhelm me, and another shudder pass through my body. I chocked back a sob, and squeezed my eyes shut.
I won't cry. Not because of him. Not because of Paul.
Even with that in mind, the traitor tears kept on falling, and in the end, I let them. Better now when I'm alone, than later when my family is here.
I was afraid of Paul.
The realization left me breathless, and surprised. I was afraid of that wild stare, of the trembling of his body. . . of him.
Another part of me felt absolute anger.
I was angry that he made me feel this way; hopeless, weak. I usually didn't cry, only when I was really angry, like now. The tears weren't of fear, but of suppressed anger—or so I tell myself.
"Stop," I commanded myself weakly. I felt the flow of the tears slow its pace, but they kept on falling.
Happy thoughts, I told myself weakly. Happy faces. . .
Jacob's face wasn't helping at all.
In fact, it made it much worse. I felt an inexplicable dread at the sight of his face, and my heart gave a weak, startled jump. Something's changed, I knew that for a fact, but what exactly? What was wrong?
The sound of a door slamming startled me. I bolted up from the bed, a yelp escaping my face. That was a mistake—now whoever just came in, will surely come and check on me. I hastily wiped away the tears, and got out of bed, jumping forward to stand in front of the mirror. Unsurprisingly, my eyes were red and puffy—they made the greeness stand out a bit.
My dark hair was messy. I quickly grabbed a comb, and started to comb through it. But today didn't happen to be my day. My hair was absolutely tangled.
"Great," I muttered angrily, and yanked hard. "Ow!"
"Ana?" my mom's worried voice was just outside my door.
My eyes widened. "I'm fine! Just hit my toe!"
Good. Good cover story. Maybe I was crying because my toe hurt. . .
There was a pause, and then my door was opening. My mom's head popped in, and she accessed my face. "Honey. . . you sure that's all? Why were you crying?"
I cursed at how observant she was.
"It's nothing." I waved my hand in the air in a dismissive matter. "Nothing at all."
"Are you sure?"
I nodded casually—at least I hoped it seemed so.
"Are you sure nothing happened in school?"
The color in my face drained. I closed my eyes, and inhaled deeply. "Of course," I whispered lowly, so as for her not to hear. "Of course."
News about today's little incident was already spreading across La Push. I don't know why I was so surprised: my mom was bound to find out, with what La Push's residents not being able to keep their mouths zipped.
"Well?" she asked, opening the door wider to let herself in. She sat down on my bed—making a face while doing so, she hated messes—and patted the spot next to her. "Sit," she ordered softly. "C'mon Ana."
"Mom," I whined. "It's nothing."
"No. It was something."
I glared at her. "The kid just yelled at me, okay?"
She sighed. "Ana," she said slowly, watching my face closely. "Tell me everything."
Can anyone blame me if I was angry? I didn't want to talk to anyone, not even my own mom. Maybe later, but now was not the correct time. I glared down at the floor, and sat down next to her, crossing my arms. "Why?" I snapped, loosing my temper. "So you can go and tell everyone the juicy details—" the words tumbled out of my mouth. But what I was saying came to me, and I abruptly stopped.
See, I had this thing called word vomit. Worst sickness ever. It sticks to you forever. It's incurable.
My mom was quiet for once.
I squirmed in the silence. Usually, when my mom is around, someone always bound to be talking. It unnerved me how quiet she was, and I wasn't brave enough to take a glimpse at her face. Finally, though, after a long pause, I dared myself to look: my mom wasn't exactly angry, but she seemed hurt, and almost. . . well, a little angry.
"Well," she said quietly, staring down at the floor. She bit on her lower lip. "I guess you don't want to talk about it."
I swallowed loudly. "N—no," I stammered, feeling hideous all of a sudden. "I don't."
She nodded, still quiet, and got up from my bed. She began to walk out, but before she left, she turned to look at me, and said in a still, quiet voice, "Order pizza, will you? I don't feel like cooking." Then she left, closing the door behind her.
A couple of minutes ticked by, and I sat on the same spot where my mom had ordered me to be, staring at the door. I felt so hideous! Dirty! Bitter!
Why had I said that?
I slammed my fist onto my springy bed, releasing some anger. It didn't help, at all. Heck, hitting something to lessen the anger wasn't really a good method for me. It never worked.
"He's gonna pay," I told myself shakily, feeling the threat being empty. "It's all his fault." I clenched my jaws and nodded. Yep, it was Paul's fault all right.
No one spoke at dinner. Not my dad, not my mom, not even my brothers. It was down right uncomfortable, and I had this odd feeling that they kept on looking at me—I kept my eyes glued down on the pizza in front of me—but when I looked up, they were looking somewhere else. I felt sick to the pit of my stomach, no doubt did they know I had hurt mom's feelings.
I excused myself to bed early, and took a shower.
Once in my bed, with the lights out, I stared once more up into the now dark ceiling. I glared at the darkness, wanting to blame someone for my misfortune, but knowing it was all me. I was the one to blame. But I was stubborn, and I refused to accept that I had done something wrong. I didn't like the feeling.
It wasn't until I was finally going to sleep, did my normal thoughts come back. I had forgotten something very important: I had forgotten to do my damn homework.
Groaning, I pondered on whether I should stand up and do it, or wake up early in the morning. I figured I needed a distraction right now—plus, I don't think I'd be willing to wake up at six. So with that in mind, I got out of my comfortable bed, and did my homework. It was a great distraction from Paul Lahote; his eyes didn't plague my thoughts.
But they did haunt my dreams.
I got little sleep that night.
When morning finally came, and it was time to wake up, I gladly did so—heck, I was so happy, I wasn't even grumpy at being up early.
And, as I walked to school, I kept on telling myself: "You can do it, Ana. Be brave. Be a wolf."
The whole day, I kept my head posed up, high in the air. Lidia and Daiane seemed proud of me, and they too, walked with their heads posed up in the air, while keeping a look out for Paul Lahote. We never spotted him in the halls. . . And he didn't come to Third Period.
A part of me was pleased with this. "He's scared," I said arrogantly, chucking in relief. "That's why he didn't come."
Lidia agreed, smiling. "Yep. You tough, Ana!"
Daiane grinned foolishly. "Come at me bro!" She balled her fist, and we laughed.
Third Period was good as can be, with Jacob sitting down next to me.
For the rest of the day—like yesterday—I kept my eyes looking out for Paul. But he was nowhere to be seen. And like yesterday, the worry began to bubble in my chest, and I found myself wondering where he was. Then I punished myself by pinching my arm: I shouldn't care.
At home, my mom and I didn't talk much. We just exchanged a few words, but that was simply all.
There was no sign of Paul Lahote for the rest of the week. It both pleased and worried me. I soon found the fear disappearing, being replaced with ignorance; I shouldn't be scared of Paul. Let him come. . . I don't care.
Jacob and I were talking. It made me happy, of course, but something was. . . odd. I couldn't quite place my fingers on it. I felt weird.
It's been two weeks with no sign of Paul nor Jared—they must have gone to a trip, I told myself easily, and continued on with my day, thinking about Jacob's warm, friendly brown eyes.
I was now giggling with Lidia and Daiane in front of the school. It was morning, and a Monday; but I was happy because Jacob had waved at me about a few minutes ago. That was the cause of our untamed giggles.
The bell, unfortunately, rang. I scowled, but a smile quickly replaced it.
"Somebody's happy," Daiane remarked with a smile of her own. "Good for you."
"Wow, what a miracle," Lidia faked an awed voice.
I rolled my eyes dramatically. "Oh geez. I think I deserve two dollars from each of you, since I'm smiling, no?"
"Hell no!" Daiane said, pushing me. "Get your own money!"
"Yeah, keep away from mine." Lidia nodded, sticking her tongue out.
"Fine. Such best friends you are," I grumbled jokingly.
"But you still love us," Daiane said quickly, smiling in a teasing way. "I love you!"
I gagged. "Don't say that, please."
Lidia laughed. "What? I love you too, Ana!"
"C'mon," I groaned, frowning. They both knew I hated the "L" word. I don't know what was the cause of it; I hated saying it to friends, but with family it was. . . okay, I guess.
We began to push and shove our way through the hall. I was now grumpy—it seemed as though something was stopping the crowd. Something in the back of my mind sparked in rememberence—something so similar to this, but I couldn't quite remember.
"Some new kid, I think," Lidia mumbled to us, even though we hadn't said anything.
"Probably." Daiane nodded.
I, though, disagreed. "We would have known before, though." I pointed out. "With what gossip flying around quickly here, in La Push." I said bitterly.
"True," they both agreed quietly, frowning now.
The bell rang.
"Great," I muttered.
The crowd began to disappear slowly, and it was only a few of us now standing on the halls. Lucky Lidia had her class in front of the school, while Daiane had her's in the middle of the school, while I, the unfortunate girl, had it all the way in the back. Just my luck.
I told my two friends bye, and continued to walk quickly. I didn't want to go to the Office. Mrs. Quinn was our Office lady, very nice, but very slow. She would take an hour—literally—just to sign up a tardy slip.
I kept my eyes on the floor when I passed a group of emo kids, and heard them make comments. I felt my face heat up as I quickened my pace. I wasn't even looking where I was going anymore—I was desperate to get away from them.
And then I hit a hot brick wall, I think.
The collision knocked the breath out of my lungs, and I felt myself falling onto the ground, my poor butt made an awful contact with the hard floor. I whimpered, "Ow," and began to gather my scattered pencils from the floor, blushing.
"Why don't you watch were you're walking?" a familiar, yet unfamiliar, voice spat angrily.
I froze.
No, no, no. Not him!
Slowly, almost cautiously, my eyes began to travel up his body. I was surprised to find him wearing only shorts in this cold weather, and a tights shirt that tightened around his eight-pack. My eyes widened when I noticed this; had he grown in the past two weeks? Impossible. He seems six feet something now!
And then my eyes looked around his hard, firm face; he seemed. . . handsome, now, somehow.
"Like what you see—" as he spoke, my eyes made contact with Paul Lahote's hazel one's, and he shut up.
I felt as though something intensely happy was pouring all over my body. My whole world spun in circles, but somehow, Paul seemed to be the only stable thing that I could hang on through the dizziness. I stared, open mouthed, at him, feeling like the most happiest girl in the world. I felt my hurt burst into a million pieces, and being thrown over to Paul. Everything shifted—everything changed.
I felt almost as if I had been. . . bound. But to what? To Paul? Nonsense!
Even then. . . a piece of me had been torn out from me, and given to. . . him. And also, even more weird, I felt like I had been given something wonderful. But what?
"Yo, Paul!" someone yelled, breaking both Paul's and I's staring contest.
With a blazing face, I looked away. I stared at Jared Cameron, who had a look of surprise on his face. He was eyeing me, with a raised eyebrow, before he began to chuckle.
"Congrats Paul!" he yelled merrily, and patted him on the shoulder.
My eyes turned to stare at Paul, who was still staring at me. I shifted uneasily, but I was surprised: his eyes were different. They were still hazel, but they were staring at me as though. . . I was the most wonderful being in the world. I was a bit flattered, but at the same time I felt suspicious. Was he pulling a prank?
"Hey," Jared nodded to me, smiling. "I'm Jared Cameron."
All I said was, "Ana," in a curt tone, still a little breathless.
"Oh," Jared said quietly.
Then, as if by me speaking, Paul snapped out of his little trance. He smiled widely, and to me it seemed abnormal to have it on his face. "Hey. . ." Then his face fell. "Aww crap." He narrowed his eyes on me, his eyes going up and down, as if checking me out.
My brows furrowed. "Hello," I said to him, trying to keep my voice even and mature, "Paul." I clenched my teeth afterwards because when I said his name, a shiver ran down my spine.
He smiled widely again. "Ana, was it?"
Another damn shiver ran down my spine when he said my name.
I didn't move my head. Psh, not my fault he wasn't paying attention.
Jared nodded his head slowly from beside Paul. Paul nodded in understanding, and then his eyes widened in realization.
"Oh crap, oh crap. . ." He exhaled loudly, and began to tremble.
I panicked right about then. "Not another damn seizure!" Then I paused, staring at Paul with wide eyes. "How the hell are you even alive, anyways?" I blurted out.
Finally, a smirk appeared, and the trembling ceased. "I guess I'm superman."
"I don't like superman," I blurted out once more. Why wasn't I walking away. . .?
"Batman?"
I shook my head.
"Iron Man?"
Another shake of my head.
"Hulk?" Now he was smirking even more arrogantly, and puffed out his chest.
"It's Spiderman," I finally said in a duh tone, not even knowing why I was telling him this.
"Cool." He nodded casually.
"Yep," I said shortly. "I got to go."
"Aww," he whined. "Just ditch with me!" Then he wagged his eyebrows suggestively.
I made a disgusted face. "Unlike you, I care about my future."
Paul only shrugged. "Eh, been told that, been told this."
I began to walk away, and I felt him fall into step with me. He told Jared, "I'll see you at lunch!"
I grounded my teeth. "Just leave me alone," I almost begged. Though a part of me felt happy. No, no I must be sick. . .
"I wish I could," he replied lazily. "But I'm stuck."
"Stuck where, exactly?" I asked, frowning.
"Can't tell ya' that."
"Why not?"
"Because," he said slowly, stopping when his hot arm brushed against mine. Once again, I was shocked—because sparks flew across our skins. Not literally, but it felt so! "Because I can't even believe it myself, either." He was angry again, and the trembling began.
I was tired of this. "Will you just friggin stop?" I asked loudly.
He glared at me finally. "Stop what?" he asked through clenched teeth.
"Stop shaking! Do you know how annoying it is, not knowing whether you're faking it or not?"
"Shut up," he barked back, face twisting into that of a furious face.
I flinched.
This, it seemed, triggered something in that tiny little head of his—maybe he realized that. . . I could beat him up?—and his shaking ceased, and his face fell. He exhaled loudly, shaking his head.
"I gotta go," he said quietly, almost rudely. "Bye."
"Um," I said, still in shock. "Okay?"
Paul Lahote had finally come back—that one sentence plagued my thoughts. Now, instead of his wild hazel eyes, I got his soft hazel eyes in my head. It was, I'll admit, a bit relaxing to me.
When third period arrived, I walked into the class, Lidia, Daiane, and I had our heads stuck in the air, and walked with purpose. We walked past our joking classmates, and to their seat—lucky them, they sat together with another girl. They sat down, while I stood up. But I felt weird. And when I felt weird, I usually felt self-conscious, and twitchy.
"So," Lidia began quietly, exchanging glances with Daiane, "Paul came back."
"I know." I said coolly.
Both looked shocked.
Daiane frowned. "Oh. Did he scream at you?"
"We would have heard, Daiane," Lidia reasoned with a roll of her eyes.
I nodded. "No. . . he just, sort of, bothered me."
"Bothered you?" they asked disbelieving.
Again, I nodded.
"Well," I said uneasily. "I have to go to my seat."
My eyes shifted back, to where my desk with Paul and Jacob was at, and I froze. Paul was gawking at me, watching my every move like a hawk. He smirked at me when he met my eyes, and winked. He gestured to the empty seat beside Jacob, and himself—before glaring at Jacob. I stiffened.
"Ugh," I groaned. "Goodbye. Torture will begin."
My friends merely giggled at my reluctance to sit beside Paul, and Jacob.
I sat down, and stared pointedly at the front of the class.
"Hello." Paul began arrogantly, smirking down at me. "How are you doing, you fine lady?"
I nearly chocked. "What?"
Jacob heard too, and was staring at Paul as if he had sprouted a second head.
"How was your day?" he asked distractedly, glaring at Jacob now. I shifted my body to block Jacob from Paul's eyesight. He noticed, since his eyes narrowed into slits. "Oh right," he began bitterly, "you have a boyfriend."
"He's not my boyfriend," I blurted out, glaring at him.
"Sure," he said coolly, and proceeded to ignore me.
I really had no idea why it annoyed the heck out of me that he wasn't paying attention to me.
Clenching my teeth, I looked away from him.
During the lesson Mr. Wilkins was giving, I felt rather uncomfortable. Really uncomfortable, and I felt as though the reason of my discomfort, happened to be because of a certain boy sitting to my left.
So I cast a weary glance over at Paul out of the corner of my eyes, immediately looking away when I saw he was fully-out staring at me. My face blazed under his gaze, and I felt my head turn fully around, to stare back at him—it was an unconscious move of my own, honestly! I suddenly felt good. Happy. And to be truthful. . . it was scaring me.
"Miss Martin?" Mr. Wilkins called on me very loudly, sounding very much amused.
I looked up, blushing, and noticed everyone staring at me. "Um, yeah?"
"Can you answer my question?"
Damn. I wasn't paying attention. "Yep." Luck be with me. . .
"What is the formula for completing a perfect square?"
I knew that! I studied that in eigth grade. I know that. . . yet, it wasn't coming to me. I don't even know why they teach us this crap; it's not as if someone in the real world will ask me, "Well, Ana, what is the formula of a perfect square?"
So usually some things the teachers teach go in, and then out of my brain.
My mouth opened and closed several times, and my face needed to be extinguished. "No," I said quietly, looking down. Then I saw it; it was messy, but I could definitely read the sloppy writing. I read the answer, and looked up, still not feeling confident. "Um, x equals negative b plus or minus, with the square root of. . ." I squinted my eyes on the writing, "b squared, minus four, a and c, divided by two a."
Peering up hopefully at Mr. Wilkins, not sure if the answer was alright, I said, "Is that it?"
He smiled. "Certainly, Miss Martin. Good job." He turned to the class, "Now kids, study over what we just learned. I'm going to give you a test tomorrow. . ." His voice became distant as I turned to look open-mouthed at a smirking Paul.
"You?" I asked disbelieving.
Paul continued to smirk. "Yep."
"But—how—I mean—" I broke off, still stunned. He knew the answer. My God, I've gone even stupider.
"Hey," he said, "I do care about my future." He winked, and then wouldn't look away. Not even when Mr. Wilkins said to work on our homework because we had extra time.
When lunch arrived, I sprang up from my seat, ignoring—unwillingly—Jacob's friendly talk, and walking quickly towards the door. I felt Paul's eyes burn my back as I walked, even when my friends joined me. We walked to the cafeteria and ordered our food, before sitting down in one of the crowded lunch tables. I really wasn't hungry; the food at this school was awful.
"He was staring at you!" Daiane finally giggled. "Aww!"
Lidia nodded, smiling. "Yep. Don't pretend you aren't listening to us, Ana."
I sighed loudly, scowling. "He's annoying."
Daiane sighed dreamily. "If I had been stared at like he'd been staring at you. . ." she trailed off, still smiling, "I'd be so happy!"
I felt a twinge of annoyance. "Trust me," I said shortly, blushing, "you wouldn't."
"Where is he, by the way?" Lidia wondered out loud.
I looked up, curious too, wanting to examine Paul's change—I didn't need to look around much, because Paul was sitting directly on my point of view. I felt my face go ablaze again because he was out right gawking at me, eyes wide, smiling widely at me. I quickly looked away from his hazel eyes, not liking at all that I felt like goo. I shouldn't feel this way.
Just because he had been caught gawking at me.
Sure, I felt happy, but just because he was giving me attention? What was so good about me? I didn't look as good as Elena Castle; the beauty queen of the school he'd once dated. So why was he still gawking at me? Everytime I peeked looks up at him, he was still staring rather funnily at me.
Well, at least I knew I wasn't an alien to boys.
A/N: Damn, I had trouble writing the beginning for chapter two, hahha :P But hopefully, you all liked it? And thank you all for the reviews! They made me so happy! Thank you, forreals! :D Also, whew, Ana had a weak moment in this chapter o.O
Sorry, I was actually going to update this yesterday, but it was too late. So I updated now, on a Monday. Ughh, lol.
By the way, I have a (what's it called?), schedule for updating Dynamic. The schedule is this: I will be updating every Saturday, and if not on Saturday, then on Sunday, and if not on Sunday, then on Monday. Sound good? I think it's fine. You'll all be getting a weekly update :D
Anyways, I do hope you liked chapter 2. CAUGHT GAWKING! Tell me what you thought in a review, please :)
P.S. Any mistakes will be corrected soon, I just wanted to get this out early :P
REVIEW!