A.N:Thank you for your feedback on the last chapter. Comments are always appreciated.

"You should really learn to use proper chopsticks." I mumble as Robbie stops mid-chew of his ramen noodles.

He hovers his hand over his mouth and frowns. "Why?" he asks.

"Did you not notice the used napkins that those little girls were throwing at us?" I question with a raised brow as I use my wooden chopsticks to point to said several balled up napkins that are at our feet.

"Oh...I thought they were just being polite by passing us some napkins..."

"Robbie, they blew their noses into those napkins and then called us 'whazbags' as they threw them."

"Let's just enjoy our meal..shall we?"

I huff out in annoyance as yet another used napkin is thrown in our direction, only for it to land in Robbie's miso soup.

He looks like he's still going to eat it and just dispose of the napkin.

"Don't eat that." I grimace.

"Wasn't planning to." Robbie quietly says as he instead goes to push his bowl of soup away from him.

"Um..thanks for coming here with me, Tori."

"Yeah, well..if we stayed at my house any longer, Trina would have had you rubbing glue in the most oddest of places."

"..Glue?" Robbie mumbles around some rice.

"She found a recipe on the internet that stated that glue gets rid of black heads or something. You're supposed to use Elmer's glue, but we only have wood glue, but she'll figure that out later." I shrug.

"Isn't that dangerous?"

"I'm pretty sure it washes off of skin with soap and warm water."

"Right..."

Robbie stirs his white rice around his bowl with his pink plastic training chopsticks for a bit, brow furrowed in thought.

"What ever happened to that girl that you were dating? I mean you would always blow me off to hang out with her—which I don't blame you for because despite the fact that I have never met her, she sounded lovely—"

"I wouldn't exactly call it 'dating'," I cut in. "I don't know what we were exactly...and I decided to stop talking with her." I shrug as I lift my empty glass of water and slide an ice cube into my mouth.

"Why would you stop?" Robbie curiously asks. "I mean you always looked so happy after you hung out with her and you'd be in a good mood for awhile when we hung out together..why would you leave someone that makes you happy?"

"It's more than that." I quietly say. "You just don't know anything Robbie, okay? Pass the soy sauce..."

It's about a month later, when I see Heather again.

She's at the far end of the black box theater, carefully packing the designated amount of food into each box that will be sent to the Philippines, due to the typhoon that had recently hit. Heather is quickly packing each box, then moving on to the next one as a different guy takes her finished off box and carries it outside.

I didn't expect for her to be here. The only reason I'm here is because Trina has her eyes set on some guy that is in her Italian class. Apparently he's really into doing volunteer work, thus Trina apparently being into it as well.

I can't just stand around, while everyone scurries around me, so I settle for the spot beside Heather (Trina is my ride home and of course the only spot left is beside Heather).

She doesn't notice me when I settle beside her. It's not till about a minute later when I tentatively reach for one of the flat empty boxes (that I unfold and shape correctly), which are right beside her, that she notices me.

Her brows furrow in confusion and I can't blame her because really? We don't see or talk to each other for a month and then I suddenly appear back into her life? Or at least the club that I didn't know she was a member of...

"How've you been?" I mumble as I randomly grab at the cans around me, not even bothering to check if I'm stocking the box correctly.

I think I just placed four cans of yams, instead of just two.

Heather looks at me for a moment, before she shrugs and goes back to stocking her already made box. "Fine, I guess. Nothing has changed, just been super busy this past week with fundraising, gathering donations and finding good deals at local supermarkets, so we can put together these care packages."

I nod as I push my box off to the side, not bothering with taping it closed because I know that I didn't stock it correctly, but it's keeping my hands busy, so I reach for another empty box.

"You're a good person." I say, Heather pausing in her movement as she looks at me curiously.

"I mean technically you don't have to give up your time and money to help people that you don't even know—they're lucky to have someone like you leading this club so they can have something to eat...even if they have to wait several hours to get it. It's something, y'know?"

Heather's lips curve up just a tiny bit. "Thank you."

We're engulfed in a few minutes of silence, the sounds of cans clinking against the tables, tape closing the boxes, and other volunteers chatting to each other around us.

"So how's it going with that girl that you like?" Heather timidly asks.

I raise a brow. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Heather rolls her eyes and playfully bumps her hip against mine as she picks up her now sealed box and hands it over to some volunteer that was patiently waiting off to the side of her table. "We may not have talked about it properly, but I'm pretty sure you left me because you liked someone else—you most likely still like that same person. Tell me I'm wrong."

I frown and give a low grunt as I continue messing up my care packages—I'll just hand them to Trina later. She'll appreciate the excuse to be around that guy for a bit longer.

"I haven't done anything." I mumble as I place four water bottles into the box. "She's not available at the moment—she probably never will be. So why even bother, Y'know?"

"She's a lucky girl." Heather softly says.

I turn and look at her in confusion. "Why?"

"Because you like her...not many can say that" Heather lowly says as she fiddles with one of the flaps of her box.

I close my eyes and quietly ask her if she has any quarters in either of her pockets.

Sometimes I wonder if I'm a masochist...I've been contemplating that thought for awhile, now.

It's like I want this pain to continue eating away at me—it's like I crave it. I don't...or at least I don't think that I do. Yet I still find myself hanging around Beck, knowing that Jade will be with him as well.

I try and use the excuse that Beck is my best friend. I should be able to tell him anything...yet I find myself not caring about the fact that I'll be in the same room as him.

All I want is to be around Jade, even if she's not in my vicinity.

I've been thinking of keeping a jar for when I have thoughts about Jade...but who am I kidding? One jar wouldn't be enough to contain all the coins that I'd throw in there...plus I'd probably have to use pennies each time I have to make a deposit.

Am I reaching the point of insanity because of this girl? The peak of obsession over someone that I can't have because I have morals, yet if given the chance, I would throw them out in a heartbeat?

Am I a bad person? For having thoughts of throwing my best friend's girlfriend onto my bed and kissing every inch of visible pale skin, murmuring how beautiful that she is and how I'd take care of her? How I have pictured waking up next to her and nuzzling her with the tip of my nose to her cheek to wake her up?

I want to tell her that I love her— that Beck is an idiot who doesn't appreciate her enough—which isn't exactly a lie. He loves her, he really does.

But their are always those times when he comes to my house seeking refuge from Jade because he just can't handle her—handle what, though? The love that she gives him? That rare special smile that is reserved just for him to see? That act of possessiveness she carries because she feels insecure—insecure that she isn't good enough for him and that no one else will ever love her if they ever broke up for good?

Does he not realize that their is someone who would kill, just to see that smile of hers? That smile that is only seen behind closed doors and sometimes in front of the eyes of others because she doesn't give a damn if people see her genuinely happy for just a moment, as long as she has a shoulder to bury her face in, and strong arms to wrap around her body, like a comforting blanket that can't be infiltrated? That someone would take her act of possessiveness as endearing because she loves them so much and will not let them slip through her fingers?

Does Beck not realize that their is someone who is so torn about their feelings and actions and their thoughts—that innocent women are used as a form of comfort, but in a way that will make them think terribly of themselves in the morning, when they realize what happened the night before? That their chance of love was mostly likely shattered, because of just one night that shouldn't have happened when they were in such a vulnerable state of mind?

I like to think that the women that I prey on at parties—that everything will be fine when they wake up.

They had sweet nothings being whispered into their ears, a shoulder to lean and cry on, and just a moment where nothing mattered, where they could just feel good and calm. A moment where they could think that someone cared about how they felt, that they had a form of comfort.

But then they wake up. And everything is just...crap.

Maybe the guy or girl—whatever—that ruined that poor girl, realized that they had made a mistake, by the time that I was engulfed by such a sweet illusionistic warmth?

I could have maybe killed them—people are crazy when it comes to relationships, right? Some kill when being broken up with, while others just want to see them suffer. What if I ended up causing that? The hell if I know, I never see the girls that I sleep with after I wake up, I make sure of that.

Sometimes I like to believe that if I don't remember their pretty faces and their unique names, it's not my problem if I hear something on the news about them.

So far, nothing bad has happened. At least nothing that I am aware of.

Trina didn't get a date with that volunteer guy.

I, on the other hand, ended up agreeing to go on a date with Heather.