Losing My Mind

A/N: Oh, so many story alerts! And that's great. But wanna know what I really want? Some more reviews. Is that too much to ask for?

-&-

I skip home from the bus-stop, humming to myself a nonsensical tune I heard somewhere sometime long ago. When I'm in view of the house, I slow down to my normal brisk, purposeful walk, holding onto my backpack-strap tightly out of sheer happiness. Tristan, Tristan, Tristan DuGrey, Tristan, Tristan…

"Oh! Rory, dear, how're you? Alright? Good, good, I just thought maybe the little safe incident would come back up to haunt us. In fact, Morey and I-"

I interrupt Babette's ramblings. "What safe?" I ask, a little puzzled. I cock my head to one side and watch Babette's face sink into confusion not at all unlike my own.

"What safe?" Babette mutters, frowning. "Well, I thought I remembered that we accidentally threw a safe out of our window and it hit you on the…? No? Well, I'm sure your memory's fresher than mine! But I really thought that this morning a safe hit you…No? I suppose not then! I guess I'm losing my mind, huh, love?" Babette smiles weakly and walks back into her house while muttering something about old age.

I shake my head in amusement. Babette isn't that old but she really does seem to have some gaps in her memory. A safe? Falling on my head? I chuckle to myself at the absurdity of the thought while opening my door. But I chose the wrong key on the big loop, so I have to start all over with another key. When this one refuses to open the door, I choose another. But it happens again. And again. And again.

I finally end up throwing the ring of keys down in frustration. It looks as though I've lost the necessary one. Bother. Do I have to go all the way back to the school to retrieve it? My eyes light up; oh, but that's where Tristan is! Although, I scold myself not at all angrily, he's probably home by now. And then my scowl returns as I lean down to pick up the keys. Stupid missing key! Gr.

"Hey Rory. Did you drop this?" An unusually tall boy with floppy, dark-brown hair and big, brown, smiling eyes looks at me from where he's standing on the sidewalk outside my house. He's holding a silver key on the palm of his right hand and extending it towards me. He's not really handsome, but something tugs at the back of my mind. Do I know him? And what is that warmth spreading through me when I think of someone tall with floppy brown hair?

Mentally shrugging to myself, I conclude that I have no idea who this seemingly kind stranger is. I smile at him gratefully and descend the porch steps to take the key from his palm. As soon as I put my hand in his enormous one, he closes it, entrapping my hand in his. I gasp and try to pull away, confused. When I look up into his face, he's grinning.

What? I don't even know him and he's got my hand trapped in his. My cheeks burn as I think of what we must look like to anyone watching from the safety of their homes, ready to record this moment and gossip about it later. We look like a couple. Like boyfriend and girlfriend. But we're not! I don't know this aggravating boy.

"Um," I say intelligently, tugging weakly at my entrapped hand. "Would you mind letting go, please? I really need to get home. Homework, work, schoolwork…" I drift off, realizing how stupid I must sound and blush deeper. The boy just grins wider and holds onto my hand even tighter. Then, in one swift motion, he has my other hand in his and is kissing me.

The nerve! And I don't even know this creep. I pull away violently, tug at my hands – which come free at once through his evident surprise – and, key in hand, run to my door. I twist the silver key in the lock, throw open the front door, and prepare to step inside when the sound of his voice stops me.

"Rory! Did I do something wrong?" He sounds hurt, confused. Oh god. Today is one confusing day. Wait…how does he know my name? I slowly pivot on my right heel, turning to face him. He stands there blushing, hands hanging limply at his sides, looking devastated. "Do you not like it when I kiss you?"

All the sympathy I might have felt for him is gone and my face turns red. "Like it? Like it?! You're a total stranger! A nice one, maybe, but still a total stranger. You turn up outside my house, which I don't think is coincidence, mind you, handing me a key I lost. Which is very nice of you. But then you won't let me go, hold onto my hand like you know me, and then you kiss me! And you expect me to enjoy it? I have a boyfriend, and I like him very much, thank you! His name is Tristan and you can't compare! Now go away! Find someone else to stalk!" I slam the door, seething.

I drop onto the couch, exhausted, my head in my hands, my body shaking partly from fear of that boy, the one who had kissed me, and partly from anger at him. I lean against the soft pillows on the couch and groan. I never yell like that. It was a first. But I had a reason. The nerve of that creep. Turning up outside my house, pretending to be nice, and then kissing me in broad daylight.

That's when I realize that I called Tristan my boyfriend, and I blush. Isn't he, though? He only asked me out to dinner. But still…it's what I would like to believe. And it was something I had to say to keep that weirdo away from me. I don't regret it.

I hear a banging on my window and turn, frightened, to see the weirdo in question tapping on it. I turn red again and am about to yell at him when I see the shock on his face, the tears threatening to fall. What is with him? He's acting as though we're boyfriend and girlfriend and I just broke up with him when I don't even know his name!

I sigh and get up from the couch, clutching the pillow as though for protection. I open the window a crack, just enough to let sound filter in and out, and demand, "What do you want?" He looks taken aback, as though he expected me to have come to my senses and remembered who he was and how much I loved him. Well, I hadn't and I didn't, because I had never seen him before in my life.

"Rory, I'm Dean!" he tells me, as though that will somehow fix everything. "I'm Dean, your boyfriend, and I thought you…you loved me. It sure seemed like it up till now, that is. And even if you still hate me for some reason, at least tell me why! Because, frankly, I have no idea and am completely confused."

"Good to know I'm not the only one, then," I grumble at him, making as though to shut the window. Now he thinks I'm his girlfriend? What is wrong with everyone today? First Babette, and now this Dean. "Look, Dean," I begin through gritted teeth. "I have no idea who you are. Wait, I do; you're some weirdo going around thinking that I'm your girlfriend when I keep telling you I've never seen you before in my life. There's something seriously wrong with your head, Dean. Either that or you're mistaking me for someone else. And even if you are my boyfriend – which you are not – I would break up with you right now; go get a haircut, buddy." And I slam the window shut, seething once again.

I do slightly regret my cruel words to him regarding his hair, but I try to think of it as some advice instead of a comment I threw out in anger. I pretend not to be looking as he stares into my living-room in more shock than before and then straightens his bent back and walks away. Finally! As I sink onto the couch once more I smile dreamily and let thoughts of Tristan fill my head.