Wow. I am completely blown away with the response I've received from each and every one of you. Thank you, SO much.

That being said, here is my sad excuse for appreciation in the form of another chapter :) Now, I probably should have mentioned this earlier, but the scenes written won't be in sequential order; they are random after all :P

I kind of like the idea of writing for you guys and having you figure out who's POV I'm in, but I realize (sorry Guest! you were correct, last chapter was Holly's) that it might be a little confusing... let me know if it's hard to figure out, okay?

Enjoy!


The first thing you feel is anger.

It doesn't register right away, and if you're being completely honest with yourself; you figured you were worth more than that. Worth more than the total, non-committed agony that comes with being blown off. You thought you had Holly pegged, the second she said the words 'I' 'am' and 'lesbian', you had put her into this category. A category you understand completely, a category you feel is your area of expertise. That category you like to manipulate and fiddle with, the one all the captivated and enchanted boys have been filed away and labeled into; the category of helplessness. The kind of helplessness when it comes to you, the ones that worship you and follow you around like you hold the cure in a world riddled with disease. You categorized her this way - placing her into that large and over-stuffed box - because you thought she was predictable. Maybe you could play puppeteer with her as easily as you do with men - that maybe, just maybe, you might have had someone around that wanted your company badly; because in some weird sense those people make you feel better about yourself. Being the object of lust does things to you - your icy exterior is only made strong by the sweat and tears of the rejected - it makes you feel important. And it's selfish to think this way, you know that, especially because you and Holly are friends. Not just friends, but a real, committed, enjoyable friendship between you and someone you feel really likes spending time with you. Someone who genuinely likes your prickly demeanor, someone who doesn't flinch when you send sarcasm their way; someone who accepts everything about you and encompassed you into their life with open arms. And surprisingly, someone you actually enjoy just the same. And nothing has ever told you that she wanted more than that - which is somewhat of a contradiction, because you've never been one to base your feelings around someone else's - so you sum it all up to the fact that you wanted her to want you. Because it would make you feel better. About Nick's rejection, about Andy's rejection; even your mothers' rejection. That maybe, just maybe, Holly could make up for all those things lacking in your personal life, in your work life. You've never felt important to anyone before, you've never felt as if you excel at the job you've been born and bred to do - Steve became the family's golden idol in that department long ago. So all you seem to have had was this category, this 'box' - the one you seemed to associate with self-worth - so when you're blown off by Holly, that one person you placed so high on the steps towards your minds' easement; your exterior starts to crack just a little.

You watch her from across the room. The loud, obnoxious floor of The Penny; as she laughs and flirts with a girl you already hate. And this feeling registers as anger within you, because you refuse to acknowledge the surprise jolt you felt that night when she kissed you. A random, fur coat around your shoulders, sultry smirk planted firmly on her moist lips. You're angry at her, at her 'friend' - the nicest way you can describe the woman sitting across from your Holly - as surrogates for yourself. You're angry because you are the idiot in that category. You are the one who can't resist her.

"A double? Someone's in the mood to party."

It's Chris. He bounds off in the direction of that sacred bar, the one that holds the liquid solace you seek; and his slow return is almost too long for you to bare. The other woman is making her laugh, the other woman is making her smile. That one smile you thought was just for you - and for a moment you think it's not quite the way she smiles at you - before your insecurities surface once more. Because if you were secure, you would be able to see that her smile isn't quite reaching her eyes, you would be able to see that Holly doesn't look at her with that same intensity she does you. But you are insecure - because she jumped out of that box - so now all you see is someone else making her laugh. And you hate it. You're furious.

"Here you go, a double. Ready?"

He holds his drink firmly in his hands, eyebrow arched, awaiting your acknowledgment. And the fact that you feel insecure, in which that feeling makes you feel like being a raging bitch; you down your drink without but a word.

"I guess that's a yes." he mumbles, before downing his shot of tequila, placing another drink for you down on the table.

"What's with you tonight?"

He's watching you, and it doesn't help to ease your mood. You hate it when he does this - when he decides to study you at random moments - because you know that he always seems to watch you when you're too occupied to hide something. You haven't taken your eyes off of them, so he decides to look in the direction of your interest. You wish you had been more subtle.

"Aaah... Still can't handle being blown off I see?"

The truth he speaks rings in your ears like a flashbang, and you wince a little at his words. The fact that he seems to know you so well, the fact that he says things to you that he really, really shouldn't; makes you instinctively send him an icy glare.

"Woah there, Princess. Don't get mad at me, but you know as much as I do that being second choice doesn't bring out the best in you."

his hands are up in mock surrender, but it doesn't matter. You smack him anyways, and his cry of pain seems to disturb a few conversations around you, not to mention the happy couple across the room; breaking their moment of laughter. And the fact that you were able to somehow disturb their moment without actually doing anything, makes you feel a slight bit better.

"Will you stop whimpering? Any female attention you had just died, genius."

He rubs his arm furiously, as you take a much needed gulp of your alcohol. And it's then you notice - through the foggy glass to your lips - that she's looking at you. In that simple 'Holly' way of hers, the way that makes your spine tremble. She smiles at you, before turning to the other girl for a quick exclusion. She makes her way to the toilets, before you're tapped on the shoulder a little too dramatically.

"Gail... Gail! I need to tell... err... ask you something."

"Dov, if you poke me with that little razor finger again I'm gonna break it off."

And he does, just like that.

"Gail... can you," he points a shaky hand in your direction "...turn off the 'Ice Queen' for a sec- I jus... do you know what love feels like?"

You flinch at the word; love. The one that's been so cruel to you over the years, you've grown to fear the mere mention of that evil four-letter monster.

"Woah, wait that di'in quite... come out right."

"I know what you meant."

You silence him as quick as you can, with a truth you never wanted to admit to anyone; including yourself.

"I don't know what love feels like. The movies tell us it's all sunshine and roses, but that's never the case. Is it?"

He ponders your question for a moment - with as much concentration as an inebriated man can muster - before he works up a reply.

"Sometimes love is like, paaaainful. But sometimes it's easy, y'know? Like me and Chloe... it's sooo easy. Where as, you, your love is deeeep." he clenchs his fists together for emphasis, and you wish right then and there that he would just drop to the floor from too much alcohol. You'll even take alcohol poisoning at this moment - the terrifying sight of your friend convulsing on the floor before you - because you can't handle what he's said; you can't admit it to yourself. But the world has never been that kind to you.

"You deserve that back-breaking love, Gail."

And just like that, he skips off into the arms of his disgustingly sweet and perfect for him girlfriend; leaving you with nothing but an echo. An echo that seems to encircle you as you sit there - jaw open - stunned into stillness. Because no one has ever said such a thing to you, and you wonder for a moment if Dov was ever really a part of this conversation. That maybe, he was just a vessel for the honest truth the universe needed to offer you; that maybe this was a moment you needed to have for a long time. Just then, you remember something suddenly: Holly is in the washroom. And you've yet to know why you need to see her so desperately, but if feels like you're literally craving her presence within you. So you jump out of your seat like a loon - causing a few people at a table behind you to shift furiously in reaction - and head towards the wooden door labeled 'Ladies'. Not even a moment to collect yourself do you take, before you've placed your hand on the door. Just as you push it open, you see Holly, leaning over the sink with hands on either side; head bowed. You slow your movements instinctively, pushing the door open a little slower and stepping inside with calculated steps. She doesn't lift her head from the sink though, as if she is lost deep in thought. Lost in that beautiful mind of hers, you imagine. Subtly was never your strong suit, so you walk over to the sink one over from her, and start to wash warm water over your ice-cold hands. You wonder when they got so cold.

"If you've forgotten how to wash your hands, there's a cartoon right above the tap."

You say it sarcastically, without looking at her, so you completely miss the small jump she does in reaction to your break in silence.

"No I-... I don't feel very well. Fries probably aren't agreeing with me."

You can't help the scoff that escapes your lips in response.

"Right, that must be it. You're such a light-weight, nerd."

You're still glancing down at the water running smoothly over your hands, but you see her lift her head to look at you from the corner of your eye. Her mouth opens - you see her start to say something - but she stops herself. You wonder why. So you decide to turn off the tap, grab a paper towel, and look at her. And looking at her causes your hands to start fiddling with the paper. A nervous habit, that.

She doesn't say anything to you, she's just looking at you. And it makes you nervous when she does that - because there's always been something unnerving about the way she looks at you, like she's looking into you - which only makes you fiddle more with the paper in your hands. Because in that moment, you realize she is trying to convey something incredibly important to you with that look, something you're not quite sure what it is. But you know it makes the muscles in your stomach tighten, and you don't like it. So you crumple your paper up, send it sailing into the bin behind her, and make a hasty exit out the door; leaving her with four simple words meant as a form of both endearment, and goodbye:

"See you later, loser."


You've been walking for what feels like an hour - when in reality its probably only been ten minutes - and the biting cold is starting to slice your wind-beaten skin. But none of that matters now, not the chill in the air, not the numbness in your hands. In some weird little way you've been walking, hoping the cold will numb your mind as well as your body; because it hasn't stopped moving a mile a minute since you left The Penny. It's instinct, human nature to over-think things. But it's not exactly things that you're over-thinking, it's your own thoughts; which brings everything around full circle. You're trying to figure out exactly why you're so angry, why you're so angry with yourself. Because you can't map out precisely where your jealousy lies. And it's a shock to you - that you're even able to register your feelings at all - that you're jealous, because you can't admit to yourself that you're jealous of the woman who sat across from Holly. The one who was able to amuse her, make her smile; hold her attention. Because you want to be the only person that causes those reactions from her, because when Holly smiles - you smile. Because in actuality, it's Holly that makes you laugh and smile, and that isn't something that happens. Ever. Sure, Nick made you smile, sometimes even chuckle, but it never made you so analytical like this... and then you have to stop. Because really, you're comparing your female friend to your ex boyfriend. And it's that thought process that is scaring you - because lumping the two of them into the same occupied space means so much more than you're willing to admit to yourself - so instead, you sum it all up to the fact that you're jealous of sharing your time with your friend.

That is an easier thought to process.

"Gail! Wait up- Jesus it's freezing!"

Again, it's Chris.

"What do you want?"

You didn't mean to sound so irritable, but it's the first words you've spoken since you plummeted into your crazed mind. And that jump into the abyss never encourages manners in you; ridiculous as that sounds.

"Nothing I just... Didn't really feel like walking home alone. Plus, you're a woman. It's only courteous that I make sure you get home safe."

He grins goofily in your direction, because he knows exactly what kind of response his archaic comment will evoke in you. But instead if laying into him with all the female power propaganda you can muster, you take in a deep, shaky breath and watch the smoke billow around you upon your exhale. Because really - as stupid you think he can be - he's a decent guy. One of those guys that still holds the door open for people when they enter or exit a store in front of him - one of those guys that actually believes in behaving like a proper human being. And it's a sad thought you think, that there aren't more people like Chris - not that you've ever given the notion that you deserve such a person in your life - because you think that maybe you might not be so hard if there were.

"Thanks for the concern."

He skips a step, clearly baffled by your unexpected reply, before joining at your side once again. Shaking his head with a smile on his face, he exhales smoke out of his grinning mouth while he says:

"She really has an effect on you, doesn't she?"

That comment is enough to dissolve every warm thought towards him or anything else you may have held in you.

"You're very brave tonight, Christopher."

And just like that, he mutes himself. Because if there's any clear indicator that he has crossed a line, it's when you say his full name. Its a tool you don't use too often - being a police officer has instilled 'power and responsibility' in you - so it continues to hold merit when you do use it. Because you know exactly where that comment would have led the conversation; you know exactly what that specific comment means to you, regardless of whether he caught on or not. And you don't like it, one bit.

"Are you warm enough?"

He touches your cold cheek lightly with the back of his finger - just a simple show of concern from your friend - but it infuriates you. Because you really didn't want him to touch you like that, with such care and concern, because he is the very last person you want to touch you like that. Because you really want Holly to touch you like that - as she has a few times before - and you'd rather associate the action with her. And it's that mere thought that is causing you to be so anxious, so you move your face from him briskly; and quicken your pace.

"Gail? have I done something wrong tonight?"

"No Chris. I'm just... tired."

Its a raw and honest truth, you both know it. But you don't feel like getting into it with him, because you've spent enough time thinking about things tonight. Because you really are tired, mentally tired. So you decide that it's finally the time to stop the gears on overdrive in your mind, slipping your arm in his as you walk together.

"Do you think anything is still open this time of night?"

He shrugs. "You mean for food?"

"No," You shake your head, more smoke encircling the two of you with each word spoken. "I want a video game."

He stops in his tracks - something that makes absolutely no sense considering the frigid temperature outside - before his face lights up in realization.

"Dov bought that new shooter game last night."

You smirk at him, because that kind of manic entertainment is exactly what you need right now.

"Let's go home and unwrap it for him."


There you have it, chapter two! I'm sorry the chapters are a little short, but they are moments after all :P

It seems last chapter I made Gail out to be sorta... cold? which wasn't my intention. Her thoughts will be revealed in time, but I feel that sometimes (especially in regards to Gail) personal experiences outweigh a pipe dream. That's understandable, right?

Thanks again for reading, and also for those of you kind enough to review!

As always, reviews are always welcome and genuinely appreciated!

xoVioletW