My Guys Chapter 4: The Boy, a high school musical fanfic

-CHAPTER THREE-

-Monday-

-The Boy (Briton)-

At this point in our story, I thought it would be nice if we included someone else's point of view. Someone mentioned that I have a very "bleak outlook on the kids at school." I argued back that it's my story and I write about how I feel. If I think that what's-her-face is a major bitch, I'm going to write that what's-her-face is a major bitch! But then I decided that someone else's perspective might be nice after all. (I was getting a little tired of writing, anyway.) And in this case, someone else is Troy. I asked him (begged him) to remember as much as he could about that day and write it down for me. Then, I read what he wrote so I could correct grammatical errors and I had to make him rewrite it in first person. He'd written it in third person. "Troy scowled." Idiot.

-Troy's Take-

I don't really understand why I have to write this since it is Brie's project, but since she asked (begged) so nicely, I might as well. So, Gabriella had hurt her ankle during gym. Zeke and I carried her to the nurse's office and stupid Mrs. Kimble wasn't helpful at all. She told Gabriella that it would be fine tomorrow and to keep her weight off it. Then she gave her a melted ice pack and pushed us out the door. I think I saw Janitor Steve hiding in her office. I always knew that the school staff hooked up. But no one believed me. Zeke took off when he heard the bell ring, but I totally understood why. He had art next and the teacher (Mrs. Mose) was totally insane about being on time.

Gabriella was moaning and whining about not being able to walk, so I carried her to the girls' locker room. Once she was inside, I went to our lockers and grabbed our Spanish books. When I got back to the locker room, she was just coming out. I have amazing timing. But it's just because I'm so incredibly fantastic.

"Thanks," she said, reaching to take the book. I held it out of her reach, chuckling softly as she struggled to stabilize herself on one leg. Stopping a passing freshman, I handed him the books. The kid must have been half my height and one quarter of my weight. I told him not to move and then returned my gaze to Gabriella. She was giving me that What's-Going-On look. I grinned.

"Come on," I said, motioning to my back. "Hop on; we have to get to Spanish." She hopped onto my back (with a little help) and I turned back to the freshman.

"Where are you going?" I asked, hoping he was going to the same wing. I didn't want to have to find another kid. He paled and Gabriella buried her face in my shoulder for some reason; I could hear her giggling softly. Luckily, he was going to the same hallway.

"Follow us," I ordered, starting down the hallway. Gabriella was still laughing into my shoulder. She turned around.

"Don't worry," she giggled. "He won't hurt you." I rolled my eyes, turning the corner. If the kid was dumb enough to actually think I was going to punch him because he looked at Brie, he deserved to get punched just for being so dim-witted. Suddenly, Gabriella was facing forward again. "Have I mentioned that I hate Briton?" she snarled at me. I glared at a passing sophomore who bumped into her leg. Hello? As if she's not already in enough pain.

"You've only mentioned it…oh, once or eighty times," I replied and she pinched my shoulder.

"It's all because of the stupid list!" she whined. "I mean, not that I was hoping he would, but the kid wouldn't even look at me. Why did he have to make a list? Why did he have to include me on the list?" I grinned slightly, hoping she couldn't see. Secretly, I was a little glad that Briton made the list. It stopped the idiots at school from hitting on her. Although, I couldn't get this theory out of my head… "God, I will be so happy next year. You know why? Because he'll finally be gone."

I shook her around a little. I directed the freshman around another corner. I spun around a few time and she launched into giggles, right as a jumped up and down a few times. She completely freaked, digging her nails into my shoulders. It hurt. It hurt a lot. I paused outside the Spanish classroom, waiting for the freshman to go in, and then I told him where to put our books. The class was staring at us…no, at Gabriella. But, then again, they're always staring.

"Hey Montez!" someone called and I scowled. Great. It's him again. I set Gabriella down slowly and I told the freshman he could go.

"What do you want?" Gabriella asked and Briton smirked. You know what I would really love to do? I would really love to shove him into a garbage can and then roll him down a hill and into traffic.

"Do you have a date for the dance yet?" he asked. Briton was just standing in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe, smirking. Oh, I fucking knew it. I knew it!

"What's it to you?" I cut in, sitting down on the top of Gabriella's desk and flipping him off. Gabriella gave me a weary glance, but I just smiled, thankful that our teacher was mysteriously absent. Briton wiggled his eyebrows at Gabriella and flipped me off.

"You asked what I wanted," he replied before pushing off the doorframe and disappearing into the hallway. Gabriella's mouth fell open. I was right, I knew it, and I called it. Briton only made that fucking list to eliminate his competition. He didn't make the damn list so that freshmen would be safe; he made it so that he would be the only guy offering to take Gabriella to the dance. Not that I really cared about who Gabriella's date was. I just didn't want her getting hurt. And going anywhere with Briton was like lying down in the middle of the highway with a stick of dynamite strapped to your chest and saying, "Oh, I'll be fine."

The classroom erupted into chatter around me.

"Did he just ask her to the dance?"

"Briton's a senior. What would he want with her?"

"Was the quarterback just hitting on her?"

And then Gabriella spoke up. "What the fuck…"

I looked over at Chad who had materialized by my side, but he appeared to be in shock. I couldn't say that I wasn't also a little shocked. I mean, I had an idea as so what he was doing, but it's just weird to hear it out loud.

"Did he just…" she gulped, "Did he just ask me to go to the dance with him?" I nodded at Gabriella, frowning as a small smile appeared on her lips. See that right there…not working out for me. Yeah, see, she should have been on the verge of vomiting. She should not have this 'O-M-G I JUST FOUND MY TRUE LOVE' look on her face.

"What an ass," I said louder than necessary. Chad nodded and Gabriella started, looking over at me.

"Yeah…" she said slowly. I frowned at her. See, now it's a 'O-M-G HE'S DREAMY' look and that's almost worse.

"You're not seriously considering that, are you?" I demanded. "You'd actually consider accepting a date from Briton Walker? Are you feeling alright? Do you have a fever, or something?" She frowned at me.

"Big Brother much? And no, I wasn't considering going to the dance with Briton. You know how much I hate him. And I'm not a total backstabber either. Do you really think that I would go out with him even if you hated him?" She looked annoyed. I blinked a few times, shaking my head. My brain must have melted during gym.

"Sorry," I muttered, taking my seat. She shrugged.

"Whatever. But it is pretty cool that Briton isn't going to get what he wants. I do love having power." I smiled at her, exchanging high-fives with Chad. In your face, Briton.

-x-

"Come on, Chad, please?" I heard begging. I turned around to see Gabriella pleading with Chad. Hands clasped, pouting lip…the whole package. "I seriously can't walk! Ask Zeke or Troy! I'm really not supposed to walk." He raised an eyebrow. "Come on Chad. It's only four doors down!" He picked up her things.

"I'll carry your books, but I'm not walking through the halls with you on my back."

"Why not?" I asked, butting into the conversation. "I did it." Gabriella nodded and hopped in my direction. She grabbed onto my arm and jerked her head in my direction.

"Yeah; Troy did it." Chad looked at me, scratching his head, and then looked back at Gabriella.

"But he always does that. All the kids pretty much think of you as an accessory on Troy's back anyway. But if they see me doing it, people are going to think I'm a wienie." Gabriella and I exchanged wordless glances as we started at Chad. I don't know who Chad thinks he's kidding at school; he's a total wienie and everyone knows it.

"A wienie?" she asked incredulously. "You're going to abandon your poor disabled female friend here in a classroom just so people – people you don't actually know – won't think you're a wienie?" He nodded and she rolled her eyes, letting out a frustrated sound. I sighed, turning my back to her.

"Hop on," I sighed.

"No," she insisted. "You have to go the other direction. Chad's going to the same classroom. Make him take me. He listens to you; just order him to take me or something." I looked at Chad who was already halfway out the door with her books. Or not.

"Come on," I insisted. "Chad won't carry you. Jason and Zeke and I will. Chad's got this macho thing going on today." She sighed and wrapped her arms around my shoulders and I grabbed her legs. "Did I tell you what happened this morning? Chad was trying to add more ego to himself." he asked, heading down the hallway.

"Nope," she said. "I have not heard this story." I chuckled softly.

"He came to my house this morning, just like everyday. But he walks into the kitchen while I'm grabbing my bottle for practice, and he goes, 'Do you really have to drink Gatorade? Can't you drink water like a normal guy? You're such a girl.' And I was like, 'You were drinking the purple one yesterday. Doesn't that mean that you're a girl too?' And then he starts ranting on about how he just bought extra large sized condoms yesterday, totally oblivious to the fact that my mother was eating breakfast in the dining room."

"Wait," she said, "The dining room that is connected to the kitchen?" I nodded.

"We've only got one." She busted out laughing.

"Oh, now that is what I call funny." Her laughter was rather contagious and I started chuckling at her. "How did your mom respond to finding out about Chad's high sexual activeness?" I snorted.

"Not well. About as well as she responded to Fondue Night."

"Ouch," she giggled. "That was pretty scary. I really don't understand why she got all bent out of shape. I mean, yes, we covered the living room in cheese. But it's not like we did it on purpose. We weren't running about with big vats and sprinkling it all over the furniture."

I snorted, "I don't think that it was the cheese covered furniture that really freaked her out at first. I mean, yeah she was pissed that we soaked the couch, but I think she was afraid of what she was walking in on." Gabriella tugged on my earlobe with her fingertips.

"We weren't doing anything. We just fell asleep." I chuckled. My mother had been furious when she came home late to find her living room couch, loveseat, and coffee table, covered with cheese. And she had been shocked to find Gabriella and I cuddled on the loveseat with a serious lack of proper clothing.

But there was a completely reasonable explanation for everything. Trust me. I couldn't even make up something like this if I tried.

You see, when the fondue pot exploded, Chad and Jason and Zeke had been hiding behind the couch. They had heard the rumbling and everything and ran away, whereas Gabriella and I had been trying to shut it off. And we ended up getting soaked in very hot melted cheese. But, unfortunately, Gabriella's mom wasn't home from her business conference yet and Gabriella had forgotten her key, and so she had to wear the clothes that she had left at my house. Now, this wouldn't have been a problem if she hadn't left the clothes there two years ago; everything was insanely small and tight on her. And me, well…I sort of never put my shirt on. It was my house! I was allowed to be shirtless if I wanted!

So there we were, really tired and in serious pain because of our cheese-burned skin. And so, we collapsed on top of each other, watching as our friends slept peacefully. We had considered cleaning up, really we had. But we were just too exhausted. And so…we fell asleep. Only to be woken up, what seemed like, moments later by the scream of my mother. We shot up, very disoriented. She started shrieking and what-not.

In the end, Gabriella and I received a stern lecture and we were forced to clean up the room. All by ourselves. I mean, weren't Chad and Zeke and Jason there, too? Right after that, of course, we changed into proper apparel. Needless to say, we were never allowed to have Fondue Night again. At least, not indoors.

Oh, right. The story…

I dropped Gabriella off at her classroom, and then headed back towards mine. About halfway there, Briton slammed into me. Very mature. He sneered at me as I rubbed my shoulder. I really hate him. I mean, I really hate him. One of those I'd-Rather-Gouge-Out-My-Eyes-Than-Stand-Here-And-Talk-To-You hates. It runs deep. Really deep.

"How's Montez?" he asked, giving my shoulder another shove. It came off as one of those friendly shoves to the teachers passing by, but he was just being a bastard. I glared at him.

"She's fine," I snapped.

"Yes she is."

"Fuck off," I snapped. He smirked.

"I see I've hit a nerve. Maybe it's because," he shrugged his shoulders, "you wanted to take her?"

I scoffed, "No, I didn't want to take her. I just think she'd be better off taking a lit stick of dynamite than you. It would be safer, and it would be a hell of a lot better conversation." He glared at me.

"She doesn't need you to protect her," he said, stepping closer to me. "She's a big girl now. I don't know if you've noticed or not, but she is of the female gender." He crossed his arms. "I know I've noticed." Disgusting perverted moron staring at Gabriella…

"Leave her alone," I growled, but he just grinned again.

"Something weird is going on between you two. I don't know exactly what it is yet, but as I figure it you, you'd better watch out." He took another step. "I know that keeping her in a glass case where she can't be touched is not good for her. When you four aren't around to protect her in the real world, she's going to get her heart broken. Let her experience it now when someone is still around to pick up the pieces. Or at least, let her go on a freaking date." I glared at him.

"Have you been smoking something lately?" I asked. "Because you'd have to be smoking something if you seriously think that Gabriella would ever consider going on a date with you." He shook his head, sneering a little bit. Have I mentioned that I hate him?

"Not so," he replied. "Girls have a thing for bad boys, especially girls that are rookies." His arrogant tone was seriously pissing me off. And then he swaggered off before I could jump him. I exhaled slowly, trying to restrain myself from running after him.

Things have never been good between Briton Walker and me. For some reason, we've always clashed. Be it the fact that he refuses to quit making perverted remarks about my girl friend (note the use of two separate words) or the fact that he's just a massive jerk with a super ego problem, we hate each other.

And so help me God, if he ever went near Gabriella again…

-x-

Well, I think that's enough from Troy for now. As we can all see, he's got quite the temper. Also, I would like to point out that the way her refers to people, like Briton for example, are strictly his views, just like about how I express only my views about someone when I write. They're not necessarily the most accurate impressions of people. It's just how we see them. Like, I'm sure that deep down, very, very, very deep down, some of the cheerleaders are decent people. Anyway, let's move back to my point of view. We'll probably hear more from Troy later anyway.

-My (Gabriella's) Take-

When I came out of health with Chad and Jason, we were all slightly nauseous.

"Birth canal video…" Jason moaned. "Not pretty…" I was flushed. I didn't need to be talking about this with two guys. A noise came from the back of Chad's throat.

"Is Mrs. Daniels insane? I'm going to be sick! And right before lunch, too." Jason started talking about deep-fried ice cream. And no, I don't know the reason. But while they were busy talking, someone grabbed my arm and pulled me away from Chad and Jason and into a small, empty, dead-end hallway. You know what I mean. It was one of those really tiny hallways with ten lockers on it where the lights never work and it's always cold.

"Hey," I yelped, pulling my arm away. I was seriously considering kneeing whoever had grabbed me where the sun doesn't shine. My ankle was already hurting; I didn't need to dislocate my shoulder, too. Looking up, I found myself face to face with Briton. Just the person I really had no desire to see at all. How convenient. "Ugh…" I moaned, moving to leave. But he grabbed my arm again, a little gentler.

"Wait, wait, wait," he pleaded, pulling me back to him. I glared at him, struggling to pull my arm away. He's a lot stronger than me so it posed a challenge.

"Get off me!" I snapped, slapping at his hand with my free limb. "What do you want?" I demanded. I regretted it almost instantly. Briton could easily overpower me. I could either listen willingly, or he could press me up against the lockers.

"Please, wait," he said quietly. I scowled at him, trying to cover my shock; he wasn't yelling or saying anything crude, which must have been hard because I'm pretty sure that three quarters of the words in his brain were crude. And Briton doesn't speak in hushed tones, or in quiet voices. You can always hear what he's saying, whether you're interested or not. It's his nature to be over-the-top loud. So what was he up to? When he looked back at me sadly, I stopped struggling for the moment, desperately trying to figure out why he wasn't yelling. He was acting normal and it was scaring the hell out of me.

"I'm going to be late for class," I pleaded, hoping to escape before he came to his senses and starting getting loud. "Let me go." His grip on my arm loosened.

"I'm sorry about the list," he said softly. I froze. Was Briton Walker, the school's badass, actually apologizing to me? No way. Maybe… No, no way.

I looked at him suspiciously, "What do you want?" He smiled softly.

"Seriously, I'm really sorry about the list. I only made it so that…" He stopped.

"What?" I prodded, feeling as though I was treading on thin ice. He finally let go of my arm, his arms falling down to his sides. I'd never noticed how truly muscular they were. Anyway…

"I want to take you to the dance." I raised an eyebrow at him. Had I heard correctly? I couldn't have.

A) Why would a senior, the 'cutest' (pardon me while I vomit) senior quarterback, want to take me, a nerdy (and proud), junior, Untouchable to the dance? It's not even like it was prom. It was just some random, stupid dance that the Dance Committee had come up with.

And

B) What does that have to do with making the list or dragging me away from my friends and down into a random, deserted hallway, which was actually sort of spooky?

"What are you talking about?" I demanded. He looked down. "First of all, why do you want to take me to the dance? I mean, really, the dance is stupid. And face it; I'm way too classy for you." I waited for some sort of reaction, but when I didn't get one, I blazed on. "And what does the dance have to do with the list?" I wanted to know why he made the list. What had driven him even closer to insanity (if that was possible)? He stuffed his hands into his pockets and shrugged slightly.

"Well…uh…" I rolled my eyes.

"Spit it out," I ordered fairly gently. I'd decided to go a little easy on him; he was, obviously, not well in the head today.

"The fewer guys that ask you out, the less competition I have." My eyes widened. Alright; strike that. We are going back to being mean.

"Are you kidding me?" I demanded. "You made a stupid list, telling everyone in school to stay away from me, just so you would have a better shot with me because you're too much of a pansy to just put yourself out there?" He nodded, looking down at the floor. "You're such an ass," I screamed, turning on my heel. He appeared in front of me.

"Come on," he said softly. "Honestly, can you blame me? It's hard enough getting you alone without your boys jumping down my throat. The last thing that would be helpful is ever other guy in the school jumping me, too." I glared at him, crossing my arms over my chest.

"It's not like guys throw themselves at me all the time," I retorted. "If I didn't hate you so much, I would say you would have had a chance. But I hate you, so you wouldn't have had one anyway." He cocked his head, looking into my eyes. The intense green stare made me uncomfortable.

"I really like you," he murmured, stepping closer to me. I wanted to step back, away from him, but for some reason I couldn't. "And I think, with a little time of course, that you might really like me too. I'm really not all that bad. If you give me a chance…" As intense as his gaze was, it was captivating too. And I was determined not to break it. He brought his face closer to mine and I panicked.

It wasn't an, 'Oh my God, this is the moment I've been waiting for' panic though. It was an 'Oh my God, someone save me. I don't want his sick face anywhere near mine,' panic. But for some reason, I couldn't get my body to move. I don't know if it was because it would have resulted in a hopping motion because of my ankle or what, but I wasn't moving. Briton hooked a finger under my chin and tilted my head upwards, lowering his mouth towards mine.

Is that really normal? Do people who rag on you all the time just pull you into deserted sections of the hallway and try to make out with you when you're disabled and incapable of getting away on your own? Because it doesn't seem normal.

Just before our lips touched, someone called my name.

"Ella." There was a pause. "Gabriella, what the hell are you doing?" I whirled around and saw Chad with his arms crossed, eyeing Briton up and down. I stumbled away from Briton, glancing back at him fearfully. That had been a scary experience. Tripping towards Chad in an attempt to keep the weight off my bad foot, I grabbed his arm to steady myself.

"Just get me out of here," I pleaded, gripping his arm. He looked at me funny and I whimpered. "Please? I'll love you forever." He rolled his eyes, throwing me over his shoulder. "Hey," I cried, "Chad, this isn't funny." He started walking and I cast one last glance back at Briton. He was leaning against the wall with his hands tucked deep into his jean pockets, strands of his hair falling into his eyes.

"It wasn't meant to be funny," Chad chuckled. Scowling, I pulled at his hair. "Don't mess with the hair, Ella. I'm not afraid to hurt you." I giggled, watching students stare at me as we passed. They should have been used to seeing things like me being carried over someone's shoulder at that point. Apparently, the students at East High don't adjust quickly.

"Cafeteria?" he asked, pausing at the school's main intersection.

"No, bring me to my locker." He sighed, heading down the hallway. "Thank you, Chady-kins," I cooed.

"Don't push it," he warned, glancing up at me. "I'm already carrying you. I don't want to listen to you being all girly the entire time." I smiled as he stopped in front of my locker.

"That's a great look for you, Brie. Just your ass dangling over Chad's shoulder," Troy's voice cut in sarcastically. Chad put me down and pushed up his sleeves. I glared at Troy, moving to my locker.

"Thanks," I snapped, spinning in my locker combination. "That isn't a good look for you; take off the pig mask."

He smirked, "Nice comeback."

"Shut up," I muttered, swinging my locker open. I grabbed my English notebook and my science binder before casting a weary glance at Troy. "Is there any chance that your dad would be in the teacher's lounge right now?" He rolled his eyes, tucking his own books under his arm. He reached into my locker and grabbed my lunch.

"I'll be a little late to lunch. Save me a seat?" As if he had to ask. I smiled, hopping around.

"Thank you," I breathed, slamming my locker shut. "You're awesome, you know that?" He wiggled his eyebrows.

"I'm more than awesome," he gloated. Chad coughed 'loser' and Troy shoved his arm. "Shut up, man." He turned around in search of the teacher's lounge, his father, and a microwave. Chad picked me up again, this time holding me in front of his body, one arm behind my knees and the other under my arms.

Entering a crowded hallway, he frowned slightly. "Why didn't they just give you crutches? Wouldn't that have been a lot easier than having Troy and I carry you around all day? Or a wheelchair?" I shook my head.

"Don't you remember what happened when Jason broke his leg and they gave him a wheelchair?" Chad frowned in confusion. I swear, sometimes I think the roots from his hair have grown into his skull and are feeding off the nutrients in his brain.

"Jason broke his leg?" I rolled my eyes.

"Yes. Two years ago, you guys were racing up the tree in my backyard and the branch Jason was on snapped and he fell. His leg broke and they gave him a wheelchair. And then you decided that it would be a good idea to run him through the hallways like it was a 'mini-car on a mini-highway.' Principal Matsui wasn't too happy, if I remember correctly." He burst into the cafeteria, laughing deeply.

"Oh, yeah. I remember that. We almost hit him when we ran by his office." I giggled a little and he stopped at our table. "We should climb trees more often," he chuckled, dropping me to the floor. I kicked his calf gently before sinking down into a seat. Zeke was looking at me with a raised eyebrow, half of my turkey sandwich stuffed in his mouth. Jason was giving me the same look, the straw from his drink clenched between his teeth. Chad dropped into the seat between Zeke and I, leaving the one between Jason and I empty; obviously, that was Troy's seat.

"That's just what Jason needs; to get dropped from heights more often," I drawled sarcastically as the corners of my mouth turned up. Chad grinned at me, getting up to go buy his lunch. "Bring me a fork!" I shouted after him. He waved a hand in the air. Turning back to the table, I watched Zeke shake up a bottle of…something green.

"What is that?" I asked, not bothering to mask the disgust in my voice. "And why is it green?" Zeke glanced at me, concentrating on shaking the drink.

"It's some sort of vegetable thing my mom made. You know, like V8, only not red." I nodded and wrinkled my nose, turning my attention to Jason. "Would you drink that?"

He shook his head, "I don't think it looks good either." Staring at his milk carton, he mumbled, "Drinks shouldn't be green." I nodded, looking down at my English notebook. Suddenly, a steaming plastic container was slammed down in front of me and a white plastic fork was stabbed into the meatloaf. I jumped, yelping.

"Thank you, Troy and Chad," I said sarcastically. Troy fell into the chair next to me and Chad did the same on my other side. Chad placed his lunch tray on the table, poking at something smothered in gravy with his bright red straw.

"Welcome," they muttered simultaneously. I rolled my eyes, removing the fork from the meat.

"Now that we're all here," Chad said suddenly, pushing his tray to the center of the table, "I think there's something you all need to know." I ignored him, taking a bite of the meatloaf. I sighed contently. Damn, Zeke's mom was good at making meatloaf.

"Today, right after health and right before lunch, I witnessed something horrific and disturbing." My head snapped up and I glanced around the table. Zeke and Jason were more concerned with their food, but Troy appeared to be listening as he popped the top of his Coke.

"Hey," I said louder than necessary, "There are potatoes in here." My weak attempt at distracting Chad with food was futile, as he shot me a You're-Not-Getting-Away-With-This look. I looked down at the container, focusing my eyes on the lone potato in the corner, wishing that for once in his life, Briton would not make my life hell.

"I saw our own Gabriella Montez kissing Briton Walker in the tiny hallway." I heard a sputtering noise and felt something wet on my arm. Looking up, I discovered that Troy had spit out his Coke and was staring at me, as were Zeke and Jason and Chad.

-x-

At this point, Chad wanted me to include everyone's thoughts/reactions to his announcement.

Zeke: Say what? She didn't… They didn't… Say what? (Hard of hearing, no?)

Jason: Health video… That was some nasty stuff. (Completely irrelevant.)

Troy: What the fuck was she thinking? I'm going to kill him. (Briton)

Me: Troy's going to kill him… (Briton)

Chad: Do the lunch ladies really expect me to eat this? (He never did have a long attention span.)

He thought that that would be worth including. Why, I'm not sure. But he asked nicely, so I figured, why not?

Anyway:

-x-

"You did what?" Troy growled, wiping the soda away from his mouth. I glanced around the table, desperate for a kind look, but I didn't find one. I should have known better. So much for my 'I'm Not A Backstabber' argument from earlier.

"You kissed him?" Zeke asked in disbelief, placing the bottle of green liquid on the table. "You kissed Briton Walker, the Briton Walker? As in, the guy that we all hate, you included?"

"Yes, that Briton Walker," Chad said in his 'angry' voice. Stupid macho Chad trying to be all stupid macho so he can impress our stupid overreacting friends. "I saw it." Jason remained silent, just staring at me.

"I can't believe this," Troy snapped, glaring at his Coke can. "This is unbelievable. What the fuck were you thinking?" he demanded, turning his glare to me.

"I didn't really kiss him," I squeaked. "He dragged me into the hallway and started talking, but I couldn't leave because of my ankle. So I was stuck there and then he tried to kiss me and Chad came and interrupted him. So, we really didn't kiss. And even if we had, he would have been the one doing the kissing, not me." I thought that the simple explanation would have been enough.

I thought wrong.

Troy looked murderous. "I'll kill him," he growled. "I'll strangle him with my bare hands."

"Whoa," I said, holding up my hands, "There should be no murdering." I looked around the table. "It was no big deal; now will you four just calm down? It's not like we're dating, and it's not like we're ever going to, so it would be nice if you let him live and didn't go do jail on murder charges."

"That could be considered sexual harassment!" Troy argued. "He's already eighteen. You're still a minor." I rolled my eyes and stole a sip of Troy's Coke. After swallowing, I laid my hands flat on the table.

"Listen to me, alright? I was the one he tried to kiss. He wasn't trying to get it on with Jason or Zeke; it was me. Now, out of the five of us, I think I have to most right to be pissed off. And I am. He's a jerk and I hate him. But I'm just going to let it go. I'm not going to press charges against him and try to get him arrested for sexual harassment during his last year of high school for trying to kiss me. Trying. Trying. Don't you think that that would be a little bitchy?" The table was silent for a brief moment.

"I don't like him," Troy growled simply, looking at the sandwich that had been in his hand, which was squished and flat.

"News flash," I joked. "Neither do I." He chuckled softly, tossing the flattened mess on the table and stealing the meatloaf off my fork. "Hey," I whined, watching it disappear into his mouth. Actually, he stuck out his tongue so I got to see it once more. (Thank you, Troy, I really appreciated that.)

For the rest of lunch, we continued bashing Briton, much to Troy's obvious delight. I however, would have preferred a change of subject. I didn't really want to think about him anymore. Troy also continued on to eat half of Zeke's mother's meatloaf (a.k.a. my lunch).

The rest of the day was fairly uneventful. I did get sent out of art because Chad got paint in my hair. Well, it might have had something to do with the pencil I threw at him, but I'm not sure. I had gotten swamped with homework, so after Troy carried me up to my room, I spent the rest of my night there, trying to write a rough draft of an essay, completely five Spanish worksheets, two pages of math work, and read a chapter in my history textbook.

For several hours, I could hear the guys playing basketball in Troy's backyard, not able to understand how they weren't swamped with homework. Especially Troy; he had to do the essay, the worksheets, and the chapter reading. I found myself daydreaming about going out and playing with them, and I even tried to stand. Bad idea. I fell to the ground instantly, grabbing my ankle. But other than that, the day was uneventful.

I fell asleep as soon as I climbed under the covers, knocking my plate of half-eaten pizza onto the floor. Luckily, there was no stain. My mom's stain-phobic. I swear she would marry Resolve – or more preferably Mr. Clean – if she could.

However, something did happen that night. I had the weirdest dream, and I woke up, panting and sweating. I'd dreamed that Briton actually had actually gotten a chance, and that he'd kissed me.

Now that's a nightmare if I've ever heard one.

-x-

Author's Note: I had planned on updating this chapter much sooner, but school decided that it would kick my ass for a little while so it took longer than planned. I've been sick since Friday so I got a little bit of writing done while I was home. Hopefully, there won't be as large a delay in the update of the next chapter as there was for this one. I would absolutely love feedback about characters. I'm specifically excited to see how everyone feels about Briton's character. As always, feel free to leave questions. I'll try to answer you as best as I can.