Ialiceiamagoddess – Thanks!

gossipghurl – Working on it ;)

cupcakemania22 – Thanks! Girls are so much easier to write. I mean, that's probably because I'm a girl, lol. I'm trying to write from the guys' view more often. Even one of my personal works is completely in the guys' POV, and it's definitely challenging!

Guest – I honestly thought about that, I did. I've already written all the chapters, and they're all in a single POV. I did do alternating POVs within the chapter in one of my Darkest Powers fanfic, but I started to confuse myself. Lol!

minion – Many thanks!

butterballs – I know who you are….

The Significance Series belongs to Shelly Crane.

4: Friend Requests

Katie

"You did what?" I crowed. Demi flopped onto her bed, kicking off her shoes. One of them nearly hit me as I turned to face her from my desk chair. I had a ridiculous amount of homework for my chemistry class that I needed to finish. I hadn't been able to focus as easily as usual. I figured it was probably because I had a handsome guy stuck on my mind. I'd just been able to get rid of him, too, when Demi walked in and announced that she had seen Jack in the quad and had proceeded to tell him how to find me on Facebook.

"I friended him on Facebook. He should've asked you to be his friend by now. I accepted his request on the way to class." She said nonchalantly. Demi's bed was unmade, like usual, completely opposite from my military-style bed, which I swore you could bounce a quarter off of. All of my things were neatly in place, from my books to my binders. My desk was nearly spotless, with only my laptop, a squat office lamp, and my reusable plastic tumbler with its curly purple straw. At first, Demi's hatred of keeping her side of the room clean and organized gave me heart palpitations, but eventually, I quelled the urge to clean up after her, and my whole life was more harmonious because of it. At least, I liked to pretend it was.

"Did it ever occur to you that I didn't want to keep in contact with him?" I asked. We both knew it was a total lie, but what did that matter? I'd embarrassed myself in front of him, poured his soda over him, and acted like a complete idiot. There was a reason my only real boyfriend had been Garrett Carlisle, valedictorian, genius, and super sweet but extremely awkward guy. The two of us had practically been thrown together, though sometimes I thought it was more than that, like maybe Garrett only dated me because I was the only girl in the top ten of our class. Maybe dad had been right, and I should just swear off guys all together and live as a nun.

"Nope," Demi reached into the huge plastic bowl she kept on our mini-fridge, right next to her bed. She was a sugar addict and never went far without a miniature bag of candy in her purse. She withdrew one of the good lollipops, the heart-shaped ones that they sold for Valentine's Day, and ripped off the plastic, which she dropped back into the bowl. "You'd be insane to not want to talk to him. He's hot. I asked around. His brother's in a band. I can't remember the name, but it has something to do with football."

"Just because his brother's in a band doesn't make him hot," I said indignantly.

"No," she agreed, "but two hot brothers means that the whole family's probably hot. You should see Jack's sister-in-law. She looks like a total beauty queen. You know, in one of those naturally pretty ways that makes me just hate the world?" She complained. She rolled over, eyeing the way the BE MINE on her sucker was starting to melt off. "Pretty people make me sad."

I struggled not to laugh. Demi was always making side comments about "pretty people," but she didn't seem to realize that she was one of those people. She was practically flawless. It used to make me nervous, sitting next to her. But I got over it quickly enough. Every supermodel has an average best friend. Of course, if I told her that, Demi would just roll her eyes and say that I was beautiful, I just lacked confidence in myself. It was one of the reasons I loved her. She had never made me feel bad about myself, unlike Julia. Julia was able to make someone feel bad about themselves without really meaning to.

"Stop giggling," Demi shouted, "and check your freaking Facebook page! You're such a procrastinator," she added. She laughed at her own joke, because she knew as well as I did that it wasn't true. If anyone was a victim of procrastination, it was Demi. She always told me that there was an alternate reason that we were roommates: she needed me to keep her on track, away from parties and television and sleeping and anything else she could think of to avoid schoolwork.

"Can I finish my chemistry homework first?" I asked. Demi was well aware of the fact that chemistry was my hardest subject. I'd even had a warning that it was harder than most classes, as a basic prerequisite for pre-med. Biology was no problem for me, and physics had been simple enough, but chemistry was one that I struggled to wrap my brain around. I'd barely made an A in the honors class in high school. Garrett had tutored me.

"It'll just take a second. Just get on and see if he sent you a friend request, and we can do a little snooping, and then you can go back to your chemistry. When is that due, anyway? Two weeks from now?" I made a face at her, but she was almost right, though it was closer to one week than two. And I still had my research paper to work on. I'd decided to tackle chemistry first and get that out of the way, so the paper would be a breeze.

"Fine," I snapped, caving in to her pressure. Back home, there was a house rule that we couldn't use the computer for leisure unless our homework was completed. Miranda had broken it all the time, to the point where dad started to change the passwords every now and then, just to throw her off. It used to make Miranda mad enough that she threatened to run away. I pulled my laptop closer and touched the mouse pad, waking it from its hibernation. My screensaver was a very mature shot of some flower petals. It was one of the pictures that came already preloaded onto the computer.

I opened up Facebook and signed in. Like always, Demi paid extra attention when I typed in my password, but I was extremely careful. It was a mix of letters and numbers which made sense to me, but probably not to anyone else. Dad always told me to err on the side of caution with everything, and with the way identities were being stolen off the internet nowadays, I did my best to confuse any wannabe Katie Carltons. Sure enough, the moment I was logged in, I saw that I had a new friend request. I didn't get online very often, and Jack probably would've sat on my request list for weeks before I bothered to check it.

"Jack Stanton," Demi read out loud. She reached over me and quickly clicked Accept. She scrolled up and clicked on his name, loading his profile page. Jack looked handsome in his profile picture, though I still thought that he looked better in real life. He was out by a pool, wearing navy blue swim trunks that had lighter blue swirls on them. He wasn't wearing a shirt, which Demi thought was extremely hot. In his hand, he held a glass of what looked to be lemonade. The sunglasses he'd been wearing were dangling from the fingers of his other hand. He was smirking into the camera. The photo alone was enough to make my heart do a little pitter-patter beat.

Demi pushed me aside and sat on the edge of my desk chair. She quickly started reading up on him. Jack had a substantial amount of friends – less than Demi, but more than me – and the majority of them were listed as having gone to his high school. He had college listed, and for his job it said "office grunt/mechanic at Virtuous Cars." He had only posted a few pictures; most of them were posted by other people, and he was just tagged. The majority of them were with friends, but there were several that had family members included. Demi flicked through the TV shows, movies, and bands whose pages he'd liked, and then we went over his profile wall. It seemed like he only got on sparingly. There were only a handful of names that appeared on repeat – Gil, Charlie, Aimee, Blake, Jeremy, Emily, and Madison. Emily and Madison both had the last name Stanton, so they must've been family members.

"I think we've crossed the line from just curious to being stalkers," I told her. It felt weird to learn things about him online instead of in person. Was this how people felt when they did online dating? Not that I was dating Jack or anything. My cheeks flushed just thinking about it, and I twisted my hair in front of my face, hoping that Demi wouldn't notice. She would tease me forever.

"Oh whatever," she replied. She clicked on one of the names – Gil Bauman – and started searching through his photos. She let out a low whistle. "Hot boys," she said without looking at me, "hot boys everywhere."

I snorted and rolled my eyes. "I need to do my chemistry homework. And I've still got a research paper to write." I told her. She'd pulled my laptop over my chemistry book, and was still scrolling through Gil's profile page. I nudged her in the side with my elbow. She sighed dramatically and took a hold of my laptop, lifting it over my head and plopping it down on my bed. She got comfortable among my pillows and continued to stalk Jack and all of his friends.

I tugged my chemistry book closer to me and attempted to work out the problems. It was suddenly harder to focus, though, with Demi sitting right there, getting the dirt on the guy that had managed to make me forgo some of the rules my dad had laid down for me. The click of the computer mouse seemed so loud and obnoxious. Finally, I just shoved my homework away, since I did have at least a week to work on it, and searched my carefully organized shelves to see if there was anything else I could work on. Chemistry was out, I thought as I put the binder back into its place, and my research paper could wait, especially since Demi had my laptop. Plus it shouldn't take me very long to slam it out, two hours at the most. Biology was an option. French would be a breeze; I almost felt like I was cheating because I already spoke it fluently. Psychology was always an interesting course. I'd always liked the brain, but I wasn't looking at being a neurosurgeon. Working in the trauma center, though, might be fun.

"Hey," Demi said suddenly, waving me over. "This is the girl Jack was talking to when I saw him. It's his sister-in-law, Emily." She told me. I climbed onto the bed next to her as she pulled up Emily's pictures. Demi was right, the girl certainly was pretty, and definitely in the way that made you feel insecure about yourself. Her eyes were stormy blue-gray, like I'd always wanted mine to be, instead of their odd yellow-green, like the crayon that every kid avoided using in the crayon box. Her hair was also jet black and sleek, like she never had a hair out of place. Jealousy blurred through me. "I told you she was one of those pretty people." Demi said.

I made a noise of agreement and got off the bed. Demi continued to click through the pictures. I went to her side of the room, where we had a shelving unit set up that held all of our food. The top two shelves were Demi's, since she was taller, and the next two were mine, and the bottom was used for our cases of soda and gallons of water. Like always, my shelves were heavily stocked, as if I thought that there was going to be an apocalypse sometime soon and I'd need food resources. Demi's, however, was pitiful. I'd gotten into the groove of Demi begging me for Ramen noodles when she forgot to go to the grocery store. She always repaid in bags of candy, so I didn't mind too much.

"You need to go shopping," I told her as I grabbed my large box of Goldfish. I opened it up and looked inside before grabbing a handful.

"Ooh," Demi said brightly. "That sounds like a wonderful idea. I haven't gone shopping in forever. I need some new shoes, you know. I left all my boots at home, because I couldn't fit them in my suitcase. Mom said I could pick them up at Thanksgiving, but right now all I have are sandals and my gym sneakers. And those cowboy boots I bought, but I can't wear those every day."

"I was talking about grocery shopping." I replied without turning to look at her. "All you have is a few boxes of Poptarts, some popcorn, and a couple packets of Ramen." I didn't even know why Demi had two shelves. The only time they were ever occupied was right after she went to the grocery store, and usually they were swept out pretty quickly. Demi was a snacker, and didn't really eat full meals. She had a measly meal card for the dining hall, though it didn't matter much because the only thing that they served that was good was the pizza and ice cream, according to her.

"We'll make a deal. You come clothes shopping with me, and I'll go grocery shopping." She said. We both knew that clothes shopping with Demi meant that I'd be forced to try on clothes that I would've never even thought about buying. My roommate always said that my style was nonexistent, since all I ever wore were jeans and T-shirts and my sister's old shoes.

"I think you win either way."

"A win's a win." She answered without missing a beat. She didn't even give me a chance to reply before she rolled off my bed. "Come on. Me, you, and Marcie."

"What about Julia?" I asked. There were times when Julia got on my nerves more than anybody else, but she was still a friend. She was a little naïve and spoiled and didn't realize that other people had other opinions, but I couldn't condemn her for being selfish. And even when she made me feel bad about myself without realizing it, she'd stood up for me in the past.

"It's Friday," Demi intoned, giving me a look like I should've known better. "Since she dropped that class, she'll be sleeping until noon at least, and she told me that Marc's taking her out for dinner tonight. After that, they'll find another party to crash."

She had a point there. I already had my class for this Friday. The majority of my classes were Monday through Thursday, and I had a bio lab early on Friday mornings, so after that, I was free until Monday. Demi put out her lower lip and pretended to sniffle. "Fine," I said, rolling my eyes. "I'll go with you. But I can't promise anything."

"I'm texting Marcie," she replied, grabbing her phone off the end of her bed before disappearing into our shared closet to change.

# # #

The mall was huge and ancient. White tiles were permanently stained gray, carpets were worn down, and the entire place sort of smelled like sweat mixed with the aroma of whatever was cooking in the food court. Nobody else seemed as bothered by it as me, though, so I didn't say anything. Besides, if I did, Demi would say that I was just complaining because I would rather be back at the dorms. She would've been teasing, mostly, but I still didn't want to be labeled as a complainer.

Marcie walked in like she was about to embark on an adventure. Where Demi was sarcastically sweet and Julia was unknowingly cold, Marcie was disproportionately peppy. Her every step had a bounce in it and she was always smiling like she didn't have a care in the world. Or if she did, she'd just been able to figure out how to let it go. The one time we talked about it, right after we met her, Demi said it was because she had this whole southern socialite thing going on, with the way she called everyone "dear" and "sweetheart," and her put-together appearance the screamed future soccer mom. Once, when Julia had too much to drink, she asked Marcie why she styled her hair so high. Her answer: "The higher the hair the closer to Heaven."

Sometimes, Marcie was my hero.

For Marcie and Demi, shopping was like a team sport. They had a plan of all the stores they were going to hit, and how much they could spend, and what items their closets were really lacking. I lagged behind. All of this was something that I'd never really encountered before I'd left home, and something that I still hadn't even begun to master. I still felt uncomfortable buying anything without my mother's opinion on it. She'd been the one that went with me to buy everything for my big move from home to my dorm. None of my friends from high school had asked me to go shopping with them, and when we did go out, we ended up just walking around and picking up things without ever buying them.

"I want to find some boots before I get distracted by anything else," Demi said, reaching behind her to grab a hold of my arm. I let her, and she and Marcie led the way to a favorite store of Demi's. It was the kind of place that had dimmed lights and played popular love songs to keep its female customers love-struck while they debated on whether or not their boyfriends (or girlfriends, if they swung that way) would like their new outfits.

We stepped into the store and were immediately greeted by a girl that I could've sworn was in one of my classes. I couldn't remember, though, so I pretended like I was interested in the rack of clothes next to me while she asked Demi if she was looking for anything in particular. Usually, Demi wasn't afraid to have the salespeople at her beck and call, but this time she dismissed the girl was a smile and a "We're just looking, but thanks."

We drifted to the shoe section, which was covered in displays of boots, high heels, and sandals. I let my eyes gloss over them. Usually, I wore Miranda's old shoes, since she wore a size bigger than I did. I had a collection of them back home and only brought the most comfortable ones with me to college. I'd wanted to toss most of them out, or give them to charity, but mom wanted to keep at least some of them for special occasions.

"Hey, Marcie," Demi said as she pulled a box of boots out from the shelf. "Do you remember that guy that Katie was hanging out with on Halloween?" She gave me a devious look as she did so, and I felt a flush crawl over my cheeks. Demi was just joking with me, knowing that it would make me embarrassed. She knew all about the rules my dad had laid out for me when I left, and one of them was no boys – they'll ruin your academic dedication. Demi had snorted when she saw that one. She said she came to college because she needed a degree, sure, but the pickings were better here than they were back home.

"Oh, yeah," Marcie said, sitting down on the bench next to Demi. In her hand she had a box with some sort of strappy sandals. "Aren't these cute?" She asked, showing us the contents of the box. When Demi nodded, Marcie smiled and pulled them out of the box to try them on. She didn't look at me as she asked, "What about him? I mean, he was cute and everything, but you've never been one to date, Katie."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, partially because I wanted to seem like I was teasing her, but mostly because I wondered if I came off like that. Demi wasn't supposed to tell anyone else about the rules I had to abide by.

"I just mean that you've always been the one that's more focused on your studies, that's all." She replied nonchalantly. Luckily, she wasn't making a big deal out of it. I felt bad, though. In high school, I'd had crushes that I'd wished would notice me, because I was almost certain that I could juggle my schoolwork and a boyfriend (which, in the end, I could.) But I'd never been approached by many, and Garrett was the only guy that had explicitly asked me out. Our relationship had worked out just fine, but it never really felt like we were one of those couples that you see in romantic comedies. I just didn't want to be the girl that almost no one would date.

"Am I that bad?" I asked softly. I hadn't meant to say it out loud, but now that it was, I glanced away, too embarrassed to actually meet their gazes.

"Of course not," Marcie said. "Someone would be lucky to date you. You just have high standards that not everyone's going to meet. Like, take Marc and Julia. They're like, perfect for each other. But if you were to date Marc, both of you would be miserable because you're not interested in the same things. Not a lot of guys are going to be studying as hard as you do, especially in a college where the majority of them want to party instead. Besides, you're not the type of girl that needs a guy, and that's a good thing." She smiled at me, and I relaxed a little bit. I'd just never had friends like Demi and Marcie and Julia. They wanted to go out a lot more than my high school friends did.

"Anyway," Demi jumped in, zipping up her boots. "He added her on Facebook. How perfect, right?" She said, nudging Marcie in the side.

"Oh yeah, he was cute, from what I remember. It was a little dark, though, so I couldn't see his face all that well. But he had to be a nice guy, or Katie wouldn't have given him the time of day." She said, shooting me another grin to let me know that she meant well. I smiled back, though it wasn't as big as hers. I felt better knowing that they didn't think I was a loser. They just thought I had high standards, which I could live with. It was kind of true, anyway. Garrett and I had been a good couple, mostly because our date nights could double as study sessions. Marcie was right; I wouldn't have been happy with someone like Marc, who was, some days, more oaf-like than anyone else I'd ever met.

"His entire family is smoking hot," Demi said, standing up and modeling her boots. "How do they look?" She walked about five feet and turned on her heel, putting her hands on her hips and flipping her hair away from her face. "I like them."

"They look great," Marcie said. I blinked a few times. I was still a little shocked at how scatterbrained Demi could be, and I still marveled over how Marcie and Julia managed to keep up. Old conversations were lost amidst new ones in seconds flat. "You should definitely get them."

"I don't know," Demi mused. "Katie, what do you think?" She asked.

"Um, they're nice." I replied. "Brown goes with anything." I added, so I seemed like I knew what I was talking about. My mom said that a lot when we went shopping, or when she decided to give her advice on my outfit.

Demi looked down at them and smiled. "You know, you're right. I'm getting them."

It's sort of a short chapter, and the second half is all when-girls-go-shopping chapter fluff. But you know what? I like a little fluff here and there.

Thanks for reading; leave me a review, because you know I love them! Peace (: