Hi everyone! Yes, it is an update a day after the last one! Makes you nostalgic, doesn't it? :) Yeah, well don't get spoiled (again). Just read, review, and worship me a little bit. That's all I ask.

Oh, and that you use the poll on my profile to vote for the title for Missing You. That too.

Anonymous Review:

Ipod: Thanks! This one is a little longer. And MCBC stands for Meg Cabot Book Club, I believe. It's the Meg Cabot website, and it has a fanfiction section, where I've also been posting TGIL. There are some other good stories there, too. As for the Kissing Rob Contest... I searched the website for you (and Google, actually), and I finally found a link to it... Which says that it was "moved" and once clicked on, takes you to a failed screen. Sorry. I tried. :(

I do not like the mall.

Never have, probably never will, and I've always known that – but today it was really hammered home, way more than I needed.

I woke up in the morning with a smile on my face and a very pleasant dream involving a certain girl on my mind. By the time I got downstairs, twenty minutes later, I was scowling, a less pleasant reality with the same girl on my mind.

I grunted in response to my mom's happy "Good morning!" and plopped down into a seat with ferocity, then began eating without another word, Mom watching me with raised eyebrows.

Things continued like that for about ten more minutes, until I'd made my way through all the easily reachable food and was left with nothing to stuff my face with. Luckily, I'm a resourceful guy. I went for the dishes.

It was only when I was in the middle of rinsing my plate, when my mom, who had followed me, said, "You know, Rob, I've noticed that lately you only do the dishes when you don't want to talk to me. About Jess."

Really?

I looked at Mom, and she nodded, silently confirming.

Really.

I looked back at the plate, at my mom, at the plate again… Then I very deliberately turned my back on her and began washing it again. Just because she'd figured out what plate-washing meant, didn't mean I couldn't keep right on doing it. It was a very convenient way to avoid conversation, almost as good as eating.

Great. At this rate, I was going to turn into maid or a pig, all because of love. And this is what they get all worked up about?

…All because of her love, that is. Not mine. Because I'm not in love with her.

Okay.

"Rob," my mom said, "I think we need to talk."

I didn't look at her as I began to dry off my plate, and I wouldn't have, either, but her next words shocked me enough to make me look up, wide-eyed.

"About Gary."

What followed was… incredibly, incredibly, incredibly awful. I really don't want to talk about it. Let's just say that we 'discussed' (Mom's word, not mine. I would have chosen 'I was forced to listen to mom deeply examine my feelings about') Gary for a hour or so, and in the process, also 'discussed' a bunch of other topics, from my job to my dad to my mom's job and even Jess a little bit (I was forced to tell her about Jess's neighbor, but luckily not the love thing). It was really an amazing conversation, I guess, unless you're me and really wish that your mom had never told you her boyfriend made her feel young again.

But whatever.

Basically, our 'discussion' ended with me being very confused, guilty, and supportive, and my mom – who I think might just be an evil mastermind. I mean, she's so good, she could take down Krantz without breaking a sweat, and that's saying something – giving me a hug and getting me to drop her off for work. Of course, then when I picked her up this afternoon, she also managed to convince me to come get fitted for a tux for my uncle's wedding with her; something else I didn't want to do with her.

I mean, I love her, but come on – she's my mom. The only reason I didn't manage to get out of it was because the tux thing really was necessary. But I tried, trust me.

Only, I was wishing I had tried harder when I noticed a certain person at the mall – yes, the mall. I do not like the mall – walking towards us.

Well, actually, two people. One of whom I fondly refer to as The Bitch. The other… I guess she's technically my girlfriend now.

I tried to steer my mom away to the left, and a display of some weird glittery things (I think they were bracelets), but it was too late. She'd already seen Jess.

"Jessica!" Mom called happily, and I saw Jess turn – yes, I had recognized her by the back of her head. I've had plenty of opportunity to study it, what with detention and following her around on her psychic gift quest things. I'm also not too shabby at a bird's-eye view, because I'm so much taller.

The moment Jess saw us, her face fell, and I couldn't help but flinch a little. Because, well… ouch.

"Hi, you guys," Jess said in a fake-chipper voice. "Wow. Fancy meeting you here."

She kept on giving me some very odd looks. I'm pretty sure it was because I was at the mall.

I do not like the mall.

I was so busy thinking this that my warning bells didn't go off until too late, and my mom was already talking: "Isn't this funny? I've been trying to convince Rob to let me take him to get measured for a tux for my brother's wedding since… well, forever, it seems like. And today, when he picked me up after work, he finally agreed. So here we are. And here you are! Isn't that funny?"

I would like to note several things here. Firstly, my mother had apparently gone crazy lately. Why else would she be doing this to me? I'd always been a good son…

I decided to blame Gary.

Secondly: I was officially dead. Why? Well, you see, I'd been planning on breaking up with Jess last night, and inviting her to my uncle's wedding would be kind of counter-productive to that particular goal. Not to mention, it wasn't like her parents would ever let her go out with someone on Christmas Eve anyway. Especially if she was lying – she couldn't very well use the homework excuse on Christmas Eve, after all.

But Jess wouldn't think of it like that, I knew. She would just be mad that I hadn't invited her. Especially what with me trying to break up with her last night. It's not like I've even ever admitted that we're dating. Which, I think I have good reason, both legal and personal, not to; after all –

Okay. My point is: I knew she would be mad.

And I was right, of course. Jess kind of chuckled along with my mom, saying, "It sure is." Then, with a brief (but very, very nasty) glare for me, she told Mom, "I thought Earl was already married."

"Oh, it's not Earl," Mom told her. "It's my little brother Randy. HE and his fiancée are tying the knot on Christmas Eve. Have you ever heard of anything so romantic?"

Oh, fuck.

Thanks, Mom. Thank you so much for that.

I was very careful to look at the floor, and not at Jess, as she replied with a very cold smile, "How nice."

"Oh, but Jess!" Mom actually reached out and grabbed Jess's hands, the smile dropping from her face, and for a second I was filled with fear that she might start whipping out my baby photos or something. She was really acting weird today.

Luckily, it was nothing as awful as baby photos. Mom just said, "Rob told me what happened to you two on your way back home last night. I'm so sorry! It must have been awful. I feel so terrible for the boy's parents…"

A quick glance up from the floor told me that Jess's icy smile was melting a little. "Yes," she agreed, "It was pretty bad."

"If there's anything I can do," Mom offered, "I mean, I can't imagine how I could help, but if you think those poor people could use some home cooking, or something, let me know. I do make a decent casserole…"

"Sure thing, Mrs. Wilkins," Jess smiled at her. "I'll let you know. And thanks again for dinner last night."

"Oh, honey, it was nothing," Mom said modestly, finally letting go of Jess's hand. "I'm just so glad you could share it with us."

I thought that maybe we'd be lucky, and that would be it; in fact I was just about to suggest that we go do that tux thing now, when disaster struck. Again.

"See, I told you that was Jessica," A loud voice said, accompanied by one woman dragging Jess's mom over to us. I guessed that this was the famous Great-aunt Rose, by Jess's horrified expression, and the way The Bitch kept casting nervous glances between the two of us. "Who is your little friend, Jessica? Aren't you going to introduce us?"

I blinked at that, looking down at Great-aunt Rose from my two-foot height advantage, but I didn't say a word. Something instinctive told me not to even try.

Jess's mom put down her bags with a heavy sigh, and smiled at my mom. "Oh, Mary. It's you. How are you?"

"Hi, Mrs. Mastriani. How are you today?" Mom smiled, and The Bitch and I exchanged quick glances of dread. We might hate each-other, but we knew when to put aside our differences and work together when facing an even greater enemy. Like Skip, or Mom and Mrs. Mastriani in the same room as Jess and I.

I wanted her to know about me, yeah, but that didn't mean I wanted to be there when she found out. And I definitely didn't want my mother there. I'm not crazy.

"Fair to middling," Mrs. Mastriani looked somewhat pointedly at Great-aunt Rose, who was too busy looking me up (and up. And up. Yeah, call me little) and down to notice. "Hello girls. Any luck with the sales?"

"I got a cashmere sweater at Benneton," The Bitch said gleefully, holding a bag up triumphantly, "for only fifteen dollars."

"It's chartreuse," Jess told her, and I was pleased to see her face fall.

Hey, I call her The Bitch. I really don't like her.

Mrs. Mastriani hesitated before saying, "I'm sure it's very flattering."

Great-aunt Rose interrupted the conversation to glare at me, and demand in a very grating voice, "And you are?"

I wiped my hand on my pants – don't ask me why, I just got the feeling that Great-aunt Rose would appreciate it – and held it out (and down) to her. "Rob Wilkins, ma'am. Very nice to meet you." Yeah, right.

She lifted her nose at me snootily, and I pulled my hand back. Well, fine then.

"And what," she demanded again, even louder this time, "are your intentions toward my niece?"

Well, actually…

Jess looked even more horrified and embarrassed, my mom looked surprised, Jess's mom looked confused, and The Bitch – really deserving her title here – looked like she was about to burst out laughing. So much for the 'we know when to band together against the bigger enemy' thing, I guess.

Once again, I was forced to thank God (and my mom) for giving me my ability to have a perfectly blank face and calm voice, even in the weirdest situations. Because right now definitely was one.

"I have no intentions toward her at all, ma'am," I said politely, only half-lying. I really don't have intentions… or at least ones that I know. But I couldn't say that: "I'm sorry, ma'am, but I don't know what my intentions toward your niece are; I'm a little confused about it. I do know that I enjoy making out with her, taunting federal officials with her, and occasionally getting declarations of love from her, even if I'm not willing say it back… Does that help?"

She would be beating me about the head (or as close as she could reach) with her suspiciously heavy-looking purse before I got halfway through.

Unfortunately, despite my very polite answer, Jess's Great-aunt's question made Mrs. Mastriani examine me closer, frowning. "Wait a minute," she said, "I know you from somewhere, don't I?"

Why yes, you do. We spent an hour together waiting for Jess to get out of questioning at the police station a few months ago, at about two in the morning. It was very pleasant, sitting on those hard benches and having you occasionally look at me like I was a serial killer about to whip out a knife at any moment. Maybe we could do it again sometime?

Jess obviously knew what her mom was thinking of too, because her eyes got really wide and she glanced around nervously, grabbing her mom's arm and trying to pull her away. "I'm sure you've just seen him around, Mom." Jess looked around wildly, before her eyes lit up and she blurted out, "Hey, look, Santa's back! Don't you want to take my picture sitting on his lap?"

This successfully distracted her mom, along with everyone else, who stared at Jess as if she was insane. Which, she could be. It's possible… Probable.

"Not exactly," Jess's mom said in response to her question, raising her eyebrows, "Considering you're no longer five years old."

Then The Bitch actually helped Jess out, instead of just laughing at her. It was very shocking. She said, "Aw, come on, Mrs. M. It would be so funny. My parents would crack up if they saw a picture of me and Jess on Santa's lap. And to get her back, I'll make Jess come to temple and sit on Hanukkah Harry's lap next week. Come on."

Mrs. Mastriani looked at my mom helplessly, but Mom was just laughing and cheering them on. "Oh, go on," she said, "It'll be a hoot."

So Jess, The Bitch, and her mom did. Then Jess came back to get the bags Mrs. Mastriani had been carrying earlier, and said goodbye to my mom. While she was doing so, Great-aunt Rose leaned up and hissed menacingly at me, "Watch yourself, young man. I've seen your type before, and I'm warning you: Don't you even think about laying a finger on my niece. Not if you know what's good for you."

A charming woman. Really.

I didn't even bother looking at her, though, because I was a little too busy glaring at Jess. She was too busy ignoring me and talking to my mom to glare back properly, although she did manage to give both me and her Great-aunt each a two-second glare, before she said a last goodbye and walked off to join everyone else in the line, taking Great-aunt Rose with her.

What's that – why was I glaring?

Well, you know how earlier, I said I wasn't crazy? I guess that was a lie, because I was really hoping that Jess would introduce me to her mom. It wasn't like Mrs. Mastriani would start yelling or anything, not with my mom, The Bitch, and the Great-aunt there. Granted, Great-aunt Rose herself might yell, but not Mrs. Mastriani.

But no. Jess was more willing to be laughed at by a large group of her classmates – who were right then passing by and seeing her in the line with all the little kids – than to introduce her mom to me.

I just kind of stood there, for a few seconds after Jess walked off, staring after her, before I noticed my mom watching me with a look of dawning comprehension on her face. She glanced back at Jess, then at me, then sighed.

"Oh. Oh. Rob…" Mom trailed off, looking worried.

"It's nothing," I tried to tell her, but she's not stupid, after all. She just looked at me, and shook her head.

"It'll work out, honey," Mom told me, before deciding that now would be the perfect time to get my tux fitted – in other words, this was getting awkward and we both needed a distraction.

I stood through the annoying measuring and pinning and God knows what else, and escaped as soon as I could, leaving the store to wait outside for Mom to finish paying and figuring out when to pick it up.

Jess and The Bitch had just reached the beginning of the line, (it was that long) and were just moving up to pose on Santa's lap when I approached the photographer, pulling out my wallet. Neither of them could see me, luckily, and neither could Jess's mom or her Great-aunt, because the camera was set up behind this weird pile of fake snow that pretty much hid the guy taking photos, I guess so he didn't scare kids or something.

"Hey," I said, catching the guy's attention. "I'll give you ten bucks if you give me an extra picture of that girl." I pointed at Jess, and held out a ten-dollar bill.

The photographer, a pimply guy who couldn't have graduated from Ernie Pyle yet, barely took two seconds to agree, grabbing the bill from my hands. "OK."

He took two photos, and handed the first one to me, and I headed out from around the pile of fake snow just in time to meet my mom coming out of the shop.

"Oh, there you are, Rob," she said, "I lost sight of you."

I just shrugged, and carefully folded and slid the photo in my hand into my pocket before she could see it. Then we headed out of there, towards the parking lot.

I stuck a hand in my pocket and felt the photo of Jess and we walked, knowing that when we got home I wasn't going to throw it away – hell, I'd probably just sit there and stare at it for half an hour. At least it was better than her yearbook photo.

Yeah. I'm definitely crazy.

And I do not like the mall.