A/N I know I'm not exactly keeping my word on updating, but things are settling down, so I'm really going to try harder. I'll post some different ship one-shots soon to make up for my absence! :)

Anya POV

Tick…

Tick…

Tick…

All day, each clock I passed seemed to tick and chime louder, reminding me of my dwindling deadline to fathom a believable enough excuse for Holly J not to be furious with me for bailing on the sleepover we were both so looking forward to. Disappointment, though it killed me, I knew would come. But I couldn't risk earning a three sixty from Owen when he was in such a decent mood. I had to protect myself during the rare chances I had.

"An?"

Lost in thought and anxiety, I was hardly aware of my surroundings. It was close to seven and I was safely inside the Sinclair home, skimming through magazines while Holly J painted her toenails.

"You okay?" She chuckled, pulling me the rest of the way out of my stupor.

"Y-yeah," I laughed back, smiling in spite of my daze. "Daydreaming again," I shrugged, setting aside the magazine I hadn't been paying attention to and picking a polish from the smile pile of neutral colors, shaking it against my hand.

"You've been doing a lot of that lately," she commented, in a tone that I had to wonder if she had meant something more from the innocent enough question but was too afraid to broach it.

"I guess," I bit, shrugging again as I opened the tiny vial of Broadway Shimmy Scarlet. She didn't speak for a long moment, and I let myself believe she had dropped the attempted small talk, but I wasn't that lucky, though this time she was that brave.

"Is everything okay? With you? Maybe I'm just reading too much into it, but you seem… so off lately, and I can't for the life of me figure it out. It's not me is it?"

So I wasn't as good of an actress as I believed. I'd had plenty of practice masking and fibbing and making excuses up and down for the times when my behavior got too out of character for me. Power Squad could always be blamed for my bruises and scratches, and I could blame my dwindling grades on the dyslexia, lack of sleep, or just plain stupidity and nobody would question it, but the consistent loss of confidence I'd endured over the last semester went without explanation. Luckily, up until this point, nobody had noticed it, or at least they didn't have the courage to question it. And now that they have… how was I to answer?

"I'm fine, Holly J." My tone was shaky, and my hand followed, causing me to Scarlet my big toe. Instantly, my mind went into overdrive, fingering through the mental book of excuses and lies I'd filed away over the past few months that had always gotten me out of situations like this. But I'd never had to string my own best friend through the web. She knew me better than anyone; too well to believe them.

"But it's not me?" She pressed in a soft voice, and I knew she was considering the risk. I bit my lip, hard, shaking my head, and it took a long few more ticks of the clock before I could face her. "No. No of course it's not you. It's not anything, I've just been busy," I excused lamely. I should have expected the next words out of her mouth. It was perfectly my luck that they'd surface sooner or later.

"You're not too busy for Owen," she sighed, and I knew it wasn't intended to sting like it did. As expert as I'd grown with the excuses, this was one claim I couldn't fake logic for. I couldn't tell her that Owen was just why I was always occupied, how it wasn't up to me how to use the rare free time I could manage to salvage, and that even on nights like tonight, where I was so happy to get one night to myself, and by default with Holly J, like clockwork he ripped that from my hands, too. Maybe I wasn't the only expert in the relationship.

"I know you don't like him, but-"

"No," she interrupted. "I didn't mean to start anything. I'm over all of that, and if he makes you happy, I'm happy that you're with him. I'm just jealous I guess," she laughed softly.

Happy. She was happy for me. I wish she knew; almost as much as I constantly wished there was nothing to know, but there was so much I was hiding, and it would seem I did it so well that my misery negated happiness from my best friend. The buzz of my phone caught my attention, and blinking down to the screen, it was the source of the awkward turn of the conversation. I hadn't realized it had gotten so late, and Owen was already telling me he'd be on his way to pick me up in ten minutes. From my house, where I was supposed to be. By this point, I was out of excuses, and my effort had run dry, and there was only one solution I saw fit that would end this conversation and get me home without explanation.

"Clearly," I snapped, beginning to gather my belongings into my purse, despite her surprised protests. "And if you can't accept that he's an important part of my life, maybe you shouldn't be on the same level as him in it," I spat decisively.

"What? Anya, no, that's not what I… look, don't go, okay? I'm sorry if you took what I said like that, but I truly didn't mean it to sound like I didn't accept him! Just, stay, please? We can talk it out, or drop it completely and watch 27 Dresses, okay? James Marsden, what more do you need?" She grinned, struggling to make light of things.

"To not be here," I answered her rhetorical question, exiting the room and home without turning back, as not to worsen the guilt already panging like needles in my chest. I had wasted four minutes faking the exit, and it would take much more than the six I had left to dwell on the mistake I'd just made.