A/N: No, I don't live in the Philippines. I used to. I was born there. Then I moved here in the US. So sad. . . AND, I finished "A Tale of Two Cities" by Charles Dickens! And it's the original version! I survived. . . I FINISHED "ANGEL" TOO! I hate the ending. What was the point of the epilogue?

Chapter 7

Max POV

It's been a month. And Fang is. . . progressing. I mean, he's learning. Whatever.

So far, he learned how to order in fastfood restaurants. He now know how to speak English without those nineteenth-century words. You know, "thou" and "thee". He also learned how to use the washing machine, the dryer, and the dishwasher. For some reason, every piece of clothing he washes smells SO clean. If you get what I mean.

He also learned how to drive. Yep, but we're still working on his papers. Birth certificate, medicals, blah-blah-blah. Fang is still afraid to touch string musical instruments. He runs away from my guitar, whenever I use it.

Fang also learned how to play basketball, volleyball, tennis, and pool. He knows how to swim, so it's the other "pool". I was asleep when Iggy and Ella decided to teach him how to play those sports. By the time they got back, they were laughing at Iggy. I have no idea what happened.

The only thing Fang learned how to do and actually not complain about it is work. HE'S NOW WORKING AS A WAITER IN THE CAFE I WORK IN! And all the waitresses are infatuated with him. The day Fang started working, the percentage of customers in the cafe tripled. TRIPLED. Now everyday I work feels like I'm working a full-time job, and not a part-time.

"SOMEONE PINCH ME NOW!" I yell. Then I feel a painful pinch on my arm. "OW!" I rub my pinched arm and glare at Iggy. "What was that for?" I demand.

Iggy shrugs. "You said that someone pinch you now. So I did. In fact, you should be thanking me." He looks at me as if waiting for his thanks.

I clench my jaw. "Why would anyone be thankful for pain?"

Iggy shrugs again. "I don't know. Useless people who feel sorry for themselves and want to die?"

I throw up my hands and stand up. I leave the living room and stomp to my room. I slam the door behind me and drop on my bed. I close my eyes and throw my arm over my closed eyes.

Stressed. That's what I've been like for the past month. Work, more work, and Fang. Why did I even agree to teach him anyway? Ella could've done it! I just had to be the Good Samaritan. Why am I like that? Oh, right. Because I'm a sucker for helpless people.

At least I'm well-rested. Even if it's just for two hours. I shouldn't complain. Be grateful! I yell to myself. I blow my bangs off my forehead, only for them to cover it again. I push them away and leave my room.

The first thing I want to do after leaving my room is to cover my eyes. The living room is SO bright. Or maybe it's because I stayed in the darkness for two hours?

I see Fang sprawled in the couch, throwing a ball in the air and then catching, while watching the TV. He's been here for a month and he doesn't know how to conserve energy? What's up with him?

I take one of Ella's tennis rackets and hit the ball Fang is catching. Fang doesn't even notice until he sees my looming shadow all over him. He squints his eyes and looks up at me. I rest the racket on my shoulder and glare at him.

"What are you doing?" I ask in a cold voice.

"Catching a ball?" He doesn't even sound sure about his answer! This guy is pathetic! Well, so are all the men in the world.

Using the racket, I point to the ball that I just hit seconds ago. "Pick it up," I command. He swings his leg to the side and stands up in just one fluid motion. How can someone as tall as him be so graceful? I shake my head.

He bends down and picks up the ball. He stretches it towards me and tilts his head. "Wanna play with me?"

"No. And where's everybody?" I throw my leg over the back of the couch and jump on the couch.

"They went to see a movie." Fang settles on the love seat to the left side of the couch. He sits so straight that it makes him look like he's standing, instead of sitting. He also crosses his left leg over his right and rests his chin on the palm of his hand, his dark head turns to the TV.

Remove the TV and all the modern apparatus and I can just imagine Fang in that pose while someone is painting him. He really is an aristocrat.

I ask Fang, "What movie did they see?"

"Beastly."

My jaw drops. HOW DARE THEY LEAVE ME BEHIND AND WATCH BEASTLY ALL ON THEIR OWN! "What? How can they watch that movie without me?"

He shrugs. "They wanted to take you, but you were sleeping so peacefully." He gives me a sideways glance of amusement.

I let out a breath and sulk. I grab a throw pillow, and I let out a scream of pent-up rage. I hear Fang chuckling softly. I scowl at him. "What?"

His pointing at the TV is his answer. I look at the TV and realize we're watching Nickelodeon. Specifically, Big Time Rush. It's that TV show where four guys form a boy band and "adapt" to the workings of Hollywood. It reminds me of Fang. I grin.

I see the blond guy breaking into a song, singing:

Have you ever had the feeling you're drawn to someone?
And there isn't anything they could've said or done?

I suddenly feel Fang's dark, heavy gaze on me. I'm telling you now, this is our very first awkward moment. The whole kissing thing from the start didn't count.

I try to ignore him, but it's just so damn hard. I mean, he's right there!

"Max?" He says my name this way: Mahx. I feel like swooning, but I won't because I'm not that kind of girl.

"Hm?" is my reply. I pretend to look interested at the TV show rather than on him. Pretend!

"Why don't you have a boyfriend?" Oh, shit. Why does he have to ask that question?

I don't answer. Here's what I have in my mind: Because you're here. Because you're all I can think about. Because you're so stupid that I always have to be by your side to correct your mistakes and I like being by your side.

I can't say those things to him. So I just shrug. "I don't feel like being in a committed relationship. You know, all the sappy, lovesick stuff."

I look at him in the corner of my left eye. He's still looking at me! Worse, he doesn't look convinced! I'm freakin' out! I even my breathing and still pretend to watch the TV show. But all I see are a bunch of silly people doing silly stuff. It doesn't make sense to me.

The moment he stands up and leaves the living room, my entire being returns to normal. My eyesight begins to clear, my breathing is even, and my thinking is now straight as a stick.

I only freeze up when he says over his shoulder, "You're such a liar, Max."

Fang already had dinner, so I'm so grateful to God that I don't have to endure another awkward second with him.

But it's so quiet. The condo suddenly feels too big and I feel alone. Almost like I'm abandoned. I want to scream, COME BACK, MOTHER AND ELLA! I'M SO ALONE THAT I'M CRAVING COMPANY! Fang doesn't count. He makes me uncomfortable. And especially what happened earlier, his influence became negative and unwanted.

After I finish eating the chicken paninis, I load up the dishwasher and take a short shower. After that, I put on my usual jammies (boxer shorts and white t-shirt) and lie down on my bed.

I tell myself to sleep, but I can't. I mean, I really can't. Fang's words still haunt me. How did he know I was lying? Or, maybe he's lying? I punch my mattress furiously. But I soon stop because it's so stupid. I punch my forehead because my fist ricochets.

Ow. . .

I roll on my back and stare at my bare and art-less ceiling. Only hours later that I realize I'm still hungry. My stomach growls and I tell it to shut up. I turn my head to look at my alarm clock and it's already midnight.

I jump off my bed and walk towards the fridge in a zombie-like manner. Without the zombie talk. Since I'm still in my oblivious mode, I don't turn on the lights, so it takes me almost forty-five minutes to walk the distance of seven meters. Not to mention stops to groan and cry out in pain for bumping into wooden furniture.

When I feel the handle of the fridge in my hand, I grasp it and pull. Bright light blinds me. And the cold is SO refreshing. I take two minutes to enjoy the cold and take a chocolate bar. Ooh. Chocolate. . .

I rip off the packaging and bite down. Mmm. . . Chocolate-y goodness dancing in my mouth. Mmm. . .

I walk back to my room only to stop and stare. Fang's door is open. He's right there, standing, leaning on the doorway, his arms crossed, and staring at me. Not to mention that he's shirtless and only wearing his gray sweatpants so low I can see his hip bones.

Force your eyes up! Look at his head, not his chest! I yell to myself. And I manage to do it without making myself look obvious. Score!

Since it's deja vu all over again, I break the silence. I say, while stretching out the chocolate to him, "Want some?"

Fang just stands there. Looking at me. In a weird, not-so-uncomfortable way. "Maybe just a taste. . ." Fang murmurs. Then he reaches out, but his arm reaches past the chocolate. I'm, like, What? He grasps my forearm and pulls me to him.

My arms cover my chest as I crush into him. The chocolate drops to the carpet, and I don't bend to retrieve it. Instead, I look up at Fang, mesmerized.

Because of the warm light coming from inside his room, his hair glints with a dark brown color. And his eyes, I notice, are dark. Really dark. His head bends down ever so slowly. Frozen, I let his lips touch mine.

It's the smallest of all kisses, yet its impact is so huge. Fang brushes his soft lips against mine over and over again. My right hand moves up and touches his neck. My fingers travel up and carress his left eye and straight nose.

Then, the kiss deepens. The kiss is so. . . different than I have ever experienced. The other guys I've kissed almost always went for the tongue, but Fang doesn't abuse his power. The other guys' hands always try to grope my butt, but Fang's hands stay in my back, not moving.

Finally, our mouths open to each other. The moment his tongue touches mine, it was like electrifying. Before I know it, we're French-kissing. But soon it's over. Fang pulls away and ends the kiss with a peck on my chin.

I try to read his face, but it's unreadable. His face tells me that he's unfazed, like the kiss didn't make an impact on him. His arms around me unwound, and then, I see his smirk. His all-too familiar smirk.

"Sweet." Fang says and enters his room. He closes the door behind him, and I'm all alone in the dark hallway.

I stay there, standing, looking at his door. Then I feel my lips with my fingers. I swear, I can still feel Fang's kiss. I can still feel his lips. His warm and soft lips.

I turn around and enter my own room. I plop on my bed, staring up at the ceiling.

A sudden epiphany comes to me: Fang is such a great kisser that I want to kiss him again.

What the fuck?

A/N: I know you guys were waiting for this. Blame it all on my mother. Her addiction in watching Korean dramas forbade me from typing this chapter. BTW, did you guys like it? Come on, don't lie. ;) RnR?