A/N: Song title is More Than A Woman by Aaliyah.

Eli Goldsworthy sat in front of his locker as he looked at his script for the play. It was frustrating that he couldn't seem to make it work. The ideas for a riveting plot just wouldn't come to him. He nearly balled up the script in frustration. Fiona and Ms. Dawes were beginning to grow impatient and he knew he would be in trouble if he didn't write up a plot soon. How could he have fallen this far? Before his breakup with Clare, words and ideas would flow through his mind like a river. Now, it felt empty upstairs in his head.

"Hi, Eli!" A cheery and feminine voice greeted him. He looked up and saw that it was Marisol Lewis, the most popular girl in their class. She was wearing large, golden hoop earrings with a matching gold headband. He could tell that she was wearing a full face of makeup by looking at her gold eyeshadow, mascara, blush, and glittery pink lip gloss.

Marisol was a very attractive girl. The only problem was that he found her painfully irritating. They never really interacted much but he knew she was one of the most shallow, snobby, ditzy, and flat out meanest girls at school. The worst thing about her is that she talked with this fake, sugary sweet tone while being an absolute snake. Worst yet, she had tried to flirt with him multiple times over the course of this year, even when he was still with Clare. She made a pass at him during Vegas Night, and stomped off when he rejected her. She tried to be in his play as the lead actress. He refused to let that happen. Unfortunately, he had no choice but to allow her to have a role in this play as a volunteer makeup artist because no one else signed up for it. He almost didn't let her have the position, as despite signing up for Drama Club at the beginning of the year, she barely showed up to any club meetings and left after two months.

"Hi," he flatly greeted, hoping she would take the hint. She was not his type and was never going to be. Cheerleaders weren't his thing, especially airheaded and bitchy cheerleaders.

"I'm so excited to be in this play. Is the plot ready yet?" She asked him.

Grabbing his cane that he personally named Mortissa, he stood up on his feet and leaned on it for support. He winced as pain shot up in his leg. He was regretting every day that he crashed Morty.

"No, but I'll have it ready soon," he responded, weary of what her intentions were.

"I'll be happy to help with anything if you need it," She offered, giving him a dazzling smile. If he were any more foolish, he would have fell for it. "I really want to do my part to make this play amazing!" She added.

'Shutting up and just doing your job would be fine enough for me, Princess,' he thought dryly to himself.

"I don't think I need any help now," he replied.

Marisol reached into her bag, pulled out a card, and gave it to him. It was the address to Little Miss Steaks. "Well if you need any help with the play, you can always visit me at my job. I work from 6-11," she told him.

"You work at Little Miss Steaks?" He asked, wondering how he never saw her while he and his family were eating there. She nodded.

"I just got the job during Spring Break. I can't wait to see you there soon!" She said, giving him a wink as she walked away.

'I didn't say I was coming,' he wanted to say. He raised an eyebrow at her retreating form. Why did she care so much about the play when she was only the makeup artist?

He had to admit that a part of him was curious as to find out why.

"Hey cowgirl, you wanna come over and ride this stallion after work?" A middle-aged man with a beer belly asked her suggestively as she walked by. He and his equally disgusting friends then laughed.

Marisol could only give them a pleasing smile because anything other than that would get her in trouble with her manager Juan, or his wife Susie. Her mother always told her that as a black girl, people will always assume she was angry by default and so she always had to remain sweet even when dealing with assholes, or she could lose her job.

She loved working at Little Miss Steaks as it was a super fun place, but she hated the customers. She had so many creepy, older men catcalling her and trying to get in her skirts that she was considering asking Juan to transfer her to the kitchen. After this job, just the sight of anything Wild West related might make her throw up.

Tonight was really awful as a whole group of bikers came into the restaurant, probably as a club meeting or something. They usually came every Wednesday and Friday. At least three of those dirtbags regularly made a pass at her and didn't care that she was in high school. Complaining to her managers about it was useless, as Susie would just tell her that this was the downside of being a waitress.

She almost missed Owen because no one would dare try to harass her if he was with her right now. He was a perfect, intimidating boyfriend. That was the only other thing he was good for.

As she delivered two plates of loaded nachos to an elderly couple, she spotted Eli entering the restaurant with his cane. Her mood increased significantly. With a nod from Juan allowing her to go on break, she cheerfully walked up to him.

"You came!" She exclaimed excitedly while smiling widely at him. On the inside though, she was cringing at his appearance. It wasn't so much the outfit he was wearing, as it was his typical emo wear, but it was his hair. Somehow, the long floppy hair he was sporting looked even worse than it did literally a month ago. It was wild, crazy looking, and he honestly looked like Lord Farquad from Shrek with that hairstyle, especially with the red polo shirt they had to wear as juniors. Her first goal after she snatched him up was to get him a barber to cut his hair. Her cousin owned a barber shop. She could ask him to help with Eli.

Eli shrugged as he leaned on his cane. "I had nothing to else to do," he confessed. He tried to come off as bored, but she could see curiosity in his eyes. She thinks she likes his eyes more than anything. She hoped one day those green eyes will look at her adoringly instead of annoyance.

"Well, I'll take you to a booth so we could talk," she told him as she led him to a booth in the back of the restaurant where there weren't a lot of customers.

Eli winced as he sat down, and she gave him a look of worry.

"Are you alright?" She asked, taking a seat across from him.

"It's fine. My leg just still hurts," he answered.

"I'm sorry to hear that. I was so worried when I heard you crashed your car last month," she replied with a sympathetic tone, "I can't imagine-"

"It's fine," he repeated, cutting her off firmly, "I don't think we're here to discuss my leg, right?"

"Right," she replied, mentally kicking herself for already making this awkward, "So how is the play going? Anything coming to you yet?"

"I don't know yet. I haven't worked out the kinks yet," he grumbled, "I don't have a beginning, middle, or end and Ms. Dawes rejects every idea I have. I'm the writer for the play yet I can't even come up with a proper script."

"Well what are you trying to do?" She inquired, leaning forward on the table.

"A tragedy. Something sorrowful, gripping, and destructive. A story that have the audience in tears," he explained, then groaned, "But I don't know how it would work." He gripped his cane strongly, and Marisol had a feeling that he wanted to smash it into pieces. He could do that outside but not here.

"Does it have to be a tragedy? What about something funny or sweet?" She questioned, already feeling uncomfortable at the idea. Did he have to be so emo all of the time? Goths were weird.

"All of the best stories are tragedies," he argued, "Hamlet. King Lear. Macbeth. Oedipus Rex. Death of a Salesman. Medea. Happy endings don't make for a good story."

"It does for some stories. There's The Lion King, Beauty and The Beast, Hairspray, Singing In The Rain, Grease, Wicked, Mamma Mia, Dreamgirls," She shot back. "Those are all pretty good stories and have happy endings."

He snorted. "They're musicals. I don't do musicals, especially cheery and sugary ones," he sneered.

She rolled her eyes. He was so edgy. "Well, fine. What about a tragic romance? Like Romeo and Juliet, Othello, or Antony and Cleopatra?"

"What do you know about Antony and Cleopatra? I wouldn't peg you the type to be into all of these plays and musicals?" He asked her, which hurt her a little. She wasn't completely cultured but she wasn't an idiot.

"There's a lot you don't know about me, Emo Boy," she answered. "I know all about a good story, even a sad one."

She could see the wheels turning in his head. He looked at her curiously, and was telling her silently to go on.

"I don't like sad endings but there's something so tragically beautiful about forbidden love, or a couple trying their hardest to stick together but the universe keeps tearing them apart," she continued, then she looked at Eli's face and realized that this might be bad thing for him to do when he just went through a nasty breakup. "I mean, you don't have to do a tragic romance considering you know...," she trailed off, smiling sheepishly.

"No...I can do something with that," he replied, and though he was looking at her, his mind seemed to be another place. "A play about two young lovers torn apart from bad circumstances..."

"If it helps, you can always make your ex the bad guy. I would," she offered with a devious smile.

"Clare? I don't think I can do that," he replied to her with a weary stare.

"Why not? I heard she broke your heart even after everything you did for her. You crashed a hearse for her, and she still left you to rot in the hospital. Sounds like a bitch to me," Marisol told him, "Your relationship obviously meant nothing to her if she's already making out with Jake Martin when you guys just broke up. I say that you make her the villain that used you this whole time. You're the tragic hero that thought she loved you as much as you loved her. Make the love story sweet at first, only to spiral into absolute pain and misery as the girl in your story shows her true colors. You have the potential to make your own masterpiece here, your own Phantom of The Opera."

From the way Eli's eyes widened, she knew she had him.

"Marisol, it's time to get back to work," Juan called her from behind the bar. She gave him a nod, before turning back to Eli.

"I guess you can leave now," she said, sad that she couldn't get more time with him.

"I think I'll stay and order something," he replied to her, and for the first time he was smiling at her, not smirking at her, but smiling at her.

Marisol felt her heart beat in excitement. Was this really going to be that easy?

"Okay! I'll get you a server, or wait...I'll take your order right now. Let me give you a menu," she said as she got off her seat excitedly.

There was an extra bounce in her step as she got back to work.

A few hours later, instead of writing the script like he was supposed to, Eli was searching Marisol on Facerange. It was a little stalkerish but he was too concerned with trying to find more information on Marisol's true character.

One night of talking with Marisol at Little Miss Steaks got rid of half the assumptions he previously held about her. She was still an annoying, bubbly, and girly cheerleader but she was more introspective and helpful than he thought. He needed to know more about this girl.

After scrolling for a bit, he found her. In her profile picture, she was kissing a puppy on its cheek while dressed in her cheerleader uniform. In her header, it looked like a picture of her and Katie Matlin as kids.

He sent her a Facerange request.