A/N: In the words of my friend, "Ai Yah!" I know, I know, UPDATING has been extremely slow this time. I apologize for the inconvenience and my slowness. Apparently, applying to college is a year long process. It doesn't just end after you click the SUMMIT button. I had to send in my SIR and housing fee and all that good stuff. And of course, like Ian, I'm a lazy ass, but have no fear, I am gradually reforming my ways. Anywho, back to the story issue. I am so very, extremely, truly sorry for not updating sooner. I cannot stress that enough. And big thanks to all of you that reviewed (you make writing worthwhile), and thanks especially to those who still kept reviewing even though I didn't update for, literally, months. This chapter doesn't have Peter in it, BUT no worries, he will definitely play a major part in the next chapter with the whole Joanne thing. This chapter is basically here for entertainment and insight. And yes, yes, I will bring them to Neverland in due time. So read and enjoy and please review when you're done. Thank you! =)
"Omigod! Stephanie!" A deafening scream came from Joanne's pouty red lips. She leaned over and hugged Stephanie with a strength she didn't think a busty, rail thin model possessed. "So how have you've been? It's been like what—two years since I've seen you." She gave Stephanie the once over. "Wow, you look skinnier. Did you lose weight? Oh and your face; it's almost acne free!"
"Er, thanks Joanne. You look pretty good yourself. Is that another new hair style?" Stephanie thought that if she stroked Joanne's vanity then maybe the girl with "whipped cream for brains" will forget the whole reason why she came.
"What, this mossy thing?" Joanne stroked a strand lovingly. "I just got it straightened and dyed this week. I got tired of being a platinum blonde and decided a more natural look was the way to go." She narrowed her eyes and examined Stephanie's dark hair. "Weren't you a redhead last semester?"
"Um . . . no, I've never dyed my hair." When no response came, Stephanie continued. "But if I were, I was thinking about having purple streaks."
Joanne made a scrunched face. "Purple? Oh God, that's so passe. I think you should run blonde and brown highlights through your hair. And you should start outlining your eyes, your round head makes them look too small." She regally stepped into the livingroom and made her way to the plush sofa. She fluffed her hair and sat demurely as though waiting for a request to be asked of her.
Stephanie groaned silently in her mind. Looks like it would be up to her find out why the Queen of Sheba was here. "So Joanne, um, any special reason why you decided to pay me an unexpected visit?"
The queen looked up and humbled herself enough to smile guiltily. "Oh, I know I should've called you before I came. But I didn't want to go through all the trouble if nobody was home. And besides I—" A rattling crash from upstairs stopped Joanne short. "What . . . "
Ian cursed loudly as staggered down the stairs. The top portion of his shirt was wet, leaving a slash of water across his chest. Absently mumbling, he ran a hand through his rumpled hair and sulked into the living room. He froze when his eyes came into contact with Joanne's irritated face.
"Joanne." Ian acknowledged her coldly.
"Ian." Joanne replied in the same unattached manner. She crossed her legs and tilted her chin up as if she were balancing a teacup on her nose. "Didn't expect to see you here?" She glanced from Ian to Stephanie and raised a questioning brow. "Are you two . . ."
"No!" Stephanie blurted. Then regretted how fast she had responded. Hopefully, Joanne wouldn't make any assumptions and start some stupid rumor across the nation.
She seemed to have ignored Stephanie's abrupt answer, and instead focused her attention back to Ian. She gave him a very critical once over. "You've changed since the last time I saw you."
Ian crossed his arms and raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Really. I'm assuming it's for the better."
Joanne nodded once, no more than a slight dip of her chin. "I would say so. You've filled out some. You're not the skinny boy I remember from freshmen year with the braces." Her gaze went to his broad shoulders. "Been working out?"
"A little." He glanced Joanne over and leaned against the wall nearest the couch, his expression bored and uncaring. "You still look the same with the exception of the hair. I'm guessing your personality hasn't changed much either."
"What's that suppose to mean?" Joanne narrowed her eyes at him.
"Nothing. Just that you'd think after a couple of years a person might be a bit less . . ." He smiled humorlessly at his next word. "Vain."
Joanne's eyes flew wide and her whole body tensed. She looked as if she wanted to strangle Ian and scratch that cocky smile off his face. "Are you saying that I'm stuck-up?" Her voice held warning.
Ian completely ignored it and plunged on. "That's exactly what I'm saying." He paced around the sofa until her was behind Stephanie, who looked utterly confused, and met Joanne's furious gaze.
Stephanie looked from one person to the other and felt her brows deepen. She had no idea why Ian disliked Joanne so much. Sure, she was annoying, snobby, and overall vain. But with Ian . . . it was almost as if he resented her for something.
Joanne's all-too-clam voice pulled Stephanie from her thoughts. "I can see that some of us haven't grown-up over the last three years. Don't tell me you still hold a grudge to—"
"Hold a grudge?!" Ian exclaimed in disbelief. "Like hell I do. I wouldn't be caught dead near you. You're not even worth holding a grudge for!"
Joanne stood and face him squarely. Both of them seemed to have forgotten that Stephanie was in the room. She stared up at both Joanne and Ian leaning over her to glare at each other. The tension in the room rose with each forced breath between them.
"You are so immature Ian. Can't even ta—"
"Tell me, Joanne," Ian interrupted rudely, a malicious grin lining his lips. "How many SBC members did you sleep with to get your position? I doubt VP Michael Donovan would let you run the show unless he was persuaded with something more than a . . . kiss."
Stephanie looked at Ian in shock. She couldn't believe he had actually insulted Joanne Boer to her face. Maybe a few crude jokes here and there, but a direct hit? Since when was Ian this rude?
Joanne's nostrils flared and her jaw dropped the length to her heaving bust. "What?! You little shithead! You are—Oh you are the . . . !" She screamed in frustration.
Ian smiled in triumph, dark laughter in his blue eyes. He spared a glance at Stephanie, who looked so dumbfounded that if she frowned any harder her forehead would form a permanent V. He raised an eyebrow when she shot him a unfriendly look.
"What?" he asked, genuinely confused.
"Why are you so mean to her?" Stephanie whispered. Joanne was too busy ranting and raving around the room to notice their small conversation on the side.
It was Ian's turn to frown. "What do you mean 'why'? 'Cause she's Joanne Hoer." When Stephanie's expression still didn't change, he added unconvincingly. "She's a manipulative bitch?"
"Ian!"
"What?"
Stephanie looked up to the ceiling and closed her eyes for a moment before glaring back at him. "Seriously, I'm not a big fan of Joanne anymore that you are, but at least I don't outright insult her." She narrowed her eyes. "Why do you hate her so much?"
"Because I went out with him." Joanne's gruff voice made both their heads turn to the owner. Her manicured fingers rested on her ample hips and her full lips were pursed into a thin line.
"You two dated?" Stephanie couldn't hold back the incredulity in her voice. She just couldn't believe it.
"Freshmen year," confirmed Ian. His looked as grim as Joanne. "Back then Joanne was a brunette; I use to have a kind of . . . soft spot for brunettes."
Joanne snorted. "Soft spot? More like fetish to me."
Ian glared at her, arms crossed over his chest. "Fetish, soft spot—whatever. I liked her, and we went out."
When no one spoke for the longest time, Stephanie delicately asked, "Then what happened?"
Ian looked at Stephanie like she'd sprouted horns on her head. "You want details? What do you think happened? We went out, gone to a Motel 6, had sex, then broke it off."
Joanne shook her head, a small flush creeping up her foundation caked face. "I don't ever remember you being so blunt. You were so shy, I had to practically drag you to the motel."
"Placing a virgin in your hands tends to do that to people," retorted Ian.
Joanne's face turned bright pink. "What?! I—"
"Was a sexual sadist," Ian finished. "I'll admit it was erotic with the handcuffs, cat-o'-nine-tails, and all that, but when you started that whole dominant and submissive thing," Ian shivered, "you scared the shit out of me."
"That's not how I remember it," Joanne replied tersely. "As I recall, you enjoyed it."
"Until you flagged my back!" Stephanie bowed her head and tried to pretend she was invisible. The last thing she wanted to hear was Ian's and Joanne's sex life. "Now a days, I actually don't mind the whole whipping thing. But when you're fourteen and know absolutely nothing about sex except from porno mags, it's gets kinda scary when a 'sweet' girl your own age rides and whips you until you're beyond spent."
Joanne made a small superior sound through her nose and dismissed Ian's comment as if he hadn't even spoken. She glanced at Stephanie, who found the hardwood floor to be of immense interest, and looked back at Ian, who stood rigid and glaring at her. Then, realization dawned. She smiled saucily at both of them. "I can see that you still have your fetish for brunettes."
Stephanie's head shot up. She opened her mouth to protest, but only a squeak-like stutter came out. Ian smiled mischievously and possessively placed his arm around Stephanie's shoulders.
"What's the matter Joanne? Jealous?" He leaned in close and began to nibble the slender column of Stephanie's neck, all the while keeping his baby-blues locked on Joanne.
Stephanie immediately jumped up and pushed Ian aside, backing away from both Joanne and Ian until her back came into firm contact with the bookshelf. She glared at both classmates as she spat out her next words. "You two are beyond crazy!" She narrowed her deadly stare on Ian. "And you! What the hell's gotten into you?! First you tell her you don't have a grudge and then you deliberately try to make her jealous? For crying out loud, you don't even date girls Ian!"
One of Joanne's painted brown eyebrows rose in question.
Ian just shook his head and leaned back on the sofa exasperated. "Jesus Christ Steph, I was just shitting with her." He turned his attention to her waiting majesty. "By the way Joanne, I'm gay. I haven't lost my 'fetish' for brunettes, but Steph's a bit too feminine for my taste." He smiled sweetly as he said it.
Joanne stumbled backward on her flip-flops and nearly toppled over the ottoman behind her. "You're . . . gay?" Her mouth was suddenly too dry.
Ian's smile grew wider, and if possible, more menacing. "Yes, I'm gay, queer, fruity, homosexual; a fag all the way." He drew his brows together in mock concern. "You all right Joanne? You look a bit pale."
"I . . . I need to—" Joanne's anorexic body thumped the floor.
Stephanie's eyes widened in shock. "Oh my God, she fainted." She knelt down and tried to find a pulse.
Ian simply sat, relaxed, with his feet propped up on the glass coffee table. He examined his nails while Stephanie struggled to revive Joanne by fanning her face and patting it none too gently.
Ian grinned at her futile attempts.
"Just bring her wrist up to her nose. All that body spray she wears is enough to bring a whole combat squad back to life."