Secret

by January Rose

Cool these engines

Calm these jets

I ask you how hot can it get

And as you wipe off beads of sweat

Slowly you say, I'm not there yet

I know I don't know you

But I want you so bad

Everyone has a secret

Oh, can they keep it?

Oh no, they can't

Maroon 5

That night, I was sitting there by the fire place, by myself, minding my own freaking business, while rereading a Sherlock Holmes Mystery for the umpteenth time (Arthur Conan Doyle so rocks, but we can discuss this later) when James walked into the otherwise deserted Common Room. Unusually, he was unescorted by any of the other Marauders, a member of his unnervingly large 'fan club', as Birch had deemed it, or a busty ditz of a blonde girl (i.e. his latest paramour). This seemed to be his almost unfailing fetish (myself not included on both counts of bust size and hair color), and another reason, come to think of it, to disbelieve and discount his apparent affections for me.

Anyways, since this seemed to display a growth on his part as a person, you know, with him being less egotistical and pigheaded and all lately (okay, for the last year and a half) I decided, on good faith, to give him a small, but nonetheless cheery wave. (The miniature, but in no way less sarcastic Birch who had taken up residence in the lower left corner of the back of my mind gave me a mock curtsy, and exclaiming "Gee, thanks, your highness! How lovely of you to even take notice of us little people so far below you! Now, can I lick your shoes, perhaps…." But I quickly pushed her out of my mind). Make absolutely no mistake, whatsoever, this was not in any way, shape or form and invitation to come over and sit with me, or for a jolly conversation for two, or really for anything but a returned wave, but he seemed to ignore both this footnote, and my lack of intentions, or else he did not notice them. Bugger.

Not waiting to watch him walk up to his dorm, which I assumed was his destination, I returned to my reading and didn't realize he had detoured over to my chair until a shadow fell across the page and chair. I had barely raised my eyes from the page, and had not yet asked this unwelcome intruder in my perfected, yet polite go-away-voice what they required of me when the person reached down and snatched the book rather rudely out of my hands. It was only then that I realized that it was James standing, more like towering really, over me, holding my book in one hand and looking down his long, straight nose at me, obviously expecting something. The stupid boy obviously didn't realize that I didn't want to talk to him right now or ever if I was trying to stay on the safe side.

I looked right at him, stubborn and trying my hardest to be annoyed; I was at one of my favourite parts! I decided to attempt the polite approach first, seeing as the other usually ended up visiting the school matron with purple ears, or a green tongue, and I was getting sick of "rough courtship" jokes.

"James!" I half-shrieked at him, feeling very annoyed. "What the hell? Give me my bloody book back!"

Okay, so maybe not exactly polite, but whatever, I was trying. I stared him down, silently counting down from ten in my head, and secretly wishing he would back down, waiting for some kind of indication that I would shortly be receiving my request. When I reached zero, and still had nothing but a James standing in front of me, with a searching look on his face, and the book I wanted to read in his hand, I decided to ditch the polite routine and go for the more direct Plan B. Without batting an eyelash, I lunged halfway out of my chair and towards my book, but four years of Quidditch practice allowed him to dance easily out of my clumsy way and I had to stop short to avoid falling out of the chair and landing flat on my face at his feet.

Hauling myself back into a proper sitting position, I looked up at him, suitably chasted for the moment, and smiled forcefully, figuring it the only way I would ever get to reread the ending of the Hound of the Baskervilles was to play along with whatever ridiculous scheme that was currently chasing its fluffy white tail around James' floppy haired head. Before I gave my final consent to this whole mad plot, whatever it was, I quickly glanced around the common room for an ally, an aid, a friend, anyone to get me out of this, but we were alone, completely and totally alone… Crap.

Sighing defeat, and sincerely put out about it, I looked at him calmly, an angry fire alight in my eyes. "What do you want, Potter?" I asked grudgingly, almost grinding it out, and throwing his last name in too for good measure. If he was going to hold my book hostage, and I was going to have to play along, I wasn't going to be helpful or anything of that measure about it. The consent, however small or forced, seemed to be what he was waiting for.

Still, though, he paused before he spoke, and took a deep, calming breath that seemed to have no effect whatsoever. His face was pale and he was, I now noticed, chewing slightly on his bottom lip, as if he was trying to work up the nerve to say something risky. I couldn't think of anything, however, that could reduce cocky, spirited James Potter into the more-then-subtlety nervous wreck in front of me here. After much deliberation, he opened his mouth, and the question that came out shocked the shoes off of me. For a reason I did not comprehend, I rose to my feet.

"Do you love me, Lily?" he finally asked. I could see why he was so nerv—wait, what! No no no no no no no………

Whatever I had been expecting, this definitely wasn't it (He wanted to know what!) Help with a prank, maybe, or charms homework, sure, but a question about my feelings about and for him? It was a good thing I was already sitting down… I wasn't good at those! I blinked at him dumbly for a moment, watching a new kind of terror envelope his face as he waited for my response, and gaped at him like a fish, attempting to make sense of the chaos in my head, and sure that he said what I thought he said. Was this actually really truly happening? I resisted the urge to pinch myself just to be sure.

"What?" I finally breathed at him, my voice barely about a whisper as I repeated my primary sentiment. I couldn't believe this was happening. "James," I said, attempting to gain memento as I went "This is absolutely ridiculous! We're seventeen for Christ sake, and besides, we went to Hogsmeade together like once! You expect me to answer that? No, you expect me to be able to answer that?" The saddest part was that I could, but I wouldn't dare let him know that. I looked anywhere but at his face, in his eyes, sure as I was of my name that if I did, if I looked at him then he would somehow be able to tell, like they always seemed to in the movies. I knew, somewhere, in my panicked brain that this was probably a horrible tell, but I couldn't help it. I was in love, and terrified of him finding out, and of him knowing. I mentally crossed my fingers that he bought my lame story and just went away.

James however, thankfully or unfortunately I wasn't sure, remained unfazed by my diversionary tactic, and saw through my supposed answers. I had to fall for the rule-breaker…. "Lily, you didn't answer the question; do you love me or not?"

This time I ignored the question all together. "James, this is silly! Just give me my book back" I pouted theatrically "Common, please?" I tried to make my voice sound sweet and enticing, but I doubted it worked as well as I'd hoped. It probably came out whiny, or worse, anxious and terrified. In any case, I made another grab for my book, but he just lifted it higher over my head. I pouted again, this time for real.

He was beginning to look annoyed, and I knew that if I could just hold out for a small while longer, probability said that he would storm off, and I would be safe, for the moment. I just had to last a little while longer… "Lily, gods dammit, just answer the question and then you can have your precious book back!" At the word book, he waved the thing tantalizingly over my head, just out of reach, probably just to antagonize me "Do. You. Love. Me. Yes. Or. No?" he enunciated every word, making sure I had no way to escape, no further way to twist my answer…..

My mouth went dry, and finally, at a painfully slow speed, I looked up into his solemn face, finding it more serious then I could remember seeing it in a long time, He looked tired, too, and there were lines around his eyes that weren't there a month or so before. I took a deep, empowering breath, and then looked into his almond shaped eyes.

As Emerald met Hazel, I meant to say 'no', and I meant to mean it. I meant to grab my book from his disappointed hands and storm up to my dorm in a tither, then rant to whoever happened to be there about stupid men with stupid hair until they threatened to jinx me if I didn't shut up. As Emerald met Hazel, I meant to lye my heart out, no pun intended, but found that I couldn't and nearly laughed at how tacky and sad that was.

Not a ha-ha laugh, per say, but rather more the desperate and hysterical laughter of an insane woman, who was cornered, terrified, and sleep deprived. Not wishing to take a visit to St. Mungo's Mental ward, whether I belonged there or not, or be asked if I ever wanted to be a florist, I held it in until it hurt. I had to get a handle on this, I had to pull myself together….

I tried to look away, but gentle fingers came to rest under my chin and they tilted my face back up, and my eyes met his once more. They were warm, maybe the warmest eyes I had ever seen, and full of compassion and as I stared into those lovely wonderful eyes, I could feel my resistance physically cracking, and I wondered if my own legs would support me if I looked away.

I had a decision to make, insanity of confession, insanity or confession, insanity or confession….

"Yes!" I finally ground out, choosing confession. "I do, and I bloody well hate it!" If I was going to confess, I mused, as words poured freely from my mouth like water from a fountain, then I was going to confess, just dump it all on him and let him deal with it, for a change. "I don't want this! I don't want a stupid white knight, and I don't want any magic that they can't teach us in class. I just want to live my life, is that so much to ask?" I didn't wait for an answer, and he didn't try and give me one. "I don't want to be in love, especially not with someone as infuriating and maddening as you!" Something flickered across his face, but I wasn't about to break my developing stride to figure out what. "I can't stand you, and yet I can't get enough of you and I can't stop thinking about you. I don't want any of this, but you don't seem to care, do you? You're just there, and you exist, and you push, and you cajole and you serenade, and now her I am in fucking love with you!" I jabbed my finger into his chest, and felt abs I could do my bloody washing on, then cursed myself heavily for noticing. "But it doesn't matter!" I practically screeched at him, and in hindsight, I'm surprise no one in the dorms about heard me and came done to investigate. "I refuse to give into love! It doesn't matter, It doesn't matter," I was nearly chanting by now. "It doesn't fucking matter! I won't let it matter…. It doesn't matter, so just leave me alone, please!" My words sounded like a plea, even to my hysterical ears, and they probably were, but I didn't, couldn't, care right now….

I suddenly realized I was crying, sobbing even, tears falling freely, blackened no doubt by mascara and eyeliner so that they stained a darkened trail down my cheeks as they ran. Wiping them away angrily, I made one final grab for my book as a myriad of emotions flitted across James' face in rapid succession. This time, instead of merely dodging me and my attempt, James grabbed my wrist, and I realized suddenly that the book would have to be sacrificed if I wished to walk away from this with any shred of dignity intact.

I turned, intending to flee, but James hadn't let go of my wrist and refused, even when I tugged. My temper suddenly flared. He was going to make me face him, again. Fine. If that was how it was going to have to be, then that was good with me. I was a big girl, I would deal, but I wasn't going to go down without a fight.

I whipped around, and smacked him in the chest with my free arm. The only thing that this succeeded in doing was allowing him to grab that wrist as well and pull me in closer then I wished to be, so that my entire forearm was resting against his chest, elbows down, and close enough for me to feel his breath on my cheek. I leaned my head back to try and create even the smallest amount of room between our faces, but only succeed in tilting my face into alignment with his.

He crooked his neck down, so that his mouth was inches from my ear and whispered in it, his voice hoarse "Well, guess what, sweetheart?" I could actually feel his breathing against my arms, the actual rise and fall of his chest, as he pulled me closer still. I could smell the chocolate that always seemed to somehow be present on his breath, and the almost cinnamon-y scent of his aftershave… I felt myself lean in slightly, before I realized what I was doing. NOT GOOD! My rational side was screaming. My other side didn't really seem to care, and the two fought for dominance on the battlefield of my mind. "I didn't exactly plan this either, so let's deal." He pulled his face back of he could see my whole face, and then leant his forehead against my own.

My throat felt suddenly and inexplicably raw, and I felt almost dehydrated, dizzy and light-headed. The answer. He had the answer. He know how to stop all of this, how to deal.

"How?" I croaked, my voice cracking. I swallowed thickly, on the edge of my metaphorical seat for the answer to a question that had been plaguing me for months.

He smirked at me slightly, and looked straight into my eyes. And without even saying the answer we both seemed to realize at that moment aloud, he leaned forward slightly to close the scant space between our lips to kiss me. Even worse, I kissed him back without even hesitating, without reserve, without thinking about wrenching away for even a moment.

I remember that he tasted like mint. The customary chocolate that was just completely James too, of course, but there was definitely mint in there as well. I think this is the only time I can remember him having a minty taste.

It started off as a question, a needy kiss with a hint of almost desperation to it quickly escalated as raw passion quickly took over. Clearly deciding that I was no longer a flight risk, James released my wrists, wrapping one of his now-free arms around my waist to pull me closer and burying the other in my hair. The thought of running flashed through my mind, but then we were closer still and it suddenly seemed a stupid thing to do.

I moaned against his lips as all the pent up feelings that I had been harbouring seemed to disappear as I gripped his shoulders, bringing myself onto my toes to level out our faces some. All of it seemed to slowly seep out until I could almost feel it dripping off my fingers lie water. Why was I supposed to be fighting this again? I couldn't seem to remember.

He began backing me up, past my previously occupied armchair, and my now forgotten book into one of the pillars that flanked the large fireplace until I was up against it, and sandwiched between it and his warm body. Being with him, like this, seemed to feel oh so normal, normal and perfect… Something about that sent off warning bells in my head, but I was too involved in my actions, and his, to even begin to remember why… I pushed it out of my head. It didn't matter. All I wanted to do was kiss him, it all just felt so good… I wanted him so bad at that moment.

My fingers, almost of their own accord began to play and fiddle with the tiny hairs that lay at the very edge of his hairline on the back of his neck, and he began to kiss a trail down my jaw and onto my neck… Gawd he was so bloody good at this… He pushed harder still against me, and I had the smallest of thoughts of the bruise and imprint I would soon have on my back flickered through my mind for but an instant, before his tongue against my throat drew my attention away from all reasonable or rational thought.

I slipped my hands underneath the hemline of his shirt and ran my hands over his ass before dancing my fingertips up his back, and then scratching my nails down his back in a way sure to leave a mark. I felt him shiver, and a giggle began in my throat. Seemingly taking my lead, he began almost ripping the buttons off my shirt in his attempt to get the thing off me, the material having no give at all for him to fit his hands under. He quickly rectified the situation, and ran his hands over the base of my bra, before easing his hands under the material. I didn't stop him. The thought never even crossed my mind.

Instead, I moved my head to the side running my fingers over and over the sensitive patch of skin that met the waistline of his pants and suddenly realized that I had also given him a much better view of what cleavage I had, momentarily, before I hauling his lips hungrily back onto mine so I could kiss him proper.

Deciding impulsively what I wanted, I began to undo this black jeans, first the belt, then the button and the zipper before letting his pants drop to his feet. Loosing my brazen approach for a moment, and suddenly hesitant of his response, I ran my fingers under the elastic of his plain black boxers, but did not remove them. As if to assure me that we were both thinking along the same lines, he ran a hand up my thigh, under my skirt, and grabbed my ass, lifting me up so I could wrap my legs around his waist. As we started to spiral out so control, something, or rather someone, reminded me that we were still in the Gryffindor Common Room.

"What the HELL!"

I started at the sound of the voice, attempting to detangle myself from James as best I could, a feat, considering I was pressed up against a pillar with my hands down his pants and my legs around his waist, to find Miriah and Angel standing in the entranceway. They were staring at me, there, with my shirt half open exposing my very showy black bra, which had one of James' hands beneath it, and my skirt hiked up around my waist, as I stumbled away from James, my hair all mused and my cheeks doubtlessly flushed. Rayne was bouncing behind the two of them, asking what the hold up was; she had obviously not sent the two of us; yet.

"And I repeat for freaking clarity, what the HELL!"

My fight or flight reflex kicked in, and I ran towards the girls' staircase, abandoning my book where it had been dropped, sprinting at a speed that in all probability topped some Olympic record of some kind. I crashing noisily through our dorm door, not looking back even once, and past shocked friends (A.k.a: Sarradell, Birch and Willow) who's questions I ignored as I threw myself onto my bed and pulled the curtains shut with all my might. There was almost a half a moment's stunned silence before the other three banged through the door, hot on my heels.

"Okay, what's going on here?" asked Willow, and I heard her bed creak slightly as she potentially got off of it "Someone, anyone?"

"Ask Lily." Rayne told her pointedly. "It's kinda the question of the minute, right up there with 'Who Framed Roger Rabbit?'"

"Okay" I heard Sarradell say, obviously trying to find some answer in the semi-chaos I had left trailed behind me "Back up, rewind, and tell us what you know."

"No, no, no, no, no!" said Birch, sounding matter of fact, "I believe wording you're looking for is 'Sit your asses down and tell me everything you know before I put a want to your throat, or better yet a blunt shovel' The most interesting bloody slobs of gossip are always served best with a threat." Silence filled the room following this comment, and in a better circumstance, I might have giggled. "What?" asked Birch, when it seemed like no one was going to answer her threat. "Was I too vague for you people? Common, chop, chop!"

"I have to agree with Birch for once. Spill, now."

"We just walked into an almost deserted common room to find the only two occupants, Lily and James, in a full out make-out strip session, and James had Lily pinned against the wall, and her hands where in his pants." Explained Miriah, when it seemed no one else was going to respond to Birch's question. "Is that to the point enough for you, Birch?"

"Yes, very good, continue."

"'Bout fucking time…" I heard someone mutter.

"And that's about it." She finished. "We need to find Lily, if we want to get to the bottom of this."

"You mean the red-topped blur that ran through here moments before you did?" Asked Sarradell, the picture of sarcasm. She has the perfect voice for it too, all dry sounding, and that. There was a pause, and I guess someone nodded or the like. "She's in her bed, though how her hangings are intact, I'll never know…"

I heard footsteps approach, and nearly cringed when my curtains were pulled back to reveal a serene looking Miriah and the rest of them crowded behind her. "Lily," she began calmly, as I lay there clutching my pillow in what could be described as the fetal position. "What the HELL is going on, here?" and that part was less calm… She's getting rather repetitive, though, wasn't she?

"Nothing" I lied, trying to buy myself time as I frantically searched my head for an excuse, any excuse, and wishing I had thought to do up my shirt, or fix my hair. "Why do you ask?" I tried to run my fingers through my hair surreptitiously, but Angel, the only person not crowded around the open side of my bed, she was actually sitting on her own, raised her eyebrows at me, and I put my hands down.

"Why?" she asked incredulously, as if she couldn't believe her ears, "I'll tell you why! You've been acting weird for months now, denying you like him, ever since September when you caved and went on like two dates with him, and now I walk into the Common room to find you about to screw him, and you're asking me why?" I could only think of a few times when I had seen her look so furious and so annoyed. "Now, tell me what the fuck is going on!" Apparently the swearing level had risen.

"There's nothing really to tell!" I insisted, my act no doubt somewhat diminished by the positioning of my skirt. The others, minus Angel, were crowding around my bed even more now, like spectators at a show, jostling for the best view, even though there were only five of them. I wished they would anything, anything but me… None of them looked away. "I just want to finish my book" I ignored the fact that it was sitting, spread-eagled, on the floor of the common room, several stories below.

"Nothing?" said Rayne, echoing me. She too, it seemed, was ignoring the illogic of my previous statement. "So, that was some other redhead down there, doing things you could never tell your mother with James P?"

I shrunk nervously into my pillows, uncertain how to answer this blatant question. Without meaning to, Birch saved me from providing an answer. "What are you on?" She asked, grinning widely. She was eating popcorn that she must have conjured when I wasn't paying attention, and she, at least, seemed to find the whole ting rather amusing. She was obviously trying to lighten the mood of the room, and it became even more obvious when she continued by asking "Can I have some too?" Thank gawd for Birch, was all I could think, as everyone turned momentarily to look at the odd girl, and leaving me unwatched by hawk-like eyes since the moment Miriah had shoved my hangings open.

"Not now, Burr," remarked Sarradell absentmindedly, as if her mind was somewhere else, and not really paying attention to the girl's silly request. "We can by you fun and original drugs layer. Right now, we've got bigger fish to fry."

They all turned back to me now, and Willow raised her eyebrows quite high as she did, smirking, and mouthing 'Fish?' at someone or other. Meanwhile, Birch stuck her tongue out at Sarradell behind her back, and Miriah looked annoyed.

"Now that the Cashew gallery is finished with its dramatic production, can we turn back to the matter at hand?" She, too, didn't wait for an answer. "Lily, can you please just tell us, me, the truth? Please?" If I hadn't felt guilty before, this took the cake. Miriah was excellent at being pitiful.

"There's nothing to tell!" I repeated stubbornly, feeling more blameworthy by the moment, and still trying to come up with something that these people, who knew me oh so well, would believe. Miriah would have come up with such a better story then me, I swear. It was her gift, really, but the only good it would do me now was hoping some of it rubbed off in the last seven years…

"Oh cut the crap, already, Lily." Said Willow, who, until now, had remained largely silent, at least compared to the others. "They saw what they saw, and unless you're going to claim insanity or a lapse in judgement or whatever, you owe them an explanation as to why you were scrogging that guy in our common room. So, please, just tell us the truth before Miriah goes and frizzes her hair more with worry." Even with the jokes thrown in, there was no joking in her tone.

Luckily for me, as the corner I was being backed into was becoming smaller by the second, a decent story finally arrived to my mind. A believable one, anyways, as long as no one looked for holes too closely or questioned me too thoroughly. In anycase it would have to do, unless I wished to learn to walk through walls.

"Fine!" I said suddenly, taking them all off guard. "You really want to know? Fine!" They all looked smug, and that alone took the bite off my guilt. "It's really stupid. I just wanted to see what it would be like to kiss him, and it got a little out of hand. All those girls have to have been onto when they were scribbling on the bathroom wall… and everyone's been going on about it, and I feel really stupid about it now, making out like that with a boy I barely like, and I feel really bad, cuz I think I lead him on…" I stopped to draw breath. They seemed to have bought it so far… The finish line was in view… "Now, I already feel like an idiot, and quite easy, too, and I don't really know what to tell you guys…" The key was in the ramble. You ramble, and people will believe almost anything you say, because you seem to have so much to say about it… It seemed to work for me, anyways…

That wiped the self-satisfied smiles off of everyone's face, and especially Miriah, who stood there gapping, apparently dumbstruck, which was a thing in its self. "Oh." Was all she said, taking an unconscious step back, her foot falling on Birch's, causing the smaller girl to call out, and drop some of her popcorn all over the floor as she tried to avoid falling over. "Oh." She repeated.

After she got out of Miriah's way, Birch glared at the floor, before swooping down to pick up a fallen kernel and examine it for a moment, before chucking it at my head like it was my fault. Then, suddenly, she looked up at me, trying to look innocent. "So," she asked. "How far d'you get? Just clothe-less snogging, or had the dirty touching started yet?"

In spite of myself, I let out a giggle, and then processed what she had said and reddened. "Birch! You can't— just— just— Birch!" I tossed a pillow at her in retaliation, both for the popcorn and the comment.

"What?" she asked, still the picture of innocence.

Still sitting on her bed, the whole time, smiling a little now, but her face contorted in thought and something that looked disturbingly like comprehension was Angel. I didn't know whether to thank her, or dread the confrontation later.

"This is really none of your business!" I finally managed to say, once my ability to speak returned. I threw another pillow at her head, before realizing that that rendered me pillowless.

Of course, she dodged it effortlessly, ruining my revenge plot and slight pillowless joy. "What?" she repeated "I have to get my rocks off somehow…"

Willow put a hand on the obviously nutty girl's shoulder. ""That's what Freddy's for, Bee, didn't you know?"

"Oooo!" said Birch, grinning broadly and rubbing her hands together in a rather cartoon-like fashion. "After-hour booty call… I'm liking this plan!" She laughed.

"Okay, on that disturbing note…" commented Rayne, who had now gravitated back to her bed now that the show was over, with a grin on her face. "Now, we will recommence bugging Lily about her base-running affair with James…" She stuck her tongue out at me, and I stuck mine out right back.

"Now that I have something else to amuse myself with," she gave me a demonic grin, that was really quite amusing, and not all that demonic at the moment. "This really doesn't concern any of us." I sat up suddenly, startled. What was she saying? "I mean, honestly, I don't really care. And neither should any of you, you sicko-perverts" the demonic grin was still present "Except maybe Sarradell and Willow, cuz Chris and Jesse have graduated, though between the two of us, you're not fooling any of us when you sneak off in Hogsmeade." Willow glared, and Birch simply gave her a teasing smirk. "But Lily's sizzling affair with a certain steaming Gryffindor Quidditch player/ messy-haired Head Boy" Way to narrow it down to one… "Has got to be confusing enough" she continued. "This whole thing is going to be abso-freaking-lutely killer to figure out, and I'm just glad it's not me at the end of this whip… again…" her eyes suddenly came alive and she turned her smirk towards me "I'm going to beraising your floppy-haired, emerald-eyed kids, I hope you know!" I giggled at her sudden random comment, though really I should have been used to it by this point.

"Was Birch just insightful?" asked Miriah, her shell-shocked remark offset by a playful grin. "Wow." She seemed absolutely determined to skim over my possible death, and I could see why. The girl had definitely lost enough people in her life so far. Or period.

"Why thank you Birch…" I told her. She smiled at me in her motherly way. "I think."

She wrinkled her nose, but otherwise ignored me.

"Only here to help!" she called over her shoulder, heading for the door. Turning just as she reached the door, she smiled slightly. "Wait a minute, no I'm not." And smirked a sly smirk worthy of Mr. Cheshire himself before opening the door and walking out into the hall.

"Where are you going now?" I called after her, not sure whether or not I was happy she was leaving.

"After hour booty call girls! Come on, keep up!" she smirked one last time. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a boyfriend to screw into a curly fry. Toodles!" And as she left, the only person persent who didn't seem to believe my story was Angel, who sat on her bed looking thoughtful and pensive. Angel, who had as of yet said absolutely nothing, and done nothing except look disbelieving, and then comprehending. Fuck.

Disclaimer: The characters in this story, beyond any of the ones mentioned in the novels, are mine. The Lyrics at the top of the page are the copyright of Maroon 5.