So, I don't think it is going to come as a shock to anyone when I say that that last chapter was more than a bit disappointing. I don't know how or why or anything really,but I just couldn't seem to get across the guilty, squirmy feeling Ellie gets from this dude watching her swim,or why shegoes back regardless. It's one of those situations where you have a picture in your mind of how the thing is supposed to play out , but when it comes down to actually putting it down on paper, things just don't seem to really flow. Ehh, it's not as if I am planning on going pro with the whole writing thing or anything, but suggestions and constructive criticism are welcomed. And on a different note, did y'all know that this story is the most reviewed out of everything I've posted? Yay, that really means a ton to me, even though I guess the fact that it is also has the most chapters might have something to do with it. But anyway, on with it.

Disclaimer: Sorry, but no.

Here we go again...


But obviously, unfortunately, the plane didn't crash, because here he is. Standing before the two of us tonight, asking me a question. A question I wasn't answering.

I don't want to answer him, I don't want to speak with him, to look at him, to hear him, to feel him, to have anything to do with him ever, ever again. I want him to disappear, to utterly vanish so that it is just Craig and I, alone in the water as if it were a few days ago. Or better yet, I want this pool to be owned by anyone and everyone except this creepy old perv staring me down tonight as he has done on so many other occasions.

I don't know why I find his presence so frightening. He has never touched me, never threatened me, never done anything at all but watch me. God though, if you could have seen the way he watched me. Not that I would wish such a thing upon you, of course, it was uncomfortable enough just to endure it myself. I always tried the best I could not to make eye contact with him, but you've gotta know how hard it is not to meet someone's gaze when you feel their stare on you. However, on occasion I did give in to stealing a glance, but whenever this happened I was sickened slightly by what I found. His eyes had this hunger, this desperate, greedy, insatiable hunger pooling within their depths. It was disgusting. Just like him.

But tonight, feeling slightly emboldened with Craig there, I dared to take a peek in his direction. Strangely enough, the hunger was gone. Though perhaps, not so strangely at all, because I don't think he would have been staring at my companion in quite the same fashion as he had at me. Instead glaring daggers at Craig, his eyes now took on a smoldering fury, a quiet rage that somehow comforted me. I was the one to have angered him, I made him unhappy in his own home. Maybe I had some control here after all.

He was irritated by my silence, and with his gaze still burning a hole into Craig, he reiterated his initial inquiry in a low, dangerous voice.

"I said, I didn't know that you had a boyfriend Ellie. It wasn't very nice of you to keep that a secret from me, was it?"

In spite of the uncomfortable nature of the situation I now found myself in, I was disgusted to feel the beginnings of a blush start to creep up my cheeks at his insinuation that Craig was my boyfriend. Seriously, this guy could rape me, or murder me, or at the very least turn me into the police, and here I am embarrassed that he called some pretty boy my boyfriend? I am acting ridiculous. Quickly, I opened my intending to deny his accusation, but the pretty boy in question beat me to the punch.

"So what if she does? You didn't think a gorgeous girl like her would be all alone and yours for the taking, did you?"

Okay, wait, is this really happening? Did Craig not only fail to correct this man's assumption that the two of us were together, but actually encourage it by calling me gorgeous? I have got to be on something, I mean, how else would you explain the fact that I am in my underwear, in a stranger's pool, caught between my best friend's boyfriend and a rich pervert, scared to death but strangely flattered? Geez, the weird little goth girl certainly has come a long way.

"Well now young sir, I really don't think you have any standing to get nasty with me. Just whose pool do you think you happen to be in at the moment?" He snarled back at Craig.

But then again, I obviously haven't come that far, because somehow I have landed myself right in the middle of all... this. God, and I haven't even begun to explain the situation to Craig! Oh joy, that is certain to provide for one hell of an interesting conversation, which should be just what I need after whatever it is this night is going to throw at me. But in the back of my mind, what I keep mulling over the fact that although Craig doesn't have any idea of what exactly is going on between this man and I, (though surely the pedophile/slut scenario has played through his mind) he is still facing this possibly dangerous guy almost blindly in order to defend me. And I know my thoughts should have been occupied by more pressing matters at the moment, but for some reason right now all I can seem to take notice of is the boy in front of me.

And I don't know if he even realized it, but he was edging his way ever so slightly in front of me, sheltering me protectively from the man's aforementioned gaze with his own body. And I hate it when people try to shelter me, hate it when they try to shield my eyes, hate it when they feel like I need to be protected, but tonight for some reason I was overcome with a rising tenderness towards him for doing so. And all of the sudden, right then, right there, all I wanted to do was reach out from behind him and wrap my arms around Craig, burying my face against the strong expanse of his back. I wanted to press myself into something firm, something steady, something that could have kept me from being in this situation in the first place. I wanted security and support and friendship and flirting and fighting. I wanted him, and the realization hit me hard like an unexpected, dirty blow straight to the gut.

I, Ellie fucking Nash, wanted Craig Manning, Degrassi's very own playboy, complete with your stereotypical combination of philandering ways, tousled good looks and musician's charm. I was no better than Manny Santos.

Then suddenly, the bubble of my earth-shattering epiphany eviscerated with a pop as I felt two sets of eyes staring at me expectantly. It took a second for me to remember that while I had been lost in my reverie, the two males in my company had continued to take pointed jabs at one another in their verbal duel. At some point one of them must have asked me a question, the answer to which they were both awaiting tensely.

Clearing my throat nervously, I used the momentary distraction to try and think of something bitingly clever to say. I knew that it would surely be in my best interest to agree with whatever it was that Craig had said, but I doubted a lame, "yeah" would really be of any help. Thankfully though, the attention shifted away from me when a female voice called out from inside the house.

"Baby, what is taking you so long? I'm getting lonely inside this big old house all by myself!"

That's strange. His wife wasn't due back with him this week. He couldn't honestly be stupid enough to come out and watch me while his family was innocently waiting inside, could he? Then just as the thought crossed my mind, I spotted a female form making its way out of the shadows towards our direction, and my throat closed. An angry wife could potentially be a dangerous catalyst to this situation, for either of our sides. But as the figure grew nearer and I could make out her bed sheet clad shape, she spoke again, and the voice was familiar.

"Honey, what's going-ELLIE? CRAIG?"

"Heather?" Craig and I exclaimed in a chorus of shocked unison.

Just what the hell was Heather Sinclair doing naked in this man's house?


I actually just thought that up at the last second, I hope it fits.