Okay, how deliriously proud of myself am I to be writing a story with reviews nearing the hundred-mark? Let me just go ahead and tell ya, EXTREMELY! What a safe little high they give me! Okay, you can stop rolling your eyes at me, I know that I am pathetic. What can I say, I thrive on praise (it's the secret attention-whore in me.) I'm trying my best to get this whole thing written up and posted, but as I might have mentioned before, life is kinda hectic right now. So just rest assured that I am trying, and that it will happen...in time.

Disclaimer: Naw...

Ok, this is mostly dialogue, but I hope that's okay.


"Do you ever wonder about us?"

The question caught me totally off-guard. Did I think about Craig Manning?

Obviously.

Constantly.

In fact, some might even say it bordered on obsession.

But then again, people would have to know something of said obsession to say such a thing, and thank the freaking lord that no one does. Well, maybe Marco a little, but even my butt-bumping ex-boyfriend isn't fully aware to the extent of my longing for the infamous man-whore guitar player. But yeah, to get back on track, why was he asking? Oh God, did he know? I mean, I knew that he knew that I had a bit of a crush on him, but he had always avoided the subject. Why bring it up now? Had Marco said something? Oh God. Oh God, oh God...hey God? Please kill me now. No wait, kill Marco then kill me. Stupid blabbermouth. I'll murder him. That is, if I haven't been struck dead by the grace of Jesus already. If that's the case then I'll come back from the dead and murder him. Then I would be undead though, and I don't think that I would enjoy that very much...

Okay, wait. I am having a mental breakdown and Craig is still talking. Maybe I should stop freaking the hell out and actually listen to him.

"I mean, do you ever wonder if we still would have become friends if I hadn't followed you to the pool that night?

Oh yeah. Friends. Of course.

I try my best to look unaffected, (which wasn't too hard since I am quite used to feigning such an appearance) and answer him.

"I don't really know. Probably, I guess. We still would have seen each other all the time at group and everything, I'm sure some kind of an icebreaker was bound to happen."

"Hmmm, so what you're really trying to say is that there's no way you could have resisted me last summer even if you hadn't spent so much time gazing at my naked body."

"Come now sir, you exaggerate. You were only half-naked."

"You're right. If it was my completely naked body you wouldn't have been able to stop yourself from raping me right there in the pool."

"Oh, so is that what you think would have happened last summer if we hadn't been forced to cut our visits short?"

"Well logically, yes. There's no way any able-bodied woman could have been in that close of proximity to my sexy body night after night and not had her way with me."

"Oh really, is that so?"

"Yes ma'am. It's no fault on your part, just plain old human nature."

"And just what makes you think that I still won't?"

"Hey now, no one's stopping you. Manny and me are done for good this time."

At this point in the conversation, I clammed up and splashed him in the face. Whenever our pseudo-flirting/mockery/sexual-innuendo starts edging a bit more towards the intense side I am always the one to change the topic. And it's not because I am embarrassed by the subject matter or anything, but rather that I can never tell whether or not he has crossed the line from teasing to propositioning. Not that he ever would of course, and not that I would accept if he did, but you never know. If it was the right place at the right time...

"Watch the face Nash!" he said, holding up his hands to shield himself from my attack, "I was just wondering! Seriously though, isn't it strange how we became such close friends last summer after barely having spoken to each other before?"

"It's strange that anyone would become your friend Manning, but what happened last year was mostly due to default. There wasn't anyone else left in Degrassi."

"Ouch, now that hurts."

"It was meant to."

"Better watch what you say ma'am, you were dangerously close to quoting something you would die to be associated with."

"What?"

"Nevermind."

"You're impossible Craig."

"Impossibly handsome, you mean."

"Oh sure, and your modesty is just that much more attractive."

He gasped in mock surprise, holding up a pruny hand to his chest. "What in the...Miss Nash, you weren't being...sarcastic there were you? Perish the thought!"

"Okay ass, I've changed my mind. We definitely wouldn't have become friends last year if you had not stalked like the maniac you truly are, because you obviously must have put me under some sort of voodoo spell that is only now beginning to wear off."

"Voodoo? Are you blaming my irresistible charisma on voodoo?"

"Yep, I most certainly am."

"Damn. I didn't think anyone would figure out my secret. I'm really sorry about this Elle, but I am afraid I am going to have to kill you now."

He lunged forward and ducked me under the water. Silly Boy. The rest of the night fell into place so seamlessly, it was like no time at all had passed between the two of us. We teased each other shamelessly and mercilessly as only we could, the conversation taking more than one of those detours into provocative mockery that made me squirm just a little. But then before I knew it the sun was beginning to peak out from over the horizon, its soft light coaxing us to head inside exhausted and waterlogged. The next day I couldn't keep the smile off my face...and of course neither could Marco. He kept his mouth shut though, I think he was afraid that if he let on to what he knew we would feel pressured to invite him, therefore ruining the whole romantic tension thing with a third wheel. Little cupid that he is, he has been pushing for us to get together since after he returned from Africa last summer and I am pretty sure he has already picked out my wedding gown. So when we slept in till noon the next day he just went down to get breakfast by himself and did a little self-exploration of the hotel, brushing off our subsequent apologies with that damn smirk.

By the time we finally did haul our asses out of bed that afternoon we decided to do a little bit of sightseeing, Craig took us to visit his studio and so on and so forth. To be honest with you though, I was so preoccupied with what was to follow that night that my mind was kind of elsewhere throughout the course of the day. The studio was interesting though, and I could rattle on with some technical jargon, but then you would just skim through it to wherever I started back up with the story, so what's the point of that?

We went back to the pool that night, and the night after that, and on and on for the entire week Marco and I were there. Craig still snuck into my room every time, and some nights I would pretend to be asleep, and sometimes I would be sitting up and ready for him, or I would sneak out of bed and wait for him by the door, jumping out of the darkness behind him when he entered. And just to let you know, he threw me over his shoulder a couple more times.

Marco never asked where his key went.

Then one night after I got back to our room I couldn't sleep. It didn't matter that swimming had exhausted me as usual, or that I had been awake every night for the past week at an ungodly hour, or that this was damn near the most comfortable hotel bed ever, because there was something on my mind.

We left for Toronto the morning after next. Tomorrow would be my last night at the pool.


Getting towards the end...