TITLE: Online Confessions of a Teenager

AUTHOR: Dream Catcher

DISCLAIMERS: I do not own Sailor Moon. blah blah… But this plot is mine! clutches story to chest It's my new baby.

A.N.: I'M ALIVE! I'm not sure for how long, since I know many of you might want to strangle me for the long wait. gulps To explain my absence, I have one word for you: school. But now it's summer vacation. dances around Sorry, everyone, for the long wait, but guess what? Here is the looong awaited chapter, and when I say "long awaited" I don't necessarily mean the time it took me to post. In this chapter (the longest chapter yet!) SERENA AND DARIEN FINALLY MEET! Oh, one thing you might notice is that I changed the month of the diaries from June to April so the characters could still be in school. I had to repost chapters one and two so the all the chapters would match. lol. Now, I will shut up.

CHAPTER THREE…


ONLINE DIARIEZ. ORG

(where freedom of thought rulez)

Diary: Online Confessions of a Teenager

User: JuneBunny

4/18/04

10:06 PM eastern

Today, I had to get up early because it's Sunday, and like most of America, my family went to church, where I spent two hours trying to pay attention to the preacher's words. So, in an effort to stay alert, I began to fan out a Winter Fresh gum wrapper and slowly peel the silver outside cover away from the inside wax with my thumbnail.

My mother made no comment on my choice of entertainment. She did, however, find the gum to be much more offensive to the powers above, and made me spit it out in a napkin forged from the bottom of her purse (And this coming from a woman who gambles. Anyone else see the irony?)

Brat found a great amount of humor over The Battle of Winter Fresh, so I took it upon myself to kick him in the shin as we stood for hymnal. Bless his tiny soul, the grimace was barely even noticeable. I liked to think that, somewhere, God had been smacking away at a piece of Bubble Yum.

Little had I known, the jury had still been out, convening on my sentence, and court wouldn't be resumed until much later on in the day.

Anyway, after church, and the ritualistic handshake at the door on the way out with the preacher, or as I called him as a child and continue to call him in my mind, Mr. Preacher, I caught up with Jupiter (another clever pseudonym, if I do say so), one of my few church buddies, the rest of the people my age having begged sick, claimed they were on a spiritualistic journey to search out for the right religion for them (the Church of Playstation Twos and Doritos), or just plain skipped out, having met up with other rebellious teens in the cemetery for the duration of the service.

Of course, here in The South (yes, I live in THE South, albeit a very suburban south, but south nonetheless), where the Baptists run free and a man coming drunk to a wedding or funeral is not unheard of, there is no real excuse for not being in church. Though, most teenagers would probably argue that point.

In my house, everyone is up, dressed, and ready in time for service (even Venus can't get out of church). The only way my mother would even consider letting me stay home is if I had a fever of 100 or more. Maybe if I was hospitalized, too, but she might have Mr. Preacher stop in sometime to let me know that he was praying from me.

Anyway, as customary, after church, there is lunch, but instead of going with my family, Jupiter and I hoped into her old Ford Tarus (her parents have no qualms with their daughter driving).

Ever since Jupiter got wheels, I've skipped out on going to lunch with my parents at Ryan's Steak House, which is where they always insist on going. Course, the only reason Mom let's me go with Jupiter is because it's one less adult mega bar she has to pay for and more of her poker money going towards herself.

So, Jupiter and I decided we'd try the new restaurant, Farley's, which turned out to be a lot like Applebee's, only the interior was less formal (the lighting wasn't dimmed and the windows weren't tinted) and the walls seemed to be a memorial dedicated to Chris Farley.

The Farley's greeter was a girl about my age, if not a tad older. I could tell she was stressed from the look in her blue-violet eyes. She wasn't exactly the perky greeter that you'd normally expect upon entering a restaurant either, but that didn't seem to be slowing business any.

From over her shoulder, I saw there was quite a group gathered in the room, the style of dress ranging from causal jeans to slightly formal church attire, which put me at ease. Forced to wear a skirt, blouse, panty hose, and heels (man I hate heels!), I didn't feel as out of place as I'd normally feel in, say, McDonald's or Bi-Lo.

However big the turnout, though, the haggard teen hostess found us a table in the non-smoking section.

She gave the usual spiel a person expects to hear when shown to their table: "Here are your menus; your waiter will be with you shortly." Then, I watched as her eyes gleamed at us, and she gave us a secretive smile that girls like to give each other when they know something. She leaned in, and we inclined our heads in expectantly. "And a fine looking waiter he is, too."

Winking at us, she tucked a strand of her dark hair behind her ear and turned away.

I raised an eyebrow at Jupiter, who just shrugged, a smile in place, and I could tell visions of boxer-clad waiters, serving her margaritas (virgin of course) were roaming though her head.

I just shook my head with suppressed laughter, opening my menu to scan the choices.

During my debate over mozzarella sticks or something called the "Chris Farley Special" I heard, "What will you ladies be drinking this afternoon?" asked in one of the most—and I'm not kidding when I say—sexy, deep baritone voices I have ever heard.

Well, excluding Sean Connery. Now, that's a voice that can make a girl swoon.

Anyway, as I was saying.

I, of course, being the smart girl that I am, did not immediately look up from the menu to see if the owner was just as "fine" as the hostess claimed him to be. My eyes, however, did pause on the menu and slide their focus to the side a little bit, but all I could see, do to my sitting position, was one of those black aprons containing a number of straws and napkins buried within its deep pockets that waiters and waitresses always seemed to have tied around their waists.

Calmly I turned to the beverage page of the menu, as if studying it for the first time.

Jupiter ordered an iced tea, and I continued to stare at the drink choices.

"And, you miss? You'll be having?"

Slowly, I looked up, and—unintentionally, I might add—my eyes came in contact with that of the waiter's. I had been aiming for his forehead because, while I love Arcade Dude, I can't help but be a little flustered and intimidated by hot guys. And making eye contact with hot guys can be a little unnerving for me.

As you can tell, I'm my sister's opposite.

Anyway, somehow I managed to be caught in this guy's blue eyes. And let me tell you, they were a shade of blue right out of a romance novelist's dream. They were a dark, cerulean. If the color was found in a Crayola box, the crayon would be labeled "Stormy Caribbean Blue."

But you want to know the odd part about all of it? I have never—I repeat, never—been so…captivated by a guy's eyes that I entered one of those trances I always read about in romance novels in which the room around us fades away, as if in a B-rated movie.

Not even Andrew's emerald eyes have cast such a "spell" over me. And, yet, as that thought flitted through my mind, knowing I should feel guilty because I had feelings for Arcade Dude (so what if he doesn't return them), our eyes remained locked, as if someone was holding our heads in place.

It took Jupiter's swift kick to my shin for me to jerk back to reality.

I blinked. "Oh, uh, a Pepsi, please."

He nodded, casually writing down my drink order, seemingly unaffected by what just happened. I had to wonder if I was the only one affected and that he had only been starring into my eyes because he had been waiting for me to order.

"Thank you. I'll be back in a minute with your drinks and to take your order."

And just as calmly as he had taken our order after our "look," he strode away, which left me staring in his direction, confused and little more than unnerved.

"Do you mind telling me what that was about?"

Feigning stupidity, I asked, "What was what about?"

"Don't play innocent with me, missy," Jupiter said. "You don't do a very good job at it. I have never seen eye contact like that before. So, you either explain or I'll— "

"Or you'll what?" I asked, returning slowly to my normal state of mind, not the gooey mess I had been before.

"I'll think of something. But in the mean time, you might as well spill the goods." She leaned forward as the hostess had earlier.

"There's nothing to tell. My mind was elsewhere, and I looked up when I was addressed, only to stare vacantly at his face."

"Cut the BS, Bunny. Have you met him before? Do you think you knew him a long time ago, and you had, like, a déjà vu moment when you looked into his eyes? What was it, huh?"

I sighed because I knew I'd never hear the end of it. "I don't know what it was."

She sagged a little in her chair, disappointed. Then she perked up. "You know, he looks a lot like my old boyfriend."

"Jupiter, according to you, everything with testosterone looks like your old boyfriend."

"Not true," she said defensively. "I find no resemblance in women who take steroids and my last boyfriend."

"What about animals?"

"Well, my last boyfriend was a dog…"

As we laughed, the blue-eyed waiter returned with our drinks, and I tried to pretend as if nothing had happened.

"So, what will you ladies be having today?" he asked, his voice just as silky as before.

Oh brother, since when did I start using words like silky to describe a man's voice? OK, that's it. No more romance novels. No more watching Bridget Jones's Diary and Sleepless in Seattle on DVD. And, no more eavesdropping to Venus's phone calls when she talks about Arcade Dude's "soft, demanding lips" and his "silky, lusty voice!"

Jupiter ordered first, getting a basket of hot wings, and I followed by ordering the mozzarella sticks, which had been less expensive than the "Chris Farley Special."

Smiling, Mr. Hot Stud Muffin Waiter, left with our orders.

"Omygosh, Bunny! Did you see his ass?" Jupiter hollered, in what had to be a decibel higher than her raging Go-Panthers! (our school mascot) voice, reserved only for school football games and pep rallies.

I buried my head in my hands, mortified. I just knew the waiter heard her. How could he not? Plus, the rest of the restaurant's patrons were giving us some looks, which caused me to blush deeply. Even the hostess who had seated us earlier was glancing at our table, but at least she wasn't glaring, like some of the others were. No, the dark-haired girl was smiling. And when I dared to peek out behind my hands at her, she winked and returned her gaze towards the door and the family of four coming in through it.

"Jupiter, could you have been any louder? I'm right here, you know."

She shrugged. "Hey, the guy has nice buns. I was just letting the world know it."

"Well, I think the whole universe knows now. When little Martians decide to land on this planet, they are not only going to want to be taken to our leader. They'll also want to meet the waiter with the nice buns!"

Then, because I couldn't help it, I busted out in nervous laughter.

"Bunny, it's ok, really. I'm sure the guy was flattered. Besides, it could have been worse."

"Oh, yeah? And how's that?" I had asked.

"Well, I might not have been able to stop my hand from reaching out and squeezing those nice, round…"

"I get the picture." I deadpanned.

She smiled impishly, to which I rolled my eyes, trying to get rid of the sudden image of a certain set of buttocks, clad in black slacks.

Arcade Dude, I chanted in my mind. Think of Arcade Dude.

"You know," I said, changing the subject. "How is it that we remain friends, even though we are nothing alike?"

"Well, I think it is because we are so different. You know, your innocence counterbalances my, err, experience. Your tendency to be a stick-in-the-mud balances out my tendency to be a wild child. And so on."

"I'm am not that innocent—not after being around you—and I am not a stick-in-the-mud."

"Sure you are. You never do anything spontaneous or off the wall."

"Sure I do," I argued.

"Oh yeah? When? When have you ever done something outrageous?"

I searched my brain for something worthy of being "outrageous" and sadly enough, I couldn't really think of anything, well aside from that day I skipped school, but even then, my parents had known about it beforehand. My mom had agreed that my cramps were a good enough reason to stay home. I mean, they were really painful that day.

"Um, I can't think of anything at the moment," I said weakly. "I'll think of something later, though."

The smirk on Jupiter's glossy lips had been enough to have me reevaluating myself. Was I really that much of a bore? I mean, was I the equivalent to a real life Thelma from Scooby Doo? But then I realized that even Thelma was brave enough to chase down ghosts with a gang of hippies.

Our food arrived somewhere in the middle of my brief moment of introspection, and somehow or another, I had enough sense to remember to eat.

"Jupiter?" I asked somewhere around my forth mozzarella stick. "Am I really that boring? I mean, is that why I don't have a boyfriend? Because everyone immediately overlooks the dull sister and goes for the older, more fun and outgoing one?"

"Oh please, Bunny, your sister is nothing compared to you," Jupiter had stated, heatedly after dropping one of her hot wings back in the basket.

But, if Jupiter was right, then why was Arcade Dude with Venus?

Lita, not finished, continued. "You aren't boring, just cautious—I was just kidding with you before when I called you a stick-in-the-mud. You're smart, pretty, and funny. I mean, you crack me up all the time! Your sister is nothing but a floozy."

I laughed. "A floozy? Are we still in the fifth grade?"

"No, but weren't those the good ol' days?" she asked, changing the subject now that that I was laughing.

"Oh yeah, those were the days when you could actually tell if a guy liked you because he, you know, chased you around the playground."

"Hey," Jupiter said, pointing a finger at me. "Don't make fun of the playground romances. Those were some of my best boyfriends. They never left me because another girl was more willing to have sex with them."

"Yeah, they left you because you could out burp them."

I received a French fry to the face for that comment.

"And you're right," I added after I sent a scathing look towards Jupiter for the fry. "Those were some of my best romances, too, and so uncomplicated."

"Yeah," Jupiter had snickered, "The whole courtship was a letter saying 'Do you like me? Check yes, no, or maybe.' Or, if the couple was really daring, a few moments of handholding on the playground."

We laughed, pausing only when Mr. Hot Buns and Blue Eyes, showed up to ask if we wanted dessert or not.

While Jupiter and I glanced over the desserts, he stood to the side.

I was salivating over a particular picture of some chocolate concoction, when Jupiter asked, "Remember that guy in the third grade? The one who gave you a picture of himself for Christmas?"

Apparently, she had no problem talking in front of the waiter, so I decided to pretend he wasn't there either. Besides, it wasn't as if we were talking about anything personal like panty sizes or anything.

So, summoning the image of one of my previous—long ago previous—boyfriends, I blushed slightly.

"It was a sweet gift, the picture frame, that is," I laughed.

"I wonder whatever happened to him. What was his name?"

"Johnny," I supplied for her.

"That's right! Johnny! Remember what you got him?"

I laughed again in remembrance. "A cheesy Christmas card and a stick-on tattoo; I never have been good at getting guys gifts."

"Well, his wasn't all that spectacular either, so don't feel bad."

"Gosh," I said seriously, "I wonder where he is. He moved away when we were in the sixth grade, remember?"

She nodded silently, returning to the menu.

Having already decided, I turned to our silent waiter and politely ordered the thing in the picture, while at the same time trying to avoid his eyes.

The last thing I wanted was to lock gazes again. It may have been a fluke, but I wasn't about to let it happen again, whatever "it" had been.

Then, he was gone again, once Jupiter ordered her peach cobbler.

He returned a few minutes later with our dessert and the bill, saying he would be back to pick it up later.

After taking the first bite of the brownie/cake, I sighed with pleasure. Heaven, pure heaven.

"Enjoying that are you?" Jupiter asked, her eyebrows rising as she watched me fork another large bite into my mouth.

Unable to speak, I nodded happily, my lips curved into a smile.

I was taking another bite when Jupiter suddenly exclaimed, "I got it!"

My reaction: "Huh?"

"You want to do something daring right? Completely against you nature?"

My reaction: "Um—"

"Exactly! Well, I have the perfect thing for you to do to, you know, prove to yourself that you can be a risk taker."

"Wait a minute," I said calmly, slowly starting to understand her. "If I recall correctly, it was you who thought I could stand to live a little more. Not me."

"Well, that may be true, but I know that deep down, you want to prove to the world that you can be wild. Spontaneous. Dangerous."

"You sound like an advertisement for white-water rafting."

"Bunny, be serious here. I have yet to see you do one spontaneous thing. I would like to see you do something…outrageous."

"Jupiter, you're scaring me."

"Come on. Do it!"

"OK, first you tell me I'm boring. Then you backtrack and say that I'm not, and now you're backtracking again and trying to get me to do something 'spontaneous.' Make up your mind, woman! What am I, droll or dull?"

"You are fun, Bunny," she said. "But I know there is a part of you wondering what it's like to drive beyond the speed limit."

"I don't drive, remember?"

"OK, bad example. But I know there is a part of you wondering what it would be like to talk back to a teacher or break the dress code at school. And don't deny it, Bunny. All good girls wonder what it's like to be the bad girl. Why do you think so many of them end up with a bad boy?"

For some odd reason, I found logic in that, and it almost frightened me. Was I really going to end up with some tattooed, cigarette smoking, tough talking, I-ride-a-Harley kind of guy? I almost shivered at the thought.

I tried to think of a way to get out of doing whatever it was that Jupiter was concocting in her mind, even if I was just a tiny bit curious as to what that concoction was.

"Well, if you have my moment of daringness planned already, then it won't be that spontaneous, will it?"

"Spontaneity, would have only been a bonus. Now, are you ready to listen?"

"No."

"Well too bad. You're going to hear me out anyway."

I groaned. She ignored me.

"When that hot waiter comes to pick up the bill, you pinch his cute little bottom."

I was mortified at the idea. Girls just do go around and pinch guys in the butt! Do they? Well, no self-respecting girl, at least.

But you want to know the weird thing? I did it anyway. That's right, I, Bunny, pinched a guy on the butt. I have no idea what made me do it either. Sure, Jupiter was hounding me about it, but I never had to do it. Yet, for some reason I did.

When that blue-eyed waiter came over for the bill, Jupiter and I stood up, ready to leave, after making sure that there was a VERY large tip waiting for the soon-to-be-sexually-harassed-by-me waiter.

I took a deep breath, tried to ignore the blush staining my neck and cheeks, looked the waiter in the eyes, determined, and said, "I'm so sorry for this," and reached around behind him to pinch is rear-end.

Then, I bolted for the door, of course.

But that's not where the story ends. Oh no, not at all.

Normally, the interesting stuff about my day would end here, but wouldn't you know it, it doesn't.

Because it is Sunday, and every Sunday, we have Sunday night dinner. And if everyone recalls correctly, my mom invited Arcade Dude and his roommate to Sunday night dinner.

And wouldn't you know it, when I answered the door for Arcade Dude and his roommate (because Venus was upstairs "getting ready," Mom was cooking in the kitchen, Dad was watching the six o'clock news, and Brat was somewhere doing who's know what) there, standing on my porch, was none other than Arcade Dude and Mr. Waiter Good Lookin'.

When I pinched his butt at the restaurant, I had rationalized that the chances I'd ever see the waiter again were slim. I figured that if I never saw him again, then there would never be that awkward hey-you-pinched-my-ass moment; therefore, I really had no reason to be nervous.

Of course, that didn't keep me from blushing and thinking about the incident the whole afternoon.

But there he was, standing on my front porch, looking as surprised as I felt.

And the only thing I could think to say?

"You!" I gasped out, mortified, a blush once again staining my cheeks.

My first thought was that the waiter had somehow tracked me down. Then I realized how stupid that was, and logic finally dawned on me: the waiter was Arcade Dude's roommate!

At that moment, I really started to wonder if I had ticked someone powerful off. Lady Destiny? Mr. Coincidence?

And then I remembered. The gum in church. Had God really decided to punish me for chewing gum in church? Did He really have a thing against Winter Fresh? Was He a Juicy Fruit kinda guy?

I knew one thing, and that was if this was my punishment, I was never going to chew gum, my nails, my tongue, or anything else again in church.

Before I could slam the door in his face and run upstairs to my room, bury my head in a pillow on my bed and wait to wake up, Mina decided to grace us with her presence downstairs. She opted to dress casually, but still had on makeup.

"Hi Arcade Dude. Hi, Blue Eyes," she said, flaunting up to the door, shoving me out of the way in the process so she could give Arcade Dude a huge opened mouth kiss.

In case you haven't realized, Blue Eyes is the codename I'm giving Arcade Dude's roommate. I've had time to think about what his nickname should be, and, well, I can't help it if Mickey Blue Eyes is one of my favorite movies.

At any rate, I tried to ignore Blue Eyes, and even more, I tired to ignore the couple making out on our doorstep because I didn't feel like battling the green leprechaun of jealousy in my weakened, horribly embarrassed state.

Luckily, my mom called at that moment, needing help in the kitchen. Uncertain, I looked at the couple then at Blue Eyes.

"Sorry," I told the dark haired roommate/waiter, not knowing if I was apologizing for the day's earlier incident or for leaving him on the porch with my sister going at her boyfriend in the doorway, making it impossible for him to cross the threshold without shoving the two of them aside. It just seemed like the right thing to say at the moment.

From here, I can go into details about dinner. About how both my parents took a shining to Blue Eyes. About how I fell down the stairs while chasing my brother, who stole my newest romance novel and started to read some of the—uh hmm—racier pages aloud before dinner. About how, when I fell, Blue Eyes caught me in his arms and there was another one of those creepy the-world-around-us-fades-away moments.

But I won't. Partially because I really don't have the patience this late at night to write down every detail (which I know you want) without skipping right to the part where we said goodnight. But mainly because my fingers are cramped, I think I'm getting carpel's tunnel, my eyes won't stay open, and Venus is complaining about the light my computer is giving off.

But I will tell you that, when I took Blue Eyes aside after dinner and explained the whole butt-pinching thing, he seemed remarkably cool about it. I mean, he didn't, you know, say that he found it flattering or anything, but he didn't seem pissed off either.

If fact, he said something like…What was it now? Oh yeah, "It's OK, I'm just glad you're not like some girls who go around thinking that guys like that sort of thing and find it a turn on."

Now, I have to remember to tell Jupiter that guys don't like their asses pinched. I think it may break her heart, but maybe this tidbit of insight into the man's mind may prove to result in some progress in her relationships with guys.

What I want to know, however, is why, with all the non-ass-pinching I do, do I not have a boyfriend?

Maybe, I'm not not pinching the right butts.

Who am I kidding? There is only one butt I want, and that's Arcade Dude's.

Oh gosh! Did I just type that! I never say things like that! The whole, I want only one butt thing, I mean.

Am I being corrupted by Jupiter? Did the whole pinching Blue Eyes's butt unleash something wild in me that was dormant up until now, even throughout puberty?

And you want to know to know the even weirder thing? For some strange reason I can't get that moment out of my head when I touched Blue Eyes's bum, his very nice, very firm bum.

Oh gosh! I don't have thoughts like these!

I think about eyes, about unruly hair. Not a guy's behind!

I like Arcade Dude. I shouldn't be thinking about another guy's butt! Isn't that the equivalent to cheating on him?

I just need to sleep. That's all it is. I just need to sleep, and in the morning, I'll be back to my normal, innocent self. No more gum in church, no more listening to Jupiter, and certainly no more butt pinching!

Now, I need to sleep.

Goodnight, World,

Bunny

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RESPONSES TO ENTRY: JuneBunny-4/18/04-10:06 PMeastern

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Response: JoshIsMINE

Wow! What a weird coincidence? I wish I were you. I mean, that guy sounds totally hot! Blue Eyes, I mean. sighs I wish I had made eye contact with a guy. And what's this about him catching you when you fell? DETAILS!

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Response: SeXyZbAbE

Awe, a love triangle. How TV romantic. I say, go after Arcade Dude, but string Blue Eyes along as a back up. Now, go get 'em.

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Response: ThornINmySIDE

Maybe you won't see the waiter again. I mean, sure you thought that after you pinched his ass, but maybe this time it will stick, you know, the whole not ever seeing him again thing.

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Response: mmmmDoughnuts

Give me doughnuts!

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Response: IH8Dis

I'll tell you again. Arcade Dude sounds like a complete a-hole. So, stop chasing that ass, and go after the one you pinched.

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ONLINE DIARIEZ. ORG

(where freedom of thought rulez)

Diary: Useless Information

User: GreenThumbs

4/18/04

10:49 PM eastern

Today has been…interesting, to say the least, and it all began with yet another butt pinching. Although, I must say I didn't mind this one as much as the one yesterday, given to me by some middle-aged woman, who I imagine was also a Ryan Seacrest fan.

Anyway, today was just like any other boring day-in-the-life-of-Darien. That is, until around lunch, when church let out and the Baptist and Catholics and various other religious followers were released from today's service, all hungry and ready to get out of their dress clothes.

So, I was in the middle of bringing food to another table when Raye, the hostess for today because the boss was afraid she'd spill another drink, approached to tell me that table five was occupied.

As I approached the table, I noticed the blond and brunette. I didn't recognize the brunette, but for a moment, I almost thought that the blond was Mina. Then, I realized that Mina's hair was shorter and wavier.

They were both busy looking over their menus when I reached their table and asked, "What will you ladies be drinking this afternoon?"

The Brunette looked up, smiled almost wickedly, and ordered a tea. Next, I addressed the blond, who finally looked up from her menu.

I know this may sound…odd, but I swear when she looked into my eyes I couldn't think of anything but her. I don't know how I could have mistaken that girl for Mina. While Mina may be movie star gorgeous, this girl was just so darn pretty and cute, with her pert nose and pink lips, not to mention her petal soft skin and pink-dusted cheeks.

And her eyes…Her eyes were so large and innocent and…What word was it that the authors had always used in Mom's romance books? Deep! That's it! Deep pools of baby blue sapphire.

She was the first to look away, I'm embarrassed to admit. But I guess you could say I was never a good swimmer, and I've always heard that drowning was the most peaceful way to go. So, maybe that's why, while I was drowning in her eyes, I'd really no desire to swim for safety.

I know, I know. I sound like such a girl, and can you say cliché? But I'm going to use my guy card as my excuse for not being able to come up with anything original.

Anyway, as I left their table, the blonde's companion yelled something about my, erm, backside. I looked back to see the blond with her head buried in her hands and the brunette smiling wickedly again.

I eventually learned from my frequent visits to their table that the blonde was Serena and her chestnut-haired friend was Lita. I also learned that Serena's third grade boyfriend gave her a picture of himself for Christmas, and for some reason, this information caused an odd feeling within me, a feeling akin to the one I had when Stacey (the chick from my high school days) went to prom with some quarterback named Pete.

It was…odd, you know?

Anyway, later, when I went to pick up the bill and my tip, Lita and Serena were getting up to leave.

Then Serena did the weirdest thing. She apologized, saying, "I'm so sorry for this."

At first, I was confused. Why would she need to apologize to me? But then it quickly became apparent what "this" was when she reached around me and, well, grabbed my tushie.

She then bolted for the door, a blush very apparent on her face, and even though she just grabbed my butt cheeks, I couldn't help but think the blush on her cheeks was rather becoming.

You don't find many girls that still blush now days, certainly not the ones Andrew brings over. Not even Mina blushes in Andrew's presence.

So, after she left, I cleaned off their vacated table, glad that my shift was about over. Once in the employee room, I hung my apron (I hate calling it an apron, but that's what everyone else calls it) and headed out the back exit to my car.

Raye, who had parked beside me, was pulling out as I approached, but apparently she had something to tell me. So, she put her car back in park, and rolled the passenger side window. When I leaned down and peered over the empty passenger seat, I saw that she was smirking.

"You're two for two, Darien," she said laughingly.

I didn't even try to pretend as if I didn't understand what she was talking about. Two days, two butt pinches. Har, har. I didn't found it funny.

I still don't.

"Yeah, yeah," I said. "Go ahead. Laugh it up. I can't help it I'm too hot to touch."

"Now, Darien, if you were too hot to touch, they wouldn't have had a problem keeping their hands off you." She smirked again.

I grumbled, and propped my elbow on her open window. "How does Chad stand you?" I wanted to know.

Chad, the guy I crashed with two nights ago in his dorm, is Raye's long time boyfriend and a new regular at Farely's (the restaurant where we work) since Raye started working there. And for some reason, he and he alone has the power to withstand Raye's wisecracks and ego lowering jokes.

"He loves me," she shrugged.

"Anyone who loves you is crazy out of their mind, and that includes your parents."

"Ouch," she said sarcastically, "that one really stung."

I shrugged. "So I'm off my game today."

"And that wouldn't have anything to do with a certain blond now would it?"

"Um, no."

"You know what's so odd about it? I'm mean, the whole her grabbing your ass thing."

"No, what?" I wanted to know.

"Well, I didn't really see it coming from her, you know? Her friend, yeah. That lady yesterday, yeah. But not the blond."

I sighed. "You know, I thought the same thing. She even apologized before doing it. Isn't that weird?"

She shrugged, unable to think of a comment. "Oh well, I need to be going. Chad and I want to see a matinee, since, you know, the whole I-have-school-tomorrow thing."

"Hey," I said, "Speaking of school, do you know the blond? I mean, does she go to your school?"

She shook her head. "Nope, I didn't recognize her. She probably goes to the public school. You know us private Catholic school girls: we don't get out much."

She was laughing when she pulled out, and I opened my own car door.

When I arrived at my dorm, I, you know, expected to spend the rest of the afternoon relaxing or working on my paper due next week. But I had no such luck, because when I got to the dorm, there was Andrew, waiting on me so he could "ask a favor of" me.

And that favor had been for me to go with him to Mina's house for Sunday dinner.

My first thought was, Why?

It seemed like a good enough thought, so I voiced it. "Why?"

"Because I need you there, and they invited you."

"They invited me? They don't even know me. Well, Mina does, but still…" Then, cautiously I asked, "Why do you need me there?"

"I need you to distract Mina's little sister, who can be a real pain."

I, of course, envisioned some thirteen year old who liked to tag along with her sister and her sister's friends in an attempt to be "cool." This vision frightened me and also made me seriously doubt my friendship with Andrew, who I was starting to believe, was an even bigger jerk than I first thought.

But even though he is a jerk, he is still my friend, and friends do favors for friends, right?

So, I agreed to go along with him to his girlfriend's house for dinner. Besides, the idea of a home cooked meal sounded pretty good compared to the frozen pizza I had planned to eat later.

Besides, now he owes me.

Later in the evening, Andrew and I drove in his car over to Mina's house, which was one of those quaint little two story houses located in an even quainter little neighborhood with plenty of trees and shrubs in every yard. I had to admit, that, whoever the landscaper was they had hired had been good.

So, we followed the brick path through the front yard up to the porch (complete with potted flowers and a swing) that ran the length of the house's façade.

Andrew knocked on the front door, and I shoved my hands in my pockets, wondering for the tenth time that day what exactly I was doing. Oh yeah, I reminded myself, I'm here to distract the sister.

Fun, fun.

But then the major shock came. When the front door opened, there was Serena, the girl from the restaurant, the same girl who had, well, you know. She wasn't dressed in the skirt that she had worn to the restaurant, anymore, but casual jeans and a T-shirt, her hair was up in a ponytail. And she looked just as shocked to see me there on her porch as I was to see her there on the other side of the threshold.

She looked kinda cute, too, her lips parted in surprised, and if I hadn't been just as shocked as she was, I might have smiled.

Then, Mina had come over and kissed Andrew, shoving her sister aside in the process.

Not far into their PDA moment, someone from within the house called for Serena, and from behind the couple, she looked at me, part mortified, part sheepish, and said, "Sorry." But I wasn't able tell what it was she had been apologizing for.

I still have no idea what it was.

She then left me on the porch with Romeo and Juliet, in all-out make-out mode in the doorway, which made it impossible for me to go inside.

Finally, they parted ways and we entered the living room where Mina's father was watching the news. Ken (Mina's father told me to call him Ken), stood to greet us, and I was then able to determine that Andrew was pretty chummy with Mina's old man, which I found a mite peculiar, seeing how he doesn't find it all that important to get in the good graces of his other girlfriends' parents.

But that's right, those girls put out; so there's no need.

Man, I'm really starting to dislike Andrew.

Anyway, after I was introduced to Mina and Serena's father, we all sat down in the living room. Mina, bored once her father and boyfriend began talking about the pros and cons of opening a medical practice compared to working for a hospital, decided to steal the remote and change the channel to MTV.

I, however, was stuck to either find interest in the Hillary Duff music video (who was obviously lip singing) or Andrew's conversation with Mina's father (I'm not in med school, so I don't care what they're talking about unless its cancer patients and chemotherapy). So, when Serena reentered the room, heading for the staircase, I was much more interested in tracking her movements than anything else in the living room.

Of course, she didn't stop to say hi or anything, which I understood because I, too, was still slightly embarrassed about what had happened earlier in the day. She was probably afraid I'd bring it up, too, in front of her parents.

I was watching her ascent from the corner of my eye when I also noticed the large fish mounted on the wall at the bottom of the staircase, which had me raising my eyebrows. MDs don't fish. They play golf in goofy plaid pants, right? A doctor doesn't catch the large striper on the wall, does he? I wondered.

I then noticed the small gold plaque beneath the fish, and rather than interrupting the very intense (boring) conversation, I chose to go investigate whatever it was engraved on the gold strip.

Apparently, Mina's father noticed my interest in the fish and commented, "I was very proud of that one."

"Where did you catch this one?" I asked, knowing the man was eager to tell me the long-winded tale of his masterful catch.

However, I was shocked when, instead of hitching up his pants and describing the bait he used, he chuckled and said, "I didn't catch that; my daughter Serena did. It was her first fish."

OK, this new bit of information shocked me, of course. First of all, Serena didn't provoke images of fishing poles and baited worms. She was cute, and while I didn't think she was like her sister, I could sort of see her as acting somewhat, you know, girly.

The second thing that shocked me was, of course, the actual size of the fish. That was her first fish? It was, while not huge for a striper, rather large for a first fish.

When I thought back to my first fishing trip with my dad (during the time he wasn't trying to rule my life) and the small little brim hooked on the end of my fishing line no bigger than the size of my six-year-old hand, I couldn't help but be a little envious.

I don't want to sound sexist when I say this but…here I go: She's a girl!

It's rather ego lowering, really. Yeah, fishing isn't football, which is really the macho sport, but fishing is, well, kinda like comparing, um, men parts in the locker room. There's more respect the bigger the size. (cough, cough)

As I was saying…

I eventually ended up gazing at the fish in a mixture of envy and admiration, and when I realized it wouldn't do me any good to be jealous of a girl, I was able to the admire the fish in a true sportsmanship way.

Ken and Andrew went back to talking about medical things that I honestly think Andrew had no true knowledge in. I got the feeling that Andrew was pretending to be smart, reciting information he picked up from TV or one of his classmates.

I was standing there at the bottom of the stairs, giving the fish more attention than it probably truly deserved (I had no desire to return to the couch and twiddle my thumbs until dinner) when I heard Serena yell from upstairs, "Give that back before I kill you!"

Andrew and Ken looked up at the stairs, while Mina started to flip through the cable channels. Ken sighed and shook his head as the sound of a scuffle came from above, returning to his conversation with Andrew.

I was bored, however, and the racket coming from upstairs was much more entertaining than the noise coming from the television set.

"Sammy! I will hurt you so bad if you don't give that back!" Serena yelled again, her voice muffled by stomping footsteps.

"No way!" someone—obviously the person Serena wanted to kill—yelled back.

The footsteps became louder, and soon a blond-headed boy appeared at the top of the stairs, a book clutched in his hands. He cast one look over his shoulder before running full speed down the stairs.

I pressed my self against the wall as the boy flew past me and into the living room, where he flopped down on the couch and opened the book.

I blinked a couple times, confused. If this is what it's like to have siblings, I thought, then I'm lucky to be an only child.

"Sammy, get your butt back here!"

At Serena's new threat, I looked up to the second story, and there was a fuming Serena, barreling down the stairs. I was about to move out of the way for her, when she stumbled over her sock, which had stretched and become loose at the toes.

I reached out, hoping to steady her, but instead she ended up tumbling into my arms.

She immediately began to laugh, loud and strong, a very strange reaction, I thought. I was starting to wonder if she had a serious problem, so I asked, "Are you alright?"

Her laughter slowed and she looked up, her giggles ceasing immediately.

And then it happened again, we locked gazes, well sort of. This time it wasn't as though we were caught up in each other. It was more like we were sharing a secret.

She was smiling hugely, her cheeks flushed and hot, and her eyes wide. I realized she was fine, and I found myself smiling. Then, for some reason, we both busted out in laughter.

As our laughs were reduced to gasps for air, Serena's brother, with his voice pitched high like a woman's, started to read aloud from the book he had opened, "'He was only a man, a ruggedly handsome man at that, and surely the most— '"

"Sammy!" Serena screeched before he could finish the passage.

But the boy continued to read: "'The bulge of sleek muscle there looked as hard as roped steel—'"

"Dad!" Serena pleaded to her father, her face hot with the color red.

"Samuel, stop. We have company."

Sammy looked up at his dad in protest, "But, Dad, she—"

"I don't care. Right now is not the time for you two to be running through the house like loose animals. Now, give the book back."

"Yes, Dad," he grumbled, dragging his feet to where Serena and I stood.

"Here's you stupid girly book back."

He handed over the book, and I was able to read the author and title before she clutched the book to her chest and raced up the stairs to return the book to her room.

"Dinner's ready," a blond woman, who was introduced to me as Ken's wife Ilene, announced as she entered the room, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. "Where's Serena?"

"Upstairs," Mina answered, sitting down at the table next to Andrew.

"Sammy," his mom asked, "will you go get her and tell her dinner is ready?"

"Yes, Mom."

"Oh, Darien, you may sit next to Ken," Ilene carelessly waved a hand to the chair across the table from Andrew and adjacent to Ken, who sat at the head of the table.

Two empty seats were left on the right of me for Sammy and Serena when they came down.

Sammy returned first, saying a mumbled "she's coming" and took the seat next to his mother, which left the middle seat, the one directly beside mine, for Serena. I was kinda happy when I realized this.

She walked into the room and paused when she noticed that the only chair left was between her bother and me. I assumed she was a little anxious still after what happened today at the restaurant, and I couldn't really blame her for being a little awkward. I still couldn't help myself from taking it a little personally, though.

Was she afraid that would be mean to her or something? I had wondered. Did she think I would bring it up in a conversation at the dinner table?

When she sat down next to me, I opened my mouth to say something that would put her at ease, but instead I said, "Julie Garwood's The Secret? Interesting choice of reading."

I could have slapped myself then and there, but, I don't know, it was kind of nice to see her blush all cute looking again.

We all bowed our heads then to say the blessing, and I started to feel uncomfortable. My parents had never said the blessing before dinner when I was growing up, so I had never really made a habit of it. My dad had come from a family that hadn't attended church regularly even though they were religious people, and my mom, whose parent's were devout Catholics, had been quite rebellious, or so she had led me to believe, and had slowly started to get out of the habit of attending mass on Sundays.

I was almost afraid that I would be asked to say the blessing, as guests are sometimes asked to do, but, thankfully, Andrew volunteered.

I almost snorted during the prayer when Andrew thanked God for blessing him with such a wonderful girlfriend and her family.

Dinner was what you might expect: polite conversation, random complements to Ilene for her food, and the occasional whispered flirtations between Andrew and Mina.

Then, of course, there was the interrogation I was given by Ken.

"So, Andrew tells us you are studying to be an architect."

"Thanks right," I answered dutifully, but not with an ounce of pride.

Ken nodded in approval, and for some reason I was reminded of my father, which triggered what I said next:

"Actually, I've been thinking of changing my major to landscape design and maybe choosing a minor in business."

Ken, surprisingly enough, seemed interested and I continued, "I've always had a fascination with plants. I thought it might be nice to one day open my own plant store that also loans its services for landscaping projects."

"I didn't know you had a green thumb, Darien," Andrew had joked, bringing a smile to Mina's slips.

I looked Andrew in the eyes and shrugged. "I inherited it from my mother."

"Why didn't you choose landscaping as you initial major?" Ken asked.

"Well, I wanted to have chosen a major by the time I entered the university, but I wasn't entirely sure what to choose at the time. My dad has always hinted that I would be good as an architect, and at the time I thought it was what I should be."

"Well, it's nice that you have found something you enjoy. I've always told my kids that they can be what ever they want to be, even if it is a ditch digger, so long as they enjoy it. Isn't that right, Sam?"

"Yeah, Dad, and when I'm a NASCAR driver I'll buy you a nice boat, like the one Jeff Gordon has."

Ken chuckled. "All my children have high hopes it seems. Mina wants to be an actress, and Serena…what is it that you want to be now, honey?"

"A writer," she blushed and turned her head slightly to look at Andrew.

It was then that I realized that the girl I was slowly developing a crush on had feelings for someone else. And that someone was my pig of a roommate, Andrew.

After that it became unbearably obvious that Serena, the girl who still blushes and laughs with her whole soul, had a crush on Andrew, the boy who goes all the way with girls other than his girlfriend.

After dinner, we had to leave, and I was slightly glad. The love triangle between Mina, Andrew, and Serena was slowly starting to suffocate me.

Andrew and I said our goodbyes and walked out onto the front porch with Mina, who started to give Andrew a very long goodbye kiss. Since Andrew had the keys to his car, I leaned against the porch railing and stared at the sky, until the front door opened and my attention was diverted.

Out stepped Serena, who cast a quick, sad glance at the couple making out before she came over to me.

"Uh, hey," she said, nervously. "I want to, um, apologize for today. My friend, she, uh, dared me to, um, you know at the restaurant. You see," she said, "I'm normally not like that, and she, well, thought I needed to be a little more daring or something."

"It's OK," I said, "I'm just glad you're not like some girls who go around thinking that guys like that sort of thing and find it a turn on."

"Far from it actually. Your butt was the first I, uh…" she blushed, looking away at a potted plant sitting on the railing.

I laughed. "I'm fine with it, really. The same thing happened to me yesterday."

"Really?" she asked, scandalous.

"Yeah, of course, yesterday it was a forty-something woman. So, what you did today kind of took away some of the trauma of yesterday."

"Really, how's that?"

Any other girl and I might have thought she was flirting with me but not this one. She really had no idea.

"Well, you're much cuter," I said, rather bravely.

"Hey, Darien. Let's go." Andrew, having had enough tongue for the night, was ready to go.

Disappointment, settled in.

"Bye, Serena. Nice meeting you."

"Nice meeting you, too, Darien," she said as I followed the cement path to Andrew's car.

So here I am, in my dorm, writing on my computer while Andrew works diligently on an essay due tomorrow.

I didn't like Andrew before this evening, but my aversion towards him has grown since dinner, and I am now determined to bring to light Andrew's philandering ways. I don't know how exactly I'm going to get Mina—and Serena—to realize Andrew is a grade-A jerk, but somehow I will do it.

Tonight, I saw the act that Andrew puts on whenever he is around Mina, and it sickens me. If Mina is half the actor Andrew is, it won't be long before she's winning an Oscar.

I need some sleep.

'Nite,

Darien.

Today's Useless Information: It takes an average of 548 peanuts to make a 12-ounce jar of peanut butter.

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RESPONSES TO ENTRY: GreenTumbs-4/18/04-10:49 PMeastern

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Response: KISSmeTenderly

My name is Tiffany. My sign is Capricorn, and I think you are the cutest. I think we should meet sometime. How bout it? I blush, too.

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Response: HomeworkBound

Sha la la la la la, don't be shy! Kiss de girl! Sorry, Little Mermaid moment.

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Response: NYsubwayMan

Wow. What a day. Wish I had your luck. Serena seems really cool. Are you going to try and win her over after you expose Andrew's dirty side?

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Response: xtreamSK8ERdude

Dude, you have to impress the girl. Find out what she likes and impress the hell out of her. For example, when I'm at the skate park and I see a fine girl, I grind a rail. They usually like that, but you gotta make sure you don't smash your nuts. It hurts like hell.

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Response: KissYourCousin

Just how big was the fish?

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Response: IH8Dis

Well, I'll be damned.

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ONLINE DIARIEZ. ORG

(where freedom of thought rulez)

Diary: Random Acts of Violence

User: IH8Dis

4/18/04

10:58 PM eastern

Well, shit. I just realized the funniest damn thing. There are two people on this website writing journals about each other. One's this weird girl who has a crush on her sister's boyfriend, and the other is some guy, who also happens to be the roommate of the sister's boyfriend.

God, it's funny.

Especially, since the guy has a crush on the girl.

Woo wee! This website just may provide me with some entertainment after all.

Retrieves pop corn from microwave and sits down in front of computer.

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RESPONSES TO ENTRY: IH8Dis-4/18/04-10:58 PMeastern

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All responses to IH8Dis's diary have been screened, and will not be viewable to the public unless IH8Dis wishes to unscreen all comments to diary Random Acts of Violence.

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TO BE CONTINUED…

A.N.: So how'd you like it? The hardest thing about this story, I've found, is trying to write both journals from different POVs discussing the same event without boring the readers. I've read fanfics where the authors switch POV and end up repeating the same thing in a unnecessary way that ending up boring me to death. Hopfully, I avoided this. Please tell me how I'm doing with it so far.

SHOUT OUTS!

way2beme: You crack me up. I enjoy reading your reviews. Thanks. Oh, and when I said you helped with the plot, you'll find out next chapter what I meant.

Nunnya Buiznes: I'm sorry if the plot was too slow for you at first, but now is where it starts to pick up! Woot! The first two chapters were really there to establish the characters. Since I did this in a diary format, I didn't want to expose to much because it wouldn't seem real for the whole plot to be exposed in the first chapter. Thank you for giving the story a chance.

DarkAngleB: Look! IH8Dis has a diary now! As for IH8Dis's gender, well, I had a pictured a cynical female, to be honest. I think this character is loosely based on one of my friends in a class of mine two years ago. However, if you like the idea of IH8Dis as being a male, go ahead. I've been toying with the idea of not really acknowledging IH8Dis's gender in the story.

kelyumemiru67: Thank you! I'm so glad I didn't bore you. lol

Coneko: It's nice to be back, and thank you.

Thanks to all my reviewers. You're great!