Merry Christmas! If you don't celebrate Christmas...Happy Tuesday!

Apologies for any typos!

Chapter 2: Such Eyebrow Game

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I didn't know how exactly I made it home in one piece honestly. I drove with one hand on the wheel, and the other laying on my lap…burning relentlessly. Occasionally I would stare down at the number in amazement, completely forgetting about the traffic. I got honked at three times before I arrived home.

My mom stared at me weirdly and complained about the lack of groceries (I just kind of left them in the car). I didn't say a word as I practically skipped up the stairs and into my room. Previous thoughts of sleeping again evaded me; my heart was on overdrive and I couldn't stop replaying the event at the grocery store.

I glanced back down at my hand, trembling as I finally crawled back into my unmade bed. She had messy handwriting. I couldn't tell if some of the numbers were eights or threes. But it didn't matter, it didn't change the fact that this miraculous event had happened. It didn't change the fact that it was her writing, her physical personal scribble etched onto my very skin. I was marked physically and metaphorically.

I snorted to myself at the cheesiness of that thought. But I couldn't exactly disagree with it. I was enamored with Demetria Torres, and it showed. God did it show. I giggled to myself and squirmed about like an embarrassing idiot, tangling myself up in the sheets. Her smile was burning into my mind. The little curve – that little curve her lips did at the corners was going to be the death of me.

In the middle of my ridiculous fit of joy, a startling thought hit me.

What if she could see it – my little – dare I say it – crush?

I wrinkled my nose in distaste. A crush. I despised the word (something else I could add to the never-ending list of things I hated). It didn't even feel like the term came close to the little fluttering feeling in my chest when I thought of Demi Torres. It seemed like a meager description. It lacked the depth behind it. This was a girl I would sigh and swoon over for nearly year. She was probably one of the only constants in my high school life – in the whole love life department (or lack of). It wasn't like I went around to everyone claiming I had a crush on them.

Yet, saying I had a crush on Demi Torres was an exaggeration, something that surpassed the weight of what I was feeling. I didn't even know the girl! And I wasn't okay to personally say I only liked her because of the way she looked. It wasn't true. I mean, Demi was gorgeous but even she had her flaws. Flaws that clearly would be apparent to me if my image of her had not been biased. Because honestly there was nothing wrong with her.

And there was everything wrong with me.

I looked back down at the number on my hand suddenly feeling my spirits deflate like a popped balloon. What if this was a bad idea? What if she wasn't… like that?

Not that I was – like that – I just liked her…

Deep down, I knew that was a crap excuse. I never felt entirely comfortable with the word gay. I didn't know if it had to do with my parents' ability to insult the subject in such a casually condescending manner. Or if it was my friends' insensitivity regarding it. Whatever the case, I always found it difficult to associate with anything related to the word, the connotation, the meaning behind it. I knew from an early age that I was different. As cliché as it sounded. But there it goes – my life was full of clichés.

I always felt programmed differently. I suppose I never truly paid attention to the little things when I was younger. It wasn't until 11th grade that things slowly started to build up. Why I didn't want a boyfriend. Why I just wasn't interested in any of the boys in school (and saying that they were all fugly was kind of getting old). Why I constantly found myself staring at girls and no longer just for the innocent reason of admiring their outfits. Another excuse that was getting incredibly old.

Was she even – did she even –?

Stop overanalyzing you idiot she just wants to talk to you

Did she want me to call or text her? Why did she exclusively just say call me? Could she not text? Oh god how was I supposed to hold a conversation with her over the phone? I couldn't even speak to her in person without stumbling over my words.

I rolled onto my back, feeling anxiety flood me.

And how quickly did she expect the call? Certainly not after less than half an hour of seeing her? Desperate much?

I sighed, setting my phone down on my stomach. I chewed my lip, considering the pros and cons of my next decision.

After a few more agonizing minutes of careful deliberation, mostly consisting of blushing and self-deprecating comments and some more blushing, I decided to text her.

Texting was good. Texting was modern. Texting was going to work.

It's going to work? Psh yeah look where that lead you the last time you said that.

I ignored the thought as best I could as I quickly created a new contact and typed in her number. I saved the number, sealing the deal, and opened a new message.

Demi Torres shown in bold black letters at the header of the message. And I couldn't help the happy smile that grew.

Now for the text…

I tried going for friendly with – hello. Then realized that might be too friendly borderline creeper status. Who says hello nowadays?

I tried casual – hey. What if she didn't like hey? What if it offends her? I groaned, deleting the message as something about hay being for horses flitted through my head.

So then I tried funny – yo, before I slapped my forehead in exasperation.

I then tried a few variations, all that seemed to lead to starting from scratch or accidentally almost sending them, having a heart attack and then sighing in relief as I realized the message had not went through. In the end, I settled for a simple hi, after stressing for another few minutes. And then promptly stressed even more as I realized I didn't even consider using a smiley face.

I buried my head into the nearest pillow groaning and kicking against the mattress. Why did I have to be such a freaking awkward turd all of the time?

Awkward turd or not, I still had her number. With that thought, the smile crept its way back on my face as I ran a finger across the black numbers on my hand.

And that was when I was rudely interrupted for the second time that day, this time however, it wasn't in the form of my mother.

I was lost in my admiration when –

"What's got you smiling like an idiot?"

I scrambled to sit up, forgetting that I was wrapped in my sheets, and toppled over the side of my bed clumsily. My phone went flying across the carpeted floor, landing with a soft thud near the bookshelf.

I recognized the voice instantly, despite the fact that I hadn't heard it in nearly a week. Then again, how could one forget an irritating voice like his?

"Seriously Lena? You have about as much coordination as a thumb thumb." The voice then broke out into a chortle. An annoying one.

I huffed, finally untangling myself from the mess the sheets caused, and pulled myself up.

"You're here early." I snapped irritably as I looked towards my best friend Joe Gray. "I thought you were coming for dinner."

"Please tell me you didn't just get out of bed Lena?" He questioned, biting back another round of laughter. I glared at him, as he continued to laugh. He ran a hand through his black hair (he usually kept it long…until I started making fun of him for straightening his hair), and adjusted the Ray Bans on his face. I bet they didn't even have a prescription in them; he never needed glasses. I wouldn't be surprised. He was always kind of a pretty boy, wearing the newest fashion style, getting his weekly haircut, clean-shaven. I remembered that year he tried to pierce his ears and Taylor (best friend number two) and I adamantly persuaded him not to. Thank god.

"I'll have you know that I've been very busy all day." I finally responded.

"You? Busy?"

"Yeah!"

"Doing what? Updating your glee fanfiction?"

My face flushed. I knew it was a mistake telling him about that. I shot him a sour look as I retrieved the sheets off of the floor and tossed them back on the bed. He grinned back impishly.

"Um no. That show is stupid."

"Says the girl who watches it every Thursday night."

"Ugh shut up."

He narrowed his already rather narrow brown eyes. I always said he reminded me of an elf. He had an elfish face. I think it was the eyebrows. He crossed his arms over his chest and cocked one of said thick eyebrows playfully. "Now is that the right way to treat your best friend you haven't seen in a while?"

I rolled my eyes. "And whose fault is that? Maybe if you came up for air from Taylor's face every once in a while we wouldn't be in this predicament."

It was Joe's turn to flush, though not as blatant as I did, I noticed grudgingly.

"Ha, ha, very funny." He muttered flatly. "But you still didn't answer my question."

"You didn't answer mine." I countered.

"Uh, wow, you didn't even ask a question."

"Uh, wow, you didn't even specify which question." I retaliated.

Joe scrunched his eyebrows, confused for a moment, walking backwards and plopping himself down on the floor. I realized that he was probably planning to stay. It had been an entire week since I had seen him, seen either of them. As much as he annoyed me it was good to see him. But as much as I wanted to see him, there was no urge stronger than to kick him out of my room. He was interrupting my alone time. No not that kind of alone time (pervs). But I would have preferred to continue to fret over Demi Torres's reply in privacy. And I dared not look at my phone under Joe's amused gaze.

God I could just picture his face if he ever found out about Demi. Well I could only imagine, basing off of the past. If the number of times he would make inappropriate and painfully awkward sexual jokes about his brother and I weren't a strong indication I didn't know what was. Not that his joking was ever justified. I wasn't interested in Nick Gray.

I eyed him from my slumped over position on the bed, secretly willing him to just leave. Christ, the one time he wasn't off gallivanting with Taylor, it had to be now….

Joe exhaled obnoxiously as he leaned back on a pair of jeans haphazardly thrown across the floor.

"So are you going to tell me why you're so happy?" He waved a hand, gesturing to me on the bed.

"I'm not happy." I countered. I hurriedly lay over my hand, blocking his view of it. He didn't seem to notice anyway, too busy looking around my room. Nosy little asshole.

"Well," he dragged the word out importantly. "I know the only reason you'd be smiling at this hour," – it was 3 o clock – "is because you're on your computer, which you're not. So, something must have happened."

"Nothing happened."

"Fine, don't tell me. I'm going to find out later anyway." I scowled at this. "On another note, your mother told me to come over earlier than planned to keep you company. Well to be more exact – and these are her words – 'Selena needs human contact I think she's going stir crazy. I'll pay you'. So being the charitably good person that I am, I've decided not to charge for my services."

"I'm not a charity case." I mumbled irritably.

"She says you've been wallowing away." He said air quoting the last two words.

"Go away." I muttered; I didn't initially intend for it to be rude, but the moment he smirked I regretted nothing.

"Doesn't look like you've been wallowing though." He leaned forward in his seat, as his eyes darted across my already reddening face. I coughed awkwardly, refusing to give my embarrassment away. There were things I couldn't stand. Admitting to Joe that he was right was one of them.

"Go away, Joe." I repeated, suddenly deflating.

"Ouch."

"Sorry." I wasn't really.

His lips twitched before a cheeky smile adorned his perfectly tanned face. I felt my own mouth twitch as I fought the urge to return the bright borderline insane grin he was flashing. So charming. One of his many talents. He always had a knack for annoying the crap out of me and still managed to make me laugh at the same time. But that was Joe for you. He was always the jokester, even when we were kids. He had a natural disregard for responsibility, which probably explained why he nixed applying to college, quit his job and devoted the majority of his time bumming around the beach with his surfboard. Well he used to, until he started dating Taylor.

"Why are you really here?" I questioned suspiciously. Joe gave me a mock-hurt look.

"Am I not allowed to spend time with my lovely best friend?"

He was doing it again – the charming. I forgot this was the reason I preferred Nick over him.

I could feel another oncoming smile, before I broke his challenging gaze. "You can. But you usually have an ulterior motive for doing so."

He opened his mouth, but was interrupted by the sudden buzzing sound of my phone on the floor. My heart pounded heavily, as my eyes excitedly darted towards the phone. However I quickly hid the excitement, at the curious look Joe was giving me.

"You going to get that?"

"Uh, nah." I said dismissively. "So uh yeah ulterior motive?" I hastily tried changing the subject. I think Joe could tell because he was staring at me and the phone suspiciously. It didn't last long though. Joe's eyebrows furrowed as he cleared his throat. It caught my attention, as did the suddenly dropping atmosphere.

"Uh, I talked to Nick…" He trailed off uncertainly, brown eyes darting back to me nervously. And it all started to make sense as to why he was here now – instead of at Taylor's.

"No." I snapped, rolling over and burying my face in the nearest pillow. Maybe if I'd hold it hard enough. I would suffocate. My friendship (or lack of one) with Nick Gray was a touchy subject. One that I clearly didn't want to discuss, much to Joe's obliviousness.

I felt Joe tug my shoulders.

"Lena, come on, he looks so miserable."

I felt my stomach lurch at Joe's words. It wasn't that I didn't want to be friends with Nick, I just didn't know how. And I couldn't easily tell Joe, his own brother, the reason behind our broken friendship if he hadn't told him himself. I wasn't going to pry. I felt bad enough as it is.

"It's complicated." I finally muttered in a low voice.

Joe gave me another suspicious look, before sighing softly.

He didn't stay long afterwards, despite the fact that he and his family were coming over for dinner. I just assumed he was going to skip out on dinner. It kind of irritated me how quickly he jumped from his seat when he got a text from Taylor. The irritation was short-lived however, when I remembered my phone on the floor.

I scrambled to pick it up, anxiously unlocked the password, and deflated when I realized it was only Taylor.

T: Busy tomorrow?

I debated whether saying yes just to spite her. But decided not to. As much as they both were beginning to irritate me with their relationship I wasn't mean enough to do that. With a sigh, I began typing out a reply when all of a sudden another text came in. And was it – OH MY GOD IT WAS.

My face flushed as I hurriedly opened the message, only for my smile to drop…and then my heart…and then my stomach.

D: Hey…uhh..who is this?

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A/N: I try to make it a point to reply to everyone who's reviewed. For the anons:

Guest: Wow number one fan? Thank you I am honored :)

Guest: Hahaha I think we all may have a bit of Selena in us

Breadcrumbs: I don't think you'll have to worry about that :) thank you for the review!

And I've privately messaged the rest. I'll try to update as soon as I can. Thanks for reading!