forgot how much fun writing this fic is! Here's the next chapter.

Now, I consider myself smartish. But it's times like these where I wonder about my brain. After running from Martin I realized I had no idea where I was supposed to go. So Martin caught up to me pretty quick... the fact he is part chetah didn't occur to me until later.

He had me his arm around my waist and picked me up so he could hold me to the wall easier. But as soon as I saw his face I couldn't help but laugh again- the look on his face after I stuck my tongue out at him was priceless. At first it looked like he was going to hit me, which caused me to laugh harder, but he didn't. Instead he smiled and said, "You are so slappy."

It took me a moment to realize what he said, then I realized that slappy was a funny word and laughed harder. Now he looked like he was about to burst out laughing right next to me. "Stop it," he said. "I'm supposed to be angry at you!"

Then he started to laugh and ended up dropping me, now I was laughing and crying out in pain. This is one of my favorite moments ever, I thought to myself. I've never felt so care-free before, so- so much like a 15 year old. I stopped laughing before Martin and watched him. His face was so different than when he was angry, it was kind and safe. It reminded me of Fang.

Without thinking about it- just going with the flow- I curled up next to Martin and laid my head on his shoulder. Usually when I thought about Fang I would cry and have to hold myself. But now I have a shoulder to lean on. No matter how much it wants to kill me. Martin was there.

"How old are you?" Martin asked.

"Fifteen. How old are you?"

"Eighteen." We were silent for a while.

"Martin," I started.

"Yeah."

"What does slappy mean?" Normally I would never, ever, ever, never ask this question. But my pride seemed nonexistent when I sat next to Martin. I guess when you have two people with huge egos they cancel each other out.

Martin chuckled a bit. "It means your so tired you think everything is funny."

"That can't be right," I said. "I just woke up." He put his hand on my hair and stroked it softly.

He shrugged. Again we were silent a few more moments and he continued to stroke my hair. I never wanted it to end.

"You still awake," he asked.

"Never was tired," I answered.

He grunted and said, "If anyone asks what happened here don't say the truth."

"Why?"

"I have a reputation to uphold. I can't be know as the softie who let a fifteen year old get away scott free after she stuck her tongue out at me."

After he finished I looked up at him. "Are you sure?" I asked.

"Positive." He leaned down and kissed my forehead. Suddenly my head started to feel fuzzy and my eye lids felt like 100 pound weights were on them. "Go to sleep," he whispered. I complied.