Thanks for the great reviews last chapter, guys! That earned you a Fang POV. ;) Now I've just got a few shoutouts. First to ISuckAtUsernames, because your reviews crack me up, and they're always fun to read! And then PurpleTea88, I always look forward to reading your reviews as well. Probably because they say more than just "update soon!" And a quick reply to maxridelover123, it took me forever to get my double down. But once you've got it it's really easy to do it out of other stunts. Read on! :)

Fang

Now my school has a lot of...crazy kids. During football season there were two girls that got arrested for MIPs, and practically the whole football team was busted for some muscle-building drug. Not steroids, but I don't quite remember what.

And I can't honestly say that I haven't drank, smoked, done drugs. But seriously, what teenager hasn't? And it's not like I'm the guy that smokes pot in the parking lot and never showers because he's always high. Far from it, I'm glad to say.

But my point is, our girls lost the game. And it was Wednesday. But you know what? That doesn't stop us from throwing a huge party, just for the hell of it! We're teenagers. It's in our blood.

I pulled up to Joe's house, where tons of cars were parked in the driveway and along the street. He lived in an average sized house, and it was crammed all the way to the rooftop. But being popular has its perks; everybody stepped out of the way for me when I got there.

"Fang!" I heard somebody cry, and there was Brigid. Again.

I sighed.

"Wanna come get a drink with me?" she purred, her green eyes becoming slits. Wow, I just described a cat. Which I guess Brigid is relatable to.

"You know I don't do iced tea," I told her, and I stepped around her, heading to the kitchen. I was focused on finding either a hot girl who didn't talk much, the beer, or one of my friends.

"Fang!" called another peppy voice, but I merely rolled my eyes at this one.

"Hey, Nudge," I said.

Joe's adopted sister, Nudge, was fourteen and a total girly girl. Basketball to her was for checking out guys, and Joe's little "get togethers" were always enjoyable for her too. It generally kept her from ratting him out for all these parties. Plus the girl really liked me. Not in that way, though. She'd grown out of it.

"I didn't know you were coming." Nudge wacked me on the shoulder with one of her slender dark hands, and she put her hands on her hips.

"What the hell are you wearing?" I asked, trying not to sound surprised. And failing.

Nudge was wearing strappy black heels that had her swaying side to side, short and torn jean shorts with a big sparkly button, and a spaghetti strap tank top.

Although I'd never show it, I wanted her out of there. Away from all the upperclassmen guys, who I suddenly noticed were looking at Nudge. In that way. And no. The girl was freakin' fourteen, in eighth grade. And I was like her big brother. No way in hell.

"You like?" Nudge asked, raising her brows and turning in a quick circle.

"I don't like," I said, using the voice. Nobody can sound meaner or colder than me when I'm trying. "Go put on some clothes.

Nudge held up a finger, which was freshly manicured. "Now, now," she said, putting on a bossy face. "Mom said that as long as a shirt covers cleavage and shorts cover...what they're supposed to, she's fine with it. So."

I crossed my arms over my chest and stood tall. I raised one eyebrow at her, waiting.

"Fine!" She sighed heavily and took off to her room to put on some clothes, almost falling down the stairs in her ridiculous heels.

I shook my head and finally made it to the kitchen, where I snatched a plastic red cup, filled it with beer, and set off to find somebody, anybody, to entertain me.

Sitting on the couch by Joe not long later, a short girl with dark hair caught my eye. She was across the living room, holding a beer bottle, and her eyes kept darting over to me. She would find me looking back and her eyes would flash quickly away, a deep red blush on her cheeks.

"Just go flirt with the chick already," Joe sighed, rubbing his temples. He didn't handle alcohol too well, and he'd already had two beers, quite a bit for him.

I got up and made my way across the room, putting on my little half-grin that girls seemed to love. "Hey," I finally said when I got to her.

"Hi," she said, not stuttering or anything like Max. Why was I comparing her to Max? Her friend disappeared, but only after a little sideways glance. "I'm Britney."

"Fang," I told her, and her eyes glinted a little. Girls usually liked how my name was kind of...scary. Of course, girls were attracted to the whole "bad boy" type thing. And doesn't the name Fang just scream "bad boy"?

Within half an hour I knew the girl's whole life story (not that I, you know, remembered it). And then it was time for her to go and, without making eye contact with me, she pulled out a pen and scribbled her phone number on my arm.

"Call me, Fang," she said, smirking, and then she was gone.

I couldn't help but feel a little shadow of guilt as I thought of Max.

Max

After Dylan went to bed I found myself carrying myself up the stairs and to Iggy's door.

"Ig?" I called quietly, tapping on it a few times. It took quite a few (louder) yells, and louder knocks to get him to finally open.

"What do you want?" he asked, rubbing his eyes. He was in only his boxers. Blech.

"I need to ask you something," I muttered, looking down. How pathetic was this? I was seventeen, a senior, with plenty of friends I could ask. But I chose to come to my little sophomore brother? What the hell was going on with me?

"Is it important?" Iggy whined.

"Yeah."

A few minutes later I was sitting at the bottom of Iggy's bed, and he was covered up with his hands folded on his stomach, looking at me expectantly and waiting for me to freaking spit out my question.

"You know about F-Nicholas? Nicholas Walker?" I stammered.

"Yeah, I know the guy. Total douche. Why?" Iggy's eyes suddenly became suspicious, as if he was thinking up all the worst possible possibilites. I could practically see hear his thoughts: Did you sleep with him? Does he like you? Are you going to the same college?

"What's the big...deal with him?" I finally asked, and I rephrased it to be more clear. "Why does everybody try to stay away from him?"

Iggy sat up and cleared his throat, as if getting ready for a long speech. "First of all, the guy's a prick. Thinks he's the coolest guy on earth. Not to mention the fact that he hangs out with some of those kids that get caught up in the illegal stuff. Drugs, I mean. Not stealing or anything. But it's really the girls that make him so notorious. Rumors are all over - not just at his school - that he's slept with tons of girls. He gets girls thinking they're his pride and joy, he sleeps with them, and then he never talks to them again. At least, that's what I've been told."

"Um. Thanks." I stood up and made my way to the door, putting my hand on the knob.

"Max?" Iggy said, his voice stopping me. "Why'd you ask me that?"

"No reason," I murmured, trying to be nonchalant.

"Bullshit. I know you won't tell me. But just...stay away from him. He's nothing but trouble. And he'll hurt you."

"Yeah. Thanks, Ig." I finally escaped.

I sat on the couch, thinking for a while. Dylan told me to stay away. Iggy told me to stay away. Two of my brothers, who've always been in with the guys and who've always been completely honest when helping me out with guys.

Damn. Why am I always drawn in with the douches?

Hehe, yeah. There's Fang's big secret.

What do y'all think of the whole Osama bin Laden thing? And if you're a fan of his...don't even review.

But otherwise, please review! (: