A/N: First, I'd like to say thanks for the feedback, especially since it was a really slow start and no one wants to read something that doesn't grab you straight away. I just needed a normal, non-dramatic entrance for Robbie.
Secondly, an apology; this part is also slow and short. But part of chapter three is already written and imho more does happen. So thanks for bearing with!!!
Thirdly, a couple of people have mentioned about the rating being M. I originally put that on 'cause I wasn't sure what the language was going to be like. But I'm keeping the language mild so I've reduced it to a T. Sorry for raising hopes!
And lastly, I've changed the title. Damn Near Perfect was just a working title and I think She's Got You High works a little better!


Chapter 2

I had spent the rest of the weekend as I had originally expected to. My record collection was near worn out and my current read was now finished. As was the pile of assignments that had been accumulating on my desk all week since I'd spent the evenings hanging out with him. Homework is never high on his agenda so unfortunately mine got a little ignored.

Now Monday had passed me by also. It had been spent floating from class to class collecting yet more work. I spent each moment I had free trying to locate Mandella but ever since 'Baby' (if that is in fact her real name) had appeared; my friend had been a ghost. It didn't upset me too much, it was nice that she was happy and had finally found someone, even if I did consider her to be a crazy jealous bitch. Despite what Mandella thinks, jealous is not hot. But I missed my friend. Although I had had Patrick to while away the hours with, it was the same as hanging out with Mandella. But today he was also missing. Not even a text. Not that I expected or even wanted one. I had no one.

Sitting on the end of my bed, Come Together playing softly in the background, I twirl my cell in my hand, deciding whether I should start the ball rolling by sending a message. Should I start the week with a text message? Or just wait to see if he texts? Damn it, it's times like this I need Bianca! She would know if it's correct girl etiquette to send the first message.


"I love the whole tank top and shorts look." Apparently not speaking to each other (I'd opted with not texting) for the whole week means that there is still an open window policy.

"Hello to you too." I looked over from my book as he climbed through. "Didn't feel like going to school this week then?" Appearing at my window after visiting hours has become a regular occurrence now. It doesn't shock me anymore.

He seated himself in my desk chair, twirled to face, "There's issues at home so Robbie decided to stay. We just hung out." Said like it was the most casual thing in the world, goddamn men.

"Ah. Say no more." With a roll of my eyes, I turned back to my book. I wasn't bothered. Ok I was a little bothered. But I wasn't going to let him see.

The chair slid slowly over to my bed, smirking he sang, "Someone's jealous?" He was mocking me.

I glared back at him, "Don't be ridiculous. That's stupid. There is no reason to be jealous. It isn't like I'm your girlfriend. You can hangout with whoever you like." I try to be as flippant as possible but it doesn't work. There is an annoyed tone to my voice.

He let out an agitated moan, balling up his fists and rising from his seat. "Not this again. We've been over this."

He is right. We have been over this. A couple of times. Ok more than a couple. And every time we end up going around in circles. Coming to the same stubborn conclusion, neither of us wants the other. Or aren't at least willing to admit it. So we carry on this charade of just 'hanging out'.

"Shhh," his voice is rising, "my dad." I lower mine to a whisper in the hope he'll follow suit. "I'm just pointing it out. I have no reason to be jealous." I might as well paint myself green; I am so transparent right now.

"You're right, there isn't." He stares down hard at me.

I can't help it. There is a tinge of jealous. There's pretty girl, who for all intensive purposes appears to be his closest friend. Someone he is willing to share everything with. Hell she has even heard about me. I can't figure out if that means something or not but all I know is she has never been mentioned to me before. I don't know their history which since I don't know what we , makes me a tad uncomfortable. And what's worst of all Robbie is an incredibly nice girl.

"I shouldn't have come here tonight." He climbed back out the window without another world.

I let him have the last words, got up and slammed the window shut, locking it. Mentally cursing myself for showing just the tiniest ounce of jealous, I throw myself across the room to my bed.


I'm coming, hanging on, I shout continuously in my head. My cell is calling me. I rush from the bathroom, droplets of water dripping down my back, catching in the towel wrapped tightly around me.

I hold it gingerly away from my ear, "Hello?" I hadn't even looked to see who was calling; I was more bothered about keeping any water away from it.

"Kat? It's Robbie."

Colour me shocked.

"Is now a good time?"

I gather my thoughts quickly, "Yeah, as good as any. How can I help?" She must have stolen my number from Patrick. He wouldn't have given it to her willingly. Would he?

"Patrick mentioned you'd had a slight disagreement." Of course he told her; he told her everything didn't he? Way to prove you aren't jealous Kat. "I wondered if we could meet? I kind of get the feeling I'm to blame."

"We argue all the time, it's nothing really." I can say, without a doubt, I am being 100% honest there. We spend a good portion of our waking hours bickering.

She was persistent, "I really would like to meet. I'd like it if we could be friends."

Oh god she was one of those kind of girls. Had to be friends with everyone. Odd since Patrick didn't feel the same way. Perhaps she was one of those girls who knew how to befriend guys only one way, with sex. Was I being too harsh? She was nice the other evening. Maybe that fight put me in a bad mood.

"See you at the café in about an hour?" It didn't sound like a question.

"Sure," I sighed and ended the call.