Wow...I apologize for the delay. Life caught up with me and I had no motivation to type this...
Also, I've been looking back and I'm incredibly unhappy with what I've written for the next few chapters. The story seems to be steering away from the direction I'm trying to go. YMMV, but I feel like the quality of this is slowly decreasing...hopefully it gets better, haha. I mean my God I absolutely hate the ending. I had to rewrite it because it was present tense and it ended up being terrible.
Either way, I promise that chapters will start coming in again and I will never write an AN that takes up the entire iPaq screen ever again :)
Chapter 4\\My Love Is A Lie
{you and i}
Hey, let's sing a song.
Sing along if you know how it goes.
Without you, there's no reason for my story. And when I'm with you, I can always act the same.
Forever, yeah, if we're together...
We can make it better.
{of course, another lie is gonna make it better}
Heather and Duncan sat in a nondescript little café across the street from the mall. Heather stared out the window, watching strangers wander in and out of the mall. Duncan did not try to force conversation; he merely sat, as though waiting patiently for her to speak.
He probably just hoped for an easy lay. Whatever. Heather was just grateful to be away from that gigantic, crowded hell.
"I thought you hated me," Heather said, keeping her gaze on the window.
"What?" Duncan looked bemused. Either he had no idea what she was talking about or he had not expected her to talk at all.
"I thought you hated me," she repeated. "Why are you kissing me? Why are you even talking to me like a normal person?" She left one thought unspoken: How can you even act like you like me?
Heather was suddenly suspicious of his motives. If there was one thing everyone on the island could agree on, it was that Heather was a total bitch. Unworthy of kindness.
Duncan shrugged. "I dunno." He spoke so casually, as though they were merely discussing schoolwork or something of that nature. "It just...didn't seem right."
Didn't seem right? Had she heard him properly?
"I try not to kick people when they're down, unless it's Harold."
"But-"
"Look, you may be a complete bitch, but you're hot, and I'm sure you'd treat me one hell of a lot better than Courtney."
"So what you're saying is..."
"Go out with me sometime. See a movie, hang out, whatever."
You're a bitch, but I want you anyway. Let's go out.
He could've just said it like that. Tactless, but it would've worked for Heather anyway.
"Sure." She smiled a bit. It wasn't a real smile, but it seemed to be the appropriate thing to do.
"Awesome." He gave her a sort of grin/smirk.
Heather observed Duncan closely. His hair and piercings screamed 'poser,' but he had fairly decent teeth. His piercings weren't infected. He was short, yes, but most guys are when compared to Heather.
She could pretend to love him.
It wouldn't be rea but it'd be so much easier than loving Lindsay. After all, it'd just be another lie.
Just like the rest of her.
{it's more than one night, but still, it couldn't hurt}
Duncan and Heather hooking up was incredibly random, and the fans found it intriguing. They didn't attract as much attention from the paparazzi - at least, not as much as expected.
Either way, many pictures of this new couple cropped up online and in magazines, occasionally attracting the attention of shows like Celebrity Manhunt.
Heather rarely talked to Lindsay after that day at the mall. It reminded her that she didn't love him, that Lindsay had abandoned her without a second thought.
Heather and Duncan were not very close by any stretch of the imagination. This could be interpreted many different ways, physically speaking. In their case, it meant they never went beyond kissing, the occasional make-out session.
Heather one day found out why.
{this is why we're never close}
Awkward hands held him close, fumbling, unsure. It's not like she hadn't done this before, but it was different now that she had her mind on someone else.
Heather tried to lift Duncan's shirt, but he smacked her hand away. She shot him a confused look, rubbing her hand. He sighed and shook his head.
"No, Heather. No." He said it as though he were scolding a dog.
"Why not?" she pouted. Heather honestly didn't care, but it pissed her off that someone - especially her so-called boyfriend - was rejecting her.
"God, you're such a whore," he muttered. Heather opened her mouth to retaliate, but he spoke again before she could.
"Okay, fine, you want to fuck me? You want to see why I won't let you? Fine."
Bruises, scratches, scars marred his skin. They all said one thing. One sentence, seven syllables, loud and clear.
"This is why you can't touch me."
"Say anything to anyone," he growled, "and you're dead."
She didn't think he meant it, he loved her, but she couldn't keep from feeling just a bit afraid he was serious.
{this is why i can't let you touch me}
She could p r e t e n d to love him.
It wouldn't be r e a l , but it would be e a s y.
It would be just another lie.
Just. like. the rest of her.
{oh, why can't she love him?}