CHAPTER NINE

"Grant," I growled, "it is so not a date."

He crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes.

"Seriously," I continued. "We're going over the Romeo and Juliet script. He's Paris and I'm Juliet; there's a lot of lines to memorize and it's best to get a head start." He didn't waver. "You could even come and join on the script reading. That's how 'this-isn't-a-date' I am."

Grant chewed on his lip but said nothing else.

"Fine!" I slammed the script down on the counter. "It doesn't matter anyway; he'll be here in any minute now anyway and there's nothing you can do to stop it." The door bell rang and I slipped off the kitchen stool. I threw over my shoulder, "and be nice. He's your friend."

"And he's your—"

I opened the door and smiled.

"Hi, Marc."

Marc smiled and I opened the door wider to let him through. He walked over to the kitchen and I could hear the sounds of animate—and more importantly nice—chatter going on between the boys. I closed the door, leaning my back against it and breathed in deeply.

Friday had come around quicker than I had thought it would.

I walked into the kitchen. "You gonna join us, Grant?"

Grant between Marc and I until he sighed and shook his head. "Nah. I think I'm gonna head over to Jonas's for the rest of the day." He stood from the stool and walked passed me, scruffing up my hair as he went, jacket and keys in hand. He paused at the door. "No funny business, Hammond."

"Really?" I asked, surprised. For a moment, I honestly expected Grant to stick around and supervise us like we were two year olds.

Grant poked his head back in. "What?"

"Nothing," I called back. "I said 'have fun'."

Grant eyed me suspiciously and I threw a mouthful of chips into my mouth, smiling around them awkwardly. The chips dug into my cheeks. It was painful and I doubted that it looked very attractive.

"Uh huh," he said slowly. I waved at him and he shook his head, closing the door.

Marc's shoulder dropped about ten thousand metres towards the ground. I swallowed the last of my chips and smiled.

Marc frowned at me. "What?"

"Seriously? You're intimidated by Grant that much?" I knew the affect Grant had on the guys—major affect—but I didn't think it'd be enough to make the kid looked like he was dying. I played Juliet here; clearly I'm supposed to be the pale one out of everybody.

"Well, come on," I said, slipping off the stool and walking into the lounge room. My script was waiting for me exactly where I left it on the coffee table. "Lets get these lines memorised."

I jumped over the back of the couch and settled in, placing the one hundred odd paged script on my lap. I turned to look at Marc and he stood there, shuffling from one foot to another, scratching the back of his head.

Oh oh. My devil was singing to me.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

He blinked and looked around the room. "Nothing, nothing." He walked around the couch and sat on the other end. His script was rolled into a pin and he hit it against his knee. "Um... Cammie..."

"Yes, Marc."

"Is today going to be a study date or a study date."

I blinked. Play it dumb, play it dumb. "You just said the same thing twice."

Marc laughed, relaxing and he sunk further into the couch. He rested his arm on the back of the couch and rested one foot on his other knee. He looked me directly in the eye and said, "Cam—"

"Knock knock!" shouted a voice from outside.

The first thing I took note of was that the voice was male. The second thing was the pained and agonizing look on Marc's face. The third... Well, there was no third.

Frowning, I stood and walked over to the door. I tried to look through the peep hole but all I said was the back of a head. The person had dark hair.

I opened the door.

No.

Freakin'.

Way.

"What are you doing here?" I exclaimed.

Zach smirked at me from the other side of the door frame. He helped up his script up, waving it in front of my face.

"Rehearsals," he said.

Zach tried to take a step inside, but I closed the gap and used my body to block the rest of the doorway. He frowned at me and sighed.

"What are you doing here?" I asked again.

"Rehearsals," he said again.

"No. There's no rehearsing today. It's seven o'clock at night on a Friday. School finished four hours ago. Go home." I closed the door and he shoved his foot in the way. He smacked his palm against the door and pushed it open, stepped aside me and walked into the house.

I stood there gob smacked.

"Get out, Zachary!" I yelled.

He turned and raised an eyebrow at me. "Zachary? I see we moved pass the last name basis. Good to know."

I clenched my hands and fought the urge to stomp my foot like a little girl.

"Zach, what are you doing here?"

He groaned and dug a piece of paper out from his pocket and handed it to me. On the note were the words 'Rehearsals Cammie's house Friday seven'. It was in his handwriting.

"What is this meant to prove?"

"I'm here for rehearsals." He walked into the kitchen and eyed the packet of chips I'd left open from when I was arguing with Grant. "Twisties." He popped a few in his mouth and sat on the same stool I sat on before.

I crossed my arms over my chest.

"This"—I waved the piece of paper in the air—"doesn't mean you are invited."

"You said it wasn't a date," he pointed out. "So, I figure the study session was open invite."

"Well, it's not. So get out." I pointed to the door. "The way you came in is the preferred choice of entrance and exiting."

Zach rolled his eyes. "Chill, Cameron."

"Don't call me Cameron."

"I thought we were on full first name basis." He genuinely seemed confused.

"No. We're not. Now leave."

Zach nodded his head. "I get it now. You want me to prove that we're on full first name friendship basis. Got it."

I think my eyes popped out of my head right then. "Argh!" I growled and stormed back into the lounge room.

Marc frowned at me. "Who was it?"

"It's meeeee," Zach sung, following me.

I crossed my arms over my chest and sulked. More like fumed, really. I was pissed. Zach couldn't just invite himself here for a study session whenever he felt like it. It was closed invite if more than one person had been invited. And only one person had been invited.

I wanted to pull Zach's hair and cut his Abercrombie jeans.

"Hey man," Zach said, nodding at Marc.

"Uh... Hey," Marc said, clearly confused. He looked to me with a quizzical look.

I shrugged my shoulders.

Zach caught on to the voiceless communication.

"Sorry man. We you hoping on studying? Too bad. You probably should have mentioned it was closed invite when you were bragging to all your mates about your so-called study date with Cam."

"What?" I asked.

Marc groaned.

Zach's eyes narrowed. "You didn't know?"

"This isn't a so-called study date," I said. "We're going over our Romeo and Juliet scenes. What's there to brag about?"

March shook his head and looked at me. "That wasn't me, alright? My mates thought it was study not study-study. Honest, Cam. They twisted the words." He glowered at Zach. "Not me."

Zach shrugged. "Whatever man. Calm down. I don't care what your mates say. Grant does though."

"I know. And he knows that too. So there's no need for the 'Protect Cam' brigade to fire at me, alright?"

"Okay," I said, cutting in. "That's enough." I looked at Marc. "They're protecting me alright? Grant's like that. He'll get everybody to keep a lookout for me. But he trusts you. I mean, we're home alone, right?"

Marc eyed Zach.

"Pretend he's not there," I said.

"Hey!" Zach.

"He trusts you, alright? And for now—for the next hour or so that's the most anybody's gotten. So chill." I turned to Zach. My brain was clicking in gears. "Zach, kitchen. We need drinks and snacks and I've only got two arms."

"I'll help," Marc pitched in.

"No," I said quickly. "Zach's up; he can do it."

"Yes ma'am," Zach said, walking a soldier for three steps before giving up. Clearly it wasn't as easy or hard as it looks.

I pulled chips out and grabbed one of the biggest bowls we had. I grabbed a packet of popcorn and placed them in the microwave. Pressing on, I knew the sound would cover our hushed voices.

"So, what do you want to know this time?" he sighed, sitting on the counter next to me while I stood.

"Why are you really here?" I asked softly. I didn't want to fight. I just wanted the truth.

"Honestly?" he repeated, staring into my eyes.

"Yes. Honestly. What else would I mean? Like to me?"

He sighed. "Grant may have mentioned what was happened this Friday."

I groaned.

Zach held his hands up. "No. It's not like that. He said he wasn't going to hang around and I wasn't sure if that was right."

I frowned. He didn't think having freedom was right? This guy's twisted.

"Why wouldn't it be right?"

Zach leaned closer and practically whispered in my ear. "I know things, okay? I've known Marc a lot more and longer than anybody else in this town has. I hear things. And not from outspoken sources or the gossip mill. I hear the real stuff." Zach slid off the counter top. "I know I said that being a dick was easier than being nice and sometimes, like now, it's easy to just be nice for a change. I'm looking out for you. Grant knows I'm here. He honestly trusts me with you which means you're more important to him then you realise, Cam.

"I'm just trying to be a friend."

I swallowed. That was a lot more than I ever expected to hear. No. That was a lot deeper than what I ever expected to hear.

"Can we be friends?" I whispered. The little space between us made this moment more intimate. More risky. I had to take a shot. "Not arguing... it'd be nice."

Zach smiled. "Friends it is, Cameron."

I groaned and the microwave beeped. "My name's Cam or Cammie. Not Cameron."

Zach just laughed and pulled on the end of my ponytail.

"Ouch! Watch it," I said, smacking him on the shoulder. Zach piled the drink in his arm and I grabbed our bowl of chips and popcorn and we carried them into the lounge room.

Marc looked up from his script and eyed my bowl of pop corn.

I rolled my eyes.

Boys.

I sat down on the couch, next to Marc. He looked at me with a concerned face and I smiled happily to reassure him. When Zach turned his back I nodded my head and mouthed "Everything's cool". Marc just smiled and nodded his head.

"Hey, man, pass me a coke will ya?" Marc said.

I looked down at my script the words 'Romeo and Juliet' took up half the page on their own. Looking at the script and imaging this play was real... I had it going fairly good for me here.

I wasn't about to stuff it up.

Hi everybody *waves*

So... REALLY long time no see, huh? Sorry about that. I understand that I was on holidays, but Fanfiction hasn't really been the thing on my mind lately. And sorry for not sending out teasers. I figured you guys would rather want the chapter over teasers ;) Haha.

But... I know I said this last chapter but I do have holidays again. Four. Beautiful. Weeks. And I'm currently sick. So, who knows? Maybe I'll write mega loads and it'll just be the uploading that I have to do. I have finished my mid-year exams last week and my own MS is through its last rounds of self editing so hopefully that'll clear my schedule for a while to come.

And I'm so sorry if this doesn't live up to everybody's expectations. But it's short, sweet and filled with goodness so I'm hoping you guys aren't firing up your pitches just yet.

But here's your chance to make what you want to happen happen.

Tell me in your review: what you would like to see happen in That's What You Get. I want to know any little detail. Whether it's a pairing, a drama, you have an idea for Cammie's misbehaviour, a kiss or a really super close kiss ;) Anything you want, tell me and I might just put it into the story (with your permission of course. It might not happen right away, but when it does I'll definitely tell you).

And the usual comments: did you love this chappie, hate it, so so? Tell me. I really love hearing your opinions.

Sorry about the lateness.

Ellen.