AN: Hi guys! Obviously I'm sorry for not posting in...well forever, but here's my next chapter. I really hope you like it and hope it was worth the wait.

Also I'd like to thank my awesome beta Chipmunkgirl 101 (I hope I got the number right, I suck at remembering numbers)

And thank you to everyone who reviewed, followed or favorited :D

Little Lies

All characters belong to Richelle Mead, I only own my imagination.

Chapter 5.

Christian's point of view

This morning, or night, when I had woken up I'd felt an urge to get going. I hadn't felt like lingering in my bed or looking for comfort in my dreams. I'd been outright cheery, which usually wasn't even possible for me in the mornings. It had been a blissful haze and I had gladly accepted it without questioning. In hindsight, I probably should have known that nothing good lasted too long. I'd been so excited about my art project – yes this was surprising to me as well. I'd wanted to show Lissa what I had done. I'd been like a proud little first grader running home to mommy with a brand new picture done with crayons and all that jazz. As crazy and strange that sounded I couldn't help but relish in the thought of how proud Lissa would be of me. I guess there wasn't so much to be proud of, but Lissa just seemed like the kind of person who would be excited for others.

Then I'd seen her, standing in the crowded hallway. Her halo of fair hair had made her stand out. To me, she had looked like a saving angel in the middle of a pond of piranhas. I'd walked right up to her, yesterday's doubts thrown to the wind, and told her all about my hard work. It wasn't until I had noticed the spaced out look on her face that I'd first registered something was off. She had seemed distant. She hadn't wanted to talk.

The funny thing I noticed sitting there in Slavic Art class was that I didn't even realize how much I disliked the feeling of my good mood seeping away through my fingertips. Feeling it slowly fade away only left me feeling rather cold and empty. It wasn't that it was a new feeling for me. It was just that in these couple past days I'd become accustomed to a luxury I couldn't afford – Being happy. Sitting there next to Lissa, who looked rigid and distracted, I realized what it was that was happening. It was the very reason I didn't talk to other royals in the first place. It was the very thing my sarcasm and bitter attitude usually shielded me from. I was being rejected. As realization dawned on me, all I could do was sit there quietly and try to stare straight ahead. I clenched my jaw and cut off the wings of my hope. Lissa didn't say anything, but then again she didn't need to. The entire class room seemed to be closing in on me. The walls were moving in and the noise of students whispering to each other almost drove me mad. I took in a deep breath and tried to concentrate on what we were being taught. Mrs. Reed said something about some artist who drank himself to death that I vaguely recognized from the book Lissa had lent me.

I felt a surge of anger swirl in my stomach. I felt confused. I thought I was doing well with Lissa. I had been on my best behavior and she'd seemed so…nice. Maybe I was just getting ahead of things. Maybe she was just in a bad mood. I was just seeing things where they weren't. That had to be it. That's what I wanted to believe, but a strange nagging voice in the back of my mind reminded me that it probably wasn't so. It was one of the most unpleasant feelings I'd ever had. As the bell rang through the room like a knife cutting through the air I bolted out of my desk and handed out the beginning of my essay to Mrs. Reed.

Out of the corner of my eye I noticed Lissa staying back in class. She very slowly and delicately placed her things back into her bag. She was biting her lip as if she was nervous. She really had an easy tell. I automatically thought she should work on it if she was going to survive St. Vladimir's. It could eat you alive if you weren't careful. A shiver ran through my spine as I walked out of class and Lissa followed me. Careful, that's exactly the opposite of what I had been these past couple of days. I watched her follow me. I looked at her, surprised to see her frowning.

We walked in silence for a whilewhen I abruptly came to a halt. I needed to know what was going on.I needed to know if she was going to ditch me or if she was just in a bad mood, I needed to know. "Do you feel like talking now?" I asked. I wasn't sure I wanted to know the answer to my question; still I felt the need to ask it. I wanted to prove Mark and Sarah wrong. I was usually a rather good judge of character and Lissa just didn't seem like the kind of girl who would care what others thought about her.

"Yes," Lissa said. She looked down at her shoes and bit that goddamn lip of hers again. She didn't look like she was feeling too well.

"Are you ready to tell me what's wrong?" I asked. I was a bit worried about her. Her green eyes seemed to dull down and the way she tugged at her blue sweater made me think twice about getting upset at her.

"We can't do this," she whispered looking straight at me.

I decided to smile, because what else was I supposed to do. I knew what she would say and I sure as hell didn't want to cry in front of her. "What exactly are you talking about?"

She lifted up her chin. "We can't be friends." She trailed her eyes away from mine. So that's how it's going to be.

"Who said we were friends?" The words burned as they left my lips. I hoped she couldn't see through my façade. I'd be screwed if she could. Why should she know that her company made me happy? Why should she know that all I wanted was for her to take back her words? "You're just helping me with my project." I swallowed, focusing my eyes on her. She didn't look comfortable under my eyes.

"Oh, I just thought..." Her demeanor changed very quickly. She suddenly looked like she was about to fall off a slippery cliff.

"Right," I sighed and cringed inwardly. "Well you thought wrong."

Lissa took a deep breath and seemed to gather herself. "Alright, then there is nothing to talk about."

"Yep, nothing at all." I didn't feel like looking at her, but I did it anyway. I wanted to see her face. I wanted to silently confront her, maybe to give her one last chance. She remained silent. "Thank you with your help with my project, Vasilisa."

I turned swiftly and walked away before I said something I'd forever regret.

Alright then. If today's mission had been to destroy a possibly lovely relationship in its bud then I had surely succeeded. I kept walking around the grounds of the school, putting one foot in front of the other. If I stopped something potentially horrible could happen. I could start thinking about the consequences of my fall out with Lissa. Perhaps it had been pathetic for me to enjoy her company so ridiculously much, but I kept looking for reasons to justify my feelings. I had been so sure; I'd honestly thought she'd be different. 'Different from what?' One might ask. To that I didn't have a satisfying answer. Had I hoped she was like me? Why would I wish something like that on another person? It's just that I'd seen it there, in her green preposterously absorbing eyes, she'd suffered. And maybe that's why I thought she could be different. Maybe suffering wasn't enough though, maybe she thought she had a right to act the way she did because she had suffered. Some people, including me at times, thought that way.

With each step along my way, as my foot hit the cold pavement I could feel my anger subsiding into something that scared me far more. This feeling, making my throat swell up and my jaw clench was exactly why I didn't generally go out there and forge new friendships. Friendships are great, really. It's only when they become train wrecks burning with a bright flame when they begin to take a toll on you. By then it'll be too late to do anything though, you've already let somebody in. It may be you haven't even told them anything significant about yourself, but you've let them in. You've began to wait for their presence, hoping, that you won't crash. And when you do crash, you get burned.

I felt the corners of my lips tug up. A fire using Moroi getting burned, now that's got to be funny in some way.

The point is, I don't like losing people. My track record with people close to me sticking around wasn't very good to begin with. I didn't really feel like setting new records any time soon. Still, before I'd even noticed it, Lissa had gotten me to let her in. I'd know her for-what, four days, tops- and I was already feeling miserable at the thought of not having her around. My mistake. I should've just settled with gossip about her like everyone else seemed to be doing.

"Could you look any more miserable?" I heard Sarah's voice call. She headed towards me, clenching her pink fabric jacket closer to her chest.

"I'm sure I could manage that, but just for you though," I said trying very hard to force a smile on my lips.

Sarah furrowed her thin eyebrows and closed the distance between us. "What's wrong?" She asked me, her warm breath bringing contrast to the crispy late autumn air.

"You know, just keeping up with my reputation. If I don't sulk around once in a while, people might start to think I'm not completely miserable," I answered her with a tedious voice.

Sarah smacked my arm. "Don't be like that, Christian. Why can't you just be like a normal person and tell me what's going on?"

"I don't know, I guess that would just be too mainstream." I pushed a few dead leaved away from me with the tip of my shoe.

"You're infuriating, Ozera," Sarah said and wrapped her lean fingers around my wrists. She pulled me towards the entrance of the library. "Mark and I are gonna study here, and you're gonna join us."

I nodded and followed Sarah's lead. Her blondish hair was pulled up in a messy bun and her brown eyes full of concern I was led to believe was caused by me.

We walked to our usual table. It was a neat little corner booth with a yellowish light covering it. Sarah dragged me to sit down next to her. Mark raised his eyes from the book he was currently reading and gave me a smile and a nod of approval. I raised my eyebrow. "Which book is that?" I asked.

"Oh this," Mark said and turned the book around in his hands. "It's the Catcher in the Rye."

"Oh, hey, if you finish it, don't tell me how it ends," I said, hoping for no follow up questions.

Mark gave me a confused look and put the book down. "Didn't you read it ages ago?"

"No, I haven't finished it yet. I did start, but I can't seem to manage to get to the ending."

Mark shook his head and muttered something like 'only you Ozera' under his breath. Mark put the book back in his backpack and tried to look social. It was funny. He sat there looking from Sarah to me, trying to think of something to talk about. You could practically see him turn down topics in his head. His green eyes eventually ended up staring at the brown surface of the wooden table we were all sitting around. I looked at Sarah and we shared a quiet smile. She rolled her eyes and slammed her bag on the table. "Look what I found guys." Her voice was high pitched, which indicated that she was excited. She spilled the contents of her bag on the table; keys, wallet, magazines, pencils, and crumpled up pieces of paper. She looked through the papers in intense speed and finally grabbed one that was dark blue with yellow writing on it. "Check this out." She handed out the paper to me. I took it a bit hesitantly; one corner was covered in some pink ooze I could only hope to identify as lip gloss.

"What is it?" Mark asked, peering over the paper as if he had X-Ray vision and could see through it.

"It's a flier for the dance," Sarah explained. "It's Halloween themed." She said it like she expected us to share her excitement.

"I'm not really into dances," I said.

"You're not really into anything so does it even count that you're not interested in dances?" Sarah asked sarcastically. "Don't ruin this for me Christian. I want to be all girly, get dressed up, spill some blood…" Her gaze drifted away, her eyes glazed over for a second. She looked ecstatic.

Mark cleared his throat. "Spill…blood?"

Sarah snapped out of her daze and her posture grew defensive. "Fake, of course."

"Of course," I echoed her. She gave me a look and crinkled her button nose.

"Anyway," She started and crossed her fingers. "I was hoping Mark and I could go together and you could find a date."

Mark looked a bit confused and furrowed his eyebrows. "You want to go with me?"

"Yes, who else would I go with?" Sarah asked, seemingly sincerely.

"I don't know, with someone who actually knows how to dance?" Mark suggested.

"Dances are not actually about dancing, silly. It's a place to socialize and go with the flow," Sarah stated. "Or don't you want to go with me?"

"Ouch," I whispered under my breath.

"I-I'd love to go with you," Mark stuttered.

"Great, it's settled then. You two are going to the dance," I said and took out my algebra book.

Sarah flung the book away from me onto the ground. "Wait just a minute. You're coming too. I'm not letting you skulk around all alone."

"I don't want to go to the dance," I objected. "Those things are always packed with Royals and the food is always bad. Actually, bad is a compliment. The food is always awful."

Sarah took a sip of her coffee that she had managed to conjure from somewhere and looked thoughtful for a minute. "Why don't you ask the Dragomir girl?"

I felt a surge of cold panic wash over my body. I knew I looked taken aback and I tried my best to hide it. "Lissa wouldn't go with me."

"You haven't even asked, so how do you know." Sarah crossed her arms in a way that said she wasn't going to back down.

"I just know, ok," I said and retrieved my book from the floor.

"Did something happen between you and her? Because yesterday you were all 'best friends forever.'" Sarah said and tossed her cup away. She had a look on her face that had 'I told you so' written all over it.

"We were not best friends," I snapped at her. I loved Sarah, she was a close friend of mine, but she was not very subtle or understanding when it came to her being right about something. She would definitely rub it in my face.

"Calm down guys," Mark sighed. "Obviously something happened and Christian doesn't want to talk about it."

"Why do you both think that something happened?" I stuffed my algebra book violently back into my backpack. "You don't know anything about anything." I got up but Sarah grabbed my wrist.

"Alright, Christian. I'm sorry. Don't go with Lissa. Go with someone else, or we can all go together or whatever." I felt she was truly sorry for upsetting me, but I as mentioned, I was also upset. I turned around to face her.

"You and Mark, go to the bloody dance, but don't bother me about it. Go and dress up like Frankenstein and Doctor Who for all I care, but I don't want to hear a word about it." I stared at the blue flier Mark was now holding and concentrated on how it would look if it were burned. Before I knew it, orange flames started licking at the paper, which Mark dropped on the table, with a gasp escaping his mouth.

"Christian!" Sarah hissed. "You can't just do that."

"I can't?" I asked. "That's funny, because I believe I just did."

AN: Well... That's Christian for ya. Hope you liked switching back to his point of view. Hope you enjoyed the chapter of course. Let me know what you thought about the chapter. Leave a review, because reviews are like having Christian smiling all day. (Which by the way I consider to be a very nice thing!)

QUESTION: Would you like me to add Adrian Ivashkov into this story? I know he only shows up in the second book, but I feel like we could use some Adrian inspired plot twisting :D