Roswell Fanatics

Author: babybunny/Blue*Soul

Coupling: M/L and a bit of others thrown in there.

Rating: ADULT

Disclaimer: I don't own Roswell. Nope. Not me. Don’t actually own much of anything...just a poor student, who likes to write when conscious.

Summary: Sometimes rash decisions are made, ones you regret a long time afterward. But what if by the time you come to realise your mistakes its too late to turn back and even if you can, you risk hurting those you've grown to care about...

Author’s note: Just something a little different (POV) I’ve tried my hand at. (I’m still experimenting with my writing so bare with me) Before I start, I just want you guys to know that I don’t really have enough time to be writing. But, because I’m a little insane and I've been missing writing fanfic, I’ve decided to post this story. To be honest I’m not sure how often I’ll update with exams and all coming up… but I’ll try…I promise! Anyway, if you guys want, you can read and let me if its worth continuing—part one will be up pretty soon as I've already kind of written it. I hope you enjoy.



By me



By BorderInsanity


Prologue *ADULT* part.

The feverish weather only adds to the blistering tension in the air.

I move my head to the side, eyes closed in a mixture of anticipation and eagerness. The butterflies in my stomach increase with accelerated arousal, as his finger sensually crawl down the side of my damp neck and then stop at my collarbone.

“Oh...”

I let out a half begging, half aroused noise.

Don’t really know how he manages it—but what I do know is he’s the only boy that’s ever made me feel like this. Like he’s the only one that ever existed. Like I’m about to explode if he’s within a metre of me.

Someday I think I will, and it’ll all be squishy Lizzy innards and gross bits lying around. That’s how literal the feeling is. He’ll be the death of me.

But what a sweet death it’ll be.

Wait. Let me tell you something before you roll your eyes and go running for the hills. Let me tell you, I felt exactly the same way about this romancing business.

This is me. I never get this besotted. Guys come and go. They’re just guys. I mean, I never believed in this whole happy dappy feeling thing...but it just kind-of pounced on me from nowhere.

And here I am.

Happiness and joy and sparkly laughter. Its wonderful I’m telling you. Wonderful!

His tongues tickling my neck. I shoot him a sideward glance.

Could just sit here forever you know....just in his arms like this... get lost in his—(ahem) and all that other cliched stuff.

Its all a little strange. Should be kind of scared at this whole situation that I've got myself into, but it actually makes me giggle... out loud.

“Something funny?” his voice rumbles in my ear.

I shake my head. “I’m just ...happy”

Happy. Thats a word that I haven't used in such a long time.

I lean into him, my eyes still closed as his mouth replaces his finger. Feathery, eager kisses burning fire up and down my neck. My hands flay backwards around his neck, pulling him closer with a burning need.

My feet wriggle in the swimming pool, causing little trinkets of water to bounce up toward us.

“Whoa baby, calm down” he laughs, “No point getting too excited in here,”

I open my eyes and look around the deserted swimming pool, “What’s wrong with here?”

He raises his eyebrows and I raise mine, equally as high as his, in a dare.

“You serious?” he grins.

See. I know he'll take me up. The guy cannot turn down a dare.

“As I’ll ever be,”

Told ya.

I don’t wait for him to finish as I strip off my strap shirt, watching his pupils dilate in hunger, when my bra follows and not soon after, my pants and panties.

The warm water caresses my naked body me as I dip myself in and turn to look at him, throwing him a come hither look that I know the wont be able to resist.

“You coming or not?”

In an instant, his clothes are in a pile beside mine, water ripples around him as he jumps in; the predatory look in his eyes makes my heart turn in my chest.

The crystal water making wave like patterns around his tanned chest, his muscles flexing and his eyes becoming hungrier by the moment as he moves nearer and nearer, like a lion stalking his prey.

But I’m not one to give in that fast.

As soon as he gets a few inches from hand reach I splash him and start swimming away.

“Hey!” he lets out a growl of frustration but follows. He’s caught up in seconds, his hands grabbing my naked waist and pulling me to him. “You’re not going anywhere,” he says nuzzling me.

I calm the urge to moan out loud.

Didn't realise my neck was such an erotic spot area for me...but man!

“Wasn’t planning on it” I smile, my back against his chest. I let out a sigh and rub myself against the strengthening erection against my butt, knowing it’ll get him all hyped up.

It does. In seconds he’s jutting hard into my behind.

I turn and look into the eyes, you can never quite makeout the correct colour, different shades of gold that change with his mood. Right now they’re dark. A turned on, intense black. Seductive and ruthlessly hungry, yet beautiful.

So beautiful.

Without any indication, I grab his hair in fistfuls and push my mouth against his. He shows no indication of surprise as he mirrors the movement of my mouth, my tongue. The kiss deepening as he opens further, to give me full access to the depths of his mouth. Our tongues duel for dominance, dancing in exploration, clashing in rhythm.

I jump up easily in the in the pool, water rippling as I wrap my legs around him. One of his hands supports my butt and he cradles me as I tighten myself around his erection.

He moans and whispers my name in a tortured whisper.

As our tongues plunder into one another, I buck against him as our passion becomes fiercer and deeper. Our bodies crying at us to unite and become one.

I end up against the wall of the swimming pool. His anguished growl fills my ears. He's pinning my hands to the side as he moves forward, taking the hard peak of my nipple into his moist mouth, rough edges of his tongue flicking over the tiny crown, again and again before he suckles the nub, with a deep desperateness in his movements.

I let out a small moan as the work of his tongue, adds fuel to the fire inside me.

My back is arched dangerously at the edge of the pool, my head almost touching the floor over the other side. He moves to the next peaked tip then and down my past my breasts and to my navel, his head almost dipping back into the water.

My breaths come out in aroused pants, which echo clamorously around the swimming pool, every single noise as magnified as the intensity of emotion I’m feeling. Everything around me is a kind of blur as he picks me up and pushes me up to the edge so my knees touch his dampened forehead.

I’m not cold or scared, even though I’m trembling.

He looks up at me and then gently kisses one of my knees and I silently move forward. My legs wrap around his head as he leans forward, his hot rapid breath heating up my weeping core. I tremble insidiously as he tongue sweeps across my centre and he soon has me in mountain of moans and weeps as he buries his tongue inside me, deeper and deeper. Rough against soft, exploring every writhing part of me.

“God…” I moan, breathing his name in ecstatic pleasure.

My body moves with him my fingers scrape against the slippery flooring as I lean back in ecstacy, then as he tongue swashes against a sensitive spot, I jolt upright and grab his head, leaving further onto him, until his head seems to have totally disappeared from sight.

I hold on tight as I feel his mouth touch my swollen and needy clit and in a mere fifth of a second his teeth latch on and tug the little nub of extreme pleasure. Unable to hold on anymore I lean forward into him moaning out his name and losing balance we both fall back into the water. As we disappear into the blue depths I feel his hands grab hold of me and pull me back to the surface, molesting my warm body with his touches, our mouths already joined by the time we reach the surface.

“God it’s hot,” I moan. Not quite sure where that came from.

He smiles crookedly, in between frantic kisses. “You’re hot.”

“That I am, you piece of cheese,” I giggle.

I’m turning into a giggling idiot but I don’t care. When I look up at him though, he’s not giggling. He’s completely serious. Eyes intense with raw emotion and longing. I cup his face in my hands and nuzzle his nose with my lips, speaking to him. “Your beautiful,"

He tilts his head to the side and playfully rubs his fingernails against his chest, “Well, what can I say. I’m the man.” And he’s got me giggling all over again. Like a couple of kids we start splashing in between caresses and hugs, kisses.

This feeling. It’s kind of strange. It’s intoxicating and overwhelming at the same time. Its intense and kinda scary, because I'm not sure where its coming from, or when it will end.

At first I think I’ve imagined it. But then I hear the door slam closed and footsteps.

“Oh shit,” I whisper in lowered voice, grabbing onto his arms to calm his thrashing down. “Someone’s here,”

“No-ones here …” he pauses, looking around unsurely.

“What the hells going on in here?” There’s no mistaking the voice of Phil the porter guy.

We look at each other with widening eyes of realisation, as the footsteps near us and in seconds we’re splashing up through the pool, grabbing our clothes and running into the changing rooms. We find ourselves in the showers—still there’s no stopping us as he grabs hold of me. His hands are pulling me to him, caressing my breasts, thumb rubbing my nipple. I kiss his chest and lick between the hard ridges, made prominent from working out.

“We should stop...” I say in between kisses and touches of desire. “H-he might come in here,” words barely escape my mouth as I desperately writhe against his dripping muscles. Breasts rubbing heatedly against his chest, my needing centre against his hardness.

“Don’t care.” He says huskily, “I need you Lizzy.”

His words trigger off something more and we’re stumbling together. We’re on the benches next to the lockers. I fall against them and he follows me, kisses of absolute hunger trailing down my face, large hands moulding my breasts.

His hardness melds into my darks curls and waits readily at the my entrance before plunging into me. I grasp hold onto each side of the wooden bench, wrapping my legs around him fully. He slams into me harsh and hard. Giving into noises of erotic pleasure as we become one, and together reach the vast heights of pleasure, as he strokes becoming harder and deeper, with each rough thrust, touching my intimate parts with that part of himself, until I spasm around him.

I fall back onto bench, pulsating with satisfaction. Knowing that I’m going to have big bitch bruises. But I’d do anything to do it all over again. I unwrap my right leg from around him and lazily rub it against his arched butt, relishing in his scent.

Sex, chlorine and sweat have never been more of a turn on.

I want to lie here forever in his arms, but he’s pulling me to me feet and leading me back to shower. This time he’s much more gentle, taking time to touch me, each caress touches me like worship. His kisses as soft as butterfly wings. His touches as delicate as blooming flowers. I let my fingers drift across his chest, my finger encircling the darkened tip of his left nipple, right next to his heart. He continues to, move against my body, taste me with his mouth, assault my senses with each of his movements.

I let myself go in him, the noise of the showerhead, dampening out our moans of joining, but not dampening the feeling that engulfs me.

And when it’s over. Both breathing in rhythm. Heads touching in deepening bond, hearts beating heavily...that’s when I know. That’s when I’m absolutely sure that this is forever.

There are only a few words that I want to say to him. Slowly my lips kiss his ear and then gently I whisper them to him. I tell him.

I let him know what this feeling means.

***

Aww guys, thanks for the feedback! Strawbehrry Shortcake- I plan to continue with those fics sometimes . . . just not at this moment in time. So let me know what you think . . .

No Regrets

Chapter 1

I stumble into the kitchen wearing a half buttoned shirt that I managed to pull free out of Brads closet along with a complimentary sock to go on my right foot. Couldn’t quite find the other one, but from the way I see it, its better to have one foot cold then two, right?

Oh, the joys of student living. Hangovers, extreme overdraft and cold feet. Can see why they say they want to do it all over again, especially since I’m having the frickin best time of my life-

“Ow!”

My hands shoot up to cover my face, when effervescent light shining through the kitchen window hits me hard. Light this early in the morning equals bad. Actually, light equals bad, no matter when I wake up.

“Morning Vampyra,”

My eyes adjust to see the two blurry figures at the table. Alex is staring down at his porridge, still looking as bad as he did the night before. Poor guy—besides me Alex is another person who should be kept at least 100 yards away from anything alcoholic. The problem isn’t that we’re lightweights or even that we can’t stop—it’s just that when your metabolic rate is as fast as mine it causes problem. Yep, problems are purely circumstantially, biological. That’s what I tell everyone else at least.

My eyes drift to the owner of the voice, sitting smugly next to Alex, poignant honey speckled eyes smiling up at me. His eyes travel up and down my body, as I stand in the middle of the kitchen, wearing a shirt that’s sleeves trail way past my hands. His surveys me, right from my mussed, bedraggled hair, to the shirt barely covering my thighs, to one white sock.


I sigh. Great. Wonderful.

Exactly what I need to make my morning even more sun shiney. Stupid people. To be particular—Stupid Person. And he just keeps right on staring. Normally I’m not the shy type, but his eyes linger for longer then appropriate and I feel a blush creep up my neck, my teeth pull at my bottom lip as I nervously look everywhere but at him—in seconds our eyes meet and lock and he smirks. The kind of smirk that says ‘Hey I caught ya, I know exactly what you were thinking’ and at the moment only my pride stops me from turning back around and walking right back where I came from.

Sometimes I have a little too much of it.

I guess I got myself into this whole . . .mess, but geez. I never knew being Brad’s housemate would consist of him spending so much time inside the house.

Finally when he’s done giving me an X-ray with his eyes, he reverts back to proving what a waste of time he is. “Oh look no flames.” He says loftily, “Maybe Lizzy is human after all”

“Mature, ” I quip dryly, “And it’s Liz.”

“Whatever.” He reaches for box of crunchy nut cornflakes and emptying the whole contents into his bowl. “Did you sleep well?”

“Great.” I lie.

I don’t have time to be wasting on him. I’m past that—he will not irritate me anymore.

Only those that I let irritate me will irritate me. I am in control of my emotions. I am in control of me.

There you go. Maria says thinking civilised always works—thinking civilised is the first step to perfect harmony and its almost as good as being civilised. Not as civilised as someone like Brad of course. Brads kind of inhumanely civilised . . . but I guess I’m getting there when images of stabbing his friend disappear minutely from my head. Its been at least 10 seconds. I'm doing good.

“Need coffee.” I grunt looking at the peeling wallpaper behind Alex.

13 seconds.

“The kettle hasn’t moved.” Max says wolfing down his cereal.

Jerk. Jerk. JERK.

“Thank you.” I say giving him evils.

20 seconds.

“Your welcome, Lizzy.”

UGH.

And the stabbings back.

I trudge over to the kettle, sockless foot freezing against the cheap wooden flooring. I busy myself filling it, trying to look as little sleep deprived as possible. His arsines shouldn’t be get me, since its going on for what . . .around a year now, but some people are just ace at crawling under your skin.

“Bradley still asleep?” he asks.

“Brad had an early lecture. Anyone for coffee?” I say with as much cheer as I can suffice, ignoring Max’s preening gaze.

Why do I always feel like an ornament on display when around him and why is he staring like that?

Stop it. STOP IT!

I hate him.

“I make good coffee,” I say stupidly, when no one answers.

“None for me. I have a class in ten minutes.” Alex looks as if he’s about to throw up all over sick looking porridge.

“Hey Al, you okay?”

“Sure. I gotta go," he flings himself out of the kitchen.

I look down at Max, “What’s up with him?”

“You’ll have to ask him won’t you.” He says, hugely unconcerned.

“Might be kind of hard since he’s gone.” I shake my head, looking at him suspiciously. Somethings definitely up. But Max gives no indication to anything as he busies himself to cereal and morning newspaper, with a full frontal of Jordans breasts.

Lovely.

I shake my head from behind him. “I don’t get it. There seems to be some kind of fascination with guys and nakedness. Naked women. Naked breasts.”

“Your a fast one.”

“Its ridiculous.” I decide. Grabbing a mug from the side of the sink.

“You’ve got to appreciate beauty.”

“Beauty?” I snort. “That’s beauty?”

“She’s the epitome of womanhood, womanly curves.”

“What a peice of crock. I say in a disgusted tone. “They’re fake,”

He turns to look at me pointedly, before turning back to the paper. “At least they’re there.”

My mouth drops to the floor at his comment, but again he seems to be completely oblivious to my disdain. “What are you trying to say?”

“I’m not trying to say anything.”

“They’re the biggest cause of back problems. By the time she’s 40—her breasts will be touching her knees”

He ignores me.

“And how the hell does she play sport?” I inquire. “They don’t even make sport bras that size.”

I cough.

“Whereas if you have smaller breasts. -- You’re way better off... There’s nothing wrong with my breasts!”


He puts the newspaper down with a sigh. “Lizzy,” eyes brushing over my chest. “I didn’t mention your breasts. But if you asking they’re a wonderful—“

“I’m not asking.” I cut him off, grinding my teeth at the huge smile on his face.

Silence resounds around the kitchen as he flicks through pages of the paper and I drink my coffee and resort to staring out of the window. The stillness continues to spill through the house, until I swear I can feel my heart pounding in my chest. I lean against the table and scratch my head- wondering how it is even possible to feel so on edge around a person.

“Alex must be really hung over.” I say, trying to ease my discomfort by resorting to small talk.

“Yeah.”

“Last night was pretty awesome no? I had a great time . . . Didn’t you?”

“Not really.”

“He looked really hung over. Alex I mean. He couldn’t have slept much . . .” My voice trails off, giving up.

“Besides the stress of exams and being extremely hung over, the walls are traumatically thin.”

I look up from my coffee, “And?” Point being… “Oh,”

I get it when he raises a mocking eyebrow at me. Oh god. “Oh god,” I say out loud, cupping my face in my hand.

“He heard everything?”

“I’m across the hall and I heard everything.”

“Everything?” I repeat.

“Its okay Lizzy,” he leans across and grasps my hand; I can tell he’s trying not to smile. I bet he’s been waiting for this all morning. “Sex noises are perfectly normal. Even that little squealy thing you do when you’re about to reach the point of—“.

“Max!” I shake my head threateningly.

“Yes?” he asks, eyes feigning a child like innocence.

I give him the dirtiest look I can muster. I’m well known for my evil looks, they’ve sent many a men quivering in their boots. What doesn’t come out of my mouth is said in my gaze. Only it doesn’t work on Max. I guess that’s part of why he’s so incredibly annoying.

“And that argument you had?” he continues smugly. “It’ll blow over. Its not like if he gets into the Reds he’s never coming back and we all know your not really a commitment phobic —“

My heart sinks. Sex noises are well--pretty inevitable when you do it in a student house with walls that are thinner then paper. I can often hear Alex turning over in his bed.

But this argument was different. Not just because it was private, but because I had been mean.

Well, I’ve reclaimed the universal bitch award. Whats new?

“What—you guys have been going out for 8 months? You’re here almost all the time. And yet you publically, very rarely mention him as a boyfriend” He fiddles with his spoon, letting it drop into his empty plate with a clang. His arms rippling as he folds them across the table and leans toward me as if to tell me a secret. “so tell me Lizzy, it’s the sex isn’t it?”

“What?” I bite.

His voice lowers. “Why are you with him?” he asks like it’s a perfectly normal question to ask over morning breakfast, “—I’ve heard he’s, y'know, where it matters most..."

“ I’m not you.” I bite out.

“What’s that meant to mean?”

“What I mean is,” I smile politely. “My penis isn’t the only working muscle in my body.”

He leans back into his chair. “Didn’t know you had one,”

“Must come with my ability to hate you.” For the life of me I could not figure why the whole of the female population was so charmed by this piece of scum.

“When something works well, you may as well put it to good use.”

I think I’m going to be sick. “Please lets not talk about the contents of my sex life in public, I’m suggesting keeping your nose out of things that aren’t your business.”

“Firstly we’re not in public” he stands up, taking his cereal bowl over to the sink, “And secondly when you display it so fervently, you can’t blame people for noticing.”

I narrow my eyes.

He turns around and stretches, his shirt riding up to reveal his lower back.

“Asshole” I hiss.

He turns around and winks. “And proud.” With that he makes a graceful exit from the kitchen.

Again I’m left sitting with my mouth open. Max does that to me. A lot more then I’d like.

Angrily, I turn to grab the mug of coffee, but in haste knock over a bottle of milk that he’s left open. Shit.

Shit!

The milk bottle falls to the side and splashes onto my shirt and legs. I grab a table cloth and quickly start dabbing at my clothes. I exit the kitchen in a state of dismay to see Max in his jacket and backpack, fiddling with the chains of his bike in the passageway.

He’s about to leave. Thank you god.

I wait for him to move out of the way so I can get to the staircase. Only he’s so preoccupied with bike chains and tyres, that he doesn’t notice me. So I decide to squeeze past him.

I move behind him and the bike and turn my body so its flat against the wall before taking mini steps toward the staircase. When I finally get there I let out a sharp breath of air.

“Didn’t know you were into Metallica,” he mumbles, clearly showing that he knows that I was there all along.

“Hey!” I growl. Staring at my headphones and my personal stereo in his hand. “That’s mine.”

“What?”

“Those things in your ears. They’re mine.”

He groans. Like I’m the one in the wrong. “Didn’t you parents teach you how to share?”

“I guess they gave that part of my life lessons a miss,” I hiss reaching up to grab the headphones.

He grabs my hand before I can reach them. “In that case, take off your shirt.”

“You—what?” I manage to blurt, struggling out of his grip. Did I mention that this guy never ceases to shock me. In the worst way.

“I said take off your shirt.”

I don’t know whether I should slap him, or run away. Instead I say. “Huh?”

“Its mine. I let Brad borrow it last week.”

“Oh,”

His eyes glitter. “Don’t worry sugarplum, I wouldn’t ask you to take your shirt off, unless its blackmail . . . and while we're on the topic maybe you could give it a wash before you give it back.” He adds pointing to the milk stain. With that he grabs his bike and exits from the front door.

“DICK!” I yell at the closed door.

I close my eyes, the bubbling inside me threatening to spill. I try to remember what Maria said about imagining a goddamn eagle flying or something. Apparently its meant to calm you down.

I can't picture anything flying anywhere.

I silently retreat up the staircase the and close the bathroom door behind me, taking a deep breath I slide down the doorframe.

Sometimes I wonder whey I even put myself through this whole thing with Brad, being around Max isn’t worth it.

I hate him.

****

No Regrets

Chapter 2


Why is it that the day I forget my sunscreen, god has a good day and the sun actually decides to shine down on us, whilst my skin peels like scorched wall paper?

Just another reason why life’s a bitch.

Wiping sweat from my brow I grab my bag from the bleachers and wave goodbye at a couple of girls from track practice. As I walk through the courtyard I get stopped by James bond, Spiderman and um, Crocodile Dundee?

“Vote Learson for student president!” a guy in a monkey suit yells, shoving a box of lollipops in my face as a bribe. I can’t seem to see the link between the two. Maybe it’s an allegorical metaphor, which suggests that all those in power have the brain of a monkey.

Yep, that’s probably it.

I gave him a stiff smile. “Yeah, you, Bob and Indiana Jones over there too.”

“Oh come on!” he yells at my back. “Learson will be there for YOUR student needs”

"What I need is for you to get out of my goddamn way," I groan and manage shove past the bustle of people screaming different names and shoving a bunch of different coloured flyers at me.

“Ger’OFF!” I bellow, struggling out of the grasp of a guy who’s wearing tinsel on his head. Can you blame me for refusing to acknowledge him? “Christ!”

Can’t these people keep their hands to themselves?

Political harassment. You have to be an odd type of person to drop to this type badgering.

“Vote for Kyle as Sports rep! Kyle is Sport man! Vote Sport man!!” A blonde yells shoving a flyer in my face.

I do a double take, with dawning dread, I realise that my best friend and housemate is a part of this big torment campaign, “Maria?” I question.

I’m surprised, I didn’t notice her earlier. Bright pink cashmere shirt and hippy jeans with a blue bandana wrapped around her head—and that’s Maria not wearing a costume. She’s holding a large box of cookies. Obviously promoting Kyle’s—(my other housemate) election campaign.

I should have known. The two of them have been plotting for Kyle as sport president, like plotting for the third world war.

"Hey you!” Maria grabs hold of me, taking me into a large, tight embrace. “Wow girl. Where have you been?”

“Last night at Brads, this morning at track practice.”

“No wonder you’re so sweaty.” She says moving away.

Maria's not one for subtlety.

“Bet you could never tell elections were coming up,” Maria looks at people around us.

“I know its crazy.” I say with a roll of my eyes, “Can’t even go to the bathroom without being harassed by these people. Did you make these?” I ask motioning toward the box cookies, she’s holding.

“Homemade by Deluca herself!” she grins widely. “It was incense oils yesterday, but it didn’t quite have the same response and then I realised students are seemingly more into food than aromatherapy”

“Odd,” I comment, staring at the box in her hand, “And I’m famished”. I pick a large biscuit out of the box and regret it as soon as I put it into my mouth.

“Oh, come with me!” Maria grabs my arm and begins marching, as I'm busily spitting the cookie out of my mouth.

“Where?” I ask, wiping my mouth clean.

“We need as much help as we can get”

“Me? No na-uh,” I click my tongue, stopping in my tracks. There’s no way I’m going to join in. It’s against my rules. There’s just no way.

She stops short, just ahead of me. “Why the hell not?”

“Its harassment. I don’t do harassment. And plus look at me,” I point down at my track shorts and tank top. “

“Oh, your fine.” She says with a wave of a hand. “And as for harassment, you’re the goddamn queen and that’s why we need you."

“What’s that meant to mean?”

Ignoring me, she grabs a bunch of flyers set on the wall and hands them to me. Bright yellow paper with a large black and white picture of Kyle smiling cheesily, with font saying “DO YOU NEED A REPUTABLE, FRIENDLY, ACTIVE SPORTS REP? LOOK NO FURTHER!! KYLES YOUR MAN, VOTE SPORT MAN!”

“What am I mean to do with these?” I ask dully.

“Make giant paper mache penis,” she rolls her eyes. “Distribute them. That’s what!”

“I…uh,”

“Now get on with it.” Before I can complain further, she flounces away.


I look around me at the courtyard. Every nook and crannie is filled with students getting other students to vote for them. I let out a sigh of defeat and let my bag drop to the floor. Well, here goes nothing.

“Hey Babe”

I’m greeted with the bluest eyes I’ve ever come across.

Brads the typical American boy, tall, blonde haired, blue eyed, well mannered. He’s, well . . .perfect. Just the type of guy you could take home and present to your parents knowing that they’d be utterly charmed.

“Just come back from track?” he asks, dropping a kiss on my cheek.

“Clothes a bit of a give away huh? I would go change. But I have my work cut out for me” I say motioning to the stack of flyers in my hand.

“Your not the only one” My eyes widen as they follow his gaze.

Maria and Kyle have recruited, just about everyone.

Alex is standing the furthest away, holding up a large banner saying VOTE SPORT MAN!

Sport man? Gee. I really can’t get over how inventive my housemates are.

Isabel stands by the steps of the main library, recruiting every guy that passes her way and Tess stands next to her, with her very own batch of Deluca cookies. Michael stands broodily in the corner looking, suspiciously, as if he’ll kill anyone who decides not to vote for Kyle.

“You even got Michael?” I say, “I’m impressed.” I've never seen Michael awake during day light hours unless he's locked up in his room with his play station.

“Actually so am I” Brad confesses.

“Maria's probably made him some false promises. You know how guys start acting like dogs in leashes every time you promise them sex.”

His eyes twinkle in amusement. “I know”

I give him a light punch on the arm, guessing things are okay between Brad and I. That’s the thing with Brad, things are always okay. Never are they crazily passionate, nor do we ever argue . . . and if we do, its like nothing ever happened. We’re like best friends more then anything else . . . friends who have occasional sex.

Brads one of those greatly non-confrontational people. I mean, even when I’m being a total bitch (take last night as an example), he forgives me, or just doesn’t mention it. Either that, or he is a memory span of a gold fish. Though sometimes, I almost wish he would get angry, or yell . . .or something.

I guess I shouldn’t be complaining, not many people bother to put up with me.

Don’t really blame them.


“Guess I should get started,” I exhale loudly, holding up the leaflets.

“Liz?”

“Hmm?” I say turning back to look at him.

“Try and be nice.”

I smile. “I’ll try.”

Unenthusiastically, I walk over to my next victim, but before I can begin the harassment someone picks me up from behind and begins spinning me around.


“Ahh.. .Ok.” I giggle lightly, as the courtyard turns faster and faster. “Jesus...Ok STOP! I’m goddamn dizzy!!”

Kyle puts me down and dizzily I stumble on the spot.

Wow, that was fun.

“Superman?” I ask, motioning toward the blue shirt and red cape with a large yellow S on it.

“Nope!” Maria and Kyle say in unison. “Sport man!”

Oh . . . Oh, dear.

“Maria and I came up with the idea a couple of days back, Mrs Deluca sewed me the costume, but I opted out on the tights—I think she picked the extra thin variety. But Sport man, Clever huh?” Kyle queries enthusiastically.

I decide not to answer.

“This election thing has really got you an a high”

"Yeah, I’m gunna win baby!"

A shrill cheer, from Maria follows his statement . . . and I ‘m beginning to wonder how on earth I'm going to live with this for another week.

" Though, With the amount of men that Isabel’s recruiting I’m glad that I’m not standing against her.”

“What’s that?” Isabel’s asks coming to join the small group that we've made in the middle of the courtyard.

“Weren’t you going for president?” I ask

“I have too many curricular activities going on at the moment. I'm going to give it a miss this year. But I’ll be expecting lots of help from you guys, when I eventually do, do it”

“You wont need it.” I nearly jump out of my skin, when his voice resounds from behind me. I had no idea that he was here and standing right behind me too. I move forward and to the other side of the group circle as he joins us.

“Do you need any more hands?” Max asks, running his hand through his hair.

“Of course. The more hands we get the better.” Kyle answers.

“Oh, we wo need those talented hands.” Maria grins flirtatiously. “Go put them to use over there.” She says handing him some leaflets and pointing to a group of first year girls.

He nods and without even acknowledging me, he brushes past and toward the group of girls.

****

The day passes a lot faster then I thought it would. The sweltering weather makes it difficult to work; yet we carry on relentlessly, no one complaining.

What a team, no?

No one complains . . . that is, apart from me.

What do you expect me to do when the temperatures over 90 degrees and after two hours of continuous yelling, being ignored and being told to fuck off twice, on an empty stomach no less, Max decides to begin parading around --topless.

“Yuck.” I growl. Noticing the way girls throw hungry looks at him, slowing down as they walk past. Eyes lingering over him, heads turning, whispering. “Can you even be any more of an attention whore?"

“It’s working though.” Maria comments. “It’s not like anyone’s going to forget that in a hurry.”

“Its disgusting.” I snort.

She gives me a look and smiles to herself.

“What?” I ask her, curiously.

"Nothing"

Don't you hate when people do that?

"Maria" I threaten.

"Your as bad as them"

"I'm. . . .no I'm not"

“Well then stop throwing him looks.”

“What looks?”

“Never mind.”

“What looks . . .Maria!” I ask in desperation.

“The ones you guys keep throwing each other. It’s getting obvious to the point of . . . utter obviousness”

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” I harrumph.

Maria’s cool and all, but sometimes she says the weirdest things. There was no way in a million years . . . not after everything.

“They’re looks of hate and loathing.” I state. “I detest the guy”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought at first.”

“At first?” I muster. Shoving the flyers at people now, without even looking at them.

“Never mind.”

“Maria . . . Maria!” I moan after her, but she’s already disappeared into a crowd of weirdoes. I'd rather my curiosity wait, then go in there.

What the hell is she talking about anyway? The girls gone bonkers... How could she even say I was acting like those girls?

Like some force has overtaken me, my eyes travel to my left where Max is talking to the tall blonde that I've seen him around with a couple of times. I can't help but notice the flirtatious attitude between the two, the touching, the smiling. I notice that there’s not an ounce of flab on his perfect body as he leans closer to her. He must have said something impressive because it sends her into absolute hysterics.

It’s the 'Max Evans wants into your pants routine' I’ve seen it a billion times. It’s charming, it’s clever and utterly fool proof.

He's a bastard.

Just as I think that, he looks up, amber eyes focussing directly on me.

Goddamn it! Can this guy read my mind or something? Adrenaline buzzes like an electric charge, and the usual utter mixture of feelings cascade through me, as I look to the ground and then around me trying to look like I wasn't just standing there, just staring.

“In panic, I jog toward the nearest person. "How’s it going Alex?” I can feel my cheeks burning.

Alex grins at me. His face is red from exertion. “Okay.You?”

“Okay” I say, throwing mini looks at Max and the blonde.

“You sure?” he preens. Trying to follow where I'm looking.

“Um yeah, hey Alex. About last night. I hope I wasn’t too, um disruptive” I say turning toward him.

Alex shrugs dismissively. “Your disruptive Liz. That’s you. I don’t expect you to be anything else”

“Yeah but I don’t mean to be . . . it just kinda happens.” I say awkwardly. Not sure whether I’m talking about my argument, the sex or me in general.

All 3 I suppose.

“Its cool”

“Cool.” I nod. “Um, See that girl over there.” I say distractedly,. “What’s her name?”

“The one Evans’ was talking to? That’s Courtney Sanchez, Why?”

“I don’t know . . . " I shrug half heartedly, "She annoys me.”

“For what reason would that be?” Alex enquires.

“She’s a bimbo.”

"Oh..." He looks at me awkwardly and just nods. For some reason a lot of people tend to do that to me.


Two minutes later Courtney Sanchez is standing right in front of me, questioning me about Sports rep. The bimbo is surprisingly smart.

“So what can Kyle offer me that Tony and Mark over there can’t?” she asks prissily.

“Why don’t you ask Kyle?” I say giving her sickly sweet smile and shoving a leaflet in her hand.

“Oh, okay,” she nods her head, turning the flyer over. She really seems to be giving this a lot of thought.

Clearly people don’t have much to do with their time.

"Sport presidents actually require quite a bit of work" she goes on.

"I'm sure Kyle’s given that thought." I sigh, uninterestedly. Hoping she'll get the message.

She doesn't. "That’s good . . . because my ex did it last year and he found it pretty difficult."

"Whatever." I say turning my back on her.

“Do you think Kyle is characteristically good for the job? I mean would he be able to handle the pressures of representing sport for the whole university.”

I stop and stare at her. What is with this girl?

"Just goddamn vote for him okay?” I snap. “Stop asking stupid questions and do it!”

She looks scared for a moment and then shakes her head and struts off.

“Whoa Lizzy, that’s really going to get people voting in your favour.” Max says from behind me.

"She was goddamn annoying." I declare without looking at him.

“Its called tactic.” He says parading toward me, half naked. “It doesn’t matter if you don’t like who you’re selling to. Your main priority is just to sell and get the vote.”

“Well I don’t have any Ok?” I say moving away from him.

“Well we can see that.” He says dryly.

I twirl toward him. “Max . . . just shut up okay?”

“What the hell is wrong with you? Your even more psychotic then usual.”

“You’re saying this? This is all your fault”

“Mine?” he asks disbelievingly.

“Yes yours. Your always causing problems . . .” I run my hand through my hair, trying not to look at the ridges of his chest and the way his nipples are perfect points and mainly just try not to think about the memories that him being half naked gives me.

"I’m tired and hot and now I’m bloody annoyed." I lament. Then add, "You’re an asshole and you know it.”

“Charming, coming from the biggest bitch on planet earth.”

I stare at him. Mere hatred. It courses through my veins like poison.

“Max and Liz are at it again” Maria informs everyone drilly.

“Geez will you guys just give it a break?” Isabel shakes her head, from 10 yards away. Is it even possible to eavesdrop from that far away? “What’s the problem with you guys anyway?”

“The usual.” Kyle adds his two cents. “Liz is PMSing and Max hasn’t had any in like, two days.”

Brad wraps his arm around me. “Its okay not to click. But guys you just have to learn to work around your problems.”

That’s it. I've had enough. "I'm going home," I mumble.

I move out of Brads grasp and shove my way past Max throwing a bunch of flyers in the bin.

“And just get it on.” Maria whispers in my ear.

What?

WHAT?

I glare at her and she moves backward, a small smile playing on her lips. I have the strangest friends . . . I swear.

******

The prologue will eventually explain itself throughout the fic. Actually its meant to keep you guessing, so I'm glad its doing its job! Alien614-- At the moment inspiration is running low for BYAI, but I plan on getting back to it sometime during the summer .

No Regrets

Chapter 3


Elizabeth Anne Parker, the domestic queen.

Has a certain ring to it, don’t you think?

Okay, well, maybe not the domestic queen . . . or the domestic anything for that matter. And if we’re getting technical, it’s my first try at baking a cake, okay?


Realisation hit me this morning, where Kyle once again, served burnt toast for breakfast.

It hit me, that Maria may decide to go live with Michael next year, which leaves Kyle and I, and with the departure of our only cook, and the acknowledgement that we cannot rely on a whole years worth of takeouts . . . unless we hit the jackpot—(which could happen, but is very unlikely) one of us, if we are to survive, should therefore learn to cook, and since Kyle opted out, the math suggests that, that person would be me.

So today when Brad said he was hungry, I decided to put my idea into practice and said I would bake a cake. At first he just laughed, but when I gave him a look, he sobered and told me to go ahead.

So here I am.

Eggs, flour, chocolate icing.

“Sugar.” I say looking down at the ingredients spread neatly over the tabletop. “I need sugar.”

“Yep,” says Brad from the other side of the kitchen, “See that cabinet . . .no to the left. with Max’s stuff? In there.”

My hand drops from the cabinet likes it made of burning lead.

“I’m sure he won’t mind,” Brads says from behind me, pulling out a chair to sit down. “You sure you don’t need any help?”

“Nope. Anyway, I don’t need sugar,” I answer, standing up straight.

“You can’t make a cake without sugar.”

“Sure I can.” I say cheerily.

Brad sighs.

“What?” I turn around and peer at him.

He shrugs. “Why are you guys constantly at each throats?” he asks with a look of defeat.

I bite my lip. Not that I hadn’t expected him to ask such a question, just I figured, since he hadn’t asked it for so many months, he wouldn’t now. I guess Maria isn’t the only one noticing that the tension between the two of us has risen a notch over the last few weeks.

“I don’t know, “ I say, not answering his question. “Why are you friends with such a jerk?”

“Sweetie,” Brad says in the voice of the diplomat he is. “He’s not that bad, he has his moments like you and I and everyone else.”

I turn back around, not bothering to argue with him. If I went into how wrong Brad was, it would take me whole lifetime to list all of everything.

“Right. I need a whisk and a bowl. Do you have those”?

“Liz . . .” he starts.

“Whisk and bowl Brad,”

“Liz, honey calm down.”

“I am calm,” I state, stomping around the kitchen “I just need a stupid bowl.”

“Liz!” he says sternly. Though its not the slightest bit believable that he’s angry in anyway, “Come here,”

“What?” I moan. Staggering over to him, I fall into his lap as he grabs my face in his hands. He takes my lips in his, kissing me lightly.

“Feel better?” the deep blue of his eyes question me.

“M-hmm . . .”

“You okay? You’ve been a little uptight over the past few days.”

The last few days? I've been feeling like this since, well, forever.

“A lot of assignments deadlines and exams coming up,” I use the usual excuse, “ and plus, I’m just going crazy.” I perk up slightly, “Do you think I’m off my rocker, Brad?”

“You’re off your…?”

“Crazy.” I say changing the phrase my father used to use, every time I pulled a stunt. “Do you think I’m looney?”

He chuckles lightly. “Yes, your crazy, your nuts, impulsive, rash.”

“Gee thanks.” I grin.

“That’s what I like about you Liz.” He says caressing my cheek.

I stare into his blue eyes and it’s strange that I want to gag and melt at the same time and then he says the last thing I expect.

“That’s what I love . . . I love you Liz.”

I stare at him in shock. My mouth opens, but words are too shy to come out. I figure that somehow I’m meant to break the silence, that I should say something. Anything. But instead I just stare at him numbly, then look away and cough.

“Gag.”

I unwind myself from Bradley when I spot Max leaning against the doorframe. Arms casually folded against his torso, looking like he’s having the time of his life watching our drama unfold around him.

“I love you too Bradley.” Max mimics my voice. “Oh crap. Wrong timing again. Would you like me to go out so you can finish what you were going to say?” he asks me.

I flinch and my eyes shoot out hatred for the dark haired man that walks toward me, because he knows. Max knows that I wouldn’t have said those words to Brad. Max knows that there’s only one person that I’ve said those words too.

He knows.

“Its fine Max,” I say in a sickly sweet tone, “Brad and I don’t have to confess our love, we know how much we mean to each other without words.”

“Deep” Max grabs his heart. “Only if we all had a love like that.”

“Well maybe if you invested more efforts in getting to know a girl rather then her vagina, you'd have a chance.” I pause for effect, giving him a fake smile, “but then again maybe not.”

“If your anything to go by. I’d rather not.” He reaches for an apple and takes a bite.

If there’s anyway for me to be anymore embarrassed, after his comment--I am.

Ever had those ‘I wish the ground would swallow me up moments?’

This was it.

I’m glad when the attention focuses away from me and the to the Lakers game and for the billionth time, it comes back to me. It comes back to me, why I hate him.

It’s the secret that’s between Max and I, one that it seems I will never forget and one that he won’t let me.


***

I let out a welcoming sigh, as a blast of coolness hits my warm face. Opening my eyes, I look into the contents of Colin Detroit’s family fridge. I haven’t seen so much food in a while, full to the brim, and its still in date.

It’s heaven.

I’ve decided I’m going to spend some time in this kitchen, (I seem to end up here no matter who's place I go to. Perhaps it'll help in my rise to the domestic life) and even though the parties still going on at full blast I’m already extremely close to being hammered.

After leaving Brads, I wasn’t even close to party mood, but somehow Kyle and Brad convinced me. Since it is Brads ‘Acceptance to Reds football team’ party and ‘everyone’s going to be there’ I gave in.

Everyone is here.

That’s apart from Maria, who’s little sister Stitch is paying her a visit. Maria had wanted to bring her along, but Kyle suggested that Detroit parties, along with huge mixture of drugs, alcohol and rough townie boys, probably wasn’t somewhere you’d want to bring an extremely naïve fourteen year old. So, Maria’s at home watching re-runs of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and I wish I were with her.

Yes. Brad got accepted for the Reds. Ideally I’d be the supportive girlfriend and tell him I was happy he got in.

But unfortunately things aren’t ideal and I’m not sure how I feel. So I haven’t congratulated him yet and the parties been kinda like this—Brad repeatedly trying to stop me reaching for alcoholic beverages and getting too drunk, as well as trying to have a ‘talk’. You’d think if he wanted to ‘talk’, he would have done it at home, not in the middle of 70 others. But oh no, not Brad the medic student who is also in national league ‘Reds’ football team. Not him.

Not that I don’t want him to join the team. No it’s not that at all. It’s just that . . .

I hear someone cough and I turn to look, from underneath the arm that’s holding open the fridge.

Oh, yay.

He’s sitting on the counter opposite, using both arms to lean backward lazily, as green eyes watch me from beneath his baseball cap.

“What?” I bite, looking at him from my awkward position. When he doesn’t answer I say, “What is your problem?”

He smiles rabidly. “Just wondering where your skirts gone. I’ve got belts bigger, than that”

“I often wonder the same about your brain. Dickhead.” I mutter.

I grab the Fosters and straighten up, slamming it down beside me. Standing on tiptoes, I begin opening every cabinet above my head. I know that Colin keeps crisps around here somewhere.

I stretch higher, my shirt riding up to reveal several inches of stomach and the skirt seems to do the same. I grab the packet of crisps; aware that Max is watching my every single move and self-consciously straighten my skirt. I turn away from him and toward the kitchen window feeling slightly dizzy as everything goes out of focus slightly. There’s silence, except for the muffled music coming from the closed doors and crunching of crisps in my mouth.

I hear his feet hit the floor and he walks toward me. I busily focus on the taste of salt and vinegar in my mouth.

Though, it’s a bit hard to concentrate on crisps when he pauses right behind, so close that I can feel the breath on my neck, snakes his hand around my waist and grabs my can of Fosters.

I turn around and glare at him. Our faces only millimetres apart, “What’s it with you and taking my things?”

Max takes two steps back leans against the sink, opening the can of beer. “Oh, since we’re talking about that . . . about your personal stereo thing . . . I lost it.” he says causally, taking a sip of my can.

My mouth is dangerously close to touching the floor. “You what?”

“I lost it.”

“I- I can’t believe you did that,” I cry in disdain. “That was new! A gift, no less!”

“I didn’t do it on purpose Lizzy,” he says like I’m stupid, “ I’ll get it replaced.”

The thing is, he doesn’t seem the least bit sorry.

“Right.” I hiss, scrunching up the empty crisp wrapper in my fist. “That’s not the goddamn point Maxwell”

“Yes it is.”

“No. You practically stole my personal stereo player and now you’ve lost it.” I run my hand through my hair, wondering how impossibly, impossible can someone be?

Pretty damn impossible in this case. God!

“I did not steal it. I asked you and anyway,” he shrugs, “possession is nine tenths of the law.”

“I can’t believe your shoving that law crap in my face.” I yell pointing a finger at his chest, “There’s no justification for what you did.”

“Christ Liz. “ his arms fly up in the air, “It’s a personal stereo! I didn’t just commit a goddamn murder.”

“It’s the principle that matters.” I tell him sharply.

He chuckles lightly. “Sure. Principle girl.”

I glare at him and the can of Fosters in his hand. If it were possible, smoke would be coming out of my ears. Its not just that he’s a cocky bastard, he’s not even sorry about it. Christ! He never admits he’s wrong, twists everything I say and is intent on messing up my life. He’d make a fucking amazing lawyer.

“So Brad, got accepted at the Reds,” he asks as if he doesn’t already know.

“No shit.” I growl.

“Are you upset?” I think I hear sincerity in his voice, but then again, i'm pretty much at the stage of hallucinating due to reasons of over consumption of alcohol and being extremely pissed off.

“Upset?” I mimic as I whip my head around to face him. Since when did he care what I was?

“About Brad. I know it can be kinda upsetting when someone leaves you.”

And I must be hallucinating because he actually looks like he gives damn.

But I don’t believe it for a moment. There’s no way, I’m going to sit in the kitchen and have a heart to heart with Maxwell thieving Evans.

“He’s not leaving me,” I say curtly. “Its not far.”

“No, just to the other side of the country.” he mocks.

I grind my teeth. Only I know how close I am to thumping him.

“When you’re in love, distance doesn’t matter.”

There’s silence and he looks as if he has been punched literally, and I relish in it, until the usual obnoxious look comes back all too soon.

“Oh, the sincerity.” He says voice reeked with sarcasm. I look up at his piercing amber eyes; they’re intense glowing, like there’s fire lit up inside.

Sometimes it’s hard being near him.

My eyes drop to the floor and I edge away, then open the fridge door again and look into it, so I don’t have to look at him.

“I am sincere,” I say grabbing an apple and slamming the fridge door closed, before turning around making my way to the exit and the rest of the party.

“Sincerity” he hisses at my back, “Do you think that counted last summer?”


I stop sharp at the kitchen door and against my will my hand trembles. The apple I’m holding falls from my hand and rolls across the floor. When I turn back, he’s stood completely still in exactly the same spot, just looking at me. I can’t read his face; I can’t tell what he’s feeling. But his eyes have the same effect on me that they always have.

I feel a sharpened sense of awareness, his eyes heatedly boring into every single part of me and I feel, both physically and emotionally naked.

I gulp and turn away, opening the door. The music and sounds of partying into the kitchen, but I still hear his voice. It speaks straight to my heart.

“You can’t keep doing this Lizzy.”

For a moment, I’m about to turn around. I stand on the spot and sway. A quarter through drunkenness, the other three quarters through mere constraint to keep myself together. I stand there, until I’ve half convinced myself, that I didn’t hear anything at all.

“Stop being a jerk Max,” I call out through the doorway and stop to whisper one last thing, “Like you said, people make mistakes.” I strut into the living room, letting the door slide through my fingers and close shut, behind me.

I’m not sure if he heard what I said.

I don’t care.

All I want is for him to be out of my life, because every time he’s around, everything becomes strangely out of focus.

When he’s near—

I shake my head. Like doing that might get rid off the thoughts that cloud my mind. Like it might stop me thinking myself to insanity. I stagger around trying to spot familiar face. Just anyone—not that I’ll spill what I feel, but maybe it’ll help me take my mind off things.

Off of him.

“Do you mind?” I glare at Sean Figbarn or Fuckbrain as I like to call him, who's just given my ass a hard slap.

"Do you?" he gives me a huge sleazy grin.

I stick my middle finger up at him and turn to my right where Kyle is having trouble finding his mouth as he attempts to drink beer through a plastic pipe. A little further on, Brads being molested by Colin and bunch of other people, in celebration for getting into Reds.

Even though I’m standing in a room crowded full of people, why is it that absolute loneliness seeps through my ribcage?

“Lizzy?”

“Huh?” I mumble.

“Hey Lizzy.” Miss Prissy Courtney Sanchez smiles down at me.

“Liz. “ I correct, her.

“How’s the party going?” she asks, like i didn't say anything.

I scan the room around me and shrug. “Okay”

“Oh, glad your having fun. I just got here . . .” she pauses as if I’m meant to say something. I smile politely and begin walking past her.

I need to get away. I need to go home.

More than anything, I don’t want to start bawling in front of her.

Not that I’m about to start crying or anything. Nope.

“Do you know where Max is?” she trots up beside me, cornering me, to look at me with wide green eyes.

“I think he just went home. Infact if you’re really fast you might just catch up with him.” I point to the front door.

“Oh, really?” she bites her lower lip, “he just told me he was here,”

“Well I haven’t seen him. At all.” I nod solemnly.

“But I just talked to him . . . he said he was-“

“That’s Max for you. Totally unreliable” my voice trails off, as he appears from the kitchen behind her and grabs her around the waist.

“Hey baby,” he whispers in her ear. His eyes focused directly on me, he kisses her shoulderblade.

A familiar jolt passes through me, as I look away from him, pretending to be entranced with a bunch of boys lighting up spiffs.

I roll my eyes as Courtney shrieks his name and Max’s arm brush's with mine as he walks past, holding her, leaving the scent of his aftershave lingering around me.

I stare at the blur of figures that surround me, concentrating hard on the guys who are smoking weed. I concentrate so hard, that my head hurts. After a while, they become even blurrier, their faces merging into the background around them. Until I realise that the moisture that stings my eyes, is the beginning of forming tears.


***

Thank you guys, for the FB... it hugely appreciated, that your taking time out to read this. I think most of your questions will be answered with this part.

New people! I always get excited when new people emerge, big hi to Lizza (thanks for the sweet comment btw), Jasons lover, strawberry_dreamer, Thumbelina, Voula and of course my oldies (I know this is only 3 chapters long, but I remember most of ya from my other fics), Alien614, FrenchKiss, Sweetie Teeny, BehrObsession, Itzstacie, Milla, anonymousarfan, roswellluver. (think thats all of you! Don't nomally mention all you guys cuz, I have a tendency to leave people out and angry FB'ers are scary, but you should know the support is much appreciated!)

Milla wrote:So, I was right about the prologue, Max and Liz have been together. But what's happened? Who has ended their relationship? It's obvious that they still have feeling for each other. Has Liz started dating Brad to hurt Max or to make him jealouse? So many questions... .

Questions questions! I know, I'm trying to figure most of them out myself...but bare with me, hopefully we’ll all get the answers we need!



Chapter 4

No Regrets


The realisation that I’m about to cry panics me.

Perhaps it’s the idea of breaking down in front of all these people, or perhaps the actuality of what I might feel and facing up to that feeling that makes me panic. But all the same, I feel the undeniable rise in my gut, and my primal reaction is to escape.

Just get out of this place.

Go.

I walk to the further side of Colin’s living room as calmly as I can manage and grab the patio doors, pulling them open. A cold blast of wind hits me, as I step outside, walk around the corner and slump down on the cold, stone paved step.

I sit there a long while, just listening to the splashing noise of the water fountain across from me.

Running my hand down my goose pimpled arms, I try to block out the crazy, rush of emotions bubbling in my head.

Sometimes when I’m alone, things come back to haunt me. I begin to wonder what it would be like to have siblings, to have parents I can ring up on the spur of the moment instead of one that hardly acknowledges my existence; to really have someone who truly cares. Not that I doubt how much my friends do care. Apart from, there’s this void, a huge hole gaping inside me, that only one persons ever filled—and it lasted for like two seconds.

I laugh dully to myself, whoever said it was better to have loved and lost then never loved at all, was talking out of his ass, because if it hurts this much, then that person really couldn’t have known what it feels like to love and the worse thing is, there aren’t even pills designed to help you with this type of semi- physical ache. (You’d think they’d have given it thought, since they have medication for everything else)


The whistling wind snaps my hair around my face, as I sit and breathe lungful of fresh breezy air, focusing on my breathing and muttering about stupid eagles that won’t appear.


Through half opened eyes I notice someone shuffling in the bushes.

I stop still, not moving a muscle, my eyes fully open as I watch every single shuffle of the aggressor. I shift on my heels but before I go into attack mode, Michaels head pops out from the bushes.

“What eagle?” he asks pointing at me with a huge spliff in his hand.

“Christ Mike.” I slump back down to the coolness of the paved step. “I was about to attack you. You scared the living daylights out of me!”

“Ah,” he nods. “What are you doing here?” not caring that I’m scared half to death, he trails over and sits beside me, smelling strongly of weed.

“What are you doing here?” I fire back.

“Wanted to be alone.”

I shrug. “Same.”

“You want?” he asks, holding the spilff toward me, whilst blowing puffs of smoke rings into the night sky.

I shake my head, and rest it on my hand. I watch Michael smoke for a while. He’s pretty cool guy, Mike, he’s kinda random, but once you get used to his random outbursts and extremely different thought wavelength, you find he's not actually, all that wierd...just someone not so intent on being normal.

“Why do they call this the best time of your life?” I say randomly.

“Dunno” Michael says in all seriousness, “If this is the best time of my life, I may as well kill myself now.” When I turn to look at him underneath the glow of pale security lights, there’s not a trace of humour on his face.

“Actually, give me some,” I say nodding toward the joint.

He passes it to me and I take a long drag, closing my eyes to let the heaviness of the smoke settle in my lungs. I take a few more drags, before the typical happens and I start coughing un-mercilessly.

Michael gives me a small grin as I look at him with reddened eyes and grabs his spliff back.

“Pure, stuff this,” he announces proudly, whilst I’m still in the middle of my coughing fit.

“I can tell.” I say spluttering to a few quiet coughs.

“Can get ya some if you want . . .”

“I’m good.”

“Fair enough.”

My eyes travel around Colin’s huge garden, it seems to stretch on endlessly, with perfectly trimmed lawn and its perfect bushes. Further on a pool house and covered pool to the right. I tilt my head upward to look at the blanket of stars glowing ethereal diamonds
in the night sky.

“Don’t tell me you believe in that crap too?”

“Huh?”

“That whole deal about the beauty of the stars. About how man is destined to follow a certain path. How there’s so much more out there than meets the eye” Michael shrugs. “Maria’s really into the whole astrology thing. “

“I used to." At one time I thought the stars, the galaxies, the midnight sky was the most intriguing of things. As a little girl they used to excite me, knowing that there was so much to explore and find out about used bring on a renewed sense of excitement, the wonders of a never ending universe intoxicated me, gave me an inspiring sense of hope.

But now . . .now as I sit here and look up at the midnight sky and spot Saturn amidst it, I'm not sure how I feel about anything. Sure, its pretty . . . but I don't feel anything other the that. Maybe I'm not meant to.

“What changed?” Michael asks, looking at me sideward.

“Nothing and everything.”

Michael looks at me, finishing his joint; he throws the butthead to the floor, melding it into the ground with his foot. Normally I would get two responses to what I had just said, more questions or a look that says 'you're a total wierdo'.

Michael just shrugs and says, “Fair enough.”

I smile. My teeth chattering as the weather picks up speed.

“Its cold,” I groan.

“I’d offer you my jacket. But I need it.”

Strangely, I think Michaels having a generous day.

“Its okay. I’m going home anyway“ I decide.

He nods and turns back to looking at Colin Detroit’s huge garden.

I open the patio doors, feeling pretty sobered up. The crapish feelings still there, but at least I’m not going to burst into a huge fit of tears.

I look around for my lift home, Brad. Its kind-of early, but this party is way over for me. All I want, is to get home, open a large tub of ice cream and perhaps join Maria and Stitch in those re-runs of Buffy kicking ass.

Not spotting him, I make my way into the front room.

I don’t see Brad or anyone else here either, apart from, you guessed it, Max.

Courtney seems to have disappeared and he’s standing talking to some drunk guy, looking totally bored out of his mind.

I try not to look at him as I come to the decision that I’m going to take a cab home. I really can’t wait around for Brad and he will probably figure out where I’ve gone, when he can’t find me.

“Hey I’ve been looking for you” Fuckbrains totally whacked out face greets me with a sleazy grin.

“Uh…” I sigh, in a relentless annoyance, “Please go away Sean. I really can’t do this right now.” I throw him a look and begin making my way to the front door. But he continues to obstruct my path with continuous persistence, no matter which direction I try to turn.

Its really hard, but I have to stop myself shoving at his puny chest to get him out of my goddamn way.

I glare at him, giving him the evillest look I can muster.

He doesn’t flinch.

I guess I must be losing my touch.

“Did I tell you?” he asks leaning closer, his alcoholic smelling breath, making me gag.

“Tell me what?” I groan, turning to scoot around him, only to be stopped by his hand landing on the wall to block my way.

“I think you’re really pretty.”

“Gee. Thanks. I’m touched.” I say in the most un-genuine voice I can possibly muster. “And did I ever tell you—that I have a boyfriend?”

“Oh, that Brad guy?” he says, moving so close to me, that I have to take a step backward. “That shmoe faced, football playing, rich, mamas boy?” he says with utter loathing in his voice.

“Yeah.” I answer. Not caring to point out that Brad was not shmoe faced or a mama’s boy.

“Yeah.” He laughs, “He’s the fucking stiffest guy I’ve ever come across. Fucking dull as shit.”

“Get out of my way,” I hiss. Not wanting to listen to his lame delusions about my boyfriend.

Brad was not . . . stiff.

“I’ll cut you a deal sugar pop.”

Sean was really starting to piss me off now. He was working toward agitating me and my short temper and Sugar pop? Since when did that re-emerge from the seventies?

“I’ll let you go if you dance with me,”

“Ah,” I pretend to think about it. “No way in hell.” This time, I actually use force to get past him, but the punks a lot stronger then he looks. He doesn’t budge in the slightest, no matter how much I shove his chest.

“Get out of my way.”

“One dance Liz,” he smirks, “That’s all I’m asking.” He leans forward, “I always notice you around campus . . . and I’ve been meaning to come talk to you for while now . . . do you remember last year, when we worked on that homeostasis project together?”

“Yeah good old days,” I say rudely.

“Since then . . . since then I can’t stop thinking about you.”

I open and close my mouth like a demented fish. What he’s saying is kind of freaking me out and I cringe inside when he traces fingers yellowed from nicotine down my cheek. “Come dance with me, “

“No Sean I’d rather not.” I say in a distanced voice.

“Then...you don’t go” he smirks.

I stare at him. Is he threatening me? Was the dweeby son of a bitch ....threatening me? Whilst I’m still deciding how to diffuse this situation, Max decides to butt into our little conversation.

“Hey man. What have you been taking? By the looks of it I’ve got to get me some of that stuff.”

Sean looks annoyed at the interruption. “What?” he bites not moving an inch.

“Stuff you’ve been taking, making you come to conclusions about Liz here.” He looks at me, “About her being pretty and all.” He adds, giving me a bright smile.

I’m beginning to wonder how on earth I became so good, at attracting the crème de la crème of jerks.

“I need to go.” I hiss at Sean, trying to shimmy past him with more fervour now. Max being here just makes it more necessary.

“Not before I dance with you.” He says adamantly.

“What’s the obsession?” Max comments, moving closer to my side, “She’s’ not even a good dancer”

I look between the two in mere frustration. Knowing that I could be here for while, I use my elbow to shove Sean out of the way, in a snake like reaction, he grabs my wrist, and shoves me against the wall.

“Ow!” I yell as I try struggling from his grasp, in answer he twists my wrist, eliciting an even deeper yelp from me.

“Sean.” Max’s voice is dangerously calm, demanding of attention and I can’t help but look toward him when he says it. His mouth set in a grim line, the humour on his face from earlier, disappearing. “Let her go.” He says coldly.

“I can handle this.” I tell him tightly, struggling with Sean’s grip.

Max takes no notice as he glares at Sean.

Sean on the other hand has gone completely psycho. Ignoring Max’s deathly stare, insistent on the god-forsaken dance, he drags me across the front room floor. Before I can use my self-defence moves on him. Max grabs Sean by the collar and then they both collapse on the floor.

It happens so fast, one minute he’s twisting my wrist, next minute pooft he’s rolling on the floor with Max.

“Max!” I yell, in instant reaction.

My scream does a great job in attracting everyones attention and in a even faster instant, there’s a scurry of movement and the whole rooms formed a circle around Sean and Max, whilst they begin the yelling of ‘fight!’

Sean looks around in confusion. The guy can barely tell what’s going on. Egged on by words of his commiserable peers; he wallops Max across the face.

I cup my mouth with my hands, as a reflex.

Max’s head lolls to the side. Only surprised for a second, he grabs Sean by the collar of his shirt and head buts him. The sharp crack is evident, as Sean lets out a strangled scream and velvety blood runs from his nose.

Oh god. Is all I can think. Oh god. Oh god. The small voice in my head, screaming out the lord’s name more and more fervently as I watch the bedlam unfold in front of me.

They lunge at each other, both rolling across the floor, getting in as many fists as they possibly can. The circle around them widening in every direction they move.

I can vaguely hear my voice amongst the cheery yells of ‘fight’ crying at them to stop.

Sean punches him hard on the jaw; Max retaliates giving him a hard knock on the cheek.

In front of my eyes, I see their faces turning into bloody blurs, but I just watch on.

I can’t move.

“Oh my god!” Courtney appears from the fracas behind me and takes my arm in a vice like grip, “Make them stop!” she cries hysterically, digging her nails into my arm. "Make them stop!"

“Max!” I roar, as he pins the smaller boy down with his weight.

Like, even if they could hear me, it would make them stop.

They’re muttering words of hate at each other, tumbling around, Max pins him again. Sean yells something, his voice lost in the crowd of cheers. I can’t hear what he’s said, but clearly it has an effect on Max, his eyes harden and he starts battering him with punches.

Even though he’s won the fight by far, he pounds the guy like a lump of raw meat.

No matter how much Courtney or I yell, he doesn’t stop. In desperation I look around the room. There’s no sign of the others guys either.

I have no idea where the aggressions coming from. I’ve never seen him like this and it scares the hell out of me.

“Oh my god,” Courtney almost sobbing, “he’s gunna kill him,” she says with absolute conviction, “Max is gunna murder him!”

As if her words have given me some sort of strength, I free the arm that she’s cut off the circulation to and stride towards Max. He’s raining blow after blow with unleashed passion, as Sean lies almost unconscious on the floor, trying to throw random unaimed punches at thin air.


The noise of yelling dies down to nothing.

Everyone just watches on.

I can hear Courtney’s sobbing, yet it seems far off. I can almost feel the discomfort spread through the front room, when Max fails to stop.


“Stop! Max . . .Max . . .” My voice is clear this time. I grab his shirt and almost rip it in half, in attempt to pull him backward with all my might. He topples slightly to the left, but like I’m not there he continues to beat Sean to a pulp.

“Max . . . stop . . . will you just let go!! MAX!”

In mere desperation, I slap his face.

The sharp sound echoes around the deathly silent room and it could have been just Max and I, as I gulp, in sudden after affect of what I’ve done. His hands drop from Sean, eyes blankly meet mine, like he’s broken from a trance.

Half kneeling and half falling onto Max, still holding tightly on to his shirt, I look up, my eyes trailing around the room. A billion faces stare down at us. Some masked in shock, others in amusement.

I stare back at his bloodied, swollen face and he opens his mouth to speak, but all he manages is a small, “Lizzy . . .”

Trembling in a mixture of relief, anger, and humiliation, I drop Max’s collar and storm out of the house.

****

Originally it wasn’t meant to end like this, but you know how a story just kind of develops a life of its own and just runs away miles down the road? … plus when I started writing this, I decided I was going to start writing short(er) chapters because its neat and easy. But this chapter ended up being 17 pages long, so I then decided to make it into two. The others nearly done and will be with you shortly. Ah, and didn’t I mention I had exams coming up? WHAT EXAMs? Lol. Ahh. My excuse is this. Revision is a major pain in the butt and writing is my consolation. : Goes back to more writing :

And again...

No Regrets

Chapter 5

I can hear him call out my name in an anguished tone, yet I march on ahead without looking back, Colin’s masterful garden stretching on for eternity before me. I’m so angry and shaken that I think I’m going to throw up. I just can’t seem to blow off the uneasy feeling that’s overtaken me since Max mentioned last summer in the kitchen.

I can’t be in denial anymore.

I can’t pretend he’s a boy that I just hate.

I don’t know exactly where I’m going, but I know that I couldn’t have spent one second longer in that room, with all those people, just staring at us.

My life’s just becoming one huge soap opera drama and I don’t like it one bit.

I can hear the thudding of footsteps on the grass as he catches up with me. No matter how fast I try to walk, he’s faster.

Plus, the heels on my stupid shoes keep getting stuck in the mud, making escaping an even harder task to accomplish.

In seconds Max is beside me, when I pretend I can’t hear him shouting my name, he grabs my arm.

“Let go.” I mutter without even as much as a sideward glance at him.

“No.” When I give him a frustrated look, he expands, “We should talk,”

“What is there to say Maxwell?” I huff.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Yeah that’s really gunna make me talk.” I mumble, pulling away.

“Will you just stop a second?” he grabs my arm even harder, making me halt. I stop on the spot, shuffling my right foot as stilettos slip in the mud.

“You just slapped me.” He accuses, glaring at me with a bloodied face and a lip that’s swelling larger by the minute.

I roll my eyes. “Because you deserved it macho man. That’s the only way I could stop you killing the guy!”

“He was attacking you.” He says simply, like it’s the only thing that matters.

“So you being the smart guy you are,” I say ferociously, “decide to attack him right back thinking it’ll make it all better?”

“Hey. He started it”

“Now you sound like a 5 year old.” I shuffle my foot out of the grass and begin to walk.

“There’s no winning with you.” He says slowly, “There never was.” His eyes are full of something that looks like mere longing and I have to shrug the feeling of pure desire that shoots from my body.

I know he’s talking about a little more then eight months back, last summer. The time, that never ceases to bring a smile on my face when I'm lying in bed, awake at four in the morning. The time that starts off a creeping warmth that envelopes my heart, but with it it brings hurt and loneliness, and that’s why being around Max makes it a billion times worse.

These feelings, just add to heightening my emotional state.

I bite my lip in an attempt to not cry. I knew it was bad idea to come to this freaking party.

I knew it.

My eyes sting, as I continue to yell at him, “That was Sean for goodness sake Max. He wasn’t about to hurt me!”

Either because he’s sensed my distress or because he doesn’t want anyone to over hear, his voice becomes calmer, quieter. “I wouldn’t be too sure about that Liz, the guys messed. He was saying all sorts of crap about you”

“He’s a drunk, horny, arse Max…” I really don’t know why I’m defending the jerk, but I continue anyway. “Not much different from you most days.” I see him flinch at my words, and a small wave of satisfaction goes through me. “I can protect myself” I say hotly, “I don’t need some hero to come save me and I sure as hell don’t need you.”

“This is what I get when I try to help you.”

“Help me?” I scathe, throwing a look at him behind me, then turning quickly again. I can’t bare to look at the bleeding gash above his left eyebrow, or the way his hurt face makes him look so vulnerable, because it actually makes me want to help him.

I keep walking and know that he’s following my every step, until I reach the lights of the pool house. “I didn’t need your goddamn help Max.” I turn to face him. My voice softening because I’m trembling so much. A mixture of the hundred different emotions have over taken me. I can’t figure out if I’m feeling, anger, hate, or if want to envelope him in a huge hug to thank him or just give him another slap to bring him to his senses.

I groan, “And it’s not even like your little war dance in there made anything better.”

My eyes fall again, on the gash across his forehead; it looks deep and its oozing deep red blood. “God” I state, unable to help myself anymore “your bleeding” I say lightly, like he might not know.

His fingers reach to touch the gash on his for his forehead and he winces in pain when they come into light contact with the wound.

Biting my lip, I look around my in frustration.

I turn behind me and throwing him a concerned look I wobble into the pool house. Realising that its left open, I stop at the door; sighing lightly I motion for him to follow.

He enters behind me and my eyes search the place. There’s a bed, a plush couch a little away from it. Behind it some kindof storage cupboard. Above the bed is a mantelpiece with a bunch of ornaments, a comb and a pack of tissues on it. I pick them up and turn toward Max.

“Come here,” I say dispassionately.

He lumbers over, looking like a lost boy, as I pull a tissue out of the pack and begin dabbing above his eyebrow. He winces and I glare at him.

“Keep still.”

I can see that the cuts quite deep, the tissues soon covered in blood I throw it to the floor and pull another one from the pack, feeling his eyes watch me as I work. Yet he continues to fidget every time the Kleenex come into contact with the gash.

“Max, how do you expect me to do this, if you don’t stay still?”

“It hurts.” He moans.

“Good. You deserve all the pain you get,” I bite. Yet I soften my movements, so that I’m barely touching him. I pull out another tissue and place it just above his eye.

“Hold it. Keep it there.” I instruct.

Silently he does as I say.

My eyes find his face and he’s looking down at me some kind of un-interpretable expression. I shift uncomfortably on my foot, “Does it hurt a lot?” I wonder out loud.

What? I can’t help myself…I do have a heart you know.

He mumbles something inaudible then says, “I’ll live.”

He’s greeted with another harsh look from me, even though my hearts crumbling inside, “Too right you will. Do you really think I need your protection from that goon?”

He exhales, like I’m the most impossible person on the planet, pulling the tissue from his brow and letting it drop. “Your probably the last person that needs it. But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to give it.”

“What’s that means to mean.” I say, walking backward until the back of my legs come into contact with the bed.

“It means,” he says from nowhere, “You’re annoying as hell.”

I let out a loud torturous sigh. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?” Why are you just everywhere…around me, under my goddamn skin?”, agitated I walk around the bed and motion with my hands, “Why can’t you just disappear.”

There’s silence for a moment. “Am I meant to answer that?” he says with an edging smile on his lips.

I look at him from my position next to the bed and shake my head not seeing the humour in it at all. The tears threaten to come on again. “Christ, everything’s a big joke isn’t it?”

The small smile disappears like it was never there and he looks at me with glowing fury. “You’re the one that makes sure you’re always at my place. If you’re that concerned, maybe it would be better if you fucked Brad elsewhere!” he says roughly.

I maliciously raise an eyebrow, “Jealous?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

I wait for the usual remark, some kindof crude insult. But he just continues to look straight through me, stripping every part of me stark and bare with his eyes and until I’m flushed and shivering at the same time.

“What do you want from Liz”? He says finally, his eyes boring into mine.

“I want you to leave me alone.” I say quietly.

“Really?” he whispers like he’s broken. Like being away from me, would literally break him.

I nod slowly.

He looks around the pool house, like he’s thinking of something to say. Then looks straight at me and shrugs, like it’s the only answer he can give, “I can’t…”

That’s all he needs to say and the thing is I understand completely.

Our eyes lock in a heated gaze, and it all comes rushing back like pieces of a broken vision. The passion. The fire, last summer, that scorched me and made my body into a mass of recalescent ashes. How he had loved me, like no one before. How every single touch, every kiss and caress, is etched in my memory forever. I can still feel the realness of that unchained passion that overtook my senses.

Have you ever felt like your drifting between the dream and reality world, never part of either? That’s what it felt like, too real to be a dream, too wonderful to be reality.

The way everything had just collaged together to become a perfect point in my life was something I still cherished…and longed for.

Then the dream had broken and with it, totally shattered everything that I had become.

I hiccup. I stare at his damaged face and bloody lips, and the way he’s just staring like he has nothing to say. Yet he looks hurt and vulnerable, like I’m the one in the wrong.

“I hate you.” I mutter walking backward, because he’s started walking toward me. “I hate your fucking guts. “ I say with undeterred loathing.

“Jesus Lizzy.” He says softly, “What did I ever do to get such hostility?”

“Don’t call me Lizzy!” I yell, “I’m not Lizzy…” I whimper. “Lizzy's gone.”

God it hurts. It hurts so much.

“If we’re talking about wrong doings then i guess I have a long essay about what you're like Lizzy. But I don’t hate you…because I can’t…” he walks toward me, covering the distance between us, he stretches his out his arm like he’s going to touch me.

I flinch and wrap my arms around myself as protection. “Leave me alone.”

“No…” he says adamantly.

“Leave me alone…” I try to walk past him, but he reaches out to grab me, pulling me toward him. Our eyes meet and I shove him hard. “Leave me alone” I say sounding like a broken record.

“No.” he says again.

And then I start crying.

The tears I’ve stopped for so long, come on like a monsoon and I’m weeping, like there’s no tomorrow. I fall on my knees and cry and cry.

He’s near me. He holds me in his arms and smoothes my hair and kisses me on my head. His touches are like butterfly wings, even in my gone state, I feel them the depth of my soul.

“I hate you so much,” I weep, giving him a couple of girly punches to the chest.

“Ditto.” He whispers in my hair.

I cry so hard, that there’s pain in my chest. I let it out out, like hells broken lose. I howl, I whimper, I let out huge sobs.

Any other person would have backed away slowly by now. But he holds me tight, pressing me harder against his chest, the fiercer and heartier my sobs of anguish, become.

I cry out of utter frustration, fear, loneliness, hate of what I’ve become. The sounds of my sobbing resound around me, the feelings merging into one another and becoming one colossal lump of emotion in my heart.

Finally everything recedes to small whimpering noises and picking up courage I look up at him with sore eyes.

There’s no judgment on his face as he continues comfort me by smoothing my hair and whispering words of comfort. He stares down at my wet face, making me feel strangely calm and says exactly the right thing.

“I’m here,”

Those words send me into fits of unquenchable tears again.

Not only because he’s here, but because he’ll go away again and because at the same time as hating him, I love him even more.

When I’ve finally calmed down, I’m hiccupping lightly and I wipe my hand over my face. My fingers are greeted by black tarrish substance.

“Oh god…” my voice is heavy with emotion, as I look down at my blackened hands. “I didn’t even wear waterproof mascara”

To top the fact I’m crying my heart out in the arms of the man I’m supposed to hate, I also look like a panda.

Max stops stroking me and smiles. Then his eyes travel down my mascara streaked face. “You really do look…terrible,” he admits.

Yet he’s looking at me in a strange way. A look of incessant hunger. Like I’m an especially tempting plate of food being offered to a starved man. He looks at me like I’m the most beautiful things he’s ever seen, and even though he doesn’t say a word, his eyes speak to me, they tell me, I’m the only one he’s ever known. That apart from him, I’m the only person to ever exist in the entire universe.

That he doesn’t give a damn about my stupid panda eyes.

The back of his hand lovingly strokes my cheek, then his fingertips trace my lips, his mouth slightly agape as he concentrates on intricately tracing the contours of my mouth. His fingers sensuously alternating between upper and lower lip as he repeatedly caresses them, like figuring out the moulding of an extremely fragile art piece.

My mouth opens desirously, as his thumb caresses just below the bow shape of my upper lip and I let out a small whimper. But this time it’s not a whimper related to crying in anyway.

He’s the only one that can make me feel this way, like i'm a puppet totally under his surrender and if he wills, I will move.

The feeling of such intoxication scares me and I have to conjure up will power that I haven’t got, as I lean up slightly.

He’s still longingly staring at me and his pupils dilate with hunger, as I get closer to him to get past him.

I scramble up from his lap, and turn away from him, facing the half open door of the pool house shakily. The utmost feeling of guilt beseeching my senses even though I haven’t done a thing.

Perhaps the guilt’s there because I know, how close I am to giving in. How close I am to losing the smidgen of self-restraint I have around him.

“I have to go.” I mutter.

I can’t help but give him one last look as I exit through the pool house.

He sits on his knees, a crushed, yet detached look about him as he stares up at me, but doesn’t say a word to stop me.

As I stumble away, I feel my heart shattering all over again.

****


Just want to point out the Sean Max beat up, isn’t the Sean on the show. (I quite liked that Sean) in my mind this Sean had dark hair and is a lot shorter and wierd looking….the name is purely coincidental.

Where are you all coming from? Not that I mind Please keep coming! I want MORE, MORE. LOL. I’m greedy. What can I say? Blame it on the genes…its always the parents...

dream on wrote:I know, you've finals and frankly, so do I and sitting here and reading a fanfic that's going to haunt me for a while was not a good idea, but please..update soon.

Sarah

...Ideas keep bubbling up....inspiration strikes at the worst times! Gr.

Majesty: When I do got around to reading fics, I’m the worst lurker in the world, glad I could pull you out of you’re lurkdom though.

Fallen Magic: yep, the whole prologue thing was kind of done intentionally. Glad it did its job…

Anais Nin: I’ve read a few of PeaceLoves stories, honoured to be compared to her talent...She’s great! I especially loved Drive... I'm actually on chap 13 of your Uphill Battle-- its excellent, but and the angst hasn't even started yet has it?




No Regrets

Chapter 6


I silently close the front door behind me with a small click and walk into my favourite place, a dark kitchen. Not bothering to switch the light on as I totter inside.

Darkness is where I want to stay. I can’t face anything light or bright or cheerful.

Don’t they say when you want something bad enough the whole world conspires to help you achieve it? Well, right now all I want is darkness, to be alone and for these crappy feelings to go away.

They don’t go away. And someone switches the bathroom light on, causing bright, joyous beams masquerade me.

Assuming its Maria walking around in the bathroom, I groan out loud, wondering how on earth I’m going to explain my bedraggled appearance.

Its not.

It’s her little sister, Summer aka Stitch.

When she sees me, she stops straight in her tracks like she’s been caught in the middle of some type of heinously devious act, even though she’s only been to the toilet and she stands and stares, reinacting a deer in headlights.

I give her a small wave.

“Hey, Stitch.” I say casually. Well, as casual as you can look wearing a red, splotchy face with mascara streaks that stretch on for eternity.

Bathed in yellow glow of the bathroom light, she continues to oogle at me.

For some reason the girl tends to do that a lot. She’s one of those creep- up- on- you- from- nowhere type people.

She pops up, catches me totally off guard and then never says a word to tell me what she wants …sometimes I wonder if I scare her, but then Kyle normally appears and things get even worse as she turns a darker red then beetroot and starts spilling things.

“You okay?” I ask.

She stares more.

Ok. I know I look bad, but with the way she’s staring, you’d think I had ‘ traumatised female, please take a good look’ stamped on my forehead or something.

Letting her get on with it, I look around me.

Fridge.

I can’t help but notice how empty it is compared to Colin Detroit’s (there is actually a reason why I end up at his place so frequently)…until someone wisens up about our current poverty stricken state and decides to do some shopping. A loaf of bread, tub of butter and tuna is all we have.

Oh, well...I guess it’s the simple necessities that matter in life.

“ Um, hey,” Stitch finally squeaks after a delay of a full five minutes.

I give her a small smile and plant myself on a chair.

She surprises me, when instead of scurrying off to Maria’s room; she actually walks toward me and speaks.

It doesn’t seem like a big deal. But this is actually a humongous one.

See, Stitch, never speaks. I even began to doubt that she spoke to Maria, until one day overheard her asking for tomato ketchup.

I can see how bold and brash Maria is a hard figure to live up to, with her constant feminist campaigns, charity work and demands of being heard. But when you’re the shy and naïve Stitch it’s probably a hundred times more trying to live up to a sister figure like that.

Yet the blonde bundle of fluff takes tiny half steps toward me, concern emblazoned in those large forest eyes. “Y-you okay?” she stutters.

I shrug, chewing on dry bread. “I’ll live.”

There’s a long silence and since she’s staring at me and not moving, I realise that it’s probably my turn to speak. “You want?” I offer her bread, though I’m not surprised when she doesn’t yield to temptation.

“No.” she shakes her fluff ball hair. “”Maria and I ate.”

“Okay.” I look at her, still trying to get over the shock, that words are actually coming out of her mouth.

“We ordered pizza,” she says, taking a hesitant step forward.

“Was it nice?”

“Vegetarian.” She smiles slightly. “My favourite.”

I decline to point out that since both her and Maria are vegetarian that’s all they ever eat.

“Hey come sit here,” I pull at a chair beside me and she looks hesitant, hiding behind her huge mass of blonde curls.

“Its okay.” I grin. “I don’t bite.”

Stitch slowly walks around the table and takes a chair beside me, folding her arms.

I focus on bread. When I’m depressed. I binge eat. Hell, I’m surprised that I haven’t turned obese yet, judging from the amount that seems to go into my mouth. This comfort eating things been going on for so long, I’ve even become desensitised to the ‘second on the lips, lifetime on the hips’ chant churning through my head.

“You sure you don’t want?” I almost beg. If she takes some, it’ll mean less for me. If she doesn’t take any there’s no doubt in my mind that I’m going to eat it all…and when Kyle and Maria come down to breakfast tomorrow, I’ll be solely to blame.

She shakes her head, still looking extremely concerned. “Why’s your mascara running like that?”

“Well…” I pause, “they had these water guns and they were messing around with them. Immaturity much? Anyway I got caught in the middle of it and as you can see I got severely splashed, which caused my mascara…” I trail off.

The disbelieving expression on her face says she’s not buying any of it.

Well, it was worth a try.

“Men.” I say stiffly. “Don’t you hate them?”

She shrugs. “I wouldn’t know.”

“Well let me give you some advice.” I say in a advice giving manner,” Don’t bother getting into any type of male related relationship. Ever. They arrive in your life, mess it all up, complicate everything, just make it so fucking difficult and--”

“Make your mascara run?” she asks with a hint of a smile on her lips

“You got it.”

There’s a long silence as Stitch concentrates on her nails and I eat my way to an eternity of liposuction.

“Um,” she breaks the silence, “If you want, you can tell me.” she blushes lightly. “Maria says I’m a good listener…only if you want though.” she reassures.

I concentrate on breaking the bread into tiny pieces and popping them into my mouth even though I’m not tasting a thing. “I’d rather not.”

“Ok.”

I look at her sideways, noticing the disheartened look on her face, I break.

Oh, What the hell.

I pull my chair closer to hers. “Can you keep a secret?”

Her face brightens and she makes a cross shape across the purple bears embedded on her nightie. “Cross my heart.” She says in a way that makes me want to make loud gushing noises.

Cross my heart. Isn’t that adorable?

“Okay, well what I’m about to tell you…just stays between us okay? Its kind of long and boring…”

“I won’t say anything to Maria, I promise,” she says, with girlish excitement written all over her face.

I smile. I can’t remember the last time I was this excited about having someone reveal a secret to me.

“Okay…”

Then as we sit next to each other, at two something in the morning, the light of the bathroom casting a pale glow around us. I tell her everything.

I tell her how I met the boy of my dreams last summer. As well as being everything I ever wanted, he had been a relief to my breaking home life.

He had made me happy.

Then fate had thrown a loop at me. Africa had beckoned and I went on a wild goose chase to find the mother who had left me years ago, bringing some hope into my life and into the fast decaying relationship with my father.

Africa was hell.

Coming home was incentive for every dreaded day I spent there. Searching with my father, day after day, even when the situation became bleak to the point of hopelessness.

When I got home, the summer dream had faded into a nightmare. A nightmare that I couldn’t escape.


Stitchy girl wasn’t joking me, when she said she was a good listener. Looking wide eyed and interested, like she’s really giving thought to what I’m haranguing on about she does what she does best, sits silently, cringing at the odd use of obscene language that escapes my mouth.

After I’ve ranted my heart out (with a few censored parts) to a fourteen year old, who’s hardly ever said two words to me before now. I feel like the weight of the world has been lifted of my shoulders.

After a defining pause, she says,” So this Max guy cheated on you whilst you were away?”

“Yep.” Weirdly, I realise, that even though my heart dips, saying it loud isn’t as bad as I thought it would be. I haven’t actually collapsed on the floor screaming in pain, or grabbed something sharp to slit my wrists with.

“And your father…he went away to a new family?” she asks, looking upset.

“Yep.”

“And no- one knows?” she asks to make sure.

“About Max or my father?”

“Max and you.”

“Just me, Max and now you.” Feeling that an instant connection has formed with Stitch, by revealing the part of myself that I’ve never revealed to anyone.

“So what does it feel like?” she asks slowly, “Being in love?”

My mouth opens.

Now that’s a hard question.

I bite my lip, trying to think of a way to make it possible for Stitch to understand, “Its like… someone singing a song that only you understand. Like being able to eat your favourite ice cream everyday, but in nicer, tastier flavours.” I look at her and she looks oddly at me.

I shrug. “Or it could just be the effect of a dopamine high.”

“And when he didn’t love you anymore?”

I can’t help but wince at her choice of wording.

I guess it still hurts.

“I, um,” I look down, “Pain.” I say quietly, because it’s the first word that comes to my mind that can even partly describe how it feels. “I was like, um…you know how Maria gets when she doesn’t get enough sleep?”

“Cranky!” Stitch exclaims.

“Yeah, like that, but a thousand times worse,”

I chuckle at the disbelieving look she gives me, “Believe me honey, it is actually possible to get worse then Maria on an early Monday morning. Kinda scary huh?”

I run my hand through my hair, “ Anyway I’m done with him. Finished. Its not even worth talking about the patheticness of scum who can’t keep their dicks in check.”

“Oh,” she says, mouth slightly ajar, “What about the other girl?”

“Katherine Nelson” I spit the name out like its poison, “escaped to Costa Rica before I could get my hands on her. Shame really. I would have enjoyed kicking the shit out of her, immensely.”

She looks a bit uncomfortable and for a moment I think shes going to bolt, but instead she says, “Max…what did he say?”

“I didn’t ever confront him and he didn’t ever confront me. When I found out he was the last person that I ever wanted to look at," because it pangs a bit, I have to pause.

“My dad took not finding my mother pretty hard and when I found what Max had done, everything just fell apart… I couldn’t really be there for my father after that. All I did was hibernate in my room and wish for everything to go away. Everyone assumed I was that upset because we couldn’t find my mother…” I shrug, memory after memory hitting me more and more vividly, the dusty curtains in the recesses of my mind opening to reveal repressed feeling and hurt. “ Jeez. I haven’t seen her since I was three…not finding her hardly made it that much different!”

Stitches face is expressionless, “Okay, well maybe not finding her did make a slight difference.” I admit, even though she’s not asking. “I mean, everyone hopes…right?”

She nods solemnly. “Right.”

I give Stitch a small smile, realising I’m probably going to send the girl to sleep very soon.

But I can’t stop.

Words flow from my mouth effortlessly, thoughts I’ve kept shut for so long struggling to spill out all at once.

“Then when I finally got out of the rut and started seeing Brad, I realised he’d befriended the jerk too …life’s weird like that,” I say with a touch of bitterness.

“So, there you have it. The reason why Max Evans is the biggest jerk on the face of the planet…I was beauty, he was the prince that showed himself to be the beast he really is. Beauty and the beast.” I hit the table and laugh out loud at my own wretched patheticness.

“Oh,” Stitch says in usual response, not finding any amusement in my humour.

Someone’s gotta laugh though. Might as well be me.

I’m still wiping tears from my eyes, that have sprung from either laughter or crying. I’m not entirely sure which, when Stitch says something, that makes me see the ‘Maria’ spunk bubbling to get out.

“You wait” a feisty gleam overtaking her eyes, “When I see him, I’ll kick his brain, through his ass and back where it belongs!”

First, I have to get over the shock of what has just come out of Stitch’s mouth, then I have an instant image of tiny 4 foot something Stitch suddenly taking Max by surprise and I put my hand to my mouth and let out a chuckle.

I nudge her slightly. “When you do it make sure I’m around.”

“Okay. Deal!” she chortles.

We look at each other and burst into hysterics.

And then Maria’s shy, ever-stuttering baby sister has me giggling. Really giggling - about secrets that I thought I’d never be able to reveal without breaking down.

It’s weird how these things happen, just like that.

****

“You’re late!” Agnes growls, as I run through the back entrance to Coffee and sandwich bar, making the fugly swan wind chimes jangle, as I speed through.

“Only 5 minutes.”

“In 5 minutes you could have served your first customer, gotten your first tip and be on the way to your second!” she informs me, cigarette hanging out of her mouth.

Bitter woman, Agnes.

Never seen her without a cigarette in her gob. Mr Marsland, my psychology A level teacher, would say something went wrong with her (I’d be the first to vouch for that) during the oral development stage in childhood, resulting in oral fixation and a need to constantly have something in her mouth as gratification.

I personally think the cigarette gathered with her nastiness is a result of frustration of what she’s lacking in, in extreme Freudian terms.

“Come on. Get a move on.” She grumbles at my back, as I go to change in the staff toilets.

In the secrecy of the bathroom I put on the most disgusting uniform known to mankind.

No, really, its that bad. I can’t bare to look at myself in the mirror as I pull on a brown vest, brown tie up blazer, and a …you guessed it, brown chequered skirt in variations of shitty brown and mousy brown.

I tie my hair in a bun, grab my order pad and walk in through the front, just in time to see chimes on the customer door jingle as Tess and Kyle walk in. Followed by Courtney and…Max.

It’s the first time, that I’ve seen Max after my little scene in Colin’s pool house and the reaction is instantaneous. Like someone’s pressed the play button, my heart begins a slow, torturous thumping in my chest.

Realising I’m wearing Stitches deer in headlights look (a popular one with her), I will my feet to move and completely missing Max’s table I walk to Tess and Kyle.

“Hey, Kyle, Tess.”

Kyle nods. “So Liz. I’ve been thinking about my speech…I cant figure if I should go the whole funny guy thing at the risk of taking things too lightly or just do the serious thing at the risk of sound like I’ve got a stick stuck up my ass…what do you think? Actually hold up, get ready to be awed by sheer genius.”

I then, juggle the tasks of listening to Kyle read out his painfully long speeches as well as eaves dropping on Courtney and Max…who currently are talking about the enthralling topic of mootings and trying to ignore the evil looks Agnes keeps giving me as we begin to fill up for lunch hour and I’m still with my first customers after 10 minutes.

I’m awed at my tremendous talent.

“So…which one?” Kyle asks looking up at me.

“Huh?” I realise I have no idea what he’s just read out to me, so I pick a random number, “Um, the second one.”

“You don’t think that was too flowery and the whole siesta fiesta thing… would it be possible to get funding for that?”

“The what?” I say distractedly.

“The Siesta Fiesta…”

I look at him blankly.

“The first one was cute.” Tess grins.

“The first one.” I nod, “Go with that.”

“Not the second one? “ Kyle asks unsurely. “What did you like about the second one?”

I look down at the two faces looking up at me expectantly.

Gee. I didn’t know I was going to be examined.

“The uh, first one was really cute,”

“I told you.” Tess giggles.

“Elizabeth!” Agnes bellows, as she walks past me. “ Time to upgrade that engine. Vroom Vroom.”

I sigh, “Sorry guys. You have to order.”

After re-examining me on the speeches asking numerous questions about my track team and being dragged into helping every evening until the big election night. Kyle and Tess finally manage to order a frappuccino and a char-grilled cheese toastie.

Hoping that someone else gets Courtney and Max, I stealthily avoid their table and serve around them. Also managing to get the order for a plump guy called Jon wrong twice, getting yelled at by Agnes for not being fast enough and spilling hot chocolate over myself—which when camouflaged, makes me realise the genius in the brown colour scheme of my uniform.

You think someone would have gotten their table by this point. Right?

Hah. Only if.

“Do I have to do everything around here?” I grumble, as make the slowest walk of my life toward Max, still hoping one of the other waitresses will beat me to it.

No such luck.

Getting closer, I shield my face with my order pad, hoping they won’t realise who I am, I say, “May I take your order?”

“Hey Liz!” Courtney smiles up at me, and I feign a look of surprise, pretending I’ve just noticed her, even though I must have walked past their table more then twenty times by now.

“Hey!” I answer in a voice that comes out extremely shrill and high-pitched, “What are you guys doing here?”

Duh?!

I know I’ve just asked for it, when Max’s voice replies blandly, “waiting for coffee actually… what about you?”

It’s very difficult, but my eyes eventually meet his. He looks at me with a suss expression and I quickly look down at my order pad before my heart pops out of my chest and lands on the table in front of him.

“Its okay.” Courtney covers for his rudeness, “Liz was very busy,” she informs him like he doesn’t know.

“May I take your order please?” I parrot.

“Cappuccino for me,”

I stare down at my order pad. “And him?”

“Double espresso” Max says.

My tongue touches the corner of my mouth as I pretend to concentrate on writing the order down, even though I just have to tick a box.

“Cu-ppu-cci-no and Do-uble- es-pres-so” I repeat, hoping to achieve an impression of cool indifference, opposed a girl who’s drowning in nauseousness due to the mass of tremulous emotion she’s feeling.

“Okay done.” I smile brightly tapping the pen against my pad. “Orders will be with you shortly.”


“Oh and Lizzy,” he says, as I begin to walk off.

I stop and turn slightly.

No readable expression on his face when he says, “Brad told me to pass you a message. Call me.”


“Okay…Thanks.”

“Sure.”

And that’s it.

He turns back to Courtney.

So the first time we speak after my breakdown, he orders a coffee and says that Brad asked me to call him.

Git.

As I walk through the back entrance to vent, I have a sudden sense of deja vu. I realise, that was just like the insanely civilised conversations we used to have when I had just arrived from Africa, before we declared our hate for one another.

I hear my phone beep and I swing open my locker, fumbling through my bag. On the screen, I have two missed calls from Brad.

Shaking my head, I drop the phone back in my bag and close the locker shut with a bang.

****




PS. Please excuse the very English lingo...e.g 'A level’…I’m sure I’ve thrown 'bloody' in their a couple of times too. I forget what the equivalent term in U.S speak is…GPA? Not quite sure how it works…

I aplogise for the huge delay. But things got really busy with the drama production thing I’m in. Anyhowz I hope you enjoy chap 7!





No Regrets

Chapter 7

The doors swing shut behind me, as I sprint into the Grande hall and toward Kyle and the small group gathered around him.

The place is crowded with other rival campaigning members, who keep throwing strange venom filled looks our way-- you’d think we were about to battle it out in war. I really don’t get why people get anal about this stuff, so to show good sportsmanship I give the red head to my left, wearing a t-shirt saying ‘I poke badgers with spoons’, a thumbs up sign.

She pretends she doesn’t see me. I shrug; at least I don’t have to worry about my good deed of the day and I bet the badger welfare association wouldn’t be too pleased at the stupid slogan she’s parading around.

“So, where do you want me?” Pulling my track bag off my shoulders I let it drop to the floor.

Kyle’s stood behind a table stacked with posters, flyers and various other accessories, Maria’s got a large box of posters floor beside her. Alex Isabel and Max stand around too.

“Finally,” Kyle gives me a cheeky grin, “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for you to ask me that question?”

I roll my eyes.

Why do guys have the ability to make every single utterance a sexual connotation?

“Har. Har. Funny guy.” I clap my hands together, “So, what are we doing standing around here, lets get moving people. So what would you like me doing today? Giving out fliers, sticking up posters, or helping with decorations?”

Maria gives the suddenly enthused me a ‘what the hell’ look.

“What?” I reciprocate, “ All I wanna do is to get the party moving.”

If you haven’t guessed. I want to get this and being here with Max over with.

Note, whilst everyone is giving me ‘what’s the dilemma with Liz today look’, I hadn’t even glanced at Max yet.

“And I thought I was impatient,” Isabel mutters icily.

“Well you are,” I inform her.

Alex shifts uncomfortably from beside her. Sometimes its just fun being mean to Isabel to see Alex cringe.

See, Alex is totally and utterly in love with irrevocable ice queen. He’s’ never actually said as much. But he is.

I can tell.

I feel the goosebumps rise on my arms as Max leans down beside me and picks up a few rolled up posters. “Trust me Iz. Lizzy would beat you to it any day”

“Yeah she probably would,” Isabel admits.

Moments like this are becoming quite déjà vu-ish. Max and Isabel have inherited some mutated gene which makes them inherently feel it’s their duty to let everyone in the world know how superior they are to everyone else and how everyone else should be privileged to have the fab twosome in their life.

In my eyes it explains Isabel’s attitude problems and Max’s swollen till I can swell no more ego.

“Id rather be impatient then slow.” I smile up at Max.

“Hey!” Maria jabs Max in the chest, “Lets not start okay…”

Max puts his hands up in surrender. “I didn’t start a thing.”

“Liz is cool…. “ Maria pauses then smiles lightly, “Especially when she’s not conscious,”

Max lets out a much too haughty chortle, “Since we’re on that topic, remember that time when she fainted and nearly knocked Alex out in the process?”

“Hah Yeah!” there’s a snort from Maria.“Oh my god..” she clutches her belly. “Didn’t she like take your nose with her or something?”

“Yeah it bled for hours,” Alex adds his two cents. “I lost so much blood I thought I was gunna die.”

Devastated I look around me,

Uh hello?

“Oh yeah!” Isabel’s even laughing now. “No wonder you keep your distance when she’s drinking”

“Its not just the drink. Lizzys pretty much hazardous to the health most times”

“Do you guys actually want me here? Or would you rather I left so you can continue to get your jollies?” I rap.

"But its so much more fun when you’re here,” Max grins. “Especially the way that face goes all serious…and agitated” then he makes face that looks nothing like me but someone in serious pain.

I grumble about what kindof wierdass friends they are.

“Hey. Do you guys remember when she stripped—”?

“Ok fine!” I grab my bag.

“Hey hey. Hold up.” Kyle jaunts, “Despite everything Liz is right.” He says, tactfully trying to hide the breaking grin on his face, “We need to get going. Isabel and Alex—I want you guys to work on the display board and pick up the programmes. Here, take my car. Maria and I are going go through the rehearsal with the other groups and Liz and Ma—“

“No!” I cut him off before he finishes.

Why. Why. WHY?

Kyle turns toward me, eyebrows furrowed.

“What?”

“No.” I repeat.

“Is there a problem Liz?” Kyle sighs. I can tell he was expecting an inevitable mishap from me, but I can’t help it.

Normally I just do my thing and get on with it (really I do), but drastic measures cause for action.

“Yes there is a problem.” I tell him stoutly.

My hope that he’d read my distress is squashed when he puts his hands on his hips and raises his eyebrows patronisingly.

“Why can’t I be paired with you or Maria, or Alex?” I preen. Even Isabel would do, if it came to it…but not Max.

Not Max.

Please.

“Liz!” Maria groans, “What are you? In kindergarten?” I bump into Max as she shoves us toward the exit.

“But—“

“GO!”

I haven’t got a choice but to give in. Maria can get really scary sometimes.

*****


I stretch forward on my tiptoes, trying to keep my balance, as I strain toward the wall on the wobbliest stool ever made.

I throw a slight look behind me, where Max stands, looking up at me with arms folded across his chest. “Here?”

“A little to the left.”

Ok.

“Right…down a bit…”

“Here?”

I wobble.

“No to the top slightly. “

I stretch as high as I can, pasting the poster on the wall.

“Actually, come to think of it I think it looked better in its original position.”

I can hear the silent laughter in his tone and I realise he’s playing with me. Angrily I turn to give Max an agitated look, but in that instant I tumble off the stool and am saved by a pair of arms as the stool collapses beside us.

We’re dangerously close as I free myself from his grasp and brush my hair out of my face. I take a step backward from him, my eyes lingering on the purple bruise against his brow. A reminiscent mark of the week before, which sends a certain pang of something through me, every time, I think about it.

His eyes brush over me as he leans down to pick up the stool and I self-consciously itch the back of my neck.

“So how many rooms have we got left?”

I can hear his footsteps grow lighter as he walks over to the far table, to pick up a poster from the stack we’ve placed there. “There’s some to go up in the main common room and the games room.”

“Great.” I murmur.

He turns from the table, to throw me an amused look.

I shrug prissily. “I do have a life you know”

“Involving Bio assignments and Romance novels?”

“Might be.”

He makes an expression of something that resembles a seemingly private smile and turns back around.

“But it’s a life nether the less…”

He begins pasting the poster against the wall whilst I stare at the muscles of his back, his arms and generally the whole back part of him for like five minutes, until I realise what I’m doing to the table and pick up a poster. It’s quiet for a bit apart from our footsteps, snapping blu-tack and the rustle of posters.

I’m the first to break it.

“Why did you do it anyway?”

“Do what?” he mumbles.

“Start hitting Sean like that?”

At first he continues to plaster Kyle’s face vehemently against the wall, I think he’s not going to answer me, but then he speaks.

“I was dying for a brawl. Guess I got lucky”

“Hmm”

Idiot.

He runs his hand through his hair, “Don’t like him too much.”

“You never liked Sean.”

Max turns from stroking Kyle grinning face flat against the wall. “That’s because he was always hitting on you.”

I turn to look at him, surprised.

Like something forbidden has come out of his mouth, he stops himself, picks up a pack and pulls out blu -tack concentrating on breaking it up.

I pin a poster up on the notice board, “Like you’d care.”

I can see him shrug from the corner of my eye. “Does this poster look straight to you?”

I shove my hair out my face, “It really pissed you off didn’t it?”

He eventually turns to look at me. Amber eyes fire bright. “What that he was perving on you? Hell yeah”

I shake my head, “Why?”

“He groans irritably, throwing me a sharp look. “Why the fuck do you think smart ass?”

“Whoa” I chirp, putting my hands up in surrender. “Way to reply to my question. What’s crawled up your ass anyway?”

“Why are you such a bitch?”

Whoa! WHOA!

“Well that depends,” I chirp, “On why you’re such a loser man…?”

“Loser man? Way to work those insults Lizzy. Maybe I should ask why you’re such a deceptive female?” he spits taking a few angry steps toward me.

Deceptive female?

Grand, coming from Mr faithful.

“…Why don’t you keep your butt ugly face away from me” I say taking the same amount of steps backward.

“Why did you break up with me?”

“Why are.... huh?”

I freeze.

Now that just broke the flow of our conversation.

He turns directly toward me. Facing me with this intense, impenetratable look. “Tell me Liz—why?”

I gulp and move back slightly, his voce becomes low, husky with an edge of foreboding, as he begins a sexily slow scanter toward me.

“Tell me.”

He makes me nervous as his powerful body towers over me. The penetrating look in his eyes making the temperature rise to my head.

I lick my lips; my heart begins a rhythmatic thumping.

“Tell me.”

Is it wrong that as well as being totally mad at him, I’m extremely turned on at the same time?

“Don’t be stupid.” My voice breaks as his arms sandwich me against the wall and the smell of soap and aftershave envelop the air surrounding, as he leans into me. His eyes drink me in, in a way that makes my breath hitch. I can feel the heat of his breath on my face; I can almost feel the touch of his forehead against mine.

I paste myself harder against the wall, hoping that somehow I’ll become pat of Kyle’s campaign poster.

“Everyday.” He drawls. “Every single day, I think... I think what I ever did to....” he stops and nudges my lips with his in the most frighteningly sensual way that makes me feel like I’m melting to the ground. “What did I ever do…”

I can’t help but notice truly how beautiful he is, this close up. Sometimes I think that the artist that painted him must have taken a hell lot more time then he did on anyone else. I hate that everything is so damned perfect about him.

I hate his stupid questioning.

I hate him.

The fact that he’s always so oblivious to everything, so uncaring, so unaffected makes my blood boil.

“I’m going.” I declare in a small voice. I don’t know how I manage to say those words, but I do.

“No your not.” The arms resting on either side of the wall around me don’t budge.

“F-fine.” I say, looking up at him from my very imprisoned and claustrophobic position. There’s no way I’m going to even bother trying to get past him, he’s way stronger and much more determined then me right now and during these moments there’s practically no messing with him. “ What you gunna do?” I say defiantly,” Keep me hostage Do it as long as you like. You’ll get bored eventually.”

He smirks lightly, even though there’s no humour in his face. “I have ways to keep myself occupied.”

My eyes widen, “What’s the meant to mean?”

“You know you ask that a lot?” he says leaning back to give me slight breathing space.

Slight.

I roll my eyes, trying not to think about how fast my heart is pumping right now. This cannot be good for me. “Yeah. So call me stupid.”

“Ok. Stupid.”

I give him an evil look and he glares right back, that familiar amused smirk cascading across his arrogant yet breathtaking features.

“Oh there it is…that look…did I ever tell you that turns me on?”

I look down. My cheeks turning bright scarlet.

Its weird. I can think all these dirty thoughts and not like we haven’t done all these rather well, er, dirtier, things, but the simplest innuendo from him makes me tingle from head to toe.

His voice lowers, and he breathes lightly in my ear, making me shiver, “If you really want to know what I mean is--,”

“--No I don’t” I tell the ground fiercely.

“--It means, I’m gunna stop jacking off over you and do this…”

Out of mere curiosity, I look up. Before I can say whoops, his face has closed the space between us, his mouth latches onto mine. At first I’m completely still, trying to get over the shock of what’s happening. Our lips caress in the lightest of touches in a barely there kiss then the electric surpasses my body. And there’s utter stillness.

His breathing is deep in rhythm to mine. His lips open slightly. The stillness only lasts a millisecond, before absolute hell breaks lose.

I’m grabbing him frantically. He’s moulding my body against his. Roughly shoving me against the wall with his lips.

My lips claw at his, hands flail, teeth scrape. He grabs my waist and pulls me harder against his body, till its impossible to be any more entwined.

I pull his hair my breath coming out in desperate gasps as we tumble against wall literally eating one another.

I’m not quite sure what’s happening, but I know that the wetness of his tongue on my lips, the desperateness of his hands against my body, the rough breathing noises he’s making is sending me crazy.

The craziness, the passion that’s been restrained within me, has only ever been unleashed with Max and I can feel it again, enveloping me, flowing out of me, displayed in desperateness of my movements, which somehow leads to me being shoved against a large overhead screen with my legs wrapped around his. Only when I feel a little more then just his leg, jutting into me, does my superego take over and I shove him hard.


“I really didn’t need to know…” I say breathlessly staring at his lips as I try to balance myself on my feet, “how you come to grips with yourself in spare time,”


He chuckles lightly, his hair sticking at all over the place. “You asked.”

“No I did not…I do not want a visual of you playing with yourself” I gulp, suddenly its so hot. “Its gross…and violation,”

“Violation?" He raises an eyebrow at me coolly. “ How exactly is it violation?”

“It should be.” I tell him stoutly folding my arms over my chest. “And anyway you’re violating my personal bubble right now by being this close.”

“Yeah well.” He shrugs. “You’re enjoying every minute of it,”

“No I’m not”

“Yes you are”

“Shut up!”

“Liar.” He moves closer.

“Violation man” I yell at his face.

“Stupid woman!” he spits, our noses almost touching.

I grab him. Tugging hard at his mussed hair. His mouth is already open; ready for me, by the time our lips come together.

I’m on tiptoes, pulling him harder toward me. His weight almost pulling me to the ground with him.

His tongue flicks inside my mouth and explores the every nook and cranny from the roof to the underside of my tongue. Before flicking it back and forth, steady rhythm. In and out of my mouth, teasingly. I let out a small moan, wanting him to do that to me in other places.

His hand travel down my back and lightly spreads over my butt. He shoves me against him and I feel the extremely male part of him against my thigh.

Oh, God…

I want him to taste me and touch me and come inside…

God. God. God! What am I thinking?

I can’t stop though. The more he kisses me the more pliant I become.

Compiling all the willpower in the world, I lean back. Giving his mouth a sensual lick, kiss his lower lip and tug it slightly. Then I sink my teeth into it and yank hard.

“AH FUCK!” like a bolt of lightening has hit him, he bounces back grabbing his lip.

“Just to let you know how much I appreciate you being a dick.”I smirk.

He gives me a confused merged with pissed off look.

“Would you care to elaborate?”

“Don’t play with me.”

“If I was doing that Id be getting more pleasure from it.” He answers forlornly, still stroking his lower lip. Which is bright red and looking even more pouty then usual.

Yes, pouty.

He tilts his head to the side.

I move to the right.

He sandwiches me against the wall again.

“Move!”

“Not until you tell me Lizzy,”

Realising that he’s not going to budge, I begin sliding down the wall. Unfortunately he realises my attempt at sneaking under his arm.

“Stop acting like you don’t know!” I growl, standing back up. Anger hitting me like a million wildebeest. “After everything…after I went away you thought you could go around fucking every girl in the state and I wouldn’t know?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know…” I spit out the name like its poison, “Katherine Nelson. Okay? Katherine Nelson”

Max’s mouth touches the ground; “Ka—you think her and I…” his voice trails off and his hands drop from around me, as he looks at the floor shaking his head.

I stand stiffly. Unable to move. Standing still with hands crossed over my chest, because mainly I just don’t know what else to do.

“Katherine was a friend.” He says finally.

“And I’m the queen of England.” I bite, but the sincerity in his eyes overwhelms me.

“I’m not joking”

“Just like Courtney’s your friend.” I point out.

“Not Like Courtney.”

“Not like Courtney?” I hiss, “Are you sleeping with her?”

He ignores my question, “Like Brad or Maria, Tess or Kyle. People I would never think of sleeping with.”

Jerk. He’s so fucking her.

“I wouldn’t put it past you.” But my voice isn’t full of conviction any more and plus I cant help thinking that I hate Courtney a hundred times more then previously.

His eyes latch onto mine and hold me tight. “How could you just presume that?”

Don’t be taken in by it Liz. He's playing you.

Once a Liar. Always a liar.

Yet everything seems to slow around me.

I don’t get it.

He shakes his head again; “I can’t believe your shoving all this crap at me. Since its all your fault anyway.”

I stretch, “My fault?”

“You ran off to god knows where…”

“I had my excuses.”

But he doesn’t seem to hear me, “Do you know how scared I was? Day in day out. Like a madman, wondering why you left me. Then I found out from some random person that you were doing god knows what in Africa…I waited for a phone call, a letter at least. Nothing.” He sighs and it hurts to hear him sound so tortured, “So long Liz. Those months were the longest of my life.”

“I…” I begin insolently.

His fire burnt eyes, whip up to meet mine. “Do you know how strange that was for me? To know that you’d actually been back weeks before hand. That you were actually with Brad by the time I found out. Shoving in my goddamn face, every fucking day. What did I ever do to you to deserve that?”

“So—your saying you and Kath—“ I half manage to splutter even though I know what the truth is already. “The rumours—“

“Did it even occur to you to ask me?” he bellows. He walks backward, voice quietening, “All this time I thought it was me.”

I cower when I see the expression on his face, an expression I’ve never seen him wear before. It’s not hurt or mockery or cockiness. It’s utter and mere anger.

“I guess you really are stupid after all,” he hisses.

My mouth opens, but nothing actually comes out.

I’m devastated at being so stupid. Because he’s telling the truth.

I know he is.

“Every single fucking day. You and Brad.” He yells. He points at his chest “You wouldn’t ever be able to repair the hole in here even if you fucking tried for the rest of your life…”

I gulp trying to get rid of the sordid lump in my throat. “I…”

“Forget it Liz.” He turns away from me.

I stand watching him stride off, shell struck. For a moment I can’t move. Only one word echoes around me.

Liz.

That’s when I know it. I know how angry he is, I know how much I’ve hurt him. I know how stupid I’ve been,

Liz.

The door closes with a bang and I will my floored feet to move, I run after him, calling his name a I fling open the my voice echoes as I look both ways down the empty corridor.

But he’s already gone.

I have the next part! Pretty quick for me, no? Actually I've even half written out chapter 9 :pats self on the back: so it won't too long till the next update either

No Regrets

Chapter 8

"Is this going to stop soon?" I whisper to Kyle in desperation.

Kyle gives me a victimised shrug, "Being honest, I'd say another few hours at least," and then quickly focuses his attentions back on Maria who is currently looking like she is wafting two feet off the ground in her flowy grandma dress.

We're sitting crossed leg on the living room floor, with the smell of incense burning our noses and a sitar chords playing in the background, whilst Maria drifts around the living room trying to explain why it is so important for us to be dragged out of bed at 6 am (no I’m not exaggerating when I say 6 am) to practice harmonising our energies.

According to her, my inner chi, life energy is too low, because she can sense my stress (I personally think its due her noticing that there’s constantly no food left and that I’ve taken to locking myself in my room when I’m not scouring the fridge, where I sit and strum dead notes on my guitar all day) and Kyle’s energy is apparently over expended due to his nervousness about the campaign.

"To calm ones inner soul, one must get in touch with the power of inner chi-- now relax, Kyle not so stiff...drop your attention to the allocated point. We shall concentrate on the chakra point just below your naval,"

This, for some reason, this sends Kyle into a fit of giggles.

"Is something funny?" Maria asks in a very headmistress like tone.

"No. Nothing." Kyle answers, unable to hide the laughter spilling from him. "Just that my attention is constantly focused on the point beneath my naval,"

I sigh loudly, clearly showing my disdain. "Why do we have to do this again?"

Maria throws me a impenetrable look, before launching into a complete hissy fit, "I’ve explained this to the both of you already. If you don’t get that we need to harmonise this houses energies by getting rid of all that negativity, then fine! Maybe I should stop with helping you guys and we can continue like this. See if I care when all hell breaks lose and mark my words," she says in a tone of forebodement, “it will,”

I wonder how it would be possible for even more hell to break lose for me, but to make her happy I get on with it. Otherwise, knowing Maria she’ll harp on about it for days and the slightest mishap will be blamed on me not getting a damned positive energy balance.

So for the next ten minutes we chant Om in an offbeat, loud way, with Maria complaining that we're not giving it enough emphasis (I mean how much emphasis can you possibly put into a two letter word) or that we’re not sitting straight enough or concentrating enough. Or that I need to relax more or that Kyle’s mind is actually elsewhere and how we should practice our ru- jing and ching-flipping- tso , until it drives me up the freaking wall and I’m seriously close to murdering her.

Finally, I can’t take it anymore and yell at Maria for being a moron and tell her that I don’t want to chant anymore and all I want to do is go sit in a hot tub of bubbles for the next three hours. Then, I do exactly that.

I lie in the bath a long time, just letting the warm water slip through my fingers and toes. Trying not to think about where lifes taking me or how depressed I feel. Or that todays going to a long hard day and I have no choice but to face up to both Brad and Max.

Hoping that that horridness I’m feeling inside will just wash away, I close my eyes and sink beneath the warms surface of the water.

****

"Have you got everything?" I say to Brads back as he fumbles about his room, pulling at bags and suitcases and shoving the last random bits and pieces that he might need into his suitcase.

Brads turns to face me, "Clothes check, books check, legs check."

I can't help but break into a smile as he falls onto the bed beside me and leans forward for a kiss. I give him a small peck, but then lean back. Its been such a long time since I’ve seen him, actually even talked to him or answered his calls that I thought it'd be strange.

But its not. Its exactly the same.

Its comfortable.

"I think I'm gunna miss you..." I start.

"think?" he asks mockingly.

"I will...” I nod, “I will definitely miss you"

"I'll call-- a lot." He reassures, looking at me in that lovey dovey way that he does so often.

I nudge him playfully, "You better."

"Of course Liz. But this time just make sure you actually pick up."

I know he’s joking, but inside I’m being torn up with guilt. The ignoring I’ve been doing is the unwritten question fermenting the air around us. I know he won't push, and I should really just tell him what’s going on.

But I don't.

Guilt, being only part of the reason I've been hugely avoiding Brad. Its like this whole extremely confusing thing- where I must avoid Max and Brad, especially when they're together, which is most of the time. Or even when they're apart, because when I'm with Brad I feel like I'm doing something wrong, and when I'm with Max I feel like the most terrible girlfriend in the world and usually am, because of my lack of control around him.

And today Brads leaving for the Reds and I feel this horrible weight at the pit of my stomach for being such an awful girlfriend.

I kinda assumed Brad would always be here....even when I didn't answer his calls or messages. He was still here. Not the other side of the country and now that idea that I’m not going to have him around to just randomly rant or moan is a little disconcerting.

"Are you going to tell me then?" Brad probes.

My eyes widen, "Tell you..what?"

"What the problem was,"

I sigh, "there is no..."

"I take that as a no" he shoves the bag in front of him with his foot, then gets up and starts shoving more clothes into it.

I stare apologetically at his back.

All he’s asking is why I’ve been paying him such a lack of attention. The thing is I wouldn’t even be able to explain it if I tried. How can I explain that my life’s become so confusing at this point, that its making me feel dizzy.

As I stare at him shuffling about with his bag, it hits me. It hits me that I can't do it. I can't play him like this. I can't be making out with one of his best friends behind his back when he's the most caring person I’ve ever come across.

Its wrong and god I really must be the biggest bitch on planet earth to do something like that. Perhaps it would just be better if I broke up with him. It would definitely save a lot of heartache and anyway he’s way better off without someone like me.

I open my mouth to say as much.

"Have you rung him yet?"

Brad turns toward me and my mouth snaps shut, I shake my head. knowing that he’s talking about my father.

Brads the only one that remembers all these little things. Like, two Fridays exactly a 6 months ago was the day I tried to adopt a stray dog with a broken leg, until he talked me out of it by saying that it was impossible for me to look after the dog as well as myself on merely a student loan, or like the exact date we had our first kiss and that today is infact my fathers birthday.

"Do it," he says lightly. “Give him a call”

" I don’t want to. Plus he doesn’t care. He’s happy with his new family—I always feel like I’m disturbing him, getting in his way.”

"Don’t be silly Liz. He'll appreciate it."

"He never appreciates anything I do."

"Liz, I still think you should..."

"Don’t tell me what to do!" I snap. I snap because Brad says it like it’ll matter or make a difference. Like my father will actually care. But he won’t. I know.

I know because I already tried ringing him this morning and was answered with the usual reply of ‘I’m busy Elizabeth, we’ll catch up another time’

Another time my ass. I’d been here two years. He’d rung me up just once.


"Oh...” I notice the taken aback expression on Brads face, “That wasn’t meant to come out like that Brad. Sorry.”

I hate being this resentful and even more I hate taking it out on Brad.

"Its okay.”

“No its not! I’m a mean evil cow.” I protest.

Brad just smiles and begins fumbling in his pocket. "Hey, I got something for you"

"You got something for me?" I repeat, looking at him curiously.

Jeez. Burden on the guilt why don’t you?

Its not like I don’t appreciate it, its just Brad perfectness, kinda intensifies my character flaws and feeling of guilt times one hundred, and believe me that’s hell of a lot of guilt to stomach.

I watch him as he kneels down in front of me and pulls out a small ring box from his pocket.

This is where my mood turns from guilt stricken to utterly mortified and the drumming in my chest reaches intense volume.

And the panic filled chant of, OhgodOhgodOhgod begins.

He gives me that all American boy smile.

Ohgod ohgod.

"I um, uh..." I look around desperately for the nearest possible escape route, which is in fact Brads bedroom window.

I’m still contemplating the pros and cons of the route out of the window when he snaps the velvet blue box open and inside is tiny silver ring. I know it doesn’t sound that much better, but the ring really is tiny.

"Don't look so panicked," he smiles taking it out and placing it on my little pinkie.

"Oh?" I say lightly, hoping that my sigh of relief isn’t too evident.

He raises his eyebrows at me knowingly.

"Oh...I thought you were gunna..." I clear out my throat.

Propose. :shudder: even thinking the word scares me.

"Just like you to take twenty steps ahead instead of two." Brad says teasingly.

"I was beginning to think of nice ways to turns you down"

"You? Nice?"

I give him a shove. “And plus if you were proposing I’d be extremely pissed that you gave me a silver ring"

"Do you like it." He grins.

"I love it. But you didn't have to" I’m actually so relieved that he’s not—y’know, that it doesn’t even occur to me what accepting this ring means. I'm saying yes to a whole another acceptance level of our relationship, its like we’re bonded now in some inane way. Its like bringing it all out in the open once and for all and and the ring symbolises him claiming me as his own. (these are all the things that came to mind later).

He moves back up to join me, "Its just so you don’t forget about me."

"Don’t be a stupid head." I tell him.

"Well I do admit that sometimes I worry."

I look at him biting my lip.

"Your like this... incredible force, running in every direction, scarpering every bit of knowledge, just taking risks, embracing it all and I'm scared that I might get left behind."

"Your the one that’s leaving us behind" I point out bluntly.

Brad lets out a large laugh. "Never have I come cross someone as wonderfully, impossible."

I give him a bright smile. Being with Brad is always a mood booster. He's such a sweetie. A bit mushy at times, but still…sweet.

"I love you... I know your not ready for it yet Liz, but I promise one day you'll say those words back to me and mean them."

"I..." I shrug, embarrassed, "Uh, thanks," then turn a deep red.

He chuckles, "Your welcome," He brushes his hand against my cheek and I'm thinking maybe this is a different love. Its completely different from what I feel when I'm with Max, I mean, I can think straight for once, there’s not this urgent, unnecessary need to be around Brad. He doesn’t make me lose control or feel utterly wild and free, like I’m being swept of my feet and taken on this scary but amazing whirlwind where I can totally lose myself…but then he doesn't take my emotions for a roller coaster ride or do these things to make me insanely jealous either.

Brad is safe. Maybe that’s what I need.

Safe.

The more I think about it the more I convince myself that this is what I need. After a life full of tremulous ups and downs this is would be ultimately good for me wouldn’t it?

Someone who’s safe. Someone who’ll be there for me.

Brad fiddles with the ring on my finger and I know that I cant break up with him. I couldn’t do that to him. It would totally kill him.

I decide that I’m not taking Brad for granted any longer. He doesn’t deserve it and I make an internal and heartfelt vow that I’m going to try and be the best girlfriend I can possibly be.

****

Goodbyes. I hate them.

Normally, I just say it and then disappear before everyone else.

But this time its kinda different and so I’m out here with the group plus Max and Isabels parents who are often keen on giving a helping hand.

Maria and I huddle the furthest away, next to the door. Alex, Kyle and Max (whos made an unspoken pact to avoid me at all costs) stand dotted around Brad helping him pack stuff into his car.

Isabel and Tess stand next to Phillip as Diane shoves a box of cookies into Brads hands, which Brad passes to his father Cliff, who waves us a goodbye and climbs into the Volks wagon (probably to enjoy the cookies).

Diane gushes over Brad and gives him a huge hug. Diane and Phillip are the sweetest parental couple that I’ve come across, since they found out my mother took her job as an archaeologist way to seriously and escaped to Africa so she could dig up fossils with her new lover and my father re-emersed himself in a new family aswell as going out of his way to avoid me, they’ve taken to ringing me up a lot and just feeding me a lot of food. Mainly cakes.

Its works for me as I generally take very well to people who feed me food.

Then the guys do this whole hand shaking things where they hold onto each others hands, and give each other the 'sorry man, I'm too cool to hug you' look.

I cant help but feel my heart sinking as Tess gives Brad a hug and a kiss on the cheek and he gets closer and closer to me.

So this is it.

I suddenly feel all filled up with emotion.

I hate this.

I mean Brad is one of the best friends I’ve ever made.

And then he's standing opposite me and I'm not quite sure what to say.

He grabs me and everyone kind of toddles away to give us privacy and I wish they hadn’t as Brad strangles me nearly half to death, until I eventually push him away.

"So um, bye?" I shrug.

He smiles and nods bringing my pinkie with the ring, to his mouth to kiss it. " I’ll miss you honey."

From my peripheral vision, I can't help but notice the red of Max's shirt disappear past me and my eyes are desperately searching him out, as Brad climbs into the car and waves a final goodbye.




For those of you reading Between,I posted an authors note on that thread.

....Next part

No Regrets

Chapter 9


After Brad leaves, everybody congregates in the living room. I join them for a bit, but after being asked if I’m okay more then twenty times, (I doubt I look cheer filled, but jeez!) and constant pity offerings of Diane’s cookies gets a bit much, and I have to escape, to be alone.

The horrible weight at the bottom of my stomach is still there, as I climb up the stairs and twist the doorknob to Brads room I cant help but wonder why its so easy to lose everyone that ever cared about me.

I hate feeling sorry for myself, so I try to think about other things.

Like how badly decorated this house is and how the sick coloured wall paper is peeling of the wall, its quite interesting--

The door slam behind me breaks me from my surveillance of the wallpaper. The first thing I see is a bright red football shirt and then my eyes travel upwards to amber flecked eyes, that almost make me sigh out loud in yearning.

But I don’t.

See? I’m exercising self control already.

I’m about to ask him what he’s doing here, then don’t do that either, because after all, it is his house and he can be wherever he wants to be. But judging from the look on Max’s face I guess, he probably doesn't feel like being around people much either.

Butterflies begin to knaw my stomach, because I know this is my chance, the only time we're probably ever going to get to be away from the crowd. I should say something. But we've been avoiding each other so much I haven’t had time to think about what to say when this inevitable situation comes up, so I end up saying 'hey' in an extremely stiff tone.

"Hey," he says just as stiffly.

"Um," I say.

He doesn't say a thing to counter my 'um', so we just stand and stare in a very un-companiable silence. Eventually his eyes drop to my hand and they flash with something that looks like emotion before going dead again, "Nice ring,"

I glance at the ring on my pinkie and have a sudden urge to hide it, "Thanks,"

Max shrugs and begins making his way past me. Guessing this is my only chance, I grab his arm, then drop it as he stands all concrete like, and turns toward me from the top of the staircase.

"I think we should talk." I say in a very martyr like voice.

He looks down the staircase where I can hear everyone laughing and chattering away from the living room and then motions toward his bedroom door. I nod my head and follow him thinking this was a lot easier then I thought it would be.

His rooms just like that of a typical boy, law books and techy equipment scattered over the floor, a few barely clad women on his wall. Except everything from the smell to the way his work shirts chucked on the floor screams ‘Max’.

I plonk myself down on his unmade bed, as he turns toward me and hands me something.

"This mine?" I say looking down at disbelief at my personal stereo player.

Yes ladies and gentlemen…its back.

“I guess it was time I gave it back.”

“But you said you....I don’t believe this” I shake my head, “You had it all along?”

“M-hmm,” he says, unsuccessfully trying to hide the grin on his face.

“But…” I screw my eyes, “Do you know how mad I was when I thought you lost it?”

“Yes.” He says openly grinning now.

“Your unbelievable.”

“Why, thanks.”

I cant help but laugh. I mean normally I would have blown a gasket and yelled at his moronic ways. But after all that’s passed, I’m guessing this really isn’t a big deal anymore. “Was there a reason to piss me off so?” I question.

“I guess there’s some kind of perverse pleasure in annoying you.” He admits “At least it made sure you wouldn’t forget me,”

I raise my eyebrows, “So annoying me, was your little way of making sure you could impend some kind of presence on me Mr. Evans?”

He's got that playful look in his eyes, “Did it work?”

“I couldn’t forget about you even if I tried,” I say softly. The smile disappears from his face and I think maybe I’ve said the wrong thing.

“Max,” I moan softly. His name comes out in barely a whisper, “I need to talk to you. I have to get all this stuff of my chest otherwise it’ll kill me”

He looks at me without saying a thing.

I run my hand through my hair, “I’m really bad at this." I wait a little giving him the chance to jump in if he wants, but he doesn’t respond, so I continue. “I’ve been really silly. I made these rash decisions, I was impulsive, I acted on instinct.” I sigh, “I don’t think before I do things… and I guess that’s what happened last summer.”

I look up at him hopefully.

But he’s still all unreadable and stony faced. Perhaps I shouldn’t have broken the mood and then we could have continued to cheerily discuss my personal stereo.

“I was just so mad when I heard the rumours about you and Katharine.” I begin again, “ I mean you guys were close…like really close and you weren’t around to ask when I heard all that stuff and everything that had happened with me, just left me hating myself and you and everyone around me.”

He raises his eyebrows.

“Don’t get me wrong I still do hate you…” I clear up.

“Ditto” he throws back.

“Good.”

Max gives me callous stare, “Are we done then?”

“Yes…I…no!” I groan.

“Well then” he mocks, “I’ve worked out two things from what you just said Lizzy. You made a mistake which is blatantly obvious and that you hate me, again, obvious.”

“I’m getting there!” Mr. Smart ass.

“Well, get there then,” he says roughly.

“I’m sorry Max. I’m really sorry okay?” I cringe, then add, “I’m an idiot,”

“You got that right.” He hisses.

His lack of understanding and mere pig headedness makes anger boil up inside, “Its not like I did this on purpose. All this happened because I was under so much pressure,”

“What could have possible have happened that you were away for so long and you couldn’t even contact me?” he bellows

“You wouldn’t understand!”

“Why don’t you try me Liz? That’s the problem with you!” he shrills, “You just assume all these things without even bothering to find out if they're true or not!” he bounces up from his chair and begins walking toward the door.

“And you just run away,” I say quietly.

He turns with his hand on the doorknob. “Okay. Fine. I’m listening …so tell me.”

I look up at him, towering before me, with a unforgiving expression on his face and its not the most comfortable way to spill your emotions, but I don’t have a choice, so I do. I tell him everything. All of it. From the beginning to the end, whilst my eyes fill with tears threatening to spill out. Max listens intently, moving to sit on the seat opposite me.

“She just upped and left when I was three,” I continue, wiping the corner of my eyes with my jumper, “As far back as I can remember, Dad was never really there. I mean, he was there in person but his mind was always preoccupied.” I sniff , “ It was last summer, when he found that she was spotted in Africa. That’s the first time I actually saw life in him. Everything happened so fast. It was confusing that I just didn’t have a chance to think about anything but how much I wanted to find her. How much I wanted my father to find her. Sometimes we’d go without food, just searching and searching. I guess, contacting you just didn’t occur to me”

Max looks at me concerned but doesn’t move to comfort me in anyway, “Why did she leave?”

“My father always called her a free spirit. He said she broke all rules of conventional society, she was just one of those people that used her heart not her head, … I guess she just wanted to break free. Dad said he always knew she would… He just couldn’t take it when it she did.”

“Free spirit huh?” his eyes twinkle lightly, “ how come that sounds slightly familiar?”

I gulp. “During that time Brad was there for me…as a friend. He was the person I relied on., especially when it all got really bad with my Dad. He was there to console me and I ended up spilling my heart to him and then it all just become something quite different one day-- and before I knew it, it ended up like this” I say miserably, “He helped me come back from the breakdown stage Max.” I look up at him earnestly, “ I feel like I owe him so much.”

There’s silence for a long while as Max stares out of the window. The minutes go on like torture until I think I’m gunna have to beg him to speak.

“SHIT!” he yells from nowhere, making me jump in my seat. “Shit, I cant believe this was just all a big misunderstanding.”

“I know.”

“There’s so much I regret. Just standing by and letting all this happen. Not coming to you sooner…maybe then it wouldn’t have ended up this way.” I cant help but notice the way his eyes drop to my hand, where Brads ring seems to rub salt into wounds. “I was just so damned jealous, it was eating me up inside.” He goes on, “ I couldn’t think of anyway to talk to you. So I took to irritating you as much as possible”

I drop my hand to my side so the rings out of sight, “You did a good job of it…” I smile through bleary eyes.

He gives me a bitter laugh and shakes his head and I feel an urgent need to comfort him, even though its me that’s breaking down into tears.

“Its me, not you.” I tell him.

“There’s no point in doing this to yourself,” he says softly.

“What do you want me to do then? Pretend it didn’t happen. Pretend I don’t regret every moment of the past eight months of being away from you?”

“Perhaps its better.”

“What’s better?” I moan.

“This Lizzy.” The bed dips as he perches himself beside me. Close to me. “ Perhaps its better to forget it. To pretend that me and you didn’t happen.”

I swallow, “Pretend?”

His eyes scan my face and in an automatic gesture, he brushes a strand of hair back from my forehead. I know its innocent but it leaves me trembling inside, “ Its gunna be hard, I’ll tell you that.” His eyes explore mine, “I want to be with you so much, cause god, you seem to be the only thing I ever think about.”

Only I know how much the feeling is mutual. I groan out loud. "You’re the only one that I’ve ever truly connected with in a way that makes sense…” then I stop myself, because if we go on like this we’re going to end up confessing our love for one another and end up making an even bigger mess.

Max’s idea horrifies me, but then I realise that it’s the only one that makes sense... so instead I say, “ I cant play with Brads emotions like this”

“How do you think I feel?” Max spits turning away from me, “ he’s one my closest friends”

I look at him and know he’s right. Sometimes things happen and you have to get on with it. Do what’s best. Even if it leaves you with regrets for the rest of your life.

“But we’re still going to be friends right?…I mean you won’t completely avoid me?” I ask desperately, because I’m not sure what I’ll do if he decides to do that. “I want you…I want you around… even if it is to annoy the hell out of me.”

“I don’t know." Max shifts, his eyes scanning the room blankly, “I don’t think I know anything anymore,”

“Please--” I begin.

“Do me a favour Liz,” he manages to whisper,” just keep away from me. Because, I get scared of what I become…of what I might do, when I’m around you”

I feel the lump become anatgonisingly large in my throat and when I speak its all muffled.

“Deal.” I say stiffly and even though he’s right and I’m agreeing with it. It still hurts like someones just stabbed through my heart and because I’m probably gunna burst into tears I tell him I have to go.

Max nods tiredly not even bothering to look my way. “Are you angry?” I ask as I stand by the door and feel hot tears spilling over the edge of my eyes.

Max looks at me and sighs and shrugs. “No Liz” he sighs wearily, “I’m not.” Then flops backward on to the bed, and just stares up at the ceiling, like there’s something really interesting on it.

I hate seeing him so deflated. “Are you coming?”

He nods. “You go ahead. I’ll be down in a bit.”

I nod and exit the room closing the door behind me, then lock myself in bathroom for a well over due tear fest.

***

I hate being so depressing.... hopefully it wont last too long