Just Hate Me and We'll End It Here

Alex

“As long as I’m your cow,” I poke her. But for once, she doesn’t bring her hand up to slap me. “Bay?” I ask queerly when she just stares at the screen. I tap her head. No response.

I shift so I’m lying straight on her, but I lower my head to rest it on her shoulder. I realize she’s on myspace. Ooooh, pretty picture! Why hadn’t I thought of this yet? I wonder… but I need to request her as a friend, definitely!

‘Selfish little, brat you don’t-’

‘If you don’t like him then leave him already!’

‘Appreciate him or ditch him, you’re so stupid and-’

“What are these?” I ask, clearly disturbed.

She slowly shakes her head, clearly not knowing either. I scroll down a little. Over twenty comments like that, it’s just crazy. They’re all bashing her for no reason!

Finally, though, I catch it- it’s cause she’s with me, of course. That immediately makes me begin to feel guilty. It’s my fault- if this wasn’t continuing; she’d be just fine and not being called all those nasty names. Glaring at the screen, I climb off. “Give me that,” I mutter, yanking her laptop and I start deleting all those comments. “This is just crazy, these immature fans think it’s wrong, but its not. They don’t know you.” Feverishly I finish that, then log into my own name.

“What are you doing?” She asks in a sigh.

“I am going to make this right, of course,” I mutter.

I start typing on my own page. ‘Fans, as you might have found out, I am ‘in a relationship.’ In fact, I’m loving it and plan to make it last a while longer than the rest, all right? Her name is Bailey and she’s an awesome person. However, I’ve seen that she’s getting nasty comments and that really got me upset. It’s I who don’t deserve her, and I’m the lucky one to have her around- so give her a break, she’s got her own problems to deal with. Never dis a soul until you’ve actually had a conversation with them. Got that? Goodie.’

“You’re crazy,” she murmurs over my shoulder.

“Thanks,” I mutter and push enter. “But why, exactly?”

“You’re lying,” she shrugs casually. “It’s nothing real, just faking it… for publicity and all that crap.”

I pause, setting the computer down. “Well…” I try to find the words. “Well, maybe I don’t want it to be.”

She stops from standing to go to her door. “Wha- oh, of course,” she gives a dry smile. “Hit them and leave them, right? Or just repeat till they say so.” She shakes her head. “Get it through your head, Gaskarth boy. This is nothing. I’m leaving the moment the deal is over, and there’s nothing you can do about it, so you might as well stop. You’re wasting your stash of compliments and it’s coming to nothing.”

I stand, frowning slightly as I look into her eyes. “Well,” I begin, stepping forwards. “Maybe I don’t want it to be that way. Ever think of that?”

Her stare falters and she searches for words to say. But just then, I notice in one of her boxes, a stash of… CD’s… “You listen to Michael Bublé?” My mouth turns upwards in a sly grin. “You? Little miss hardcore? Into.. jazzy crap?”

“It’s not crap,” she defends him quickly, then bites her tongue. I stare at her in silence, raising my eyebrow curiously and just waiting… “It- it’s just… good… dance music,” she confesses.

“Dance?” I stare at her blankly. Then I faintly recall that last night at the club, mentioning she’d had dance classes before. “Whoa, whoa,” I stop her from heading to go. “Let me get this straight. You dance to his kind of music? That’s like…” I search for the word.

“You mean ballroom?” She rolls her eyes. “Waltzes, foxtrot, cha-chas, all those latino dances and such? Yeah. Three straight years, between jazz, ballet, and hip-hop, Alex. When I mean dancing, I mean lots of dancing.”

“So you can move your hips like that?” I wiggle my eyebrows.

“Yeah,” she says dryly. “Like that. Gah, you’re such a guy.” Shaking her head, she leaves and heads downstairs.

“Aw, come on, it’s not that bad,” I tell her. “I think it’s really cool. I always wondered why you weren’t so clumsy.”

“Clumsy?” She turns from trying to get a mug from a top shelf.

Grinning, I step behind her and bring it down- but I don’t move back. “Yeah,” I nod. “Little miss attitude, hard core, and shoe obsession? Being clumsy fits right in. But its fun that you can actually dance all fancy and all that- I like learning new things about you.”

“That’s lovely,” she says but clearly doesn’t mean it. She yanks my arm and slips through, escaping me. Darn it… “And you’re right. I used to be very, very clumsy. But after I ran- I…” she clears her throat uneasily for a moment. “After a while, in my early teens, I figured I didn’t want that anymore. So I began taking lessons. I just stopped last year.”

“Last year? Why’s that? Didn’t you get a degree or something? For college?”

She moves on to making some coffee. “Almost. But I stopped at the community college last year and never got the degree.” She avoids my stare. “What? I… I didn’t have the money, and I didn’t want to continue all the classes I needed to get the degree. So… I didn’t.”

“You? Letting something stop you? Now that really doesn’t sound like you,” I tell her, puzzled.

“You’d be surprised,” she mutters and takes a sip of her coffee. “Ugh,” she makes a face. “I could never make coffee,” she tells herself with a sigh. “Well, I’m off to bed. Don’t sneak in. Later.”

“But I just got home! You haven’t had dinner! Don’t you want to keep me company?” I ask hopefully.

“No,” she pauses, turning to look at me weirdly.

“I’ll make you some good coffee,” I offer.

That makes her think. “You’ve got two hours,” she finally sighs.

Yes! She’s mine! For two hours!

“Not like that,” she’s obviously reading my mind.

Darn it… but still!