The Lace Masquerade

November 2, 2010
12:56 PM
Location-Lunch
Feeling: Tired.

So. I feel like shit.

Yesterday, we all faked sick. Adam, Clare and Eli told their parents something about eating bad cheeseburgers at some place in town (even though I take my burger with no cheese), and then my mom called in sick for me, so we were all off the hook. I was “housing” all us sick kids, and told their parents through a fake groggy voice I used on a movie when I was six that I’d drop them off when we were all feeling better. Of course, being me, they believed the pile of shit I was handing out.

After Eli came back with clothes for him and Adam and we’d all eaten and everything, Clare and I basically just lounged around in our PJ’s until Eli and Adam literally pulled us up off the couch, where we’d been watching America’s Next Top Model, gawking at the thinness of one girl after another. I’d wound up sleeping in Fitz’s hoodie, a tank and a pair of boy shorts. Yeah. Clare gave me a cursory glance when I came out of the room, the zip front hanging off of me. I told her it was my brothers. And she believed me. I haven’t even seen my brother in like, a year. He’s a total party animal still living in LA.

“We’re going out.” That was all Eli said as he shoved us towards my room and ordered us to change into something “presentable.” Yeah. He got a smack over the head for that one.

“Much better,” Adam said when we came out. Clare was in a pair of my Miss Me jeans, which I have to say looked AMAZING on her, and a blue peasant top with a vest. I’d literally just thrown her random articles of clothing from my closet, but I have to admit, I did a damn good job. I was in a similar pair of jeans, with a white tee and brown cropped cardigan vest.

Eli practically dragged us back into my car, and instead of letting me drive, took the keys and ordered the two of us girls into the back seat. He wasn’t usually this domineering, this…bossy. But I could tell by the way Clare’s cheeks flushed pink whenever he glanced at her in the rearview, smiling and raising his eyebrows, that she liked it. We wound up at some lakeside, and parked the car right on the grass. I hadn’t seen him do it, but Eli had packed a blanket and some bags of chips and everything into the backseat, which we set up right next to the shore. We sat there, talking, laughing, just, trying to be ourselves, for hours.

They listened to me rant and rave about Marcie; Adam held me while I bawled again. Clare talked about her parents and how she thinks the whole “trying to stay together” thing isn’t really working. Adam complained about being stuck in Special gym, and how they were starting gymnastics this week. We laughed and wished him luck. But Eli, he was the only one with nothing to tell. Nothing to cry about or bitch over. He just stayed silent; listening, nodding, mm-hmm-ing occasionally.

There’s something up with him. Something lurking in his head that he doesn’t want to talk about. I know Clare’s thinking about it too. She seems so confused by him. Adam, however, seems to know exactly what’s up. He didn’t bother to give him sideways glances yesterday, like Clare and I did.

We wound up back home just as the sun was setting. We told Mrs. Torres we’d been at the Dot, as Clare and I needed help studying for tomorrows chemistry test. We hadn’t even cracked a book all day though; I was sure I was going to fail. Eli and I dropped Clare off on the way home too (he’d let me drive on the way back). She waved to us as she walked in, and said she’d return my clothes today. I told her to keep them.

“There’s something up with you,” I said thoughtfully as we drove the final blocks back to my house. I checked my mirrors, signaling that we were about to turn.

“How so?” I glanced over at him, and he sat like he had been the entire ride back. One arm on the open window, the other laying limp at his side, his fingers drumming idly to an un-hearable beat on his thigh.

“You don’t share anything.” He raised an eyebrow. “I mean, like today. Everyone had something to complain about. Even Adam. But you just sat there. You were so…quiet. You were thinking about something, I know that. But why didn’t you tell us?” He didn’t respond for a minute, just kept drumming away.

“There are things you guys don’t know about me.” He sounded so ominous; so empty. “Things that happened before. That I don’t want you knowing. At least, not yet.” He left it at that.

Once I was home, and Eli’d left, I texted Fitz to let him know I was back. I’d figured it wasn’t a good idea to text him much today, just because I knew that if my phone went off and Clare or Eli tried to check it, they’d definitely find more than they bargained for.

Hey. Back. Eli just left.

Welcome back :) How was the lake?

Surprisingly fun. Got a lot out that I needed to talk about. How was staying at home?

Boring at shit. As per usual. What’d you tell Mama Torres?

That we were studying for chem at the dot. I’m going to fail tomorrow.

Need help still? I’ve always been good at chemistry. ;)

Seriously?

Seriously.

By this point, I’d already changed into a pair of track shorts and a black off-the-shoulder tee, put my hair up in a ponytail and was ready to crash. But for some reason, the idea of spending time with Fitz right then made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside; like it as the right thing to do. I told mom I’d be back in an hour or two, grabbed my bag and chem book, and walked down to Fitz’s. He answered the door as dressed down as I was; in pajama pants and one of those tight tee shirts he always wears when I’m around. Sometimes I think he does that just to tease me.

“Well don’t you look good,” he said as I walked straight into the house. I elbowed him in the chest, and he flinched.

“Parentals home?” I threw my bag on the couch in the living room, and he followed.

“Make yourself right at home,” he said with a laugh. I had the vaguest flashback to the first time we’d hung out in my kitchen. I rolled my eyes. “And no. Monday night is their ‘date night.’” He made a face, and I smirked back at him.

“So we’re…alone?” I wiggled my eyebrows, and he raised his at me, and then crossed his arms.

“Last time I checked, Friday was still four days away.” I pouted. “Nope. Nuh uh. Don’t do that to me.” I shook my head, laughing, and then went to grab a water from the fridge. I knew where pretty much everything was in this house now; I still remembered, even though I hadn’t been there in weeks. Before we sat down, I pulled his jacket out of my bag. I had one of his at home already , and figured having two was just plain creepy. We started working on chem almost immediately. We sat on the couch, books splayed out in front of us, him trying to explain nomenclature to me, and then quizzing me on elemental charges and symbols. Somewhere around eight, I was starting to get really sleepy. God knows why; I’d slept in so late yesterday morning. But somehow, I found myself lying on Fitz’s chest. Don’t ask me how. All I know is we sat there for a good half hour, listening to the music lulling out of the speakers on my phone, chatting about anything and everything. I picked at the ends of my hair, pulling it out of the ponytail that was giving me a headache.

“You’re really going to make me wait till Friday?” I asked, as we got on the topic of what’d happened at Bianca’s party with Jenna. I told him the watered down version of the story, which didn’t include the part about her being preggo, and he listened, occasionally nodding. “Can’t we just call this a date and get it over with?”

“Someone’s more antsy to make out than I am! What happened to Miss Purity Ring?!” He let out a laugh, gesturing to my hand, and I turned around, rolling my eyes. “And no, we can’t. I want to be the gentleman you make me out to be; prove to you that I can be that guy you want me to be.”

“Fitz, that’s really sweet and all, but…” I paused.

“Don’t act all pouty and depressed now,” he said lightly, and I felt a hand in my hair. The action sent a shockwave through my body; a tingle that I hadn’t felt since, well…a long time ago. I turned back around, and settled back into Fitz’s chest. It was, as usual, warm and firm and comfortable.

“I wasn’t being pouty,” I said. “I just don’t see why-

“You were being pouty. But,” he started, and I felt his other hand come up to my neck and move my hair away from my shoulder. “I’m not saying it isn’t cute.” I smiled to myself, and was about to open my mouth to speak, when Fitz’s face moved towards my shoulder, and he nuzzled into my neck, planting a small kiss where his lips fell.

“What’re you…?”

“Payback,” he said quietly. “For yesterday.” I turned a little bit, trying to look at him. He wouldn’t let me, so I basically grabbed his head and unlatched it from my shoulder, sitting up and turning around. “Do you have any idea how much I wanted you yesterday? In that costume?” I rolled my eyes. “Hollie, I’m being serious.” I saw his face flush. “I was thinking about you all night.” My mind went immediately to the gutter. I know, I know. I’m a pervert. But so is every single person in my grade. Even Clare, to some extent, with her vampire fiction. I felt myself blush, and had the urge to go against his wishes-against what he’d asked me to wait for. I wanted to, like I had that first day, grab him and pull him against me and never let go. But instead, I turned back around, laid back onto his chest, and moved my hand towards his that was resting on my side. I gave it a light squeeze, and then closed my eyes, quietly humming along to the Angel Taylor tune beginning to play.

We woke up to the sound of my phone. I guess both of us passed out cold, because the next thing I knew, it was 7:40 AM and something was vibrating on the couch. I groaned, and without opening my eyes, started to grope around what I thought was my bed momentarily. And then I remembered where I was. My eyes shot open, and I was face to face with an angelic looking Fitz. I was laying face down on top of him. I have no idea how I flipped over, but I managed to somehow. I scrambled to sit up, and groped around on the couch until I found my phone, looking at the screen. Four missed calls; two from Clare, one from Sasha and one from my mother. Good to know my mother cared that much about me. Fitz was still asleep, somehow. I didn’t know what else to do, so I grabbed one of the pillows off of the couch and threw it at his face. He grabbed the pillow, held it to his stomach, and rolled over. Still asleep. My net move was one I probably wouldn’t have done at any other time. But it seemed to be the only option.

I slapped him across the butt.

I know, I know. Ironic. But it woke him up! He sat up, startled, and looked at me for a long second. “Hollie?” He wiped at his eyes. “What are you…” He seemed to remember what’d happened the night before. “What time is it?”

“7:40 in the morning.” I stood up, grabbing my keys off the table and taking a few steps back. “I’ve gotta go. We’re gonna be late for school if we don’t…” He tilted his head to the side, as if confused. “Oh. That’s right. You’re still suspended.”

“Two more days.” I glared at him as I turned towards the door.

“Hate you!” I grinned and turned back, just as I opened the door. “I’ll text you later.”

I literally did nothing to get ready. All I did was throw my stuff in my bag, grab my makeup and keys and head out. Like that.

So not only am I tired as crap, but I look it too.

1:40 PM

Adam is in our English class!

I am SOOO excited right now. Like, you have no idea how much.

He acted all sly about it at lunch, like he had no idea what was happening. But then he pretty much followed us to Dawes, acting like it was no big deal. When Clare and I sat down in our usual seats, Eli trailing behind us, Adam walked up to Ms. Dawes’ desk. They exchanged a few words, and she smiled before pointing at the open desk behind me. Without a word, Adam walks past us and sinks into the seat with a satisfied smirk on his face.

“When were you planning on telling us?” I asked without turning around. Eli and Clare both swiveled in their seats to look at him, but I didn’t bother.

“I wasn’t.” Now I turned.

“Why’s that?”

“I wanted to see the looks on your faces.” I reached out and pinched his arm. His eyes widened and he cradled his bicep.

“How about the look on your face.” He rolled his eyes. “So you’re like, officially in here now, huh?” He nodded.

“I got out of special gym.” Claire’s eyes widened, and Eli reached out for a high five.

“I do believe a booyah is in order.” Claire and I both gave them looks. Booyah? Really? That would be when the bell rang, and everyone around us sat down and shut up. Ms. Dawes stood up from her desk. And pointedly looked at us.

“Before I start on today’s lesson,” she started, walking around her desk and starting down our isle. “I would love to know, as I’m sure most of the class would also, where the four of you were yesterday.” She stopped, and then turned to look at me. “Ms. Peterson?”

“Uh…” Great. That’s just great, Hollie. I thought, trying to come up with something on the spot.

“We all had food poisoning, Ms. Dawes.” Adam spoke with no hesitation in his voice; he didn’t falter. Didn’t stutter. “Hollie’s mom didn’t check the expiration date on some beef we had Sunday night. We were all up for hours.” Ms. Dawes made a face, and turned to glance at Eli and Clare.

“Is this true?” They both gave rather convincing nods, and she turned around, walking back to the front. I silently held my hand under the desk for a high five from Adam. He gave me one back.

That was the first bought of humiliation for the day. The second came in seventh period, during Fashion Marketing and Merchandizing, the one class I shared with Fiona.

Our teacher, Ms. Andrews, while she was as lovely and sweet and can be, obviously doesn’t understand the idea of public humiliation. Class started off fine; we did a bellringer journal in our cute little customized binders, answering questions about self marketing, and the limitations a young designer can have because of their age. And then Ms. Andrews started talking.

“Today, we’re going to discuss one of my personal favorite young designers.” She smiled around the room. “This young woman, while balancing her career in Hollywood and her time with her friends and family, managed to design a full fashion line for the spring shows this last year all in a few months.” If it hadn’t been for the young part, I would have guessed Madonna. “She has a juniors business line at Macy’s, a handbag and accessory line at Nordstrom, and a complete line at Kholes in the US. And we’re lucky enough to have her here in our class.” I didn’t have to look up to know that she was looking at me. And I felt the eyes of everyone else in my class. I glanced at Fiona before looking up, and she was looking like she was about to laugh. I gave her a small glare, and then turned to look at Ms. Andrews. She was smiling at me. “First, we’re going to read an article that came out a few months ago on Refinery 29, and then I was hoping Ms. Peterson would talk to the class about her fall line.” She looked so hopeful, I couldn’t say no! We read this article a fashion newsletter site, Refinery 29, did on me right after Fashion Week, and then she made me stand up and give a speech about my line, and what my inspiration was for it.

I about died.

November 4, 2010
5:52 PM
Location-Home
Feeling-Crazy!

I HAVE NOTHING TO WEARRRRRRRR!

I kid you not. I have searched everywhere in my closet, and trust me, that thing is huge. I have found NOTHING to wear tomorrow.

According to Fitz, and what he said when he pretended we weren’t talking near our lockers, I need to dress…Semi Formal.

WHAT THE FUCK IS SEMI FORMAL? I’ve been to formal events; you wear large ball gowns and the men wear black tuxes. And then there are the casual events, where you can show up in Miss Me’s and a cute top from Nordstrom and be set (if you’re a girl, of course). But Semi-formal? What the hell is that?

I called Fiona. And told her everything.

I know, I know. I shouldn’t have told anyone what was going on. But I couldn’t just randomly ask her what Semi-Formal meant and not explain why.

She laughed. She freaking laughed when I told her.

But she said it was sweet. The whole waiting thing. She did, however, make fun of the fact that we couldn’t tell anyone what was going on. She sounded a bit blitzed too. I’m starting to get a little worried.

So semi formal is somewhere between ball gown and casual. She described it as “Sunday Best.” Considering the only times I’ve been to church in the last 15 years is the last few weeks when I’ve gone with Clare, and they were Wednesdays so jeans were appropriate, I still have no idea what to wear.

8:34

I FOUND IT!

Yeah, it. The outfit I’m gonna wear tomorrow. I think I’ve talked about it before, too. It’s this gorgeous sapphire blue Armani Exchange dress I got at their spring show last year, and the only time I wore it was a week after the show at one of their pre-promo parties.

I can’t believe it. It’s tomorrow.

*insert freaking out here*

November 5, 2010
1:20 PM
Location-Lunch
Feeling-calm

I have no idea what I was freaking out. I was reading over some older posts from the last couple of days, and Jesus. I sound like some hormone riddled teenager.

Well. I am a hormone riddled teenager. But still.

I mean, it’s just a date. Just dinner with a guy.

A guy that is not only willing to make changes to his life because of something I said but, and I’ve never been so sure of this, might just be exactly what I’ve been looking for.

Okay. Now I sound like a High School Musical freak.

11:39 PM

So.

I don’t even know how to begin to describe to tonight.

Fiona helped me get ready. Clare wanted to hang with me and Alli tonight, as asked during first period. So I fed her a lie about Fiona coming over and us working on a project for Fashion Merch. Which, wasn’t ALL a lie. She did come over. And we did discuss our upcoming project for Ms. Andrews class. But I felt kind of bad, lying to Clare. Kind of.

By 6:30, I was ready. Shaking, but ready. And then my phone buzzed on my dresser.

Hey. Bring something comfy to change into after din.

Why? And thanks for telling me earlier.

Just do it.

Okay, Nike Man.

Before I could get the LOL text I knew was coming, I checked myself in the mirror, slid my phone, a pair of track shorts and a tee shirt in my bag, along with other assorted junk, thanked Fi one last time, and bid her adue with the two cheek kiss I’m so used to now, heading out the house and onto the sidewalk. The whole thirty seconds it took me to walk to his house, I was trying to calm my nerves. I have no idea why I was still freaking out. Maybe because I’ve never really wanted anything as much as I wanted this to work.

It’s irrational. It doesn’t make sense. The supposed good girl and the baddest boy around.

But hey. Obviously sometimes it works. Cause the UST surrounding Eli and Clare is bound to break any day.

His mom answered the door. He’d told me they’d be gone all night; that Ben’s work was having some dinner at the Plaza downtown, and that they were renting a room for the night since it was running so late. But she pulled the door open and then her hands flew to her ear, where it looked like she was fastening her earring. “Oh!” she said, surprised. “Hollie, Dear. I didn’t think you were coming until later.” I glanced at what she was wearing-a light pink, flowy dress-and smiled.

“I’m a little early.” I wasn’t. She was late. But it’s not like I was going to tell her that. “You look great, Ms. Fitzgerald.” She made a gesture to come in and grinned at me.

“You look great too, dear. And please,” she gave me a chastising look. “Call me Andrea.” First name basis with the parentals is always a good thing. As I came into the house, the man from the picture on the fridge, Ben, came down the hallway, carting a suitcase behind him.

“Oh!” He stopped in his tracks, much like Ms. Fitzgerald. I mean, Andrea. “You must be Hollie.” He extended his hand. “I’m Ben, Mark’s step father. We’ve heard so much about you.”

“Likewise,” I said, shaking his hand. “Looks like you two are in a mad dash, so I won’t keep you.”

“We should be off.” Andrea glanced at Ben, and then back at me. “Mark is in the kitchen setting a few things up. When he told me you two were planning on cooking together, I just couldn’t let you do all the work. Lord knows my son got his fathers cooking skills.” She rolled her eyes. “I left some prepared parts of the recipe on the counter, and then there’s a molten cake in the fridge ready to heat.” With a final wave and a call to Fitz to say goodbye, she and Ben were out the door. I stood for a second, kind of shocked. I hadn’t really expected to see her or meet Ben, nor was I expecting her to cook part of our meal for us. But none the less, it was already done. There wasn’t much more I could do. So I walked towards the kitchen, where, from where I was standing, I could see Fitz in the little dining area. My eyes widened, and I think my jaw went a little slack.

It looked like a restaurant. No joke. He had the dining room table, previously set with an adorable Kate Spade fall china set the week before, set up with a black table cloth and stark white plates, the thick kind like you get in the good Italian places that need hearty dishes to hold their meals. Two tall candles sat on the table, unlit but still adding an atmosphere of romance to the entire set up. There was a bouquet of short stemmed roses sitting in a small vase in the middle. I thought I was going to die.

When I walked into the room, Fitz was standing with his back towards me, leaning over to light the candles. I set my bag on the counter and I guess he heard, because he turned around looking startled. “Hollie! You’re here!” I slid a piece of my hair, curled, as usual, out of my face and smiled.

“Yep. I’m here.” I glanced around, going over everything again. “Fitz, this all looks…amazing.” He grinned, like a child given a gold star. “I can’t believe you did all this.”

“Well it’s not done yet.” He went back over and lit the candles, and I finally got a look at what he was wearing.

I swear, I grinned so hard I thought my face was going to split. He was wearing almost the exact outfit from the picture. Khaki slacks, dressy ish shoes, and then a blue button up. The only difference was he’d thrown a black blazer over the entire thing.

“You look good,” I said, leaning against the fridge and crossing my arms. He turned around, and smiled, walking back to where I was and putting the lighter down on the counter. He held his hand out, and I raised my eyebrow. What’d he want me to do? Kiss it? But then, he reached out and grabbed my own hand, holding it up and twirling me away from the fridge.

“You look better.” I pulled him into a hug. We stood for a minute, just hugging. He smelled like he usually did; a mix of Axe shampoo and Burberry Britt, which was slowly becoming one of my favorite scents. I pulled away, and caught his eye before glancing at the table behind him again. He turned to look at it too, and then back at me. “Let’s start dinner.” We walked away, back to the fridge, and pulled out a few Zipaloc bags. “We have to toss a few things together, but dinner should be ready in no time. And then all we have to do for desert is…” He trails off, and then pulls a sticky note off the fridge. “Pop the brown pan in for fifteen minutes on 400 to get hot. Smiley Face.” He let out a laugh. “Leave it to my mom to put a smiley face.”

“Hey!” I said, grabbing the bags of sausage and peppers out of his hands. “I like your mom.” I opened the bag of peppers. “She told me to call her Andrea.” I said the last word with a falsetto accent, hoping to catch his attention with it. And it did. His eyes widened a little bit.

“There’s a first.”

“What?” I turned to him, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing.” He pulled a pan out of the cupboard and then grabbed a little vial of oil, pouring some in the skillet. I took it from him and poured a little more. He rolled his eyes. “She just doesn’t usually do that. Let people call her by her first name, I mean. I don’t think Bianca even knows her first name, and I’ve known that girl since grade 9.” Again, the idea of Bianca and Fitz made my stomach churn. So I just poured the peppers into the skillet as Fitz grabbed me a wooden spoon. Things were going well.

Dinner was made in a matter of ten or fifteen minutes, cooking the pasta and tossing it together with some tomato sauce, sausage and peppers. After putting the desert in the oven, we sat down, two Cokes with us, and ate. The conversation didn’t stop; he complained about how much make up work he had from his suspension. I complained about how much work I had in general. He explained that Sophomore year is one of the hardest; the amount of work is a lot in comparison to Junior and Freshman year. I couldn’t have agreed more.

The more we talked, the more I found myself giggling; the more I found myself reaching over the few feet and grasping his hand on the table. The more I did this, it seemed, the closer we scooted towards each other.

“He what?” I almost spit out the Coke I’d taken a drink of a few seconds before. He was telling me about Tyler, on Disco Day Freshman year during homecoming week.

“He just pulled ‘em off. Right in the middle of the entry way.”

“Was he wearing anything underneath them?” Fitz shook his head, hiding a smile.

“Nope. Just his jock strap from practice.” I cringe. Not really a mental picture I needed; Tyler ripping off Velcro lined pants on the front stairs. “I know. Disturbing.”

“I’ll say.” I took the last bite of my pasta, and pushed my plate away. “I say, Mr. Fitzgerald, we make a pretty good team when it comes to cooking.” I gestured down to the plate.

“I must agree, Ms. Peterson.” He smiled, and pulled my hand into his on the table. We had one of those moments, looking into each others eyes. Until I took a breath through my nose, and smelt something funny.

“Do you…smell that?” I took another, deeper breath. He did the same. His eyes widened, and he stood up, almost knocking his plate off the table in the process. As I stood after him, I turned to look at the oven. Smoke was beginning to pour out of the top vents. Without hesitating, Fitz yanked the door open. I, on the other hand, knew this was a mistake. Because I knew what would happen. And it did.

Smoke rolled out of the box like clouds, and Fitz coughed, taking steps back towards me. “You okay?” I asked. He coughed again and waved his hands in front of his face, nodding. I put my hand on his back, about to speak, when a screeching sound interrupted me. We both looked up, where the sound was coming from. The fire alarm was going off.

Just. Fucking. Perfect.

“Shit.” He ran around the island in the kitchen, to the other wide of the fridge where, from the space between the fridge and the wall, he produced a broom. He stood right under the fire alarm, and jabbed at it until the cover looked like it was going to fall off. I just watched, my heart still racing. “Shit shit-

“Shit?” I raised my eyebrows, my hand going to my chest as he set the broom loudly against the counter and turned around, yanking a drawer open and producing two pot holders. He went towards the oven and pulled what looked like a giant log of brittle, melted glass out, throwing it on the counter, ripping off the holders and then slamming his hands down on the marble. “Fitz…it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.” He pokes at what was supposed to be our dessert, and then threw me a look. “This is a mess. A disaster.” I put my hand on top of his on the counter, trying to calm him down a little bit.

“It’s not. Really, Fitz. It’s fine.” I give him a smile. “It’s just gonna smell for a while.” He didn’t smile back. I looked around, trying to find a solution. Then, I remembered that his mom kept that stash of scented candles under the cabinet. So I grabbed the first decent sounding one off the small shelf, pulled the lighter from the drawer and set it up, all the while Fitz watching me with a grimace on his face.

“How do you remember where everything is?”

“I just do. See it once, I’ll remember it for a while.” I glanced at what was our desert on the counter, and then back at him. “What was the plan after desert?” I sat down on one of the bar stools near us and he did the same, looking down at his hands in his lap.

“Well, I was actually planning on seducing you over desert and getting you up to my room, but that’s obviously not going to happen.” I let out a strangled laugh, shocked. The little smirk on his face gave away that he was kidding, but it was still a pretty blatent statement. “Kidding.” He smiled, and it made my heart melt. He’d been in such a bad mood, it was good to see he didn’t think the entire night was ruined. “I was really just hoping to watch a movie or play a board game or something.” I perk up at the last bit of his sentence, sitting up in my seat.

“A board game actually sounds really fun.” He gave me a look.

“That was just a suggestion…we don’t have to.”

“I want to!” I laughed. “I brought comfy clothes for a reason, right?” He nodded. “Well then, let’s do it!” I backtracked when he smirked, something along the lines of an Eli face. “I mean…I meant…oh you know what I mean.”

“You wanna play upstairs or down here?” I look around, taking a deep breath through my nose. It still smelt vaguely of smoke, and it was kind of annoying.

“Media room?” He nodded.

“But first….” Fitz walked towards the fridge, pulling the bottom drawer, which was the freezer, open, and picking up two ice cream pints out of it. I raised an eyebrow at him, and he closed the door, holding one out to me. I took it carefully, holding it by the lid and looking at the label. “Brownie Cheesecake,” he said, opening the drawer next to him and pulling out two spoons, handing me one. “I know it’s your favorite.” I started to say “How….” but he cut me off. “Research. Plus, you might have mentioned it when we were working on ‘chem homework’.” He gives me a smile and gestures towards the back exit, and as I follow him, watching him blow out the candles and stick the dishes in the sink, I smile to myself. He actually listened to me babble. To everything (or at least, most) of what I said. This idea alone made my heart flutter.

We set the ice cream down in the media room, and he said to change in the bathroom-that he’d be out in a minute with a board game.

“Keep the button up on, will ya?” I smiled and stood in the doorway before I left. “It suits you.” He raised an eyebrow and shook his head, but smiled and then followed me most of the way to the bathroom. I watched him go into the room next door, and then closed the bathroom door, breathing out. I felt my heart give a little blip-I think both Fitz and I were waiting for the other person to make a move; to be the first to offer up some bit of themselves. I sat down for a second, trying to cyphen my thoughts. Breathe in. Breathe out. Nothing can go wrong tonight. Well, nothing else can. I changed into my track shorts and tee shirt, and pulled my hair up into that infamous messy bun; the one with little curls hanging down here and there. Sultry, but still a little bit conservative.

As I threw everything back in my bag, I noticed the last thing I’d put in it before I left-a balled up piece of fabric that I’d been wearing off and on since it’d first come into my possession. Fitz’s jacket. I smiled, pulled my bag on my shoulder, and then grabbed the jacket, leaving the room. Fitz wasn’t in the hall, so I assumed he was in the media room. I didn’t want to seem like a creeper, still having his jacket, so I walked to his room to drop it off. When I opened the door, however, Fitz was standing in there. He faced away, and was pulling a pair of black running shorts on. I could very clearly see a pair of blue striped boxers. “Oh, my god.” I said it before I could stop myself, and turned back around, not leaving. “I’m so sorry.” I heard the rushing of fabric, and then an “Oh God,” then the thud of Fitz falling to the ground. I turned back around, and he was lying on the floor, his pants half way on. I threw my crap down and walked over to him; he scrambled to sit up and pull his pants on. His face was burning red, and I let out a little laugh. “You okay?” He pushed himself up off the floor, jumping up and pulling his pants up the last couple of inches.

“I’m good.” He shook out, like trying to psych himself up. “I’m good.” He turned to face me, and looked at what I’d put behind me on the floor. “Is that…my jacket?” I glanced back at it, blushing, and then looked back at him.

“Aha. Yeah. You kinda left it at my house that first day.”

“And you still have it?” I twisted my hands and looked down, shifting on my feet.

“It was comfy. And warm.” I looked back up, and his mouth was twisting into a smile. I avoided his eyes and glanced around the room, realizing for the first time where exactly I was. I was in his room. His sacred space; his sanctuary. He’d been in my room once, and that was to grab my bag when I was too lazy to get off the couch in the next room. But here I was, just standing in the middle of his room. There were a few articles of clothes randomly strewn on the floor, and a bowl of what looked like Fruit Loops on the bedside table. There were posters on the wall; I spotted one for Dead Hands; one for Shirock, this little band he told me he’d come across on MySpace (really? Who still uses MySpace?); and one for… “Is that me?” I took a step towards the poster, and squinted. “Holy crap, it is.” He coughed and stepped in front of me.

“Uh, yeah. About that.” I gave it another look. It was definitely me. A giant, blown up picture of me; it was a promo poster from a movie I did last year with Dakota, one of those special ones they do for specific characters. We played fraternal twin sisters who, while trying to prove that they’re different from each other, find out that they have magical powers handed down from their grand mother. This one was of me, large to the point of almost being life sized, smiling at the camera holding a wand while Dakota stood off in the distance, clutching books to her chest much like Clare had the first day I’d met her. “I’ve had that for a while…” I didn’t want to say anything. I really didn’t. But it just kind of…bubbled out.

“You’ve got a picture of me in your room?”

“It’s not a picture!” he argued. “It’s a poster for a movie you happened to be in.” I rolled my eyes, but on the inside, I was jumping up and down like a small child just given a pixie stick. He had a picture of me in his room. He had a picture of me in his room. He saw that picture every day, and didn’t think it was ridiculously bad looking like I had when I first saw it. “You wanna just?” He gestured to the door, and then took a step forward. I nodded, and followed him out of the room, after taking one final glance around. It did kind of look like the typical boys room; there were stacks of CD’s everywhere, and a metal framed double bed thrown against a wall, haphazardly made. But I could definitely tell his mom had been at work in there. The comforter was something straight out of a Pottery Barn catalog, and the stack of lockers on the side of the room (somewhat ironic, given Fitz’s hatred for our own school) were regularly featured in PB teen.

We ended up playing Monopoly. I know, I know. The most boring game EVER. But it wasn’t really. Because first off, it wasn’t the original version. It was CHOCOLATE themed. So I was extremely happy to have my brownie ice cream to curb my cravings. Secondly, we made it pretty damn fun. Instead of our figurines going to jail, we were joking about locking each other up and what it would take to let us out. I know, it sounds incredibly stupid and corny, but it was probably some of the most fun I’ve had since the first time Clare, Eli and Adam spent the night.

“You’ve created the recipe for the best chocolate souflee in the world-collect $4,000 and proceed to next available property.” Fitz read of the card in a new anchor voice, and I rolled my eyes.

“Best souflee in the world, eh?” Fitz’s eyes went wide at my words, and he covered his mouth. “What?”

“You just said eh.” My own eyes widened, and I mimicked his actions.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did!” He pointed to me, and let out a laugh. “You’ve been here a less than a month, and you’re already becoming naturalized!” My hands moved to cover the rest of my face, and I leaned back against the couch of the media room.

“Nooo.” I shook my head, closing my eyes. I can not be getting an accent. There’s no way! How can I ever go back to LA if I have an accent? I’ll be mercilessly mocked! “I can’t believe it!” When I glance over at Fitz, he’s laughing. He’s freakin laughing. “What the fuck is so funny?” He keeps laughing, and looks up at me, covering his face with his hands. And then, he snorts. No, seriously. He snorts. Like a pig. This, of course, sends me into my own fit of giggles. Fitz just snorted. I think my life was made in that moment.

And then, suddenly he stops. Just mid laugh, stops. And, confused, I stopped too. He smiled, that cute, sinister smile that makes me melt, and leaned forward, tucking that annoying curl behind my ear.

“I think it sounds cute,” he said, his hand trailing down the side of my face, down my neck and onto my shoulder. I let out a shudder. “Just like you.” And as quickly as he had earlier in the week, he brought his face towards my skin. This time, face to face, we kissed. Finally. I felt myself smile into it as his hand gripped my shoulder harder, and my own hand went to the back of his neck, a gesture I know most guys faint at.

I’m an actress. I have coaches for this kind of stuff.

He pulls back just as quickly as he went in for it, and I’m pretty sure my grin matched his as his forehead rested against mine and he looked me straight in the eyes.

“How was that for a first kiss?” he asked with a smirk. I smirked back, my fingers on the back of his neck gripping harder.

“Perfect.” He glanced down at my lips, and then, closing his eyes, he kissed me again. This time, it was more….passionate. Rough.

Not that I’m complaining or anything.

His hand slipped off my shoulder and found my waist, pulling me a little bit closer to him, and the kiss deepened, our mouths opening, tongues intertwined. His mouth tasted sweet, like the caramel in his ice cream. I silently prayed that the chocolate in mine was covering up my garlic breath from dinner, as I was too stupid to bring gum. And then, without warning, he pulled away, and then pulled me back to him, turning me around and crushing his chest to my back, his arms wrapped around my waist. He pressed his lips to my collarbone, like the other night, and I felt him smile against my skin. It was a ridiculously sweet sentiment that I don’t think could have gotten any better.

For a few good hours, we cuddled on the couch and watched old episodes of True Blood, occasionally sneaking kisses above the blanket covering both of us. We were in the middle of a particularly passionate one when my text tone went off two times consecutively. We pulled apart, both of us rolling our eyes.

“This better be good,” Fitz said with a laugh. I pulled my phone out of my waistband under the blanket, and unlocked it. The first text was from Zane, who I’d finally met after being partnered with him for a French assignment.

LGBT Community Roundtable Presents: Homophobia in our Hallways. Next Wednesday, 8PM at Degrassi. Bring friends! I rolled my eyes again, and went to check the other message. It was from my mother.

Time to come home. She must have woken up and seen that I wasn’t home yet.

“I gotta go,” I said with a sigh. Fitz groaned.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.” I stood up, stretching, and I felt a breath of hot air on my semi-exposed stomach. Fitz plastered his face against my belly button, his arms wrapping around my butt.

“Don’t go.” I let out a laugh.

“I have to.” I struggled out of his grasp, and then leaned down and pecked him on the lips. “I’ll call you tomorrow.” As I leaned down to grab my back, he pulled me in for one last passionate kiss. I let go laughing, and pulled my purse on my shoulder, slipping on my Sperry’s and heading out.

When I got home, Mom was waiting up for me for the first time since I was about 12.

“So,” she started, leaning against the table. “How was it?”

“Perfect.” I went down to my room, the effects of the week finally hitting me, a tidlewave of exhaustion from lack of sleep. Before I dozed off, I got one last text message.

Good night, Beautiful :)

November 7, 2010
2:36 AM
Location: My room
Feeling: Confused?

Okay. So yesterday, things went okay. I called Fitz at around eleven, and we wound up ordering some food from The Dot, which he went and picked up, and we watched the Cupcake Wars marathon on Food Network (I know….we’re dorks). Then at like, six, Clare called me and asked if I wanted to meet her, Eli and Adam at the Dot for food. I was still full, but agreed to meet up with them, even if all I got was a drink. When I got in, Eli and Clare were sitting in a booth in the back of the room, in what seemed to be a deep conversation. I walked up, and it took them a minute to notice that I was there. “Oh, Hollie!” Clare said, her eyes going wide. “Hey! Sit down!” She scooted over in her bench, and I sat next to her, unwrapping my scarf from my neck. It was unusually cold, even for Toronto.

“We were just finishing up these poems for Dawes,” Eli said, gesturing down to the papers in front of him. I picked one up and read it over.

“It sounds like lyrics.”

“That’s what I said!” Clare half laughed, shaking her head. “But it’s good. Eli’s way better at poems than I am.” She smiled at him from across the table, and he smiled back. They seemed to be in their own little world. I felt awkward.

“So,” I started, snapping them both out of it. “Where’s Adam?”

“Right here!” I turned to see Adam walking through the door, pulling his beanie off his head. “Jesus. It’s cold out there.”

“I know, right?” I laughed as Eli scooted over, leaving room for Adam to sit down. Everyone else ended up ordering food, but I just got a Diet Coke, claiming I’d made lunch with my mom. As soon as we were finished talking, Adam and I left, me going to my place, him going to his. As far as I knew, Clare and Eli had stayed longer.

Hours later, my phone rang. I was with Fitz, ironically, playing a game of Scene It Harry Potter edition, when my ringtone blared through the room.

All eyes on me when I walk in; no question that this girls a

I picked it up, and looked at the caller ID. It was Eli. Eli was calling me at 1:45 in the morning. I unlocked it, and pulled out my sleepy voice, giving Fitz a sign to stay quiet.

“Hello?” I asked in a groggy voice. I was expecting Eli to respond, but it wasn’t him that spoke.

“Hollie? Hey, it’s Adam.”

“Adam?” I stood up off the couch, immediately worried.

“Yeah, hey. I hate to call so late, and I’m sorry if I woke you up, but I’m kind of in a little bit of a…situation.”

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s Eli. He-

“Is he hurt?” I interrupted, my eyes going wide.

“Oh, no, God no.” There was a pause. “At least, not physically. But something’s up. He called me a few hours ago and asked me to go with him to this party at the ravine. He…well he wound up drinking like half a bottle of whiskey. And now he can’t really drive. I was wondering if-

“It’s no problem, Adam,” I interrupted again. “I’ll be there in ten.” I hung up the phone, shoving it into the pocket of my jeans, and stood up, pulling my purse off the floor. “Eli’s drunk, and Adam needs a ride back home.” I looked at Fitz. “Was there another party at the ravine tonight?”

“There’s always a party at the ravine?” he said with a laugh. I rolled my eyes, leaning down for a kiss. “You coming back after?” he asked, pecking me on the lips. I ruffled his hair.

“Probably not,” I started. “If I’m picking up Eli drunk, I probably shouldn’t take them back to his house. They’ll probably have to come crash on my couch.” I walked out of the door of the media room for the second time in 24 hours saying “I’ll call you tomorrow!”

When I pulled up at the ravine, the party was dwindling. The only people I could see by the fire were Eli, Adam, Bianca and then some randoms. Bianca, to my surprise, helped Adam get Eli to the car.

“He’s pretty out of it,” she said with an eye roll as he fell back into the backseat of my car. “Was talking about car wrecks and a bunch of other random shit before you got here.” I looked at Adam, who shrugged as he got into the front seat. Without a word to Bianca, I pulled out, heading back towards my house.

“What’s wrong with him?” I asked, turning into my neighborhood. Adam looked down at the floor of my car, glaring at the mat as if it had offended him.

“I can’t really tell you,” he said quietly. “It’s not my place to tell.”

“Is it something serious?” I watched as he nodded. “How serious?”

“I can’t tell you,” he repeated. “When the time is right, he’ll tell you. You and Clare both. But for right now, I think he’s trying to burry his demons.” We got him into the house somehow, and he stumbled all the way to the couch in the den downstairs. “I’ll sleep on the floor,” Adam said, heading towards the kitchenette to grab the linens.

“You sure?” I asked, heading towards my room. “You can totally sleep in my bed with me.” Adam turned around, his eyes wide. “Oh, come on. I know you won’t try anything.” He laughed, shrugging.

“Okay…I guess?” He followed me to my room, where, without really saying much, we both got into bed. I feel weird now. Like Eli’s keeping something really big from us.


November 8, 2010
4:45 PM
Location: Football practice
Feeling: really freaking weird.


I’m at football practice.

No, really. Football.

All because of stupid freaking Ms. Dawes.

It all started in English class, as everything does as of late. Ms. Dawes came back at us, handing each of us our poems we’d turned in online last night.

“Great work on your poems, everyone. I got some lovely ballads.” I looked back at everyone.

“A-, really?” Clare said to her paper. Eli turned around, laughing.

“Should have taken my notes.”

“And risk having my poetry sound like rejected Alexis on Fire lyrics? No thank you.” Adam and I looked at each other, simultaneously rolling our eyes at their flirting.

“Ouch! You hit me where I live!” Clare gave him a snarky smile.

“Lets all calm down, shall we?” Adam asked in a pleading tone. I could see his skin turning green; the flirting was too much to handle having not eaten lunch.

“Okay, gentle people!” Ms. Dawes started, coming back down the isle. “For our next assignment, we will be filming modernized scenes from Shakespeare. I want you to break up into groups of three,” at these words, Clare gave me a stressed look, and I told her to wait a minute, “and then send a liaison to the front to pick up your film packet.” She gave us all a smile, and then looked at me. “Ms. Peterson, can I see you up front really quick?” I raised my eyebrows, but stood up, giving everyone a look and following her to the front. “This should just take a second, Hollie. I just need a favor from you.”

“Okay?” Ms. Dawes sat behind her desk, and looked up at me.

“My on level Grade 11 English class is doing this same project and I have a group of young boys-whom you probably know-in that class who’re struggling. One of them I’m quite sure is smarter than he lets on. He could probably be in this class if he tried. But he likes to stick with his friends.” She rolled her eyes. “Would you mind working with them instead of your usual group?” She glanced behind me. “I know you feel more comfortable with them, but I’m asking you because you’re familiar with at least one of these plays, and I think your acting skills alone might be able to raise their combined grades to at least a B.”

“A B?” I asked, surprised.

“I’ll give you an automatic A on the assignment just for helping out. And you’d get to skip your fifth period for the next week.” As wonderful as missing a week of History sounded, I wanted to know something.

“Who exactly are these boys?” I asked, crossing my arms.

“Tyler Mayfield, Owen Milligan and Mark Fitzgerald.”

I let Clare, Adam and Eli work together, and accepted the A in exchange for working with the guys. When I came back to sit down empty handed, everyone asked what was going on. I gave them the jist, and all of them, it’s safe to say, were mad. But as Clare stood up to go get their film packet, Eli stood too, and said “Don’t worry about it; I got this one,” with intent eye contact with Clare and a smirk that made even me stare. When Eli went up to get it, Claire leaned close.

“Okay, can we talk about the elephant in the room here?” Adam and I both sighed. “He wants to, I want to. But we just need to take the next step. It’s slowly driving me insane.”

“That makes three of us,” I said with an eyeroll.

“It’s like we’re playing romantic Russian roulette and we keep shooting blanks. It needs to become real.” I laughed at Clare’s winey facial expressions. I’d never seen her like this; even when she came over last night and bitched about how she and Eli had held hands on the car ride back from The Dot on Saturday, but he acted like nothing happened after.

“Make a move already,” Adam said quietly.

“It’s not that simple!” Clare cried. I let out a frustrated breath. “It’s like we need the right setting.” Just then, Eli walked up, and showed us the play they’d be acting out.

“Guys, check it out. We get to act out Romeo and Juliet. How cool is that?” Clare, Adam and I looked at each other, and I grinned.

“Which scene?” He pulled the book out of their bag, along with a paper, which he read.

“You will be reenacting the famous death scene between Romeo and Juliet. Take whatever liberties you’d like with the actions, just make sure that the idea of the scene stays the same. Star crossed lovers and all.”

I went to lunch with everyone like normal, and bitched about her asking me to work with Owen, Tyler and Fitz.

“I can’t believe she partnered you with those assholes,” Adam said, shoving half a sandwich into his mouth at once. My eyes widened, and I laughed.

“Hungry much?” He swallowed. “And I could give a shit less, honestly. It’s a free A, and I get to miss Coach Harden’s slide shows for a week.”

“Oh, come on,” Clare said, setting down her fork. “Who am I supposed to sit with then?”

“You survived Freshman year with Connor and Dave,” I said with a smile. “I think you can survive a week of sitting with them alone.” She gave me a playfull glare and went back to her pasta.

When fifth period rolled around, I avoided going back to the room. But when I did, Ms. Dawes was already seated behind her desk. She smiled and waved at me, and I did the same, sitting the far back of the room. As the warning bell sounded, people started flooding into the room one by one. Finally, I saw a dark brown hoodie I recognized. When Fitz saw me sitting in the back of the room, he looked kind of surprised. He sat down, gave me a look, and then pulled out his phone. Seconds later, mine buzzed in my pocket, and I checked it.

What’re you doing in here?

You’ll see :)

I left it at that, and just as the final bell rang, Owen and Tyler both came running in, plopping down in the two seats behind Fitz. Ms. Dawes handed out their assignments, much like she had in my class, and then she introduced the project. Immediately I saw Fitz, Owen and Tyler look at each other and nod, and I fought the urge to roll my eyes. Before sitting down at her desk, Ms. Dawes went up to the three boys sitting in front of me. I watched as she explained to them what was happening, and then as soon as she walked away, all three of them turned to look at me. Owen and Tyler looked annoyed. Fitz looked ecstatic. I pulled my stuff up from under the desk and moved up a few seats, sitting down across from Fitz.

“I guess we should…” Owen gestured to the desks, and then stood up, pulling his towards Tyler’s. Fitz and I turned ours around and put them against theirs, and I caught his eye when I sat down.

“Why exactly are you with us again?” Tyler asked, crossing his arms.

“Do you have a problem with it?” I crossed mine back.

“She can help us, man,” Fitz said, glaring at Tyler.

“Yeah, but I don’t get why it has to be her. She’s just going to boss us around.”

“Listen,” I said, leaning forward against my desk. “I don’t want to be in this group any more than you do. But Ms. Dawes asked me to as a favor, and I owe her one. So I said yes.” I leaned back. “Put it this way. At least you three will get a passing grade with me in the group.” I glanced around at the three of them, and Owen nodded as if to say “I guess you’re right.” “Now who’s going to get our Film Packet?”

“I will.” Fitz stood up and went to get the bag; the three of us stayed in silence until he got back. When he did, his eyes were wide. “Here.” He set the bag noisily down on the desk, and I pulled the copy of Romeo and Juliet out of the bag.

“Clare, Eli and Adam our doing this one too.”

“She said no two groups are doing the same scene.” Fitz glanced at me as I pulled the paper out of the bag and read it out loud.

“Your group will be acting out Act 3: Scene 5, which is when Romeo is leaving Juliet’s room after their wedding night. Start at the beginning of the scene and end when Juliet’s mother comes in. This scene can be fun to act out-but be sure to include the essentials-emotion, passion, and most importantly, the farewell kiss.”

I think the horror struck looks on mine and Fitz’s faces spoke for themselves.