Mike

Yesterday and the day before was a fucking mess. I can't even begin to explain what I did for my life to get all screwed up or understand where it all went wrong.

Oh wait, I do. It was all from one stupid kiss.

Because of that one damn kiss my whole life has been turned upside down, thrown together, and tangled into a mangled mess of wires that will be impossible to separate.

My father, keeping up with the stupid traditions of the Nor family, has plans for me to marry her, she has invaded my photo shoot, and now made a laughing stock out of me on the movie set for the season finale for Blood Run.

How the fuck can my life get any worse?

How big of an embarrassment could Ashlyn be on a movie set? I'll get back to that as soon as I go back a day and explain what happened then.

After we came back from New York, Ashlyn crashed, Dane left spontaneously for some odd reason saying that there was a meeting he had to attend, and my dad climbed his way up to his office. The time alone sounds peaceful, doesn't it?

It was until my father decided to call me up to his office for another 'friendly' chat.

This was the only opportunity that I could use to talk to him about the arranged marriage because Ashlyn was completely out, so I asked him why it was necessary and how it wasn't the least bit ridiculous.

After all, it was pointless. The point of an arranged marriage was to help the business. Ashlyn was flat out broke. Hell, she even had loan sharks out for her family's ass until I decided to help out. They would be dead without me.

I thought of every excuse to convince my dad that we shouldn't go through with it, but he pushed it aside and told me that it didn't matter. There was nothing I could do to break out from this prison cell of a situation.

I even told him that she was flat out broke, but he said that it wasn't the business he was looking to improve but my celebrity status, which in turn will help the business in the future. 

Unfortunately, he was right. News about me, the heir to one of the most successful business companies, marrying a dirt poor girl out of 'love' will flare across the news like wildfire and give me amazing press. 

But I can't stay with this nut job. We'll both drive each other to the mental hospital or to the grave at the very least!

With Ashlyn, driving ourselves to the death would be the least of our problems because she would drive me past it and heard me into some other misery worse than Hell. 

When I thought he already broke the bad news to me, he added that he got a hold of Ashlyn's parents and they agreed to it. 

I don't know how long I can keep this up and not have Ashlyn know about it. Adding onto that huge task itself, I also had to make it look like I was breaking up with Ashlyn slowly- but time was running out. 

If I don't do cancel this circus I'm running fast enough, my father will have so much planned for our marriage that he can't cancel it. We would have to go through with it, and Ashlyn would raise hell about it.

I was fighting a losing battle and juggling too many balls at once.

The stress is overwhelming and the further I go on the more weights are added on top of my chest- threatening to break every bone in my body. Is that why so many people aren't players and stay away from kissing girls?

Was that some message and lesson that I apparently missed- the don't-be-a-player-or-else-all-this-shit-will-happen-to-you propaganda?

Honestly, if I knew all this was going to happen I wouldn't have even touched her and continued what I was doing with my life. Heck, I had the chance to turn back and not send her family away on vacation to have her stay here for a few days.

What the hell was I thinking? Dammit, this was all Garrison's fault.

Because of all this crap that was running though my head, I had to stay up all night to memorize the lines. The only thing I wanted was to be left alone, but of course Ashlyn had to wake up when I was rested and bother me.

Then both of us got so absorbed into character, we made out for god knows how long. Things got awkward, and we both backed off. 

You think I would be happy but knowing all the shit that came from the first attempted kiss I had with her I don't want anything more to do with her lips. Her lips are probably possessed with some weird shit that would cause the kisser to be cursed with eternal misery and problems. 

I honestly wouldn't be surprised.

After all, the girl seemed to come straight from hell herself. Cursed lips doesn't seem too much of a surprise when you put it that way.

The 'breaking her heart' agenda is over. It will take a month or two to regain my reputation at school, but I don't care. That will be a piece of pie compared to ending an arranged marriage that five people now know about: the manager of Teen Luxur, my father, her parents, Dane, and my director from Blood Run- because my dad insisted I take her with me and that the directors would have no problem letting her stay because she was technically my fiance.

Fuck my life.

I can only pray that the news doesn't get out to the media, even though I have already shared it with two very high up people that could bust me for it if they wanted to. 

Anyway, going back to how Ashlyn was an embarrassment yesterday makes me shudder thinking about it.

The girl has a knack for punching people, I'm telling you. It's like it's in her system to punch every living thing she sees, and she can't resist it because if she doesn't she'll die.

One of the extras were missing when we were practicing for one of the fighting scenes, so they decided to temporarily use Ashlyn in her place. According to the script, the extra was to punch my face and knock me down to the floor.

Of course, this was acting so it would all be acted out, but what did Ashlyn do?

She literally punched my jaw and kicked me down. No, she didn't graze my skin like she was supposed to; she made skin to skin contact and nearly whipped all the air out of me.

Then she made the excuse- after everyone was busy laughing their asses off- that it was an accident and that she was so used to actually punching people that she didn't know how to fake beat up people.

Honestly, like what the fuck?

I swear. She wanted to hit me, that's what. Besides last night, I thought we sort of getting along to where we were over that whole punching Mike ordeal, but I guess not.

Thankfully, the day ended a whole lot earlier than I expected it to. I didn't screw up during the filming of the finale, and I was able to retreat to my room alone in peace.

Ashlyn was still feeling awkward about that whole kissing thing yesterday, but I don't see the big deal about it. It was just a kiss, and she wasn't awfully terrible at it. She wasn't crazily good, but she was decent.

There was nothing to be embarrassed about, but the thing I can't explain about it is how she constantly smells like junk food. It's not the terrible oil odor that comes out of a fast food restaurant, but it's still a turn off for me.

I don't prefer to have my girl smelling like amazing barbecue chips or cookies. It's the fruity and light scents that get me every time.

Unfortunately, it's all the whores that wear that sort of perfume and even for me they are a no go. Maybe at a party I'll get drunk enough to have some fun with them, I won't lie it's nice, but on a normal basis I stay away.

Come on, a player has got to have some sort of standards he has to abide by.

Was I always this way?

Hell, I can't remember anymore.

All the blurred flashing lights from the hundreds of parties I've gone to seem to run together as one never ending collage of glitched, neon colored memories, dark, smokey dancing figures, and dirty, pleasurable, scandals that have stayed behind and forgotten.

Adding onto that hot mess, the 'relationships' I have been in are plentiful like all the days in a year. I can't remember them even if I tried.

It's all smoke and fog to me, and I can't seem to recall a thing. Except, there was one moment I can remember.

A moment with the sharp cutting edge and glint of a diamond that stands out from the fog. Cut it out, I know I'm not the metaphorical and symbolic type but there really is no other way to describe her.

She was an expensive, rich piece of work that had all the right curves in all the right places and all the right words to fill in the spaces. Top to bottom was filled with perfection, and the less of her you saw the more you wanted.

Unlike any girl I have ever met, she had class- class that could make any true gentlemen blush like a little school girl when she walked their way.

No matter the occasion, she always dressed nice and looked her best- made sure that her flawless burgundy hair waterfalled down her shoulders in the most perfect way and match every piece of jewelry she wore-mostly gold- to glint with the mischievous grins she would often flash out.

Like a rain forest, she was beautiful, never ending, plentiful, and toxic.

Damn. Even now her piercing straight stares with those eyes as blue as tropical lagoons send shivers up my spine.

Most people acknowledged her high taste in fashion and choice, but they only saw her as the sweet typical American girl that had everyone wrapped around her fingertips.

No one, not even I knowing full well her devious intent, couldn't deny her innocent little requests.

That girl was a jaguar.

Once her eyes were locked on what she wanted, she would hunt it down until it was her's. Every step she took her body and everything around her glided along with it, and it all couldn't have seemed more smooth, careful, and hot.

She would always stride to wherever she went with her head up high, and if you didn't have a part in her plans she would pretend you were never there and was invisible.

A girl like that- when I first met her- seemed impossible for me to catch.

I knew that the moment she dominate the halls like it was hers and swarmed the room with the warm soft musky smell of cinnamon she always wore she was the girl that had what she wanted. I still remember that day.

It when I was waiting for my first audition in a major production with a handful of others wanting the same part.

Damn. Even though she was only ten, she was a lady with maturity that skyrocketed the charts. It's crazy, and I can't believe how young we were when this all started and how young we were to be so into each other. 

At first, she didn't take a glimpse at me, and I didn't expect her to. Believe it or not, I haven't always been the player that I am now with the devilishly cunning smile and automatic charm. 

I was the quiet kid that always kept his head down and liked to be alone. I still am; I just force myself to be more outgoing because that's the only way people will like you. The media loves their extroverts.

I may seem like an extrovert, but I'm more of an introvert- an extroverted introvert. Unless I'm required to talk, I talk, but I try to not talk much or answer it at it's bare minimum. Talking one on one to people isn't my thing.

Going back that day I first saw her, I was one of the last people to audition for that day, so everyone was gone and the halls were practically empty.

The janitors were gone, so it was practically empty, dark, and looked like one of those hallways you would expect to see in a horror movie. It would be perfect for the scene in, The Shining, where the two twins pop up at the end of the hallway.

Strangely, a haunted hallway was the least of my concerns. This whole audition seemed to go down hill. I forgot a line, and I was so nervous I tripped over the door the moment I came in.

Apparently I was talking out loud to myself because that was when she answered me.

"I think you'll get it." She chirped as she popped out of no where and appeared by my side. "You got to believe in yourself, that's all." Like a friend she knew for forever, she elbowed me with a friendly smirk.

If I could redo what I did, I would. I would coolly smirk and elbow her back, but back then I was so shy around girls. Hell, I was like Dane. That's how bad it was!

All I could do was just stare at her with open mouth and wide eyes- probably with the worst and most embarrassing expression on my face. Part of me was so amazed at how beautiful she looked up close with her piercing light blue eyes and the other was shocked- partially honored- that she talked to me.

To this day, I still can't understand why she did because back then I was a nobody. A year after we dated she told me herself that she hated nobodies, so I don't understand why she came up to me when she did.

Girls, they are way too damn complicated.

Ignoring my face and still keeping that bright smile of hers- probably not to embarrass me- she casually turned her head to look down the hall.

"First time?" She chirped out of nowhere.

"Uhmmm-" I strained my eyes against the floor to find the right words to say and did my best to ignore my beating heart. "First time auditioning for a ma-aj-or part."

As soon as she stood by my side, I couldn't stop shaking and at the moment I was more nervous talking to her than when I was going up to my audition. Honestly, what was wrong with me? I was choking on my own spit because an attractive, out of this world girl decided to talk to me.

I squinted my eyes together. She must think that I am some sort of freak with the way I said 'major' like I was a dying frog. Somewhere in the middle I croaked, who the hell does that?

Why did I have to be such an embarrassment? It would be better off if I was dead, honestly.To myself, I rolled eyes and mocked my dad's voice in my head, 'all this would help my anxiety and problems'. Yeah right.

Why does he care anyway.

"Nice." She flashed another warm smile in my direction and ignored my mistake. "You don't mind if I bother you and walk down this hall with you? It's kind of scary with all these lights off." She chuckled nervously.

Swallowing hard, I forced out a nod but my neck seemed to be cemented in place. I forced myself to make my nod a little more noticeable, but the second time I ended up looking like a bobble head. "Yeah."

When will this embarrassment end?

I wasn't an antisocial freak like Dane back then. I knew how to talk to some girls, but she was different. She made me inspect everything I did around her, and I was so scared about screwing up I made an embarrassment about myself.

Thankfully, she got the cue that I wasn't much of a talker and walked a few feet down the hallway in silence.

"You're not much of a talker, are you?" She laughed eventually, looking back at me with a sparkle in her eye while studying me a little more closely.

When I turned my head to her, I was startled when I found her directly looking at me. Being the embarrassed monstrosity that I was, my face heated up, and I scrunched my eyes together scolding myself for looking away.

I had to practice looking at people during conversations. That was the only way to make good conversations with the press. I had to practice.

Looking back at her, I forced a transparent, nervous smile. "Yeah."

Before I knew it, we were outside and my old butler was in the car waiting for me to get in. It was so relieving to know that this was over before I could make a bigger fool out of myself. Now, I could go home, collapse on the bed, and forget that this ever happened.

You know you are an embarrassment to humanity when you try to act fake but fail at that too. Like my dad said a while back when he agreed to be my manager, I was good for nothing.

This whole effort to rise to popularity and stardom was a joke. I'll never be able to get up there. There was nothing impressive about me, and there was no sort of greatness that I could amount to. My name wasn't even Mike, goddamnit.

Like true self behind the fake skin I try to build so I can hide behind it, my original name was hideous

I probably won't get the part anyway. This sounds crazy, but I don't even want to be accepted into the cast if she was going to be my co-star. I would die from embarrassment if I saw her again.

Turning back around to face her, I struggled to put up a weak smile. "Well, I have to go. It was nice meeting you."

As quickly as I could, I scurried into the back seat of the car to get out of the way as soon as possible, but the girl caught up to me. Was meeting new people in this industry always this painful?

"Wait!" She called out "We can't possibly depart each other without knowing each other's names."

I think we could.

"My name is Melody. Melody Thompson" The brightest grin crossed her face and it caused my stomach to flutter and have a warm, nauseating, but pleasant feeling wrapped around me. The feeling was tight and suffocating, but it felt strangely pleasing.

She extended her out for me to shake it, and I reluctantly complied. "My name is-" I struggled not to stutter again "Mike Nor."

"Oh," Melody winked at me and giggled afterwords "sounds like a name that will be all over the movie screens and media one day."

I blushed a little bit but did my best to hide it. Guys shouldn't blush in front of girls, that's a straight up embarrassment. "I hope so." I laughed a little bit in return though I doubted it.

Melody smiled as she backed away from the car so we could leave. "Well," she giggled again with a mischievous smirk as she held her hand- pinkie and thumb extended- up to her ear and wiggled it. "call me or text me, okay? Soon!"

What?

At that moment, I realized something scratchy and rough stuffed into my palm, and I opened it to see a small torn up piece of paper with numbers carelessly scribbled over it. It must have been her number, but when did she write this down?

That was the first time I met Melody, and no matter how hard I try I can't make myself forget about it- or let go of it either.

The memory was able to bring a slight flicker of a grin up to my lips, and it felt good to remember any sort of happy memory that could bring me out of the shit I'm in right now. Man, I was such a dweeb when I was younger. 

At least I've been able to become the fake person I've always wanted to be. Whatever. It was a small price to pay for the fame that I have received.

I laughed to myself as I remembered how I reacted when I looked down to see Melody's number in my hand.

My eyes were so wide open my eyeballs should have popped out. 

"Glad I don't have that problem now." I happily sighed to myself and chuckled again. "Or I'll be bulging my eyes out every second of the day from all those numbers I get in my locker."

I cracked up again when I remembered the brunette who shoved her number and picture of her face in my locker, hoping to have some chances with me. She didn't know it, but I was around the corner watching her the whole time trying not to crack up.

What goes on in these girl's minds, I seriously want to know. They're nuts to think I'm the same person they see on TV.

I seem nice and will seem to be the guy that will talk to every girl and treat her like a princess. Hell no. I hate people, and if they are stupid I'm not nice. That's how the real world works, so why shouldn't I work that way.

Dang. From anti-social dork to high class player, I came a long way. 

Slowly walking over to the darker, unused part of my room, I mindlessly traced my finger along the shelves and looked at all the comic books that I've read more than three times and the stacks of DVD's I've collected over the years.

I've been so busy recently all the dust is starting to collect around them. 

Right now, I probably have the time to watch a movie or two, but I don't feel like doing anything.

"It's only eight o'clock?" I muttered out in surprise when I looked back at the clock. 

Why is it that when you don't want to do anything you get so bored that you have to do something? It's a never ending cycle of torture and restlessness and it's an active battle between getting up to do something, resting, getting up to do something again, and so forth.

That's what it's like for me.

The TV has to have something good on right now.

Before I could completely turn around, something hidden in the corner of my shelves winked at me, beckoning for me to come over and check it out. It could easily be one of my CD's glinting in the small light from the other side of the room, but it seemed to be bigger than that.

It was stuffed behind a clutter of magazines and the shiny edge of it managed to peek out from underneath- almost as if it was using everything in it's power to crawl out to get me.

What the hell could I have stuffed in there? It could be anything, for all I know; cocktail classes careless party attenders could have stashed in the corner, a classic model car, a CD, and god forbid a baby's diaper.

That happened to me once, and I had no idea how long it was there. It was fucking gross!

Someone must have thought it was funny to plant a baby bomb in my room and not tell me about it, but it won't be funny when I hunt them down and smother them with that same exact baby diaper. Don't get me started on the other disgusting things I found in here.

Why do I even bother to hold parties anymore? 

Fuck. I don't even want to know what's behind all those magazines.

My hands hesitantly hovered over the magazines and comics, and I continued to stare at the corner that poke out from the surface, trying to remember and course through any memories that will help me remember what this was.

Words and faint but unattainable memories tickled the top of my tongue, and I held my breath in the hopes of retrieving them. None of them were pleasant, and they were distastefully familiar.

Maybe it would be best to leave this all behind.

Before I could make my mind, a warm, pleasant smell wrapped around me like a ghost from the past -holding me close in a warm, gentle embrace, refusing to let me go.

Cinnamon.

My heart plummeted down a thousand feet and broke like glass when it hit the ground. I wanted to run- run as fast as I could to escape- but it wouldn't let me. I was frozen in place, stuck in a void of memories and regret.

Instincts started to kicked in, and I found myself clawing away at the magazines to uncover the mess that I hoped wasn't true, but there it was glaring back at me.

There it was. The box Melody and I made together on our four year anniversary. We decorated it-more like she did because of all the shiny studs and ribbons she put on it- and put all sorts of stuff in there, hoping to look back on it when we were married. Like that was ever going to happen.

Now I was going to marry the freak of nature I managed to get caught in my hair. I would do anything to go back. Anything.

When I pulled out the box, I lightly wiped my thumb across the lid and stared at it with the faintest smile crossing my lips.

It was so perfect back then, we were so happy, and we had everything we could have ever asked for. Why did she leave? I did nothing but give her everything- my time, my pride, and my heart. What did I do?

I promised myself to never open this box, for two reasons. One being that I hated Melody after she left me but the other for until I was over her. 

When will that blessed day come? No matter how many girls I'm with and whatever I say to convince myself, I'm still not over her. Even though she dumped my sorry ass and told me that she never did like me, I still loved her. 

I still do.

"What the hell is wrong with you." I muttered to myself and carried the box with me to the couch in my room. "You know you shouldn't be looking through this shit."

Ignoring the right choice like I always do, I decided to open up the box. I opened it with the sense of future regret, but I was wrong.

Once I opened the box, all the memories I tried forgetting came back- the good and the bad. One by one, I picked up the things Melody left behind and held them gently in my hands laughing or nearly crying at the memories they brought.

It was a flood of raging, crazy emotions- reminding me of the good old times and the not so good ones.

I remember the small hair cutting kit she bought for me. She was extremely passionate of getting rid of my old haircut and was so determined to cut my hair herself, but at the end she was steaming red with frustration when I turned out looking like a troll.

Oh man, her face was priceless, and I remember the hours that I kept laughing about it.

The blue and black bracelets I always used to wear were stuffed in the corner buried beneath Melody's sunglasses.

That was the first time in my life someone actually cared about me. Melody was the first one. She was the first to find the real me and drag me out the stupid decisions I was making. She was the first and only one to care about what I was doing.

Even though I was suffering from a viral case of depression after I was six, I only started cutting before seventh grade.

A few people knew about it, but they didn't do a thing until Melody found out about it. At first she was pissed- really pissed- for me not telling her right away about all my 'issues'. We were dating for two and half years, but I didn't tell her.

Why would I? I don't want her thinking that she was dating a crazy.

Damn. She would be beyond pissed to find out that during the time we were dating I attempted suicide three times. Good thing I didn't tell her that. Melody would have had a full blown fit.

Yeah, I know. Shut up. I was a screwed up kid, deal with it.

Anyway, she gave me those bracelets to wear all the time so when I thought about cutting I wouldn't do it because I had to think of her. Didn't think it would work, but it did. Granted, it took some time, but I got over it.

She saved me; she really did.

I wouldn't be the person that I am now if it wasn't for her, and I wouldn't be anywhere close to where I am today. Because of her, I was able to get press and rise to the top of Hollywood and get the spot in Blood Run.

Doing the impossible, she transformed the dweeb I was into the high class charmer I am now. For interviewers and paparazzi, she showed me how to perfect the fake smile, how to play cool, and be the top dealer of any situation.

Don't even think about telling other people that I had a girl teach me how to be charming, okay? A man has got to have his pride. Without it he's naked, okay?

Even though I changed on the outside and acted like I had the perfect life like everyone wanted to believe I had, around Melody I felt weak, scared, and powerless and the same old Mike Nor she scooped up at the day of my first audition.

When we first started dating, I thought I would finally be able to stand up for myself and be the man in the relationship, but I was wrong.

Melody constantly amazed me, and I could hardly speak around her because of how everything about her seemed to leave me speechless. I knew that girl would be my downfall, but I couldn't stop loving her.

She was my drug- toxic, addictive, and absolutely perfect but bad for my own good.

But why? We went through all these memories together, but she said she never loved me. What went wrong? What did I do?

"You're a lot of things, but I didn't know that you were a cross dresser!" 

A volcano of laughter erupted from behind me, and I swirled around to find Ashlyn staggering into my room because of how hard she was laughing at me when she eyed the box I set on the small coffee table in front of me.

What the hell is up with people barging into my room and not knocking recently? This is why I like being by myself, and why I don't like people. They don't seem to ever give a fuck about common courtesy and don't contain a single brain cell about privacy.

When Dane moves back with his roommate and Ashlyn disappears, I swear. I will the throw the biggest party and rejoice in my blessed isolation.

Immediately, I snatched the lid and threw it on top of the box to cover it, but apparently I didn't think that through because the extra amount of bling Melody added to the cover made Ashlyn laugh even more.

Tilting her head to read the lettering, she smirked, covered her mouth, and bent over with her shoulders shaking because of all the laughter she tried to contain.

After being able to contain herself, she looked up at me with a playful glimmer glinting from the corner of her eyes. At least someone was happy and enjoying this.

"Fabulous, eh? I'm sure you would be a fabulous cross-dresser." She teased with an abundant amount of sarcasm at the end.

My eyes quickly flitted over to the cover of the box and knew I should have convinced Melody a littler harder that the word 'Fabulous' shouldn't be on top of a memory box that would stay in my room for the next fifteen years or so. No, of course she had to get it her way and make it girly.

There was nothing on that box that represented our relationship, and to an innocent bystander like Ashlyn she would think it was my dress up box or something.

"No," I grumbled as I inched the box out of her sight and felt myself getting red and embarrassed as I tried to hide it, "grow up."

Ashlyn pouted her lips and grabbed the box from me, holding back a colorful grin. "Oh come on, Mr. Grumpy Pants. Let's see what you have in that box."

Why the hell does she want to know? This wasn't her box, it was mine. Ashlyn has only stayed in this house for three days or so, but she walks around like she owns the place. Who the fuck does she think she is? 

Actually, no. It does make sense. The lunatic crashed my car, so making herself at home doesn't graze the surface of crazy in her world.

I groaned to myself and held my face in my hands as I watched her fingers rub all over the corners of the only box I had that reminded me of Melody. I couldn't believe this was happening right now. I was so embarrassed right now my cheeks started to turn red, and I could feel the heat radiate from them.

From all the heat that is coming out of me, I could heat up a sauna or be a heat lamp. There wasn't an embarrassing amount of color on it since I don't turn red easily, but you could cook an egg on it, I bet.

For a few seconds, I came to an uneasy acceptance of letting her open the box but that was when the revelation hit me. 

Constantly for these past three days, this girl has been pushing me around like a trained puppy to back off and give her what she wants. This wasn't the Mike Nor that I know. If I was someone else for a second, I wouldn't see the nonchalant Mike who does whatever he wants and gets his way.

No, I would see a weakling bent backwards and wrapped around this girl's fingers. I'm her own personal bitch and does everything she says. I let her beat me up, and I let her have what she wants.

Mike Nor has his way, and he isn't anyone's bitch. 

I need to fight back, even over the little things. This was my box, not hers.

"No!" I yelled as I fought over the box and took a sturdy grab of one corner. For five minutes we sat there like toddlers on the opposite ends of the couch trying to pry the box out of the other's hands- fighting over it like our lives depended on it.

Her life didn't depend on it; mine did. If she looked through that box, I would die of embarrassment and never get the chance to explain myself to Ashlyn that I was not a cross dresser.

We couldn't have looked more stupid.

Out of the blue, Ashlyn pulled back on the box with all her strength and caused me to fly forward and face plant into the middle of the couch. Her strength continues to amaze me, but it would be great if she would stop using it on me for once. Adding onto my list of injuries, my nose crunched under the pressure, and I could only lie there for a few seconds retreat in agonizing pain and torment.

Once again, my efforts to stand up has been proven fruitless. Maybe I'll try again later, when my nose doesn't feel like it's broken

This girl was a piranha, I swear. 

At first, she looks cute, innocent, and the type that wouldn't lift a finger to anyone in the world but when you get close enough to see her teeth it's to late. She already has you down in out and under her feet.

Still treating this like it was a game, Ashlyn let out a playful sigh of disappointment. "Oh come on," she begged as she hopped down on the couch still wearing that playful smirk of hers, "it can't be that bad!"

"Take my word for it," I countered with the sternest voice I could muster, "it's not a big deal, okay? Give it back."

Instead of pursuing and fighting for the box like I had expected to her, Ashlyn reluctantly let go and fell into the corner of the couch and sunk into it- all her energy and enthusiasm sucked dry from her defeat.

Throwing her head back, she dramatically breathed out to show her disappointment and looked up at the ceiling. "Fine, be the boring, sensitive baby you are. We're stuck with each other for another week or so, and you would think we would at least try to get to know each other and get along."

I looked back at her. "You honestly believe we could do that?" I derided, laying my head down on the couch looking over at her- waiting for her reaction. She would be crazy to think so. We were perfect opposites

A snort escaped her lips, and a faint smile crept up the edge of her lips. "No." She sternly answered without hesitation but laughed afterwords. "We can never agree on anything."

I couldn't help but join her and let out a little chuckle. She was right. 

Remaining in the lazy composure we put ourselves in, we both looked at each other again and burst into laughter from the irony of the situation we were in.

"At least we can agree on that." I smirked when I looked back at Ashlyn, who returned the same grin.

Shaking her head and looking back at the ceiling, she smiled to herself. "That's probably the only thing we can agree on." There was a tinge of disappointment that lingered at the end of her sentence, and it was as if she was reluctant to accept the fact that we could never get along.

Oddly enough, I felt the same way.

Although she has constantly got on my nerves for a majority of the time I've known her and had me hating her guts, it was moments like these that I liked having.

We've only had a few of them: at the photo shoot at Teen Luxur, on the plane ride back from New York, in the break room on the set of Blood Run, and now. Unlike being around my other friends, we're not having the time of our lives but we're able to real with each other.

Being around Ashlyn is probably the weirdest sensation I have ever felt. One moment, I hate her guts and want to be miles and miles away from her, but the next moment I thoroughly enjoy her company when we run across a few rare seconds these.

I could be real around her, and she manages to like me every now and then for who I really am.

Around my friends, I can't. I have to be perfect and not make a single mistake around them. When I do, they judge me so much for not living up to their standards. It's ridiculous, and it pisses me off that they think I'm perfect because I'm a celebrity.

We both feel like we could never be more than enemies, but could we? We never gave each other a chance.

Although I still think she's a complete lunatic for crashing my car, I strangley want to get to know her more. We have to make an effort to know each other because if we didn't, who knows what we could miss. 

She's probably the only person that I can feel this way with, and I don't want to lose that. Trust me, I will still do everything that I can to cancel that marriage, but- I don't know- we could be friends or something.

Hey, I'm not saying that I'm going all soft or being different about it. I'm still Mike Nor; I just want to try something different for a change. Instead of hanging around cultured people, hanging out with a loose and easy going person.

Matter in fact, Ashlyn is pretty cool when she's not going psycho on me.

Pushing myself up from the couch, I shook my head thinking the words out slowly in my head. "You don't know that." I started, looking back down at the box Melody and I made in my hands.

Ashlyn curved her eyes and quizzically looked up at me. "What's that supposed to mean?" She asked as she pulled herself forward and waited in anticipation for my response by sitting on the edge of the couch.

It probably would have been better if I thought this all out beforehand. 

"Well," I said as I drew out the word to buy me some time to scramble for something to say "we don't know each other well enough for that assumption."

Her green eyes flitted down to the carpet trying to comprehend my random, out-of-the-blue comments. Silence immediately swamped out the happy and giddy mood we were just in, and it seemed to be ages ago when we were enjoying ourselves- nearly laughing our heads off.

Between the curtain of long brown strands, I could see that she was ardently trying to decipher what I was trying to say by the way her eyes constantly flitted back and forth. I wonder what she could be thinking right now.

Hopefully she didn't get the wrong idea.

Defeated and without an answer, she shook her head and looked back at me with both eyebrows furrowed in puzzlement. "Why not you stop being complicated with your barely sufficient answers and tell me what your thinking."

Her voice was harsh and it caught me off guard, but I brushed it off and took nothing of it. 

"You're over complicating it." I stated in a matter-in-fact voice and leaned forward to casually rest my arms on my legs. "I'm just saying in order to come up with that conclusion we should get to know each other first."

Still looking unsatisfied with my response, she crossed her arms. "And? She drew out the word impatiently and waited for me to elaborate. Although she looked slightly irritated, there was an eager growth of curiosity.

I could tell that she wouldn't mind being friends either, so it put me a little at ease.

We had such a rocky start in the beginning, I didn't even know it was possible to become something more than enemies and if it was worth it to go through with this decision.

"I'll start then." I continued before her constant fire of dumb questions agitated me. Handing her the box, I put it in between us and patiently waited for her to figure the rest out for herself. I hate explaining myself all the time, especially when the obvious is implied.

She looked at the box and back up at me, still looking confused as ever.

"You mean, you're actually letting me look through this?"

Sure, it was a little sensitive part of my past but if she was going to know who I really am, shouldn't she know about my past? Of course, I'm not going to reveal all of my life secrets to her, but I have to at least share what's important to me.

Usually I would start getting annoyed at how dumb she was acting right now, but from the mellow, relaxed mood I laughed. "Why would I push the box towards you then?" I teased, smirking up at her and watching a defensive pout slowly form on her face.

"How the heck am I supposed to know!" She defended while she threw her arms up in the air and stared at me with the look of disbelief. "You are always giving the bare minimum of things. It's like you hate talking and say the least that's required!"

I nonchalantly shrugged my shoulders, shooting her a light smirk. "Excellent observation, Sherlock."

Ashlyn rolled her eyes. "Thank you." She replied back sarcastically but couldn't help but gently smirk back.

"Alright, so-" her fingers hesitantly hovered over the box, her eyebrows twisting along with the weird hand movements she made above it like it was some odd ritual. "I uh-" Ashlyn tilted her head to right, her hands reaching towards the box but retreating quickly. 

It was like she had never opened a box in her life. Honestly, it's not that hard. You extend your hands, use your long bone like sticks protruding from the base called a palm, grasp, and pull up. 

She twisted her head to the side and desperately looked back up at me for help. "I think it would be best for you to open it."

I shot her a look. "What? You don't know how to open a box?"

Immediately throwing her hands in her lap, she rolled her eyes and gave me a deadpan look. "No, stupid. It's your box. You should be the one opening it for me. It's you stuff. I feel nosy to scourage around in it on my own."

Finally, it's about time to figure out that this girl wasn't as manner-less as I thought. I could work on that.

"As you wish, your Majesty." I taunted as I dramatically lifted the lid of the box and reveled it's contents. 

Ashlyn rolled her eyes at the comment, but her attention scattered away from me as she gazed in perplextion at all the random things stored in the box. Her eyes curiously wandered over many of it's contents, but out of all the things that should have caught her attention she plucked out one of Melody's bright red nail polish instead.

Holding it up in the light and inspecting it, a devious smirk lit up her face as she met me eye to eye."I knew you were a cross dresser." She whispered and broke the intense silence.

"Are you for real, right now?" I growled at her as I crossed my arms and flung myself back into the couch.

Ashlyn continued laughing at my reaction and embarrassment, fueling my anger even more. 

"I let you into my past so we can get to know each other more, but instead you go ahead and mock me. Honestly, what the fuck? You know what? Fuck it. Let's forget the whole thing and-"

Before I could close the box with the lid and take it from her, Ashlyn- still laughing- gently put her hands on mine and pushed me back. I kept trying to lean forward to grab the box, but her hands were steadily but gently pressed against my shoulders.

I don't understand what's so funny about all this. It's pissing me off!

Ashlyn kept laughing, and I was so pissed off at her until she threw me off with a sweet smile. I've never seen her smile at me like this before. She seemed so different and happy, and- I don't know what to say to be honest.

I'm absolutely clueless. I could only stare down at her with the stupid mystified expression on my face.

"Dude," she chuckled- her laughter dying down at last "I'm just joking around with you. Why do you have to get so mad about it? It's funny at least. Anyway, aren't you going to tell me what this whole thing is? All this girl stuff?"

"I uh-" I stared back at Ashlyn when she smiled up at me again, and I was at an utter loss of words. It was mostly because I was so confused, but an unnerving feeling of the first time when I got to know Melody more crawled up from my stomach- almost making me sick.

What the heck was going on? It must be the box and some suppressed memories peeking up from the surface.

I seriously had to wake up.

Shaking my head, I immediately regained my composure. "I don't know if you know, it would be hard not to," I muttered to the side, "but knowing that you aren't up to date about any news containing me whatsoever, since you hardly recognized me the day you saw me, this was a time capsule box I made with my ex."

For a moment, I thought I had to expalin everything about my past relationship but the light bulb suddently went off for our slow witted friend here.

Her mouth gaped wide open and the moment I told her the story behind the box, she stared down at it like it was the most sacred and holy object she has ever come across.

"This is Melody's stuff?" She gasped, her mouth dropping into a perfect 'o'.

"Yeah," I replied, shocked that she knew. "how did you know that?"

Ashlyn's cheeks turned into a deep red as she shyly looked up at me. "Long time ago, I was a huge fan of Melody Thompsan. She was my idol. I was so devestated when she left for Germany to be a model or a designer. I can't remember which."

I crossed my arms across my chest and glared at her. "Oh, so you know Melody but have no clue about me." I stated, clearly offended.

Honestly, Melody and I were so close knit with everything we did it would be impossible to be a fan of one and not know of the other. In the beginning, Melody outshone me and people had no idea who I was, but I got so popular later on.

Smirking at me, Ashlyn nodded her head. "Yup." She smiled, popping her 'p'. "Just kidding. I knew about you, but I wasn't all that interested. You kind of just seemed to be," she paused looking for the right words, "there."

I was just 'there'? Wow. What was she trying to do, piss me off?

"Anyway, she continued "why do you still have this?"

"Why?" I asked in disbelief and ridicule, not being able to believe why she dared to ask me that question. This was the only box of things I had of the love of my life and she was asking me why I was still keeping it.

Sure, it's painful to keep and at moments I just want to burn it all or throw it away because in the end it only reminds me of her walking out on me, but I can't find it in me to throw it away or do anything bad to it.

"Yeah." She answered, paying no attention to my building anger. "It hurt, didn't it? She said she didn't love you."

Ouch. Straight though the heart. 

This girl has a habit of tearing me down and beating me up in any way she could.

I tried searching for excuses but there were none. Ashlyn was right. Why was I keeping this thing? The only thing it was doing to me was haunting me with the ghosts of my past refusing to let me move on.

Deep inside for the longest time, I knew I had to let go, but I couldn't.

Letting out a deep sigh, I hung my head low and shook my head in defeat. "I can't get rid of it. I swear, I want to tear that thing up and burn it, but I can't."

"Hmmm." Ashlyn thought to herself, pondering my situation and scouraging through the box for something that could help. 

"Mike." She demanded "Give me your hands."

"What?" 

"Give me them!"

I suspiciously looked her up and down, not feeling too comfortable about the lingering smirk on her lips.

Why the hell would I give my hands to her when she has that look on her face? "Fuck no!" I shrieked as I hid my hands underneath my legs so she would have a difficult time getting them. Being the sadist that she was, enjoying every moment she punches me she might cut my hands off.

"Seriously!" Ashlyn laughed as she held out her right hand and used it to beckon out my other hands. "I got a good idea. It will help!

I shook my head. "Tell me."

Her eyes rolled in annoyance and frowned. "But that will ruin the point! Oh, and you have to close your eyes."

"That doesn't want me to give you my hands any more than before." I argued, wary of the shrinking distance between us.

I feel like she's going to pounce on me any moment now and take my hands and do god knows what with them. There couldn't possibly anything good that she had in mind. There never is.

What the hell. If I wasn't going to give her my hands any time soon she would have me sit here forever. I might as well get this whole damn thing over with.

"Fine! Make it quick." I snapped as I closed my eyes and felt her grab them and place them gently on the couch. Minutes seemed to tick by, but I couldn't tell if she was still in the room or not. It was so quiet and my hands felt undisturbed.

Was she even here?

I almost called out her name until I heard her chipper voice break the silence. "Okay! Open them!"

When I looked down, I could have shit my pants. 

"What the fuck did you just do!" I screamed as I looked down on my hands and noticed them all painted bright red with Melody's nail polish. "Holy shit! What the fuck is this! Get it off of me!"

I went off on a torrent off cussing and swear words, but I didn't know what to do because the paint appeared to be still wet and I was afraid of touching anything because the paint might rub off. All I could do was frantically sit in one place waving my hands all over the place not knowing what to do with them.

Like always, Ashlyn burst out laughing but she shook my shoulders.

"Get a hold of yourself!" She cracked up again, but she set my hands down on my lap and looked at me straight in the eye.

"See? Instead of you looking at the nail polish and thinking of whatever memory is associated with Melody, you will think of me painting your nails."

I looked back at the nail polish bottle again and the memory associated with it didn't see as important. This idea of Ashlyn's was bloody brilliant, but I am still pissed off.

Picking up the white feather boa Melody often goofed around with and the tiara she wore to the dance we had at school one time, she brought the poison dangerously close to my face. There was no fucking way that she was making me wear this.

"Now put this on." She laughed with the goofy grin hanging on her lips.

"Not a fucking chance." I growled as I shrinked away from the looming feathers and crown to protect the little manliness I had left.

Putting it closer to my neck, she lurched forward as an attempt to wrap the feathers around my neck. "Come on," she begged with a pair of puppy eyes, "put it on. The nail polish worked this will too. You will be so embarrassed from this whole thing you will never be able to look at that 'Fabulous' box of yours again."

I didn't say yes, but I squeezed my eyes shut and felt the itchy pricks of the feathers rub against my neck as she wrapped it around me and the crown dig into my skull. 

I didn't need a mirror to tell myself that I looked like a fucking mess.

"Perfect." Ashlyn hailed as she jumped off the couch to take a step back and inspect me.

For some reason, I feel that Ashlyn is doing this more for her own personal entertainment than my own good. 

"Now to take a photo-"

My eyes widened as I watched her pull out a chunky phone and point it towards my direction.

"No! No-"

Before I could jump up and swipe the phone from her hands, she grabbed the box and ran out of my room, leaving me to chase her out into the hall and living room.

"Ashlyn!" I screamed down the hall- as if my threats would stop her "You better give me that phone, or else you will regret it. I am not fucking around here! I am serious! Come back!"

As if it was a bait to draw me out, my brother sat in the middle of the living room in awe, looking me up and down in silence before he burst out into a full blow fury of laughter. 

"What the hell?" Dane laughed as he walked up to me and gingerly picked one end of the boa in his fingers. "What happened to you."

I angrily snatched the one end of the boa from Dane's hand dramatically threw it down, causing the laughter erupting from Dane and Ashlyn to grow even louder.

"Oh," Dane mused as he held his hands up in surrender, "not wanting me to touch your boa now, do you? Aren't you the sassy drag queen."

"Shut up." I spat. "Give me that box." I growled as I snatched it away from Ashlyn, who easily let it go because she was too busy laughing.

I had enough of this box now, and I will happily dump it into the trash can along with this ridiculous, stupid boa and tiara. If I had the time, I would take a lighter from my room and burn all of it up and gladly stay up all night to watch it squirm in the flames.

"Did Ashlyn tell you about the carnival tomorrow?" Dane hollered to me on my way out.

"No." I yelled back, "And I don't care! Do whatever the hell you want."

This was not my week.

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A/N: Hollly fudge. Long time no update. Goodness. Sorry xD!

Anyway! I decided to do something different! There is going to be a video attatched to these chapters that match the character's feelings. xD I just thought that was a cool idea because that way you can catch the character more and listen to their theme song... or what not. xD

Thank you so much for voting if you enjoyed this chapter <3 The support helps and leave a comment what you think!

Q: Would Mike make a good drag queen? ;) xD

See ya' lovelies! Love you! Flame on!