| | Chapter dedicated to bambakedbeans | |

~A/N~

The update is real, my fellow hoomuns! :))

PBJ_sandwich

~

~~~ !!! UNEDITED !!! ~~~         

**content may also be modified in the future**

/// S I X ///

*Sunday*

*Zella's POV*

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Bee-

I reached over and grabbed my phone, hitting the snooze button with a lazy finger and falling back onto the comfort of my pillow.

I had this thing where I wanted to wake up early everyday even though I felt like shit the next morning when my alarm went off. See, if I woke up early, I had more time to get more things done instead of sleeping in and waking up at like eleven - way too late for my liking.

I was planning to go over to Marcie's this morning like I did most weekends when I was free.

I slept for another ten minutes till my alarm went off again, signalling that my snooze time was over. The day I wake up to the sound of my first alarm would be a day that would never come.

Groaning, I shuffled toward the bathroom, had a wee, took a small shower, and got ready for the rest of the day. Something in my head was telling me not to dress homey, despite the fact that I was simply paying a daily visit to Marcie's. It was telling me to dress casual.

The little voice at the back of my head was usually right in the end when considering the previous occasions when it had advised me to do all kinds of things, but I had never really payed attention to it... even though it had been accurate or its suggestion had been somewhat of a beneficial one ninety per cent of the time.

Marcie would probably question why I had appeared at her house for like the zillionth time suddenly dressed up in casual clothing as if we were going out or something.

C'mon. Just try something slightly different. This might turn out to be a benefitting thing.

I gazed fixedly at the various T-shirts and trousers that made up the top shelf's contents of my closet. I then turned my attention to the floor of my closet, where all my casual wear was sitting in a lump; there were a few hoodies, shorts, jeans, denim stuff, shirts and a pair of black tights that I never even dreamed of showing off to the outside world. On the middle shelf, my shoes were piled up in an unruly heap. Sadly, I only had one pair of legit, black and white converse with a whole lot of other casual footwear that wore a converse-like mien.

After contemplating for a good fifteen minutes, I pulled on a pair of knee-length white shorts, a neon orange T-shirt and a black basketball hoodie along with my legit converse. I made a mental note to zip Marcie up if she even dared to ask about what I was wearing or why before I ambled off toward her place.

When I arrived, Sam was out somewhere with his mum and Marcie's dad was at work per the usual, leaving me and Marcie to do whatever.

Marcie and I had a habit of keeping the front door unlocked five minutes prior to when any of us said we were coming over to the other's house, it was something we had started ever since we found out our parents did it when either of them or a family member were on their way home. It saved the agony of leaving the comfort of our lazy states just to open the door for someone.

After entering the house, I padded down the narrow aisle that seperated the bedrooms, knowingly making my way toward Marcie's bedroom door which was at the very end.

"Hey..." She trailed off once she looked up to see me standing at the door.

I instantly noticed Marcie's skeptical expression as I entered her room. "What?"

"Uh," she said and dithered on whether to point out my choice of attire, or to just move on. "Nothing."

I smiled, feeling satisfied with her decision and settled next to her on her huge bed, watching as she continued on with her previous activity of typing on her laptop. I recognized the document she had opened up to be from one of our Physics homework assignments. Our class had most probably completed it already since we were ahead of most of the other classes.

"So," she spoke to me with her eyes on the homework assignment. "How's pizza?"

I laughed at her improvised version of the famous 'how's life?'. 

Pizza was life, though.

"Good, I guess." I didn't want to sound like a wilting flower or anything, so I didn't give her too much detail - not lying, just not expressing the full truth.

"I know you're hiding something from me... something more than the fact that you still have the hots for Scott," she stated blatantly. 

The harshness of her proclamation made me cringe slightly, especially since there was a lot of truth behind her words. Her having been one of the best friends I'd ever had, I was used to her blunt statements and declarations - we preferred to express our thoughts rather than keep them in, but I was never really good at that in the first place.

"What do you mean?" I asked quietly, waiting for her to fully express her judgements. I was ready to tell her everything, but I wanted to hear what was on her mind first.

Did she think I was being mean? Am I being too clingy with Scott? Does she know anything that I haven't been telling her?

"Firstly, I know you and I know how Scott treats you," she turned away from her laptop to stare into my eyes. "He always felt something towards you. Ever since grade seven, it's always been there. That little spark of whatever-it-was, it's definitely still there - between you and him both. You always said stuff like 'I'm over him now', 'he's an asshole', 'I can't wait till I never see him again' and all that bullshit, but, Zella, I knew. You're good at talking, but you were never good at expressing what you spoke of. I saw when your eyes flit to where he sat in class every few minutes, I saw when you gaped at him and only him playing at basketball matches, I saw how you'd always search for the seat closest to him in class, despite the fact that he'd ignore you completely every time. It pissed me off.

"You may not have known, but I had always liked him. This isn't, like, the first time I've felt anything towards him. I already liked him the whole time. I liked him when you guys held hands in front of me, I liked him when he looked at you first before he realized me, I liked him when he fucking kissed you on the cheek for the first fucking time in front of me! Didn't you realize? I always knew you both and what you guys had - it hasn't gone away either. I'm here on the sidelines every time you trip and fall on your own fucking feet to pick you up just so that you can play the game I wanted to play. I liked Scott more than you could ever imagine, but you never realized and I never told you.

"Look, Zel, I don't mean to hurt you, I don't want you to feel guilty, I don't want you to step away from Scott. But you had and maybe still have a chance with something that I don't have a shot at. I'm just asking for your honesty - you've lied to yourself as well as me for way too long. It's not only making me feel angry and more hurt, but it's also hurting you in a way that is much worse than how it's hurting me. At least stop lying to everyone around you, including yourself."

She took a deep, shaky breath and I could see the ghost of a tear glistening in her eyes as she turned them back to the laptop screen.

I felt... horrible. I hadn't payed attention to her at all in the past few years. I'd been a horrible best friend and a horrible person in general. I realized then that I was always focused solely on myself ever since I had met Scott. I had been so self-centered that I hadn't seen the obvious struggles my best friend, who I saw every day, was going through.

It's not like a person could suddenly like someone they had never looked more than twice at before. Well, I thought she hadn't looked more than twice at Scott.

Welcome to reality, Zella Stein.

I didn't say a word from the enormous wave of infinite feelings that had taken me over on account of her outburst. I was guessing that wasn't exactly a sign of acceptance for Marcie, judging by what she said afterward. "I understand if you're gonna start hating me from now on. I've been hitting on your guy for way too long and I just admitted to having liked him while you both were practically together. But, seriously, I meant everything I said."

I wallowed in silence for a few more seconds before giving her my response. "I don't hate you, Mar. I just feel really bad about what I've done and how I've treated you - I'm probably the worst kind of best friend you've ever had."

She chuckled and looked at me with a softer gaze, "Nah. I just needed to let out some steam, ya know?"

"Mar, why didn't you tell me you liked him?" I asked curiously.

"I didn't want you to feel bad and go all 'friends before boyfriends' on me. I knew you would, so it was perfectly understandable for me to have kept it from you." She gave me a pointed look, daring me to argue with her.

Well, so I was at fault there as well for being who I was because it was true - I would have put Scott to the side for her if I had known.

I smiled at her and nodded in agreement - I completely understood now.

"I'm guessing you aren't exactly after Max anymore, are you?" she questioned with a teasing smirk.

"Naw, I still like him," I reassured her with a small smile. "He's just not my prime person of interest."

"I don't mind if you like Scott," she insisted, but her expression changed into a more serious one. "But, you should really watch out. You know what he did, can still do and will do again... if he gets the chance. Don't fall for his sweet-talks."

"I'm just..." I started, then shrugged it off and shook my head. "I guess I'm just too gullible."

"You are indeed," she replied without a second thought. "And that's exactly why I'm here."

I laughed at that, knowing that Marcie knew me better than anyone had ever known me. We may have had the occasional misunderstanding, but we were simply too close to be pulled apart. Given all that she had revealed just now, it was more than enough to prove how well she knew me. She had seen right through my stupid act... and even after all of that, she hadn't pushed me away. Now, that was a sign of a good friend.

"So, I'll have to warn you," she spoke with a humoured tone. "I'm having someone ov-"

She never got to finish her sentence since the doorbell rang to signal that someone had arrived at Marcie's doorstep. I wondered who it could be.

Santy Claus!

I raised my eyebrows at myself, wondering if someone had put drugs in my breakfast...

"Okay, that must be him," she announced and jumped off of the bed, rushing out the door before I could ask who it was she had invited over to her place.

Guess you'll just have to find out, eh?

And have my socks knocked off as a result of who the lottery winner turns out to be. Pfft, it's probably her grandma or even her mum along with Sam.

Or Santy Claus!

Yup, I was definitely high.

"So, we'll be working in here..." I heard Marcie's voice from down the hallway. She hurried into the room with-

Oh, God, it can't be. Not again.

This can not have a logical explanation.

I oggled at Scott as he strode into the room with a bored look on his face. He spotted me on the bed and raised an eyebrow before flashing me a wide smile. Was this expected? Had he already known I was going to be here? He hadn't looked surprised even a bit.

"Hey," he greeted and paused for a moment, looking in Marcie's direction. She had grabbed the laptop off of the bed and was typing something up. "Zella."

So, the nickname really is our own little thing... more precisely, our own little secret. If Mar finds out, she's definitely gonna start calling me by that nickname, too, but I don't want her to.

Dreaming. Drooling. Wake up.

"Hi," I said dully with a blank look, waiting for an explanation of some sort.

"Scott's doing the Physics assignment with me," Marcie cleared from where she sat at her desk. "You'll have to stick around a bit while we work."

"I don't mind," I said with an understanding tone. "But, are you seriously telling me that Scott," I jabbed my thumb at him accusingly. "Is going to do some work?"

"I'll make him do something, don't you worry!" she said smugly, sneering at him with a menacing glint in her eyes.

I didn't doubt it.

"Scott... work." I stared at him in disbelief. "Those are two words I never thought I'd have to put together in one sentence."

"Psh," he huffed, waving me off.

After sulking on the bed for a while, watching them 'work', I decided to help myself to the basketball court. Did I mention Marcie's family had a basketball court on their rooftop? Well, they did.

I grumbled one last time before stomping out of the room toward the stairs leading to the rooftop. When I reached the court, there was a small breeze cooling the air that sent chills down my spine and made me smile against the calming weather.

The basketball cage was locked up.

Fortunately, there was one stray basketball rolling in the wind along the side of the court. It must have been left out from the last time I played here. Lucky me.

I grabbed it. To begin with, I warmed myself up by dribbling a little and trying to pull off a few advanced moves that the guys always used as if they were born with the ability to play like a professional... which they probably were, though.

I moved onto shooting just for fun, remembering my three-pointer shot from a few days ago - it was the first three-pointer I had ever got in. After that overwhelming score, I had been practicing three-pointers like mad, longing for another shot just as perfect. Ever since I became captain, I had wanted to shoot a three-point swish during the last few seconds of the game, have everyone's eyes on the winning score and hear the loud roar of the crowd as the net dances with my perfect shot.

I loved it when I got a swish. It always made my day.

I scored basket after basket, running from one end to the other and switching hands every few shots. By the time I went for the final, three-point swish I was breathing heavily and my muscles were screaming at me to take a rest - which, of course, I didn't oblige to.

Before I had a chance to see the ball fly through the air and make the most perfect sound as it slipped through the net, something snatched the ball from me.

I blinked a few times, wondering where the Hell my ball had gone and how it had just disappeared from my hands. I had taken aim, my eyes were fully focused on the board, my position was carefully calibrated and then poof, the ball had just popped out of my hands.

I turned to see Scott with the- my ball tucked under his arm. I didn't feel like glaring at him, so I just stared with a completely lost look on my face.

"You need to keep hold of the ball, or someone will easily steal your shot exactly like I just did."

I continued to stare at him. That was good advice, but I didn't have anything to say.

He stole my three-point swish.

He stole my perfect shot.

He stole my winning score.

He took Marcie's ball from you, that is all.

"I know I'm hot, but," he bragged. "You could take a picture, it'll last longer."

"Nah, I'm just staring at the pimple on your nose. It blinded me for a sec," I retorted casually, looking at him with a slight smirk. Now, I was more than happy to talk.

"You're kidding, right?" he asked, staring at me with uncertainty written all over his face.

"Could be, could be true."

He scowled for a few moments before a wide, challenging grin spread across his face. "One-on-one?"

I looked at him with a contemplating squint before smiling in agreement.

"You're on."

I lunged at the ball in his hand, prepared to snatch it right out of his hands just like he had done with me, but he was too quick. He effortlessly dodged away from my outstretched arms and started to dribble toward the hoop on the other side of the court. Guess he liked to play fair since he didn't shoot into my hoop the way I was expecting him to do.

We played for ages and he won eventually - it was a final score of 6-5. Despite my enthusiasm to beat his score, he had suddenly stopped dribbling, giving me a tired look as if he was pleading for a rest with just his eyes.

I rolled my eyes and gave him a mocking smirk. "The big boy is tired already?"

He just shook his head dismissively and stumbled over to the sidelines, taking a seat directly under the basketball hoop. I stared after him, almost burning holes through the basketball in his hands with just my glare.

"C'mon, let's talk." He gave me what he boasted to be his 'puppy-dog' eyes, but all I could see was an oddly twisted face... that didn't seem very persuasive or pleasant to my eyes.

In spite of this, I walked over and sat next to him... a fair distance away to be safe. But, I hadn't ceased to steal the ball out of his grasp before I sat down, earning myself a small glare from Scott.

We sat in silence while I thought of how ironic the situation was on my side.

I had worn casual clothing because of that little voice, but now I was sweating like a pig. I guess life just didn't want to give me too much.

Oh, God, this hoodie is killing me. I seriously wanna take off this thick, black (why had I chosen black?!) lump of heat absorbant material.

But, there's a teensy problem. I'm not going to be able to pull this off without making it look like a sexual invitation. Plus, it's not exactly going to be dazzling when I peel off a thick hoodie to reveal the even sweatier, sweat-patched Zella Stein in a sweaty, sticky, bright orange T-shirt.

Nope, not at all sexy. Unless Scott's one of those guys who are just plain weird and get turned on by a girl with sweaty armpits and a post-workout stench.

I wonder...

"Zee...?" I heard Scott interrupt my boat of thoughts, making it sink and...

Well, die.

I am such a weird person, I swear-

"Zee!" Scott repeated, waving a hand in front of my face. I blinked a few times and stared back at him, still not uttering a word.

"Keep looking at me like that and I'll have to call 999 for help." He gave me a serious look as if to say he'd actually do it.

"Whatever," I mumbled under my breath. I wasn't feeling the chill vibe that he was giving off. I just wanted to continue playing.

"You're really annoying," he stated simply. I raised my eyebrows at him in surprise - since when did Scott speak so immaturely?

"And you sound like a child," I riposted with a scowl.

"Hey, I am a child." He pouted and put an a hurt expression.

For a few moments, we just sat there and breathed in the cool air, taking in the soft strokes of the wind as it blew past our worn out bodies.

I felt his stare from beside me and I glanced at him. He didn't take into account the uneasiness that his gaze was inflicting on me, ergo continued to study me with his deep, green, lake-coloured eyes.

I cleared my throat in an attempt to draw his attention to how awkward the situation had become.

Suddenly, he decided to speak. "How do you pull this off?"

He gestured to my figure with his hands when he asked, giving me a curious look.

Pull what off?

"I don't get you." I cocked my eyebrow at his question.

"You're outstandingly smart, very athletic and gorgeous all at the same time," he said and it sounded incredibly legit from the serious look on his face. "How do you pull it off?"

"I'm not all those things in the first place, Scott." I turned away from his soft, leafy eyes that seemed to have turned a shade lighter at that moment. I got very irritated when people complimented me with lies, though.

"But, you are!" he exclaimed, his tone hinted at irritation as if it was too obvious for him to have to convince me of it.

I just continued to look away.

What bullshit! I can't believe he has the guts to go this far just to flatter me.

I may be in denial, but the last time I believed his compliments I started to depend on him to feel happy each day - I don't need anyone to feel happiness.

I have myself for that.

And Google.

"Why do you ask?" I questioned, trying to throw his compliment out of the conversation.

He was silent for a moment, probably deciding on whether to keep trying to convince me or just move on.

"I want to be like you."

My eyes widened and I stared at him with disbelief written all over my face. Be like me?

What, so he wanted to be like Zella Stein, the girl who's judged for everything she does and can't even work hard enough to achieve her own goals?

I don't even have good grades anymore. They're plummeting to the ground with how much focus I'm lacking in class.

"You're joking, right? Or is it just me?"

"I'm not joking." He seemed very sincere - as if he had it all planned out in his head to get my help with... with whatever he wanted my help with, really.

"What am I supposed to do? Give you lessons on 'how to be me'?" I laughed humourlessly, frowning at his statement. It sounded incredibly stupid to me... and a lie.

"Well, that could work," he replied nonchalantly as if he hadn't caught the mockery in my voice.

"Scott, stop being dumb for once in your life." I was blunt and straightforward with that demand because honestly, he was behaving very silly. What kind of person requests to be like another? Next thing I know, he'll ask me to braid his hair and get him fake, black-rimmed glasses to match mine.

"I'm not dumb," he said softly, glancing sadly down at the floor of the court.

I was looking away so it didn't really get to me and I found it easy to keep hurting him with my words - I didn't know I was actually causing him emotional pain, though.

"You are, Scott. You're also an asshole," I continued with a cold feeling taking over my body.

The hate was kicking in, the latch that kept the memories of us at the back of my mind had suddenly clicked open and everything he had done was let loose into my mind, sending shivers throughout my body and to the very tips of my fingers. I felt a pain prick at my heart at that very moment, remembering the sadness and the mix of emotions that had all revolved around this - the close connection we had had, this thing between us that could no longer be explained or put into mere words.

It hurt.

And apparently, it hurt him, too. He didn't show it, though. Despite the sudden awakening of emotion that had taken place inside me, I had realized his expression had faltered into a more sorrowful, pained one.

I scoffed, putting my negative feelings aside and focusing solely on what I was saying. Whatever it was, whatever the words that were tumbling through my lips, it was all fake and I knew it, but it was my getaway - a getaway I found myself often using whenever I was with Scott. "Did I hurt you, asshole? Did your dick just shrink with sorrow? Aw, don't tell me you want a hug now."

I could see the faint glisten of a heavy tear that was more than ready to slip and was shielding his murky orbs. It pained me even more to see the massive impact that my insults had on him, but my conceit was still fighting for me, keeping me hidden behind the hurtful words I hadn't known I could utter, let alone conjure in my head.

"I didn't know you swore," he whispered quietly, the feeling of dejection was prominant in his voice as it was low and forced.

"Well, you never knew much about me, anyway," I hissed, holding my gaze on his eyes even though they were not on mine - I needed to show that I meant every word I said. I needed to convince myself of my immense hate towards him.

"Guys, where were you?" Marcie's voice cut through the tension between us. My head snapped to where she strode over to loom over us, frowning in annoyance. I noticed that Scott's head was still bowed and his eyes seemed too dark for me to believe they were that of a person's. "Scott, you said you needed to pee. You are nowhere near the bathroom right now."

I felt my wall of conceit crumble away when I stole a glance in Scott's direction. He didn't even look up from the ground, he seemed to be wallowing in my words as if he was questioning they're truthfulness... and beginning to believe them more and more.

"U-uh, I h-have to g-go," I stuttered under my breath, barely holding the irritating, sudden tears from escaping the safety of my eyes. I needed to get away. I couldn't handle this any longer.

I stumbled away from them, clenching the hem of my black hoodie as the tears started to leak onto my cheeks.

I can't do this, I can't do this, I can't do this! I can't handle that boy, he keeps hurting me with his meagre existance and the memories won't stay away from me for christ's sake, it's like wherever he is, the pain is there with him. Wherever he goes and I come with, the world begins to spin and I'm suddenly taking another trip down memory lane. A depressing memory lane.

I can't befriend him again. It's too much. The term is almost at a finish and he's already found his way back into my heart as if he wants me to suffer for the rest of the holiday. I probably will at this rate.

Why did we have that conversation? Why did he have to say such a stupid thing and ask for an even dumber favour like that? Why did he compliment me? We're not suppose to be nice to each other! We're suppose to be acquaintances and nothing more.

We don't know each other anymore and therefore have no effect on each other. At least, we're suppose to act like we don't.

I shuffled up to the doorstep of my house and hesitated before turning the knob, wiping the tear tracks off of my face.

Maybe this isn't what I need right now. Maybe I just need to breathe in the fresh air of the windy weather instead - it'll probably help me with clearing my thoughts.

I was about to turn and walk back down the front steps when I saw the very person I least wanted to see standing a few feet away.

"Marcie wanted me to check on you," he said monotonously. I observed the slight wetness of his cheek and knew in an instant that he had shed at least a single tear before tailing after me.

"Well, I've been checked on and would you look at that? I'm fine," I retorted. I was acting childish and stubborn, I was well aware of that. A practical person would calm down and attempt to talk things out - I was that kind of person, but rarely with Scott. He brought out the negative side of me most of the time since he wasn't worth the effort.

"Zella, what is wrong with you?" he demanded out of the blue, the anger in his voice was clear despite his soft, sad gaze.

"Nothing is wrong with me! The only person who has a problem here is you!" I snapped back at him. Our eyes were locked with both of us shooting intense glares at each other while the air was thick with the tension.

"Me? You lashed out on me when I was being-" He paused abruptly in mid-sentence, his eyes lost as he pondered on what would be the right words to say next.

"Being weird? Stupid? An asshole? What?" The disgust in my tone suprised not only him, but myself as well. I wasn't accustomed to being snappy and rude - it wasn't something I was used to since I was quite the angel in most people's eyes... excluding my colleagues'.

"Being nice." He seemed so hurt I started to wonder if this was all just a dream and I was about to wake up any moment now.

"You were lying," I argued dully without bothering to explain my opinions or support them with reasons. I wanted him to feel the anger, hurt, disbelief and even my insecurity at that moment because maybe that would make him understand.

You're begging for sympathy, aren't you? You're also fishing for more compliments. See, you even know you're being insecure and unstable, acting on account of your feelings instead of your practical thoughts. You're obviously desperate for his attention and his understanding.

I didn't argue with my conscience because truthfully, it was right.

I secretly wanted him to understand. I secretly wanted him to give me a soft look, walk up to me and give me a comforting hug to show he understood how I felt. I secretly wanted him to whisper in my ear how he was sorry, that he really liked me, that he wanted me back and that he truly understood how I was feeling.

But, this was the real world. Scott was not caring of others. For him, it was only his problems that really mattered.

"If you don't believe in my word, I obviously can't do anything about it since you're the one who isn't thinking straight." He gave me a pitiful scowl before walking off with his hands shoved deep inside his pockets.

I paused, turning back to the front door of my home when something stirred awake at the pit of my stomach.

It was yanking me back, away from the door and toward the sad blond who had just walked away from me.

My feet moved on their own, spinning me on my heel and taking me back down the uneven path of stones.

Where the hell am I going?! What in the name of PizzaHut am I doing?!

Why do I keep running back to him, the very boy who keeps ruining everything for me and playing with my feelings?

I don't even know what I'm going to say to him.

--- END OF CHAPTER ---

~A/N~

I loved this chapter sm! It was so long, though. I spent ages on it, lol. Above 5K words, people! ABOVE 5K! Beat that, suckers.

Jk! <3

Penny for your thoughts on this update? :P

Question(s) of the chapter;

1|| What can I improve so far?

2|| What has improved?

3|| Who do you ship so far? (There's probably no one yet, but it's a question, anyway)

4|| Did you like this chapter? Rate out of 10, maybe?

Thank you for reading this far! Stay with me as we go forth! <3

[ comment ]

[ vote ]

[ share ]

[ follow ]

PBJ