I've got my butt stuck in the air and my torso shoved under my bed as I blindly search for my shoes. It's not like my dorm room is really that large, and yet, I'm losing things all the time. I push boxes and sweaters out of my way as I shine my cell phone further into the corners of the tight space. I hear the door open and close, but nobody says anything in greeting.

Giving up, I pull myself out from under my bed and huff in frustration as I sit back on my heels.

"Shoes?" I hear Emma say from behind me.

I glance up at her, not surprised to find her watching me in mild amusement. I just mumble out a confirmation, my eyes still searching the room.

"There," she says, pointing towards the bathroom.

I stand to follow her finger and spot my lost shoe sitting on the bathroom counter. Right. Okay, that makes sense. With a smile in Emma's direction, I saunter into the bathroom and slip my boot on.

"Where're you headed?" she asks, as she watches me sling my satchel over my shoulder.

"Rehearsal," I tell her, making my way to the door.

Emma and I have bonded over the past week. She's not nearly as needy or cringy as I'd originally guessed. Well, to be honest, she's still a little cringy at times, but who isn't. I've come to find that she's really strong in a weird sort of way. She's bold while lacking confidence, which I can't quite wrap my head around. Whatever she went through as a kid must have messed her up in a big way, but I can see she's trying to work her way through it.

"You doing okay?" I find myself asking. There's something different about her today—something lighter. She always looks like she's got a boulder sitting on her shoulders, but I sense a change.

"Yeah, actually," she answers, and she almost sounds surprised by her own response.

"You and Trevor making progress?"

She jabbers about the boy non-stop, and I can honestly understand his reluctance to trust her; and—maybe my judgment is off—but I know she can be trusted. It's a tricky situation. As her friend, I'm supposed to side with her—which I do—by threatening the boy any chance I get. I'm sure he knows they're all empty threats. Well... mostly. They're empty threats because I don't actually think he intends to destroy her, but, if I happen to be wrong about the guy, I won't hesitate to rip his Adam's apple from his throat and feed it to my weird neighbor's guinea pig.

"Yeah," she says with a smile. "We're doing surprisingly well. I think we're on our way to friendship."

I laugh at the fact that she's so excited to be almost friends. As if that's some great accomplishment. But, in her circumstance, I suppose it is.

"Good. Keep it up," I say as I offer a two-fingered salute and leave the room.

I'm beyond excited for rehearsal. It's going to be our first meeting and I'm a buzzing ball of anticipation as I make the quick jaunt to the auditorium. Most of the movie will be made here with the help of a green screen, but I've been briefed on the possibility of using other locations at a later date. I had to hold my tongue from telling Seth that I'd go anywhere with him. He might not catch the underlying truth in that statement, but I'd hate to be wrong and freak the guy out with my overly confident impulses.

So, I've chosen to keep my mouth shut about my feelings. It's so unlike me. I mean, I haven't liked that many guys in my life, but when I do, I'm usually not quiet about it. Maybe that's what makes Seth so different. I've never felt this way about another guy in my life. I've never feared the possibility of it not working out. So, instead of pursuing him like a squirrel would an acorn, I decide to leave the ball in his court.

And then there's the whole thing with Shonice. As much as I hate that my pursuit requires me to consider her feelings, I'm also not the type to tear two people apart. Yes, I'm stubborn and I usually fight for what I want until I get it, but I'd never purposely try to destroy a relationship. I have no right to push my way into what they have—even if I do think he's a complete moron for not dumping her butt and hitching himself to me ASAP. But I need to show some grace since his knowledge of my awesomeness is close to nil. He'll learn... eventually.

"Glad you could make it," he says when he sees me stroll into the large room. His voice reverberates around the empty space and makes me feel as if he's just swung the spotlight on me. Not that I mind. I like attention, and when it's coming from him, it's even better.

I wave before dropping my bag into a vacant seat and then make my way toward the handsome guy at the center of the room. He's busy unraveling some cords and doesn't realize I'm headed his way until I'm almost right behind him. He turns slightly, trying to figure out where the cord he's holding leads and takes a surprised step back when he nearly runs straight into me.

"Shoot, sorry," he says, his concentration cracking as his gaze meets mine. Then he swings his attention back to the cords in his hands and finishes wrapping them into a neat coil. With a soft grin, he drops the cables on a box and nudges his head in the direction he wants me to follow him. "You came just in time."

"Really?" I deadpan, an exaggerated quirk of my eyebrow giving away my teasing. "You gonna force me to help with the manual labor of setting up?"

"Of course," he says, a gentle smile cracking the strong contours of his face.

Tattoos tend to give people the impression to back off, and with his dark features and light eyes, his make him seem almost like a vault—completely impenetrable. I don't know him well, but I've observed him for weeks from a distance and I've come to learn a few things about him.

He's normally sober and subdued. He takes his schooling very seriously, and sometimes it's hard to break him out of his sphere of untouchable-ness. He's got a slew of distant admirers, but only those within his tight circle seem to concern him.

I wouldn't say he's uncaring, he's just very devoted to the friends he has. He doesn't just allow anyone the gift of his friendship because he doesn't know how to give just part of himself. He's an all-or-nothing type of guy and he only has the energy to offer that level of dedication to those willing to appreciate it and reciprocate it. At least, that's what I've observed from a distance.

I follow him behind stage, giddy excitement building with the possibilities of being alone with him. Though, knowing him, absolutely nothing will happen. Just because he's approachable at the moment, doesn't mean he isn't taking this project very seriously. Besides, I need to work on accepting just how off-limits this man really is. Which means, nothing can happen. I won't let it.

But what's wrong with a little harmless flirting, right?

"Here we are," Seth tells me, spreading his arms and indicating the area around him.

I glance around at the many racks of bizarre clothing draped from random hangers. The room is packed with stage supplies and backdrops, and I'm wondering what exactly it is that Seth is trying to show me.

"I'd rather pick ticks off a mange-covered wombat than even attempt to clean this room," I say, looking around in mock disgust.

I hear Seth laugh behind me, and turn to him with a humor-filled smile. He's much closer than expected and my balance is thrown as I try to quickly step away. My hand finds his shoulder just as his find my waist. But, I barely have a chance to appreciate the connection before his hands are gone.

"Stop throwing yourself at me," he says, trying to hold back a laugh. "It's disgusting."

"I wish I could," I chuckle, pushing my hair off my shoulders, "but you're just too yummy."

"Yummy?" His brow is quirked, laughter tugging at his lips.

"Undoubtedly."

Seth scratches his eyebrow, keen observation in his gaze. I try not to let on just how unnerving his attention is, but, my goodness, this man has an alarming pull. I know I'm not the only one affected because I've seen the look on many other faces. Just his presence draws you in. Maybe it's his cool demeanor, so laid back and focused, but it breeds curiosity. We all just want to understand what's spinning around in his head. He's quiet and calculated, but far from timid.

"I think I should be concerned," he finally concludes, crossing arms that are obviously accustomed to hard labor, and gives me a casual look over. "I mean, you look harmless, but I don't know..."

"Oh, I'm definitely not harmless," I confirm, nodding in agreement to his observation. "I'm actually crazy. Mental. Like, the type that might handcuff you to me, and then force you to sleep upside down like a bat. Then, obviously, I'd lose the key and we'd be locked together forever—though, you'd know I lost it on purpose because I'm psycho. And then, naturally, you'd fall in love with me, we'd get married. Only then would you realize my true plan to hitch myself to you so that you could comb my hair a hundred times a day and pluck my eyebrows with your teeth. So then I'd have to beg and sob until you agree. I'd be a big mess because you'd obviously never agree and we'd be miserable. Of course, it'd only get worse when you start having my babies. Can you imagine trying to parent children while handcuffed to someone? Tricky."

Seth stares at me for several seconds, brows scrunching in concern.

"This conversation is..." He shakes his head, having no words to describe what he's trying to say. "I'm having a hard time understanding why I'm not more creeped out by it. Also, how long did it take you to come up with all that?"

"It's a gift." I shrug.

He's still laughing, but suddenly the smile drops from his face as confusion clouds his features.

"Wait a minute," he says, holding up a finger. "Wouldn't you be the one having my babies? I wasn't quite designed for that."

I nearly choke on my spit. "You're right." I'm nodding and cackling and still choking. "This conversation should definitely feel awkward"

"Just to clarify... should I be scared of you?" he teases, sidling past me and heading towards a rack of clothing.

"Probably," I admit.

He smiles at me, it's that hidden smile that makes me want to unpack the secrets behind it.

"Anyway," he mutters, "jokes aside, here are the clothes you'll be needing during the production. Go ahead and throw this one on." He hands me a flowy, purple dress that has my insides cringing in distaste, and then turns to leave.

"Be ready in ten."

All joking has indeed left the building. He's now in director mode, and I wonder how long it'll be before I get to grab another peek at the goofy, gooey hunk of a man masked beneath those tattoos.

------

Class drags on and I'm tempted to grab the banana off the neighboring desk when we're finally released. My stomach literally hurts because I'm so hungry, but I manage to make it to the cafeteria without needing to break out into a desperate run. I spot my buddy Grady in his usual spot and after filling my plate, I head his way.

"Someone's prepping for hibernation," he observes, taking in the heap of pasta on my plate.

"You can never be too prepared," I say, shoveling spaghetti between my lips and using the back of my hand to wipe away any sauce left behind.

I can feel his eyes on me the entire time that I'm eating, but I don't bother removing my focus from filling my stomach. Not a word is uttered until all food is cleared and I've downed half a glass of water.

"Well, that was impressive."

The voice startles me from my food coma, and I look up to find Shonice hovering over me with a plate of her own. She looks nothing like I remember her looking the first time we met. She'd been all plastic, acrylic, heels, and lashes then, but now...

Now she looks like any other African American chick you'd find strolling the campus grounds. She's still annoyingly beautiful, but her face is bare, her nails bitten to the nub, and the baggy flannel pajama bottoms and faded T-shirt look like something handed down to her by her great great uncle George.

"May I?"

Nodding, I motion for her to take a seat, words unable to find their way out of my jumbled brain. What on earth is she doing here? With me? Doesn't she hate me? I mean, she kind of should. I would.

I watch her twirl her pasta onto her fork and stuff the food into her mouth before shoving everything into one cheek so she can sip her Coke. Then she's chewing again, her eyes glued to mine as if challenging me to say something. Swallowing, she lets out a dainty burp and then angles her head as she considers me.

"Am I entertaining you?" she asks, poking her fork back into her noodles.

"Very much so," I respond, resting my chin in my palm. "Thank you."

She tilts her head down for another bite, but I see the faintest smile touch her lips. There's a point when staring at someone loses any level of humor and simply becomes creepy. I'm bordering creepy now, so I turn my attention to Grady across from me.

He's the quiet type with a sharp sense of humor that only the rarest of soul's gets to witness. Apparently, I'm that rare soul. But right now, I see no humor on his face because he's got his headphones shoved on his ears and his eyes closed as he sits slouched in his chair, his head resting on the back.

Guess it's just me and the beast. Shonice the Beast... has somewhat of a nice ring to it.

"Not sure if you're aware of this," I begin, "but you look a teensy bit different than the last time I saw you."

"Oh, really?" She glances down at herself, confusion clouding her face. "Huh... hadn't noticed."

I roll my eyes, the single lift of her brow in my direction the only sign she's joking.

"Seriously," I push, "what happened?"

"I don't follow," she tells me. "What's different?"

I'm not sure if she's joking now or not, so I use a hand to wave up and down, indicating her appearance. "Would you like my honest answer?"

"No," she says blankly. "Please lie to me."

"Well," I say, noting her sarcasm, "you sorta look like a turd that someone tried to flush, but even the toilet didn't want you so it spit you back out. Or, no, maybe you look more like that chunk of hair and mucus that my childhood cat barfed up once. So nasty. It had a smell to it that I'll never erase from my nostrils."

Shonice just stares at me.

"Okay, fine," I let out an exaggerated sigh. "That was all a lie. Honestly, you sort of look like you've been sleeping for twenty years inside of a dryer set on 'fluff'."

"Are you making fun of my hair?" she challenges, eyes narrowed, daring me to confess.

"Yes," I nod. "Of course. Have you looked in a mirror today? Your hair is practically its own continent... so huge. Do any...?" I lower my voice and lean forward. "Do any people live in there? Maybe some critters?"

She reaches her hand up to feel at the wild mess atop her head—a mess that, quite frankly, looks kind of incredible—and then pouts her lips in thought. "I don't know," she finally answers, worry in her voice. "I hadn't even considered what kind of weirdoes might want to take up residence inside."

"Yeah, you should be more careful."

"Thanks," she says, a hand to her chest in bogus gratitude. "I'll make sure to secure my hair wrap better at night."

"Glad to hear it," I tell her. "Maybe consider washing it tonight to clear out any unwanted guests."

She nods slowly. "I suppose it is about time for my monthly."

Uh... weird change of topic. My mouth must be ajar because Shonice suddenly bursts out laughing, her hand flying to her mouth to mute the sound.

"Wash," she clarifies. "Monthly wash."

My jaw drops even further. "You only wash your hair once a month?"

"Eh." She shrugs. "Usually twice a month, but sometimes... depending on the level of frizz."

"That's..." I touch my own hair; smooth, just shy of wavy, and in great need of attention even though I just washed it last night. "Amazing. I'd love to get away with only washing once a month. But, if I did that my hair would literally be plastered to my scalp. I'd look like a wax mannequin. I'd probably have to use a hairdryer to melt it free from my head."

She smirks into her fist and then shakes her head. "You're really disgusting, you know that?"

"Yes." I nod. "I'm very aware of that fact. Thank you."

She drops her head, smiling, as she takes another bite of pasta. I wonder if she knows I can still see her face even if she can't see me. I'm getting the sense that she's sort of enjoying this interaction even though she really wants to hate me.

"So," I begin, not even attempting subtleness. "Where's your boyfriend?"

She pauses, noodles dangling from her lips, and quirks a brow. I watch her eyes scan the lunchroom before slurping the rest of the bite into her mouth and offering me a bored shrug.

"Dunno," she finally chirps, swigging her Coke and almost shooting the beverage from her nose when she starts to choke.

"Yikes," I mutter, "You okay there, Shon?"

She's coughing as she glares at me. "Shon? Don't you dare."

I hum with a single lift of a shoulder, unaffected by her outburst, "I kinda like it."

"I don't know you well enough for you to stick a nickname on me. Besides," she adds, "Seth already claimed the name ages ago."

I just shrug again, taking a drink of water just as a massive form blocks my view of the girl sitting beside me. I have to jolt back in order to understand what my eyes are seeing, and I manage to figure it out just as his lips descend on hers.

If I were the type to enjoy watching people make out, I would have thoroughly enjoyed this. It was simple but warm and carried a level of intimacy that only two people with a mutual respect for each other and deep friendship could possibly have. But as much as I'd love to turn away, I just can't find the willpower.

My heart it triple-timing it, nearly exploding from my chest as I come face-to-face with Shon's boyfriend. He is beautiful, dark, and must only frequent the cafeteria between workout sessions because he is jacked! But, most importantly, the man now rounding the table to take a seat across from Shonice is not Seth.

"Uh..." My eyes are darting back and forth between the couple. "How many boyfriends do you have?"

"What?" She's giving me the most epic 'are you stupid' face I've ever seen directed at me (and I've seen many). I'd be imitated if that was an emotion I knew how to feel. "This is Byron, my one and only."

"I thought Seth..." As the question leaks past my lips, I find my certainty begin to slip. "So you're not dating Seth?"

Before I can even verbalize the full question, Shonice is practically hyperventilating in hysterics. Her laughter is loud. Like, really loud. And reverberating around the entire cafeteria like a possessed chicken bawk-bawking into a megaphone. What a strange sound emanating from such a beautiful creature.

"Don't worry, Milk Dud," she assures me. "That boy is all yours."

I'm too baffled by this news to even argue the unfairness of her nickname for me. At least mine made sense.

"So what was with all the death glares before," I ask, openly puzzled as I scratch at my head. "And you never once corrected my assumptions that you two were together."

"Funny, right?"

Funny for her, I suppose. But the fact that Seth never once cared to clarify their relationship has me somewhat peeved, and a lot offended. Knowing he didn't care if I believed he was dating someone or not says a lot. It tells me that maybe he actually wanted me to think he was off-limits.

Oh, poor boy, you have no idea what you've done.

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Thoughts on the story so far?