*Sorry if there are any mistakes, I don't have any time to proofread (today's my college going away party) and I wanted to go ahead and post this. Hope you like it :) Oh! And the picture on the side would be Lucas :)

"You are the best thing that's ever been mine!" I sing along to my radio as I climb out of my shower that Saturday morning, getting ready for my only full day of work all week. Saturday's are my absolute favorite because I'm at work from eight until five and then after that I usually head down to this corner restaurant and buy this pasta that's seriously to die for. From there I take my to-go box and then head on home where my parents never are. Saturday is my dad's bar night and my mom, as always, has to work late. 

Sure it may be a little lonely since I don't really talk to anyone all day, but at least I don't have to deal with teachers like Mr. Rochester and irritating girls like Destiny's best friend Marissa who, yesterday, forced me to vacate my spot in the cafeteria because she needed to have a spot for her boy of the week. It took every ounce of me not to scream at her and demand why the hell I should move, but the principal had been right there and there was no way in hell I was getting another week long detention spree.  

And besides, Lucas had been standing right behind Destiny the whole time, which made me feel just the slightest bit unnerved. So, like the spineless little jelly fish that I am, I grabbed my tray of food and moved to the table behind it. Lucas had shot me an apologetic look afterwards, but I had just rolled my eyes in return. He can't apologize for something that he was never willing to stop in the first place. 

Yesterday's episode has made me anxious about today just a bit because I know that Lucas is going to try and apologize for it and I really don't want to have to talk to him again. I just want to ignore that he even exists today. Saturday's are my day and I just can't have him ruin them for me. 

Knowing that I shouldn't get myself so riled up early in the morning, I grab my towel from the hook by the shower and then slip it around my body. After towel drying my hair just a bit, I run some mousse through it so that it'll curl naturally and then head on towards my closet. Since the weather said it'd be hot I slip on some denim bermuda shorts and a semi-decent blouse, knowing that I can't exactly go to work looking like I'm heading for the beach. 

It takes only an hour for my hair to dry and I use that time to eat breakfast and apply what little make up I actually do wear. When I realize that I have about ten minutes to get to work, I grab my bag from by bedroom and then head on out of the front door. I listen to my iPod as I walk which makes the time go by so much faster and so much more peacefully. I can't hear the sounds of ambulances or cop cars or horns honking.  

By the time I reach the book store I have to admit that I'm in a pretty decent mood. There's just something about being outside and feeling the sun on the back of your neck that makes you cheerful. It's surprising too, when I see Lucas emerge from the stack of books and I don't want to wring his neck.  

Hm. Strange. 

"Morning," he says with a friendly smile. 

"Hey," I say in response before grabbing my bag from off of my shoulder and then placing it behind the cash register.  

I then open the register and start to count the money like I do every Saturday morning, but am stopped when I hear Lucas say, "You don't have to do that, I already did." 

Feeling as if some bit of my territory has been stepped on, I flinch away from the register and then look up. Lucas has moved closer towards the front counter so I'm a bit shocked at how close he is to me. I can even smell his cologne from where I'm standing. It smells really good, spicy but so faint that it doesn't make me sneeze or my eyes water. Some of my good mood draining, I ask him, "What time did you get here? You are aware that the store doesn't even open for half an hour, right?" 

He nods, looking just a bit miffed that I'm not all happy that he did part of my job for me. He says, "Zara wanted me to fix the sink in the bathroom and it didn't take as long as I thought it would." 

"Our own Handy Manny, awesome," I say sarcastically, dropping my eyes away from his face. I hate how good he looks this morning, how his blonde hair seems to have grown just a bit since yesterday and how his blue eyes seem to brighter than normal. 

"Hey," he says, his voice tinged with irritation, "This is my job too now. I was just trying to help." 

"Well stop," I snap at him, pushing the cash drawer back into the register maybe just a tad bit more forcefully than necessary. "Your help isn't needed." 

"Then why did she hire me?" he asks and it occurs that this is the first time that he's ever been mad at me since the falling out. Good. Maybe this means he won't talk to me anymore.  

I roll my eyes and say, "She thinks it'll be 'healthy' for me, whatever the hell that means." 

Maybe I shouldn't have mentioned that part, he's smart enough that he'll eventually realize what I'm hinting towards, but I honestly can't control my words around him sometimes.  

He takes a step towards me and says softly, "Naomi, I..." 

I cut him off by finally meeting his eyes and saying, "It's fine. Whatever." I really don't want to hear what he has to say because I know how good the boy is with his words. He used to be able to calm me down by just saying a few things softly to me. I'm not going to let myself forgive him just because he knows how to talk his way out of things. 

He runs his fingers through his hair, a move that used to give me the tingles, and then says, "No it's not okay, I'm sick of you always being mad at me and..." 

Once again I cut him off and ask him incredulously, "Well how do you expect me to be, Lucas? After what you did? I'm not going to bow down and kiss your feet like everyone else at that freaking school." 

"I'm not stupid, okay?" he says, "But I'm trying to be nice." 

"After two years of acting like I don't exist," I remind him angrily. He's going to remember what he did if it kills me. He's not going to act like he never did that. If he thinks that merely being nice is going to make me forget how he treated me, then he's more insane than I originally thought. 

He goes silent for a moment and I know that he didn't expect me to bring that up. I've been avoiding that for a while, but it had to be said here. Maybe I didn't want to seem pathetic for still holding a grudge over it, but I really don't even care anymore. His silence is broken, however, when he meets my eyes and says, "I know and I'm sorry." 

Knowing that my will power is going to crumble because of his admittedly adorable sorry face, I avert my eyes from his and then go to leave the front counter. I mutter a, "Whatever," under my breath as I pass him and then head on towards the pile of unsorted books in the back room. 

This is starting to get far too emotional for my liking. 

OoOoO 

By around four-thirty the store starts to look darker than normal, almost gloomy, and when I peer back over my shoulder from where I'm ringing up some old lady who bought ten cookbooks, I see why. The sky has transformed from the bright blue it was just minutes ago and now it's cluttered with huge grey clouds. Of course it would look like rain half-an-hour before I get off and have to walk home.  

Resisting the urge to curse underneath my breath because of the customer, I turn back around and see that the old lady customer still hasn't gotten all of her money out. At the moment she's sifting through the coin part of her wallet, counting out loud to herself the exact change. Honestly, I don't know why she can't just fork over a one-dollar bill and let me give her change like the rest of America. This is ridiculous. There are actually two more customers behind her who are slowly starting to grow agitated at how long she's taking. 

When it feels like five minutes have passed and she doesn't even have half the change due counted up yet, I give her a sickly sweet smile and say, "I'll cover the change for you, no worries." 

"Oh thank you," she gushes, quickly pouring the coins back into the little slot of her wallet. "I don't know why people my age hate this generation so much...you're so sweet." 

Though I find it kind of funny that she's saying this while I'm mentally thinking about throwing those coins at her wrinkled old forehead, I just keep the fake smile plastered on my face and say, "Thank you ma'am. Have a nice day." I then hand her the two bags filled with books she bought and silently thank God when she makes her sorry old ass out of the store. 

"You know if you keep that expression on long enough, it'll get stuck like that," a low voice says in my ear, making me jump and make a small noise of surprise. Fighting off the chills that his husky voice gave me, I whip my head around and see that Lucas has somehow or another managed to sneak up on me while I was attending to that woman. 

Knowing that I can't exactly curse him out with all of the customers watching, I muster up the most pleasant voice possible in this situation and say to where only he can here, "Keep it up and I'm going to stick something down your throat, preferably sharp." 

He just gives me a grin in response, a grin that does nothing but irritate the life out of me, and then walks away from the front counter and disappears into the book shelves. Once I know that he's gone for good, I turn back to the customers and see that the next one is a group of two teenage girls and they're all drooling in Lucas' direction. Rolling my eyes I ask them loudly, "How can I help you?" and feel some kind of sick satisfaction when they all jump and blush in the realization that they've been caught gawking. 

The girl on the left, a skinny blonde girl who's wearing more eye make-up than I'd ever consider wearing, slides three books onto the counter and says, "Just these three." 

As I ring them up I look curiously at the covers of the book, wondering what the hell this kind of girl is reading in her spare time. How to turn into a hooker? How to make it big on Sixteen and Pregnant? When I see that it's this series that's been made into a TV show and has turned huge, I can't help but be somewhat surprised. I thought kids now were turning away from books and towards television. Feeling my annoyance with the mini-tramp slighten just a bit because she reads when she can just turn towards a TV, I look at the screen once I'm done and then tell her, "Thirty-five sixty two." 

"Oh my God," the little brunette says from next to her, "That's like two weeks allowance for me. Why are you wasting that kind of cash on books?" 

When I notice the blonde girls cheeks turn just the slighest bit pink, I feel some kind of protectiveness towards her and say to the brunette, "As opposed to spending it on super shiny watermelon lip gloss?" 

The blonde girl cracks a grin while the brunette scoffs and asks condescendingly, "Who are you anyways?" 

"My name's Naomi," I say, pointing to the nametag that's hanging from my blouse, "If you used that allowance of yours on books than maybe you'd be able to read it." 

When I see her face fall because she has no retort, I feel immense self-satisfaction in being able to help out my fellow book lover. Even if the blonde does wear mini tramp make up, at least she spends her time doing something meaningful. She hands me three folded up bills, all obviously having been shoved in a coin purse for a while, and once it's in the register I hand her the bag and say, "Here you go. Those books are really good, by the way. You'll like them." 

While the brunette just rolls her eyes at me, the blonde gives me a bright smile and says, "Thanks." Deep down I know that she's referring to me standing up for her, not just for ringing up her books. 

"Sure," I say kindly and then watch the two of them disappear out of the book shop, the brunette's nose turned up and her lips flapping animatedly as she probably rants about the bitch cashier. Oh well. You only have enemies if you stand up for something, so I guess I did something right today. 

When the next two groups of customers are gone, Lucas emerges from the book stacks and looks at me weirdly. It's not his usual everything-is-perfect-and-so-am-I grin or his apologetic face. From spending the time I used to with him, I realize that it's the same face he gave me when I won the spelling bee back in seventh grade. Lucas is proud of me.  

Feeling really weird about that realization, I just decide to act stupid about it and ask defensively, "Why are you looking at me like that?" 

His fingers buried deep in his jean pockets, he says slyly, "I saw you with those two girls." 

"And?" I really don't want to hear him say anything about how he's proud of me. I used to crave admiration from him back when we were friends because it was nice for me to do something great, not just him. He was always the one being given congratulations, he was the perfect one, and I was always the one giving them. It used to make me feel so good when he told me he was proud of me. 

I don't want to feel that right now because if I do, I might just cave in and forgive him. 

He sighs at how uneasy I'm being and then says, "You took up for that little girl back there." 

I shrug in the hopes that if I act like it was nothing, so will he. But I know Lucas and I know that a good deed never goes unthanked in his world. He's just annoyingly positive like that. I say, "Yeah well, her friend was being a bitch." 

He says, "Still though, you didn't have to say anything and you did." 

Groaning because I just knew he wouldn't let up, I meet his eyes and say, "Every girl needs someone to stick up for them now and again. I was just helping out." During that little episode with Destiny's friend in the cafeteria on Friday, I definitely could have used someone to stick up for me. It sucked not having anyone there and I didn't want anyone to have to go through with it, especially a girl who obviously has problems just being herself. 

He gives me a weird look when I say this and for once, I don't know what the hell it means. I choose to ignore it, though, knowing that it'll be better for my well-being. Instead I just grab my bag from where it's lying behind me and fish my phone out. Opening the screen I see that it's getting close to five o'clock and that I should start getting stuff ready to leave. Zara always emerges from her office in the back around five and she keeps the store running until it closes at eight. She made it that way because she knew I didn't have a car and she didn't want me walking home so late at night. 

Though she may have completely betrayed me by hiring Lucas, she's still the only person that looks out for me. I love her for it. 

It's as I'm slipping my phone back into my bag that I hear it. It's a loud rumble of thunder that seems to shake the entire building. Groaning to myself because I know exactly what's going to face me when I turn around, I think of how I'm possibly going to get home without getting completely drenched. Peering over my shoulder towards the window, I pray that maybe, just maybe, that rumble of thunder was just a really big truck passing through. 

But when I see that it's raining so hard that I can't even see the shoe store across the street, I know that I'm royally screwed. I can either stay here with Zara and forget about my pasta dinner or I can get pounded by the rain and possibly get struck by lightening. 

Just great. 

Lucas' voice breaks through my thoughts as he asks me, "You need a ride?" 

Quickly I turn back to him and shake my head. There's no way in hell I can be in a car with him for the five minutes it takes to get to my house. Hell, it only took two minutes for us to be down each other's throats this morning. There's no escape in a car. We'd kill each other. 

"No...thanks," I say, adding on the thanks part hesitantly because I really don't enjoy being cordial to the guy.  

He hitches an eyebrow up at me before nodding his head back towards the window, "You sure? It's a ten minute walk from here and it's pretty awful out there." 

I throw another desparate glance outside, praying that the rain has miraculously let up. It hasn't. The little tree in front of the store is pretty bunch bent completely over. There's no way I can walk it that. Sighing in defeat, I turn back around and see that Lucas has a silly grin on his face because he knows that there's no way I can refuse a ride home in his Jeep.  

"Fine." 

Ten minutes later the two of us have gathered all of our things and have told Zara that the two of us were leaving. When Lucas told her that he was giving me a ride she looked at me with awe, but I just ignored her, pretending that it wasn't a big deal even though the mere thought of climbing in his Jeep again sends nervous thrills throughout my body. 

Once the two of us reach the front door and I see Lucas' Jeep parked on the side of the road, Lucas asks me, "You ready to get soaked?" 

He knows me, though, and knows that I absolutely love rain storms and playing in them if I have the choice. I could never walk all the way home in this kind of storm, but I am definitely willing to spend a couple of seconds in it. "Duh," I tell him with a smile, surprising the two of us. 

When I see how happy he looks that I've smiled at him, I quickly wipe if off of my face and then turn back to the road. Although he's being an amazing person by offering me a ride home, it still doesn't mean that I have to give in to being cordial. Just the slightest bit of disappointment in his voice, he says, "Then let's go." 

With that he pushes the front door open, but the wind yanks it out of his grasp and throws it against the outside wall. I gasp at how powerful the storm is, but Lucas doesn't give me time to dwell upon it as he grabs at my wrist and pulls me out into the cold rain. We dart the few yards to his Jeep, the icy rain pelting every inch of me, making me giggle just a little bit. This reminds me of all of the times that Lucas and I played in the rain together, us kicking muddy puddles at each other's legs and then tackling each other in the grass.  

But then Lucas' hand drops from my wrist, making the warmth that I'd been feeling only in that spot disappear and the memories playing inside of my head vanish. Suddenly I'm freezing cold and anxious to get inside of what I know will be a warm Jeep. The moment that I see the front lights flash because the doors have been unlocked, I tug at the blue door handle and then jump into the passenger seat. Once I'm in and properly getting his leather seats wet, I jerk the door back closed and then lean my forehead against the dewy window.  

I hear Lucas jump into his seat and slam his door shut as well, his breathing coming out just a bit heavier than usual. We're both silent for a moment, trying to catch our breath and let the warmth of the Jeep take over us. But then Lucas starts chuckling next to me because of the insanity of the situation, of how we managed to get completely drenched in a matter of three seconds, and I can't help but join in. 

We laugh together for I don't know how long, but I do know that enough time has passed to make my stomach start aching. I can't stop laughing, though, because it just makes all the tension and the anger from today slowly start to fade away. The laughter lets me know that even though it's been two years and even though I've fallen to the complete bottom of the social ladder while he's kept his spot on top, we're still Lucas and Naomi and we can still laugh about anything with each other. 

A loud ringing breaks through the laughter, though, effectively making the two of us clamp our mouths shut. I watch as he manuevers his body so that he can slip his hand into his pocket and then extract his very shiny little phone. He looks over at me and mouths, "My mom," before tapping the answer button on the screen and then bringing it up to his ear. 

"Hey mom," he says, then lulls into silence for a few moments as he listens to her talking. "Um yeah, I guess I can..." he looks over at me and I raise my eyebrows in response, but he just gives me a warm smile and then turns back away. He says, "I, uh, I have Naomi with me,though, is that alright?" He chuckles after a second, "Yeah, mom, that Naomi."  

I roll my eyes, feeling just a bit insulted at he says this. Was there another Naomi? He obviously loves replacing me with other people so I can't say I'd be surprised. He looks back at me, taking the phone off of his ear and then covering the microphone with his hand. He asks me, "My mom needs me to drop her off at her doctor's appointment in ten minutes, her car just broke down. Is that okay with you?" 

Knowing that they live in the complete opposite direction of me and that it'd be impossible for her to be on time if he dropped me off, I just sigh and say, "Sure." 

His mom was always so good to me, always offering me cookies when I went over and always telling me yes if one of us asked if I could stay at their house. It's not her fault that her son's an ass hole who ditched me when I needed him most. I can't punish her for that. So I can't exactly be angry as he tells me sincerely, "Thanks," and then lifts the phone to his ear once more. He tells his mom, "We'll be there in ten, so go stand outside in a few minutes." After a few second he says, "Love you too," and then drops the phone into one of the cup holders between us. 

We start down the road just seconds after the phone call, me leaning my cheek against the back of my seat and staring outside and watching the rain hit everything in sideways sheets. I haven't seen a storm this bad in months and I can't help but the let the constant pitter patter of the rain drops on the roof lull me into that peaceful almost-sleep mode. 

I guess today's arguments wore me out more than I thought possible. 

"Hey Naomi?" Lucas' voice smoothly interrupts my dozing off. 

I turn to look over at him, resting my other cheek on the opposite side of the seat. "Yeah?" 

He turns to face me and shoots me a quick smile before turning back to watch the road. He says softly, "I really am sorry...you know, for everything." 

Not wanting to rehash anything because I've finally managed to forget about it all for the moment, I just say, "Let's not talk about it." We can talk about that when I actually have a place to escape. If we stayed here to talk about it and things got too intense, I wouldn't have anywhere to run. 

He sighs, "I just hate that you hate me so much, you know?" 

I don't hate you, I want to tell him, I could never hate you. 

But some things are better left unspoken.