Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

A/N: You know what I’ve noticed? I have a horrible habit of starting so many more stories than I actually finish. I did the same thing when I wrote fanfiction. Whether or not I update depends on how well a story keeps my interest. Also, I won’t deny that the more feedback a story receives, the more likely I am to continue it. What can I say? Everyone likes feedback. Anyway, for those of you who are wondering/keeping track, I will be updating Alice and Angel Attraction sometime in the near future. For now, enjoy my latest mental creation.

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Tangled

Prologue: Best friend or mortal enemy?

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“O’, the tangled webs we weave

When first we practice to deceive…”

-Sir Walter Scott

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Have you ever imagined killing someone? I don’t just mean the mild urge to choke someone when they annoy you, but more like a full-out, gore-filled fantasy. I’m talking about visualizing a knife plunging into someone’s chest and blood spewing forth like a geyser all while they howl in undiluted pain and terror. No? Well, neither had I. That is, not until my best friend decided to play matchmaker and turned my life into a living hell.

It all started on a day as dull as any other. We were hiding from our manager in the back room at Lawry’s, the seafood restaurant we worked for, and I was only half paying attention to whatever she was rambling about as I gnawed on a particularly tough hangnail that had been bothering me for two days, when I heard her say six words that no anti-social, asexual girl ever wants to hear.

“I think you need a boyfriend.”

I blinked, looking up at her. “Pardon?”

“I think you need a boyfriend,” she repeated with a toss of her glossy blond hair. “You’re always moping around in the dorms or hanging out at the library with that menagerie of geeks from your chemistry class. You need to get out there, start having some fun. It is my honor-bound duty as your best friend to find you a man.”

“I don’t need a man,” I said dismissively, going back to work on the hangnail. “I need a boyfriend like I need a fork in the eye.”

“Of course you do,” Jennifer said with a sage nod, completely ignoring the latter portion of my statement. “Every girl needs a man. You need someone to wine and dine you. And perhaps someone who can inspire you to wear some color. You’ve been stuck in this perpetual black and blue phase since our sophomore year of high school.”

“I like black,” I said with a glare. “The frou-frou pinks and baby blues you wear would never suit me.”

“Have you ever actually worn pink?”

“No, and I never actually will.”

Jennifer narrowed her blue eyes at me and assumed what I liked to refer to her as her Determined Puppy Look. “Do you realize that you’ve never actually had a real boyfriend? Dating Trevor for a week in eighth grade does not count.”

“It was that brief experience with Trevor that put me off boys for life,” I murmured, finally abandoning the hangnail. “The way he shoved his slimy, Cheeto-flavored tongue down my throat…” I shuddered theatrically at the memory. “I tossed my peanut butter and jelly sandwich right there on the spot.”

Jennifer rolled her eyes. “Like I said, you can’t swear off men in general based on one lousy experience when you were like twelve.”

“Who says I can’t?” I arched a brow at her as I slid off a box of canned cherries and straightened my loose-fitting black pants.

“Common sense!” Jennifer nearly screamed, and stomped her four-inch heeled stiletto on the ground like petulant five-year-old. “God, you’re so frustrating. Can’t you see I’m trying to do you a favor? You need some romance in your life. Maybe finally getting laid will dislodge that massive chip on your shoulder.”

“Look, just because I’m not on some different guy’s jock every other week does not mean that I have a chip on my shoulder. Maybe I take pride in not being a skank.”

Most people would have been insulted by my words, but Jennifer just smiled, her cherry-colored lips quirking upwards and her eyes glinting deviously. “Maybe I like being on a different guy every other week. You should try it some time.”

“No, thanks.”

“I can’t help the fact that men want me, and why settle for one when you can have them all?”

Sighing, I rubbed my right temple and tried to stem off the headache I felt building there. “Is there a point to this conversation? Because, if not, we should go back up front before Ricardo comes looking for us.”

“Ricardo can blow me,” Jennifer said with another toss of her hair. “Figuratively, of course, because it would just be too disgusting if he did it for real.”

I sighed again and stopped rubbing my temple. Suddenly my head hurt so much I could barely think, let alone pay attention to my man-crazy best friend.

“I’m not so easily deterred.” Jennifer moved to stand in front of me, legs braced apart as if ready for battle. “I’m going to find you a boyfriend and you’re going to like it.”

“Whatever.” Brushing passed her, I pushed the swinging door open and started to weave my way through the kitchen equipment toward the front of the restaurant. “I need some aspirin. My head is killing me.”

I heard her heels clicking on the tiles behind me as she followed—Lord only knows how she could stand to work for eight hours in foot-destroying shoes, but more power to her—and was so distracted in my pondering of this that I slammed right into Ricardo’s generous belly as I rounded the corner.

“There you are!” He looked furious, his unibrow drawn low over his beady black eyes. “Aidan, you have two tables waiting for food! What are you doing back here?! You’re not scheduled for a break until seven!”

“Ricardo,” Jennifer said in her most soothing voice, sidling up to him and brushing long-nailed fingers on his hairy forearm. “We were just back here getting some aspirin. Poor Aidan has a headache.”

“Oh. Well—but—“

“Did you get a tan while you were on vacation?” Jennifer interrupted, batting her eyelashes in a way that I was sure would make me look absolutely ridiculous. But, for whatever reason, when she did it, whatever unsuspecting guy she was looking at practically melted into a puddle of man-goo. “You look good. Red is definitely your color. You should wear it more often.”

Personally, I thought he looked like an overstuffed lobster, but I held my tongue as our manager blushed and stammered like a fifteen-year-old school boy.

“Well, we should probably get back out front,” Jennifer said, reaching out to straighten Ricardo’s black tie. “We have customers waiting.”

“Yes—yes, of course.” Ricardo laughed slightly. “You go do that.”

Jennifer gave him her most brilliant smile and grabbed my arm, tugging me around his considerable girth. “Later, Ricardo!”

“That’s sick,” I said as soon as we were out of hearing distance. “How can you flirt with him?”

My best friend just shrugged, her blond hair gleaming like burnished gold in the low lighting of the restaurant. “I’ll flirt with anyone as long as it gets me what I want.”

Closing my eyes, I shook my head in exasperation. “Well, do me a favor then and go flirt with my customers while I go find some aspirin.”

“Sure thing.” With a smirk and a wink, she sashayed off to distract my customers and I made my way into the employee lounge to grab some aspirin from my purse.

It was empty except for Kobe, who was reading a magazine while he listened to his iPod. With elegant features, spiky golden hair, and eyes the color of steel, he was almost too pretty for words. There were bets going around the restaurant about whether or not he was gay, but the pot just continued to grow as time passed because no one ever saw him hanging out with anyone else, either male or female. He walked around with a permanent scowl and barely spoke more than two words put together to anyone except for the customers. He was antisocial to the thirteenth power, and at times downright rude. All of the icy glares and sullen pouts should have detracted from his good looks, but, incomprehensibly, only served to enhance them. The other waitresses fawned over him because he seemed “mysterious,” but I just thought he was a total iceberg. I mean, talk about an asshole of the first water. He didn’t even bother to look up or acknowledge my presence as I went to my locker and rummaged through my purse.

After I’d swallowed the pills with some water from the fountain and rubbed my aching right temple, I went to the door and glanced back at Kobe over my shoulder.

“A pleasure, as always, Kobe,” I said loudly and was rewarded with a look like silver ice.

Snickering, I squared my shoulders and went back into the dining area like a condemned man walking to the gallows. It took a full forty minutes for my headache to go away, and by the time it finally faded, I had forgotten all about Jennifer’s vow to find me a boyfriend. Maybe it was just wishful thinking on my part, but I should have known better than to think she would let something like that go. So, when she sprang her first surprise on my three days later, I never saw it coming.

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Please review! I was so sick and blocked during November that I totally bombed at NaNoWriMo and I’ve been pretty bummed about it. This is the first thing I’ve written since, and it’d be nice to know someone’s actually reading.

Thanks!

Harper