Author’s Note: First thing posted on either fanfiction or fictionpress in such a long time… I’m so so sorry guys! But I haven’t exactly had much inspiration… I’ve been very down in the dumps lately. My best friend thinks I’m bipolar, and we have MCAS prep tomorrow. Bleh. And also, I’m NOT bipolar.

This was inspired by my life. This actually happened to me. And I really do hate him. I just wish he would… ugh. Go die. That’s all I have to say to you Zack (or, also known as Noah). GO. FUCKING. DIE.

So there I was… minding my own business, talking with my friend Angie. She never really liked being called Angelica. School didn’t start for another 20 minutes, but everybody was already here anyways. The buses were always early.

We were talking, and she suddenly blurted out, “We need to find you a man.” I chuckle lightly. She quirks her head to the side and asks why I laughed.

“Because I’m fine with being single!” I giggle out through my laughing fit. I just find it all too funny. We were talking about how her hair looks better straightened, and then she changes the subject to my lovelife. How random is that?

Angie rolls her eyes and looks over my shoulder. “Noah!” she screams out and runs past me, giving a hug to… to a GOD. He is so gorgeous, I nearly fall over. Angie drags him over and they start animatedly talking. I sigh quietly and turn away, heading over to my other friends. Call me a socialite, go ahead.

Next morning, I ask her who the hell Noah is. She laughs like I did the day before.

“Noah’s my other gay best friend!” she says excitedly. My eyes widen. “Want me to introduce you two?” she asks seductively, winking and hip-checking me. I stare blankly at her and she laughs some more. “I wanna BANG, BANG, boogie all night!” she says loudly. Apparently it’s a song written by her. She uses it in all kind of funny situations… but I didn’t find this funny at all.

Another gay guy?

Could I actually like him?

I sighed quietly.

That afternoon, Angie IMs me his screenname, and I reluctantly type him a message. ‘Hey, what’s up?’

‘Who the fuck is this?’ he replies. I grumble quietly, letting the swear slide.

‘Angie’s friend. You know, the kid wearing the black sweatshirt. Junior. Tall. Blond.’ I type back, hoping for a more civilized reply.

‘Ohhhh. Hey.’ He says. I grumble again. Sometimes I feel lonely, what with being the only intellectual in the tri-state area. ‘So what’s ur name?’

‘Jimmy,’ I reply happily, a small jolt of elation running through my veins that he asked me a question. Might I put emphasis on the fact that he was gorgeous.

The next hour went by in a very similar fashion, and eventually I let out a remark that could be considered absolutely shameless flirting… He didn’t reply the rest of that night.

So I let it go, thinking that I can IM him tomorrow. In the meantime, I prepare to go to the mall. While there, with my best friend Karen of course, I purchase some shirts from some designer stores. You know, Urban Behavior, Abercrombie & Fitch, etc. I had grown out of all my others.

So I wear one to school the next day. Noah flashes me a heartbreaking smile and begins to talk to Angie. I exhale slowly, not realizing I had held my breath, and walk away to talk to my other friends. I can’t get him out of my head.

The day goes by, and I can’t stop thinking about him. I got a question wrong in MATH for Christ’s sake. I NEVER get anything wrong in that class.

I was whipped…

For the totally wrong guy.

The next day Angie immediately begins telling me about how Noah thinks I’m such a fucking poser. “He said that you were only wearing designer clothes to impress him, and that you’re such a fucking nerd that he would never date you,” she remarks offhandedly, sipping her hot chocolate quietly. I clench my jaw without making a sound.

I don’t dare to IM Noah again. Why would I? He thinks I’m a fucking poser! So I let it go. For the next week, whenever he is walking towards me with Angie glued to his hip, I avoid both of them. Angie is my best friend and all, but I can’t stand Noah. One morning, Angie talks about how Noah is wondering why I’m avoiding him. She quickly adds in that he doesn’t mind it, but he’s just suspicious. My jaw clenches again.

With a snide comment, I walk away, leaving Angie behind in my wake of rage, drowning in the shockwaves of hatred left in my presence. How dare he! He wants to know why I’m avoiding him, when he called me a poser! When he called me a nerd! WHEN HE SAID I WANTED TO IMPRESS HIM!? My fury boils over every waking moment, and whoever talks to me is sent away, whimpering, hurt.

The next day, I see Noah walk in the door. Angie begins to run towards him, but I throw my arm out to block her. My turn now.

“Hey Noah,” I remark with a smile, and he smiles back without opening his mouth. I can tell he’s trying not to say anything. “So I’ve been hearing some interesting things lately, not sure where they came from though,” I say, my face the epitome of innocence. He shrugs and flashes a heartbreaking smile. My already adamant resolve hardens further. “People are calling me a poser, saying I’m just wearing A&F and Urban Behavior to impress everybody.” I throw this comment into the ‘conversation’ in stride, and he doesn’t say anything. His face is suddenly cold.

“I don’t know why people would ever say that. Just because you wear nice clothes doesn’t mean you’re a poser,” he said, struggling with his words.

“NICE TRY, DUMBFUCK,” I yell at him angrily. Now, normally I wouldn’t be so paranoid about this. But I’ve been wearing designer clothes my entire life, and to have somebody tell me that just hurts. Upon that, it had been stewing in me for about a week, hence the outrage when he tries to take it back. And even further… I liked him. I really did. He was gorgeous, and he seemed so perfect whenever he talked to Angie.

He lets rage finally get the best of him, his face contorting into a scowl. Not so pretty anymore I suppose. “Listen, I know you like me. It’s blatantly obvious. But why the fucking hell would I date such a… such a dipshit like you? Man, you’re just fucking trying to impress me. You think I appreciate that? Wearing my brands? Trying to get my attention? Buddy, that’s just plain sad,” he says coldly, every dip of his tone stinging like a poisonous snake. I clench my teeth yet again, a bad habit of mine, and struggle to keep from belting him right there.

“So tell me,” I growl out through my teeth. “Does this impress you?” I grunt before storming off, middle finger stuck up straight and proud in his direction.

He smirks.

I never talk to the rat-bastard again.

Author’s Note: I admit, a bit graphic, but I did this in about half an hour, and I wanted to speed up the process. This entire thing actually took place over a few months, and all the while I was stewing on what he had said about me behind my back. So I finally let him now how fucking pissed I was. Only I didn’t flip him off. I think it’s a bit too graphic to tell you what I did to him instead. No school for a week, to say the least…

Stupid-ass.

I hate him. I really do. But I learned something from him as well.

Not everybody has a good side.

Your hate-filled author,

--Quinny