“Yo, Masters.”

The blond head turned to look at me, eyes perking up in recognition, a smile on his lips. He had the cutest dimple when he smiled. I sucked in a breath and glared at him.

“What the heck is this?” I held up the now wadded up piece of paper in my hand.

He quirked an eyebrow at me. I hate it when he does that. “Other than being a crumpled piece of paper?” Oh hardy, har, har, Masters.

“Jeremy, I told you to stop this nonsense.” I hissed at him through gritted teeth hoping he’d realize I was serious. I only said his first name aloud now when I was expressly pissed at him.

Jeremy didn’t answer. Instead, he walked the remaining space between us until we were just a few inches apart. He always does this when we talk and it annoys me to no end. He gets insufferably close for it to be considered comfortable. Plus now I have to look up at him and once again be reminded of how impossibly tall he is.

He inclined his head towards me – which meant he was looking downward. And now I get to realize how impossibly short I am. “And didn’t I tell you I wouldn’t unless you comply with one of my conditions?”

I gritted my teeth but didn’t look up. “No effin’ way, Masters.” I addressed the smiley face on his shirt front. “I meant what I said before and nothing’s gonna make me say otherwise.”

“And that, my dear, justifies this.” Jeremy snatched up the paper in my hand and walked a few paces back when I tried to wrestle it from him. “Why Emily a.k.a. “Emmie” Carter is Cute Reason #8,” Jeremy turned to stare at me when I had stopped to hide the blush creeping up my face. School had ended 10 minutes ago but there were still some people milling about the corridor. Most of them – the girls usually – noticed Jeremy and said hi. No one did that with me, on the other hand, since my temper was legendary and everyone knew never to talk to me when I was pissed. They demonstrated such knowledge wisely.

Everyone except him of course.

I felt an arm snake around my shoulders and I tried to get away from him but he only tightened his grip on my shoulder. “You, Emmie Carter, are impossibly stubborn. Once you get an idea through that thick head of yours it sticks like crazy glue and I think that’s what makes you cute.” Jeremy was so close I could feel his breath near my cheek. I resisted the sudden urge to turn around. I’m not sure what I’d do next if I did - kiss him or strangle him. Instead, I turned my head away from him, aware of the blush on my face.

“Okay, so I’m stubborn. Big deal, Masters. Most people are.” I was happy to note the nonchalant tone of my voice.

Jeremy turned me around to face him. His lips were slowly forming into a smile and I wished then that I knew how to quirk my eyebrow at him sarcastically.

“Well, it’s not so much the attitude, it’s more on the look you get on your face, Em.”

“Look?” My eyebrows formed a V – about the only thing they can do – and I puckered my lips like I had just tasted something bitter.

His slow smile turned into a grin – his dimple, I noted, deepening – and he laughed to himself. “That look, Em. It’s not just when you’re determined to do something, it’s also when you’re concentrating on something and when you’re annoyed.” What is he talking about? “You pucker your lips just like that and your eyebrows furrow into this angry V.” He shook his head in amusement.

I bit my lower lip self-consciously. Of all the people to notice that I have a look and actually think it’s cute it just had to be him. “You think I look cute when I do that?”

He patted my head like I was his pet. The gesture made me realize why he was grinning. “No, not really. In truth, you look more like you’re constipated when you do that.”

Why do I hate Jeremy Masters? Reason #8 – because he’s a jerk who goes around telling innocent, unsuspecting girls that they actually look constipated.

I glared at him, making sure my lips didn’t pucker up like he said it does and said the most scathing, acerbic and hurtful reply that I had managed to wrench straight out from my heart.

“Jeremy, you suck.”

--?--

I need to explain the situation between me and Jeremy Masters. Let me begin by saying that thanks to my wonderful OCD, I am organized to the bone. I have this weird urge to make a list on and about practically anything. It is to my misfortune that ‘practically anything’ would also include the 99 guys who’ve stood me up. Yes, it’s true; I am a pathetic little weenie. You see, in all the years since I started dating, I have been stood up 99 times. That was two years ago when I was still 15.

And during those two brutal years I’ve also come to realize that I was masochistic as well. Proof of my statement is a catalogue on what went on during every single date - from what I wore to the vital statistics and Hottie Rating of my own date. And because I’m a very thorough person, I’ve also recorded how long I waited before I realized I got stood up.

Sucks. I know.

So how does Jeremy Masters fit into my dismal love life?

Well, I got drunk.

--?--

“Emmie, are you sure you have someone to take you home?” His green eyes twinkled in concern.

My eyes, on the other hand, felt heavy and I blinked back the drowsiness I felt and stared at the fuzzy image of the boy in front of me.

“’Course I have some, um, someone to, you know, take me hum... Home.” I concentrated on saying the word right. “My date’s taking me.” I smiled at the mention of him. “That’s why I’m here, you know.” I said, gesturing to the kitchen of some frat house. People weren’t supposed to be in here and I had protested when Jeremy dragged me off the dance floor. But now, without the pounding music and bodies constantly grinding up against me, I could at least breathe. In the back of my head, I wondered why I was slurring. My tongue feels weird. Maybe I was thirsty that’s why I was flubbing everything I said.

I made a grab for my beer but Jeremy took it away when he saw me reach for it.

“Emily,” He said my name slowly so that I looked back up at him instead of at my drink in his hand. He leaned in closer to make sure I didn’t look elsewhere again. “Where is your date now?”

I never noticed before but Jeremy actually has bits of gold in his eyes. They look really pretty. I leaned in closer to him when my vision blurred again. I frowned when I realized he was still waiting for me to answer.

“I don’t… really know.” His left eyebrow rose at what I said. How’d he do that? “He, um, hasn’t arrived yet. I’m still waiting for him…”

“Exactly what time did you get here, Emily?” He frowned at what I said, a dimple showing on his cheek. Cute.

“Hmm? Oh, seven o’ clock, I guess…”

Jeremy swore and looked briefly at the clock on the wall before grabbing me up. “Let’s go.” He said, grabbing my coat and leading me towards the back door.

“Wha - ?” I managed to say as I let him drag me across the yard towards his car. I looked back at the house where inside the party was still going on full swing. “Where are you taking me? My date, I can’t leave. What if he comes and he sees I’m not there? I’m supposed to wait…”

“You’ve been waiting there for 3 ½ hours, Em. He’s not coming.” Jeremy herded me into his car, opening the passenger side door for me.

“How do you know?” I pouted, folding my arms and unfolding them when Jeremy grabbed the seat belt to buckle me up.

“Three and a half hours, Em.” He paused, looking at me, exasperation written all over his face. “You do not want to make it four.”

“Hmph.”

The car ride home was a silent one. I let my annoyance seep into the atmosphere, letting it mingle with the frustrated vibes coming off from Jeremy. What is his problem? I did not wait that long for my date. He is totally lying. I snuck a peek at the clock on the dashboard. 10:58. Huh? If that’s the time then I had waited three hours... Then that means... “I got stood up.”

Jeremy glanced my way, his eyebrows raised. The look on his face said what he didn’t say. You just realize this now? Normally, I would smack that stupid face of his but right now I was too depressed. If I was right, and even with my drunken state I’m pretty sure of it, then this is the 99th time I got stood up.

I sobbed, smacking the dashboard hard. “NO!”

“Hey!” Jeremy, alarmed, patted my back in an effort to console me. “Come on, Emmie. It’s not that bad.”

“Yes, it is!” I wailed at him, hiding my face in my hands.

“Aww… Don’t cry, Em. Come on, it’s not your fault.” I felt his hand tuck my hair back when it covered my face. “It’s not your fault, Emily.”

Through the drunken haze of my mind a voice rang out, reprimanding me for my behavior. This is embarrassing. Emily, get a hold of yourself. Do this later. Not now with a boy present! I wiped the tears with the back of my hand, making sure I didn’t smear the makeup I wore. Thank God, I was smart enough to wear water-proof mascara.

“No, Jeremy.” I breathed in to compose myself before staring at his profile. “It is your fault when you get stood up for the 99th time.” When Jeremy only furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, I smiled. “It’s probably because I’m ugly or something.”

He only shook his head at what I said. “That’s ridiculous, Em. You know that’s not true.”

“And yet I still got stood up.” I grimaced.

“Have you considered that it may not have been meant to be?”

What a romantic thing to say. Too bad I don’t believe in romance anymore. Not after tonight, I don’t. “Maybe…” I shrugged, hoping he’ll let it go.

“Will you stop putting yourself down already? You’re cute; you’re pretty and nice and people like you. I like you. What the heck do I have to say that would make me convince you?” Jeremy looked close to pulling his hair out from exasperation - which would be a shame because I really like his hair. It looks silky and I bet if I touched it, ran my fingers through it, it would be really soft.

I shook my head. Idiot, what are you thinking? “Maybe if you make a list. I’ll probably believe you then.” I chuckled softly to myself. Stupid OCD.

“Yeah?” He glanced at me, noticing the fact that I laughed even for just a bit. “Maybe I will. Do you have a title?”

“Yeah. The Top 10 Reasons Why Emily a.k.a. “Emmie” Carter is Cute.” I said when he stopped the car in front of my house.

Jeremy turned, smiling at me, the light from the lamp post illuminating his face. Wow.

“Wow what?” Jeremy whispered and I realized I’d said it out loud.

I smiled, feeling confident and absolutely shy at the same time. “Wow this.”

And that’s when I kissed him full on the lips.

--?--

I realized I wasn’t alone in my reminiscing when my raft suddenly stopped moving. Strange.

I opened my eyes and noticed the sky was fast turning gray. It looked like it was going to rain soon. Frowning, I tried to sit up, putting my hands on both sides of the raft to make sure I didn’t fall off.

“What the-?!” I grabbed my hand back from the left side of the raft when I felt something grab it. I know if I watch all those stupid horror movies about monsters or whatever in the water I would realize that leaning over one side of the boat to see if there was anything down there is a bad idea. But I was in the pool in our backyard, what the heck could be underwater?

Staring into the clear, blue water of our pool, I frowned. Nothing. I looked around the yard and noticed that my raft was at the center of the pool. Really strange. Why wasn’t the raft moving?

Splash. Splash.

Please God, don’t let it be some scary aquatic sea/pool creature hungry for blood. Please oh, please, oh please.

Turning around, I braced myself to jump off the raft and out of the pool if it was something gruesome - a swamp creature, Shark boy or Aquamarine. What I saw instead made me freeze.

“Nice day for a swim, don’t you think?”

“Masters,” I mentally hit myself for being so inept. Who else would have the nerve to disturb my pool time? Even my family knew pool time was sacred for me. “What do you think you’re doing in my pool?” I hissed at the boy who was holding my raft in place.

“Nothing much. I saw you from my bedroom window and figured you’d want some company.” He smiled, running his fingers through his slicked back hair. It is to my misfortune that this stupid boy is my next-door neighbor.

“Who let you in?” Someone in my family was going to die soon.

“Oh, nobody. Just climbed the wall. Thought it’d be faster.” He shrugged, like climbing a 6 foot wall was no big deal. Show off.

“I don’t need company, Masters. If I did I’d invite someone over - but never you.” I pointed at him. Jeremy lifted himself on to the raft, dripping wet and I frowned. Was he even listening? And more importantly, how the hell did he get so sexy? Jeremy only had swimming trunks on, leaving his torso bare for my eyes to feast on.

Whoa…

I snapped back to reality when I noticed the sexy torso, er, Jeremy was leaning in closer. Looking up, I noticed the smirk on his face. Damn, he saw me staring.

“Emmie,” He said slowly, waiting to make sure that my eyes were riveted on his face. “If you didn’t want me over, then,” He grinned and deliberately stopped to stare at me or more importantly at what I was wearing. “You shouldn’t have worn a bikini.”

Crap. I forgot I was wearing one.

I resisted the urge to cover myself with my hands. He’d only laugh at me for being self-conscious. Instead, I held my head up as haughtily as I could. Confident, damn it, be confident. Hibernate underneath a rock, later. “I don’t wear my bikinis for you. So stop being such a pervert, Pervert.” Sucking in a breath of indignation, I tried to subtly move away from him. He noticed and his smile grew smug. Damn.

“Yes, but all the same, Em. Wearing that bikini was bait and you got me hook, line and sinker.” He winked.

This really has to stop. He’s getting cheesier by the minute.

“Will you go away already? I don’t wanna get wet.”

“Nuh-uh. Not until you give me what I asked for.”

I growled in frustration, knowing the two things he was talking about. “Keep dreaming, you moron.”

“Ah, I would and I do but I got tired of that. So why don’t we make it real, Em? Which is it? A kiss or a date?” He suddenly grinned when I faked a thoughtful expression. “Either way, you’ll be my girlfriend afterward.”

This is one of those times when Jeremy is just so self-confident and pigheaded it’s absolutely annoying. And all I want to do is just kiss him senseless until we’re both weak in the knees.

I leaned in closer to him, until our faces were a few inches apart. Pervert that the boy is, he stared at my lips before gluing his gaze with mine. He smirked; thinking of what would come next. Oh, you naïve, and totally insane boy.

“Masters, you need,” I stared down at his lips, mimicking him earlier before continuing. “A reality check.”

I jumped into the pool and out of the yard faster than you could say “Unnecessary Flirt.” I hope I left Masters hanging.

--?--

I came down into the kitchen half an hour later when I was sure Jeremy wasn’t still hanging out in the yard anymore. Grabbing an apple from the counter, I noticed a note magnetized on the fridge. When I read it, I blushed and took it down, hoping no one else has read it before me.

Inside the confines of my room, I smoothed it out and read it again and again until I practically memorized it.

Why Emily a.k.a. “Emmie” Carter is Cute Reason #9:

She says one thing and does the opposite.

Plus: She looks hott in a bikini.

Em, You say you’d rather get dissected alive than go out with me. Thanks, you flatter me to death. Deliver the killing blow by joining me for our date tomorrow. (You know you want to.) Be ready by 8 sharp.

P.S.

If you’re not dressed by then I’ll have to do it myself. It would be my pleasure. (You know I want to.)

Trying to stop writing down perverted things,

J.M.

What the hell?

--?--