Perky school girl Krystal adores her best friend Travis, and would kill for him to notice her the way she does him. In order to get his attention, she needs to shock him.

Bad boy Julian is having trouble with his gothic girlfriend Shay. When they break up, it's his one soul desire to win her affections back.

In order to win the hearts of their dreams, Krystal and Julian decide to 'fake-date' and make each other's dream partners jealous. It should all be brilliant; Travis hates Julian, so Krystal dating the bad boy should be the shock of his life. Shay wouldn't have expected Julian to find someone new so quickly; the sudden loss should reignite her feelings for him. But there's one huge problem. Krystal and Julian are like chalk and cheese. They couldn't be more different. And as their perfect plan starts to backfire, things can only go from bad to worse. Can Krystal open Travis' eyes? And will Julian ever be able to win his girlfriend back? Only time will tell…if they make it that far…


Life sucks.

It really does. I sat at the table in the cafeteria, tapping my pen against the open notebook on the table. A history textbook lay open before me, turned to the page I was taking notes from. My uneaten lunch had been pushed aside on its tray.

Homework. During lunch.

Life sucks.

Beside me, Travis was having a competition with one of his mates Cody. They were throwing skittles into the air and trying to catch them with their mouths. How immature. Sandy, my friend, was watching them with one eyebrow cocked.

"Krystal, close your books. This is seriously worth seeing," Sandy said presently. I glanced up, observed their cheerful scene and shook my head, burying my nose in the book again. Sandy rolled her eyes, scooting along the bench.

"Seriously, Krys, this is so funny. Cody's hit his eye three times already, and Travis just hit Danielle with a misjudged throw," she said, shoving her face in mine. She was deliberately trying to annoy me, and it was working.

"Sandy!" I snapped. She grinned, scrunching her little nose up. You just can't stay mad at her. Sandy's one of the most adorable people I've ever met. She's short (like me) with strawberry blonde hair, freckles, and hazel-brown eyes. Her love of bright colours and giggly laugh are so infectious.

I gave a huge sigh and slammed my book shut. There was no way I was going to get anything done now. Sandy had made sure of that. I looked over my shoulder. Danielle le Cleré had a horrified look fixed upon her faultless face. Her blue eyes were cold. Her plump lips were pulled down in a pout. Tossing her long, dead straight, chocolate brown hair over her shoulder, she turned back to her conversation.

I sighed. Danielle le Cleré. It was because of her that my oh-so-exciting (sarcasm) life sucked.

I turned my attention to the two boys, who had continued their competition as though they hadn't just personally traumatised the most popular and beautiful girl in our class. Travis, my best friend of forever, winked at me, picked up a red skittle and tossed it into the air, catching it in his mouth. Travis Winston. He was, admittedly, absolutely gorgeous. I'd never thought so, but that was because I was young and immature, and I'd spent my entire life with him. So to me, admitting that Travis Winston was gorgeous was like agreeing to make out with my brother. Worthy of vomit. But lately, this year especially, I'd begun to see Sandy's reasoning. She'd admired Travis for the entire four years I'd known her. Don't get the wrong idea; she went through boyfriends like a child with a bag of sweets, but she'd always confided in me how 'hot' she thought he was. I used to bag her so bad. But now, I reasoned, I was actually starting to see Travis in a new light.

He's got messy brown hair, longish, but not so long that it covers his eyes, or touches his shoulders. His eyes are his best feature. They're dark and blue and full of mystery and emotion. Well, I don't know how many people have seen the emotion. I certainly have. Travis and I keep nothing from each other. We're the bestest of bestest friends. I couldn't trust anyone more than I could trust him. Even my mother.

Due to his natural abilities with most sports, Travis is pretty toned. Another factor I'd blindly and blissfully been ignorant to. It was getting to the point where it was unavoidable. His muscles were tight and slightly bulging. It makes sense, I guess. He plays soccer half the week. The other half is spent on basketball. He's just naturally good at any sport he tries.

And, as if he wasn't lucky enough, his great grandfather was an Islander. You know the people with the beautifully brown, smooth skin. But his grandmother had white skin. So Travis' family was blended. As a result, he has skin the perfect tan all the beachy girls hope for. But his is natural. I'll admit, I've always been envious of his olive complexion.

As for me, well, we couldn't have been more different. I'm white as. My mother's Japanese. My father's American. So I'm half Japanese. We are a very westernised Japanese family. Mom married dad when she was out on holidays from Osaka. Her English had always been excellent. So she moved out to America. I was born. Happily ever after.

I have rounded, slightly slanting dark brown eyes, and long, straight, wiry black hair that can't have much done to it, as it's completely unmanageable. I'm very short and very skinny. That's the Asian in me. I'm pretty lucky; I can eat whatever I wanted, and it won't hit my hips. The downside; I'm flat as. Absolutely nothing in the chestal department. Travis always laughs about how 'petite' I am. Compare our hands; his looks like a dustbin lid pressed against mine. People generally joke about how fragile I look. Apparently, if someone hugs me, they're careful I don't snap. Ha-ha. Funny. Note the sarcasm.

Beside Travis, blond haired Cody had given up on the competition and was dropping skittles into his mouth.

Cody's pretty good looking. He has fair skin and light blue eyes. They are sort of greenish sometimes. He has a cheeky grin, too. His dad is a dentist, so Cody has perfect, straight white teeth. The grin of television commercials.

I'd always secretly thought Sandy had a sort of crush on Cody. She'd dated so many boys (they find her cuteness attractive), but she went a bit…conservative…around Cody. I sometimes wondered if she didn't want him to know how many people she'd dated. Still, I reasoned, it never seemed too important; otherwise she wouldn't have dated so many people!

The bell rang. The Death March flowed through my head. Woohoo! Maths! Standing up from the table, I swung my shoulder bag over my shoulder and was joined by Travis as I walked across the cafeteria.

"Geared up for maths, Krys?" he joked, draping one arm casually across my shoulder. I laughed lightly.

"Am I ever 'geared up' for maths, Travis?"

He grinned. It lit up his entire face. Wow, he really was good looking…

"What's up, Krys?" Travis asked, suddenly concerned. I broke out of my momentary stupor.

"Nothing! Why?" I replied, worried.

"You were staring at me. Do I have food on my face?" Travis asked. I laughed.

"No! But there's something weird and kinda ugly growing from your neck," I said, pretending to closely examine his neck. "Oh, wait! It's your head!"

He frowned, mock upset, and steered me along the corridor to our lockers.

"Thanks Krys. I feel so great about myself now," he said sarcastically, entering the combination to my lock. We've always exchanged combination numbers, in case we leave our stuff in each others lockers. He swung my door back and proceeded to inspect my locker.

"Neat, neat, neat…and, oh, what's this? I – I don't believe it! It's…it's neat!" he gasped, mock surprised. I rolled my eyes.

"Go to class, loser."


"Hey, Trav!" a male voice called. Travis turned around. Another of his mates, Gibbs (his name is actually Darren, but nobody calls him that. Good thing, too. Darren's not a very flattering name, in my opinion) was walking over. He leaned against my locker, shutting it.

"Thanks, Gibbs, but I needed to get my books out before you closed it," I said. I'd always gotten along with Travis' friends. I guess they'd sort of included me, like an older brother would his kid sister, if he had to baby sit her with his mates. Gibbs grinned roguishly. Travis pushed him out of the way so I could open my locker again, and they promptly started play-brawling. Boys. So immature.

I grabbed my books for maths and locked my locker.

"Ok, I'm going!" I cried over their shouts. People around us were starting to send them funny looks. A teacher was coming, too. Travis looked up from where Gibbs had him in a headlock.

"Oi, wait up, would ya?" he asked. Gibbs ruffled his hair.

"Aww…afraid you'll get lost, Travvy?" he teased. Travis bucked, and I turned away.

"Not waiting, Travis. See you later!" I called.

Then I left.


Maths really wasn't interesting. I was good enough at it, sure. I'd never failed anything, and averaged A-grades on every test. But I really disliked it. Where is the point in linear graphs? I could never comprehend it.

So, I sat at my usual desk, bag dumped on the floor, books open, with a pen dangling precariously from my fingers. I'm ahead of the class by about three exercises. I could afford to be lazy. Besides, mom pushed me hard enough at home that I'd probably get the entire chapter done tonight for homework. I probably didn't even need to come to class.

Sandy was sitting next to me, books also open. But she was actually working today. Sandy, if possible, hates maths even more than I do. That's because she finds it hard. Well, harder than I find it. I think she's only ever failed about two tests, but her average mark in maths is a B. And she really tries, poor kid. I often help her when we have free classes. We had a test coming up though, so today I couldn't socialise with her.

Across the room, Travis was making a paper aeroplane. That annoyed me. See, he was not good at maths. At all. And he didn't care. I'm pretty sure I could quote him declaring he was dropping it as soon as he could. I tried to help him, but he'd given up when I confused him. I used to feel sorry for him, when he really tried. I think it had been maybe a year and a half since he actually put in for a test, though. These days he just stuffs around in class.

I watched him carefully press the wings, and scrawl a note inside. Then, his tongue slightly poking out of his mouth (I wondered if anyone else had noticed that. He'd probably die of shame) he took careful aim and threw it several rows in front. I watched it glide in a perfect arc, landing on the table of none other than class beauty, Danielle le Cleré. That was when my interest piqued. What was Travis be doing, conversing with miss perfect? Eyes narrowed slightly (though I didn't realise until several seconds later that they were…) I watched her unfold the plane curiously. Her eyes quickly scanned the note and she glanced up at the teacher, who was writing on the board. Then she looked over her shoulder, straight at Travis. She smiled.

Whoa! Hold on a second! Go back a few reels, stop, and play that all over again. Did Danielle just smile at Travis?!

I must have been seeing things. Several seconds later, I knew I hadn't been. She smiled again, in response to his wide grin, and turned around in her seat again. Taking out a sparkling pen, she wrote something on the plane, folded it up again, and sent it back. Travis unfolded it, read whatever it was (damn, I wanted to know!) flashed her another grin, and shoved the plane in his bag.

Well, that was interesting.



She turned on her heel, eyes scanning the crowd of kids heading along the corridor. She spotted me and smiled, waiting. I caught up to her.

"Did you get much work done?" I asked.

"Enough," she shrugged. "I hate linear graphs with a passion."

"Me too, don't worry."

"Yeah, but at least you understand it," Sandy complained.

"True, but because I understand it, I can help you understand it," I replied.

"My angel," she sang, batting her eyelashes sweetly. I laughed.

"Hey – did you see Travis in maths?" I asked, casually changing the subject.

"Nope, why?"

"Danielle smiled at him," I said, unable to retain what was niggling at me. Sandy turned wide eyes to me.

"Did she?" she said, sounding impressed. "Well, Travis will be ecstatic."

"What do you mean?" I demanded. Sandy looked confused.

"Don't you know?" she asked. "You should know, being his best friend and all. I would have thought you'd be the first person he'd tell!"

"Sandy, what?" I snapped, growing impatient.

"Travis has a crush on Danielle," Sandy explained. It was like a bucket of ice had been tipped into my stomach. That couldn't be true…could it? The last thing I remembered, Travis had been laughing about how fake she was. Though, I reminded myself. That was a year ago…maybe…people change over a year…

But Travis didn't seriously like Danielle. He couldn't. It was impossible!

"Krys…you ok?" Sandy asked, interrupting my thoughts. I looked up.

"Course! That's just a bit unexpected. Are you sure, Sandy?" I asked, finding it a bit far fetched. She nodded.

"Travis has been going on about her to Cody and Ben for weeks. He's been driving everyone berserk," she replied earnestly. Somehow, I could tell she wasn't lying. But I still couldn't believe it. Why wouldn't Travis tell me? It simply couldn't have slipped his mind…a hundred times…The thought unsettled me.

"Hey Sandy, I'll talk to you later. I've gotta get my History books," I lied, hiding the spine of my history textbook from her. Being the cute, innocent, acceptingly ignorant girl she is, Sandy smiled.

"Ok – I'll save you a seat," she replied.



Travis wasn't at his locker, thankfully. I was hoping he'd emptied out his bag before history, so I could see if the paper aeroplane was there. I know, totally sneaky of me, but hey, it was easier than straight out asking him, which seemed an awkward thing to do. Besides, that note really had me intrigued. So, I clicked in the code and pulled his locker open. Travis had definitely been there recently; a couple of skittles (presumably from the bottom of his bag) were scattered amongst the collection of sheets and books inside. Quickly skimming through all his sheets, I came to the conclusion that the aeroplane wasn't there. My heart sank. I chewed my lip in frustration. Obviously, Travis didn't want me to know he had a crush on Danielle (if he did), so I wasn't about to put him on the spot and make it awkward for him by asking. That meant I'd have to come up with another plan.

"Hey, Krys – what're you doing?"

Oh, shoot! There was no mistaking that voice. I felt myself freeze up, like a robber caught red-handed stealing jewels from a bank. Play it cool, Krystal. He's seen you at his locker before…

I turned around, plastering a smile on my face. Travis appeared beside me. I'd obviously been mistaken. Those skittles must have been from before lunch. He hadn't cleared out his bag yet. He was probably there to do it now. My brain was working at a hundred miles an hour, quickly formulating an excuse.

"Hey, Trav. I was just looking for that grammar sheet Ms Gordon gave us in class this morning," I said casually. He grinned.

"It's in here," he explained, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder at his bag. Inside, I sighed with relief. I hadn't appeared suspicious…Phew!

"Do you need it?" he asked, blue eyes warm. Damn! I wasn't expecting him to ask me that!

"Ah…yeah…but I can get it from you later," I made up my reply on the spot. "I'll just get it after school. Is that ok?"

"Sure. Whatever. Hey, wait up, ok? I've just gotta grab my history books," Travis said. I obediently stepped out of the way so he could get to his locker. You have no idea how relieved I was that he didn't think it was strange me going through his locker…

I watched him unzip his bag and shove his maths books in his messy locker. Then, I saw it. The paper plane was scrunched under his pencil case. If I could just grab it…! Chewing my lip again (it's a nervous habit) I wondered how I could get that plane. Then, before I had time to even begin to formulate a plan, Travis had crammed his history books down on top of it, and zipped his bag up again. Swinging it over his shoulder, he slammed his locker shut, turning to me.

"Earth to Krystal – come in, Krystal, do you read me?" he joked. I laughed lightly, my mind still on that damn note. We walked down the corridor, me eying his bag as though it would leap off his back and bite me.

"Hey…ah…are you, like…with it today?" Travis asked slightly serious for once. Oh dear, things weren't good if he went all serious on me. I forced a cheerful laugh and beamed at him. God, it was painful.

"I'm fine. I stayed up too late last night doing homework," I replied. Technically a white lie, but still true. I always did a heap of homework at night (well, I wouldn't, if not for the evil wench that was an excuse for my mother), but I hadn't stayed up too late. I was asleep by eleven, as usual. Travis dismissed the story, accepting it. I felt sorta bad. He's such a good friend. I really don't like lying to him. But what could I say?

'Actually, Trav, I heard a rumour that you're in love with the Queen Bee and I've been snooping around your stuff like a stalker, rather than straight out asking you for the truth,'? Yeah, right. I felt myself redden at the thought. That really makes me look like a good friend…not!

A sudden idea popped into my head. No, not of how I could discuss my queries with the best friend I can discuss anything with (gee…how ironic…), but rather, of how I could get that plane without him noticing. I'd been carrying around his chemistry prac book for a week, and I was getting sick of it.

"Hey, Travis, I'm giving you your prac book back," I said. "It's annoying me carrying it around all the time."

"Oh – sure," Travis replied, stepping in front of me so I could unzip his bag. Thank God he's so lazy. I unzipped my shoulder bag, to find it wasn't there. Oh, crap! I must have put his book in my locker! Now what?

"Krys, is it there?" Travis asked over his shoulder.

"Y-yeah!" I hastily stammered, pulling out my own prac book. Oh well…I'll have to get that back later. I pulled his bag open wider and slid my prac book in, wondering how on earth I was supposed to get that back before school finished (I needed it to write the experiment report later that night) and felt around for the scrunched up plane. Aha! My fingers closed around it and I tried to yank it out from underneath his books, as inconspicuously as possible. It wouldn't budge. Damn it!

"Krystal…what are you doing?" Travis asked, sounding suspicious now. I hastily ripped my hand out of his bag and zipped it up, flushing.

"I couldn't get my – your! – book in. There were too many books in there. It required some brute force," I lied, laughing nervously. He laughed too, only his was natural.

"Yeah, cause you're so buff, Krys," he joked. I seriously wanted to lean against a locker and sigh with relief. I needed to let my racing heart recover from the multiple attacks it had had today. Brilliant work, Krystal. Your best friend thinks you're a freak, you've just lost your prac book (which you need for your homework…due tomorrow!) and you still don't have that stupid aeroplane!

I walked to class as normally as possible, which was hard, considering I had just spent the afternoon being as abnormal as possible (by my standards). Travis, however, being the boy he was (bless his soul for it!) didn't notice a thing.


I really didn't pay any attention in History that day. How could I, when my mind was on more important things at hand? We were studying the French Revolution, too, something which would have greatly interested me on a normal day. However, anything French reminded me strongly of Danielle le Cleré, somebody I really didn't need to be reminded of at that particular moment in time.

Our History teacher had arranged the desks so they were in a big square, all facing into the middle of the room. That way, we could have a class discussion about our opinions on the Revolution. Luck was on my side today; he didn't ask me to speak. I don't know what I would have said if he had.

Danielle was sitting in the row on the right of mine. Travis was sitting directly opposite me. I don't think he paid any attention in that class either. From his position, he had a perfect angle where he could see Danielle, and conveniently avert his gaze if she glanced in his direction, and pull it off well. From where he was, he couldn't have noticed that I was staring at him, trying to figure out what was going through his head…and how I could get his stupid bag before school ended.

So, in a nutshell, Danielle paid attention, Travis stared at Danielle, and I stared at Travis. But I had no idea that someone was staring at me.


"Someone wasn't paying much attention in History," Sandy said slyly, nudging me as we walked out of the red brick building of Brentwood Valley High into the sunshine. It took me several seconds' hard thought to realise she'd been watching me in class. Creepy! Now I knew how Travis would feel if he figured out I'd been staring at him.

"So, fess up!" Sandy demanded.

"What?" I said, playing dumb. She pulled a face.

"Oh, sure. Miss Brains of the year level has no idea what I'm talking about," she snorted. "You can't get away with that, Krystal. Why were you staring at Travis?"

"I wasn't staring at Travis!" I replied defensively, feeling my cheeks beginning to flush. Damn my paleness! I didn't even blush prettily; my cheeks just went all blotchy. It was an ugly sight. Part of the reason why I hated being embarrassed…you know, apart from the shameful feeling of embarrassment itself…

"U-huh, and I'm guessing you've suddenly been badly sunburnt…unless there's another explanation for why your cheeks are so red?" Sandy asked, grinning mischievously. I shoved her in the arm.

"Come on, Krys. What's going on?" she went all serious, realising that soon I'd be leaving and if I left, she'd never get any answers from me. Sandy had a useful tendency to forget important things overnight. Little did she know, I'd be leaving sooner than she expected. Sooner than I expected, actually.

As we walked out of the school grounds and wandered along the sidewalk of the road that headed in the direction of our houses, an old white Ford with no roof pulled up beside us. I knew even before I'd looked at the owner who it belonged to. It was Travis'.

"Hey, I need to return your brother's game," he explained. "D'you want a lift home?"

I looked at Sandy, who scowled, unimpressed at his impeccable choice of timing. Thank you, Travis; you just saved me an awkward explanation!

I climbed eagerly over the side of the car and dropped into the passenger's seat.

"You can come too, if you want, Sandy. Isn't your house on the way to Krys'?" Travis asked.

"Thanks, Trav," Sandy said, getting into the back seat. She flicked the back of my head by way of letting my know our chat would be postponed, and Travis pulled into the street. I smiled in relief. Sandy was too good a friend to put me on the spot in front of Travis. I was safe. For now.


Sandy's house was a small, flat-roofed, single storey house; creamy white in colour with a low brown roof and a plain front lawn. The slight drought we'd been suffering lately had killed its usual vivid greenness, but the daisies were looking merry.

"Thanks for the lift, Travis," she said, shutting the door.

"No problem. See you tomorrow," Travis replied. I waved to her, grinning.

"Bye, Sandy!"

"Yeah, whatever," she called as we drove away down the street. Travis turned onto the main road and sped up a little.

"What was that all about?" he asked. I laughed.

"Just a conversation we were having," I replied lightly. "It's irrelevant, trust me."

Ok, another lie. It was becoming regularity. Note to self: must exercise restraint of lying when conversing with my best friend.

We turned into my street and crawled into our driveway. My house is a little two storey cottage, white-washed wooden planks and cute windows. Mom had been carefully tending to our garden, working harmoniously with water restrictions. She'd always been good like that. She's not really a wasteful person. Our garden still looked like it was spring, even though summer had hit about a month ago. We still had a few pretty pink and yellow roses in bloom. It was a pretty small property, lined with a white picket fence. Our house was lucky enough to be shaded by a huge willow tree that must have been in the front yard since the beginning of time. It was ancient. Xavier and I used to climb in it when we were little.

Travis followed me inside, dumping his bag at the bottom of the stairs.

"Xav!" I shouted up the stairs. "Travis has your game!"

My brother Xavier is twenty. He's currently at college, studying information technology in his first year. He deferred for a year and travelled back to Japan. Xavier and I had always gotten along well. He looked out for me, and I used to look up to him heaps. Key word: used. I don't really anymore, as I don't believe spending your life on online games and playing virtual space wars is any form of life that will amount to something. But Xav enjoys it, and he'd be miserable doing law like Dad had wanted him to.

He appeared at the top of the stairs, hair messy like he'd just gotten out of bed. Probably had, I reasoned. He had strange sleeping hours. He stayed up all night playing games with people in Wales or Taiwan or New Zealand, and then slept all through the day. Then he'd get up for dinner and play all night again. Somewhere in there, he went to college as well and managed to get all his work in. Well, let bygones be bygones, as someone famous once said. He yawned and made hand gestures for Travis to follow him.

"I'll be back, Krys," Travis called over his shoulder. They disappeared into his room. I let my gaze wander around, hanging my jacket up on the coat stand. Then, my eyes locked onto his bag, sitting innocently on the floor beside the stairs. My mouth dropped open. How the hell did that happen, and so inconspicuously, too! I listened carefully, straining my ears to hear them upstairs. Xavier was explaining something in great detail to Travis. Probably having some riveting conversation about Star Wars or something…So I was safe! Darting forwards, I unzipped Travis' bag and carefully pulled out the plane (and my prac book). It was like winning a gold medal at the Olympics. The feeling of triumph was unlike any emotion I had felt that day. And I'd felt the lot, to an extent of extremes.

Fingers trembling slightly, heart racing nervously, I unfolded the crumpled plane, my eyes squeezed tightly shut. I didn't want to open them, and yet, I was dying to know what the notes said. Ok, one, two…two and a third…two and a half…oh, what the hell! I opened my eyes.

My mouth dropped open.


Wanna go see a movie on Saturday?



Sure. How about we meet at 2.00 outside the Cinema?



Oh. My. God.

I couldn't believe it. It was like all my worst nightmares had been meshed into one humungous, horrible epitome of nightmares. Travis, my Travis, was going on a DATE with Danielle le Cleré? What was happening to the world? I felt crushed, and I didn't even know why. Perhaps it was because the reality of it was; I'd always been the only dominant female in Travis' life. We'd never dated, and I doubted we ever would. But I'd always been his girl. Now he might have two girls. And I could see myself being shunned aside to make room for Travis' brilliant new love, Danielle. Would he seriously do that to me? Would he replace me, his best friend forever, with a new girlfriend?

The thought made me want to cry.

The note shook in my trembling hands as I fought to hold back the tears that were threatening to leak from my eyes. I became suddenly aware of the volume of my brother and best friends' voices. They were coming back downstairs. I crumpled up the plane and shoved it in my pocket without thinking. Thank God I'd zipped his bag back up. I turned around, trying not to look suspicious or guilty. An odd look crossed Travis' face.

"Krys, are you ok?" he asked, concerned. He picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder. Then he stepped towards me, playing the considerate best friend. I didn't know what to say to him without seeming standoffish, so I brushed past him, and bent over my bag with my back to him. I began pulling out books, begging my eyes to draw back the tears they were trying to spill.

"Krys…what's wrong?" Travis persisted, resting a hand on my shoulder. It only made me feel worse.

"Nothing, I'm fine," I lied. "Seriously!"

I still couldn't look at him, and I could tell he knew things were not 'fine'. But, being the kind of guy he is, he chose not to push it.

"Look, if anything's troubling you, you know you can talk to me, right?" he asked gently. I heard him open the front door.

"Sure," I replied. "I know."

There was several seconds' silence.

"Ok…well…Say hey to Keiko for me, alright?" Travis said, sounding defeated. I felt like kicking myself. I rarely closed up for him; usually I was the first to spill a problem.

"Yeah…I will."

"See you tomorrow, Krystal."

"Bye," I mumbled as the door closed behind him. I heard his car start up and pull away. Then there was silence.

Oh sure, I could talk to him. I could always talk to him.

Just not about that.