In My Own Words

I should've known much better,
But it's so hard, I can't forget her,
And she keeps playin' me around.
But I'm trying so hard to impress her,
She puts me under so much pressure,
And I just wanted her to let me know,
She cares.

---Broccoli, by McFly

"She has great tits."

I spat out a mouthful of coffee (or something that was supposed to be coffee. But it was bitter. Absolutely bitter. God, the revolting concoctions she makes me take sometimes…) and glared at Rachel, who blinked innocently back at me.

It was Friday morning, just minutes before first period; we were standing in front of her locker, and apparently, discussing a cheerleader named Kate.

"No, really, Matt," Rachel continued casually, as though we were discussing something like… like what we ate for breakfast. "She's a blonde, the worst math student in class, and I actually think she'd be good for you."

I followed her gaze and took a long, lingering glance at my latest subject, who was skimpily clad in a skirt and a polo-shirt .

The girls over here (excluding Rachel, who is a lot manlier than half the guys in school) are always wearing skirts and polo-shirts

Only Kate's skirt seemed to have shrunk in the washing machine, and her shirt got trimmed off the parts that were supposed to cover her arms and abdomen.

Just like Jamie, Cassandra, Elizabeth, Ally, and those blonde, ditzy girls whose names I just can't seem to recall, all of whom I've dated for a maximum period of two and a half weeks… Separately, of course.

I scoffed and turned to Rachel, who started shoving books into her backpack, her black hair swaying at every movement she made.

"And you've come to that conclusion simply because she's a blonde, can't solve equations, and has great tits?" I asked, already getting used to this conversation.

The kind of conversation I'd typically have with Rachel, my self-proclaimed Love Coach.

Rachel slammed her locker shut and stared blankly at me.

"You're a blonde, you're not all that great in math, and you have great tits." She counted off the list on her fingers, and I noticed that her nails were now painted black. Last week they were purple. Like Barney purple. With bright green polka dots on them. She smiled sweetly at me and tugged on my arm. "See, you guys are meant for each other."

You're a blonde, you're not all that great in math, and you have great tits.

… And you have great tits?

I froze.

"Rachel," I started, trying to refrain myself from strangling her. She's just a girl, Matt. Just a girl. "Men, like me, don't usually like talking about our… tits."

"And I care about this vital piece of information because…"

She was mocking me. This bloody chick was mocking me.

I inhaled a few deep breaths to calm myself down, took another gulp of … coffee, and pushed the thermos back to her.

"Remember, Mattie, use the movie quotes!" She reminded me cheekily, punching me on the shoulder, albeit with slight difficulty. She grinned like a child without a front tooth (only, you know, she does have her front tooth. Along with all the other teeth… I don't even know why I thought about that.) "Girls loooove hearing movie quotes."

Yes, the love coaching process is all rather simple, really.

Step one: drink whatever she gives me.

Step two: hear whatever comment she has to say about the latest subject.

Step three: argue about the latest subject.

Step four: brace self and stride towards the subject.

"See you in class, Ray," I said, waving her off like an annoying bee, and moved suavely towards Kate, my hands tucked into the pockets of my faded jeans. She turned and caught my gaze with a teasing smile. Probably the only smile she actually knows. I groaned inwardly, making sure that I was smirking on the outside.

This is going to be easy.

Step five: adapt or use a direct movie quote to hit on subject.

"Hey," I greeted easily, my smirk still intact. "Did anyone ever tell you that you have six smiles?"

Just in case you were wondering, yes, Kate and I got together.

And broke up a week later, because, from what I heard, she thinks I have foul breath. Wonder where that came from.

She does have great tits, though. Pity she doesn't have a greater brain.

"Here," Rachel passed me a black thermos. I took it, feeling slightly hesitant. "Drink it up."

"Why do you keep giving me these weird drinks?" I asked, peering into the thermos. It looked like a mixture of oatmeal, orange juice, milk, tea and coffee.

Wonderful, the top five things on my absolutely-abhor list.

"They make your breath smell better."

My eyes widened in surprise, but wordlessly took a big mouthful, wincing as the drink flowed down my throat. The drink was actually pretty good, if you fancy drinking mashed cow dung.

I huffed out some air into my hands and smelt it.

"I smell like puke." I grumbled, glaring at Rachel, who was now pulling my shirt and tugging me forward to an empty classroom.

"Oh, puke is good," she replied with an air of enthusiasm. "Girls love guys who smell like a kid just vomited on them."

I found that very hard to believe, but I nodded in agreement anyway, letting her stir me into an empty Chemistry lab, and sat on one of the squeaky stools. Rachel remained standing, running her slim fingers through her sleek black hair. Watching her comb her hair with her fingers, I found myself thinking that despite all her weird ideas on love (that I, for some reason, tend to follow), Rachel is actually a fairly attractive lady. She inherited her comparatively petite figure and almond-shaped eyes from her mother (who happens to be Chinese), and her striking green pupils from her Irishman dad. Her nose is just about the right size, her lips leaning towards the thinner side. She probably isn't as curvy as most of the girls in school, but she holds her stance alright. Rachel is actually pretty damn gorgeous.

Wait a second. Did I just think that?

"Stop gawking at me," she demanded, snapping me out of my tiny reverie. I blinked and stared at her.

"Sorry, I was just thinking what bad taste you have," I teased, staring at her clothes. Black tank top and skinny jeans. "Do you not know any other colour, me darling?"

She squinted at me and pushed my shoulders lightly.

"Oh, and you're one to talk, me love." Rachel retorted with a fair bit of sarcasm. She pointed at my attire. "Copy cat, much?"

I looked down in confusion, because I was rather certain that I wore something colourful and bright today.

Black shirt and faded jeans.

Oh, now I remember. Said colourful thing was my bright red underwear.

In my defense, I wasn't the one who picked that colour. Mum did.

… Shit, now I sound like a wimp.

"Well, I'm a… I'm a…" I racked my brain for an excuse. I'm colour-blind? I'm a whore? I'm a man? Oh, right. I can't believe that slipped my mind. "I'm a gorgeous man. And gorgeous men like me do not require the aid of colours to make us desirable."

I slapped myself mentally on the back for being so creative with my reason.

"O…kay," She said, pressing her hand to her mouth for some unknown reason. Then, she coughed. "Anyway, do you like girls whose eyes are permanently glued to books, too smart for their own damn good, and dress like they're going to Sunday school?"

I raised an eyebrow.

"Ray, you mean the geeks?" I asked, feeling slightly tentative.

She waved me off dismissively.

"Same thing," She muttered, crossing her arms and inspecting her freshly-painted nails. Orange. Fluorescent orange. "So… do you?"

"Not really. They freak me out sometimes."

And then Rachel beamed. Complete with teeth-flashing and all that crap. I love her and all, but that was a little bit too creepy.

"Perfect!" She shrieked with zeal. Too much zeal. "Zoe Sanders is absolutely perfect for you!"

Yeah. Like a match made in heaven.

"I just told you I don't like geeks." I grumbled. "And Zoe has been wearing that... that hideous pink, thin-material sweater crap since fifth grade."

Rachel gave me an incredulous look.

"It's called a cardigan, Mattie," she said slowly, like I was some kid who didn't know the difference between zebra and giraffe (only a loser wouldn't know that giraffes have black and white stripes all over their body. Or is that a zebra? … Aw fuck, this is so humiliating). I realized with a jolt that Ray is the only person who calls me Mattie and gets away with it. "And opposites attract, remember?"

… We're still talking about Zoe?

"Ray, I'm not a freaking magnet." I reasoned with her, hoping my hint would get through her thick skull. "In my world, opposites repel."

"But you'll like her, I'm sure you will." She assured me with a faint smile and reached forward to enclose my larger hands in her smaller ones. She gave my hand a little squeeze. "She likes Titanic."

I stared at our hands, suddenly overwhelmed by an inexplicable yet undeniable increase in the rhythm of my heart.

This had never happened to me before, and it sure shouldn't be happening to me now.

I felt embarrassed by the crimson that was creeping its way to my cheeks. She is Rachel, damn it! The one who's constantly feeding you disgusting drinks! The one who forces you to read through some pathetically corny movie quotes from the notebook every night! The one who's always getting you the weirdest girls!

Okay. Okay. I feel better now.


Man up, Matt. Man up.

I looked up at Rachel, who was still apparently staring at our hands, her expression the perfect epitome of astonishment.

Feeling pleased that I wasn't the only one pondering over that particular matter, I smiled and snapped my fingers at her, successfully jolting her out of her trance. She let go of my hand immediately, and my smile faltered.

"Right, where was I?" Rachel mumbled hastily, clearing her throat. "Oh, right. Right. Wait for a second."

And she retreated out the lab.

Only to return precisely a second later, with a slightly taller, awkward-looking girl dangling by her arm.

I rolled my eyes and stood up, brushing off imaginary dust from my jeans.

"Zoe, meet Matt," Rachel introduced, her arms slung casually around our shoulders. "Matt, meet Zoe."

I smiled as politely as I could and outstretched my arm. Zoe took it, albeit coyly, and gasped as I pulled her hand to my lips and pressed a light kiss on it.

"I saw that in a nickelodeon once and I've always wanted to do it," I said, probably doing a perfect imitation of Jack Dawson. Now all that's left to do is to look like Leonardo DiCaprio.

Zoe's eyes widened slightly, but never spoke a word, letting the silence stretch on.

The first bell rang.

And that was when Zoe started grinning.

"Oh my goodness, you watched Titanic?" She asked, almost sounding impressed. From the corner of my eye I saw Rachel smiling slightly. I nodded my head.

"Are you kidding me? You jump, I jump!" I mimicked, evoking another round of laughter from her. I loved the sound of it.

"It was an amazing movie!" And then, to our surprise, she started to sing. "Come, Josephine, in my flying machine! Do you know how to continue the song?"

Uhm. What the hell was that?

I turned to Rachel questioningly, but she just shrugged and wriggled her fingers at me, then left the lab to go to her Advanced Mathematic class, leaving me to deal with Zoe alone.

I stole another lingering glance at Rachel, and then plunked back into the present.

I memorized movie quotes. Not songs from the movie.

This is horrifying beyond belief.

I forced another smile at Zoe.

What do I do, what do I do, what do I do, what do I do…

"Would you go out with me?"

Her mouth fell open in shock.

"Wh-What?" But before I got to reply, she wrinkled her nose lightly. "I'm sorry for saying this, but you know, you smell like puke."

… Marvelous, the geek thinks I smell like a pile of vomit. Assassination of Rachel the bloody weasel, about to commence.

"I smell pretty bad, don't I?" I said, laughing gawkily. I will chop her to pieces. I will fry slices of her and sell them off to people. It will be called the Ray-fries.

"Nah, I'm actually kinda used to that kind of smell," Zoe replied kindly, her lips tilted upward to form a half-smile. "My baby brother vomits on me all the time. Trust me, you can never get any smellier than his carrot porridge."

I laughed. I never knew this side of Zoe.

It was…. cute.

"I'm not even going to test that theory," I remarked with a grin. "So… Are you still up for a date, puke-smelling and all?"

I looked at her, waiting for her reply.

And then she nodded.

A month later found Zoe and I at McDonald's, waiting for Rachel and her date to show up.

I guess I could say that it's true, we should never judge a book by its cover, because underneath those glasses and odd choice of clothing (Cardillon… Was it?), Zoe was actually a surprisingly demure and adorable girl.

And she knows more movie lines than I can ever commit to memory.

I laced my fingers with hers and swung our hands lightly as we waited for Ray.

Speaking of which, she hasn't been acting quite like herself for two weeks now. She became a lot crankier, especially on the subject of Zoe.

She's not PMS-ing, is she?

God, I can't even remember the last time I heard her laugh. And I miss that.

I leaned against the cold, uncomfortable chair and sighed noisily to myself.

"Why do you keep hanging out with her?" She asked, looking slightly annoyed. She took a ferocious bite off her favourite Mars bar and waited for my answer.

"I don't know, Ray. Maybe because she is my girlfriend?" I remarked dryly. I looked around her large, empty living room from my place on the couch beside her. We were the only ones in the house. "What's it to you, anyway? I thought it has been your dream since the day we met to find me a decent girl?"

"Well, Zoe isn't a decent girl!" She snapped, now throwing the wrapper into the nearby bin. She sank back onto the couch and squeezed her eyes shut.

"You sure didn't think that when you first introduced us," I retorted, trying to control the bubbling anger. We were arguing again. Over Zoe.


Rachel remained silent for once, and the tension between us was choking. After what seemed like forever, she stood up and turned away from me.

"I just miss the guy who used to drink whatever I give to him," She muttered from her position, her voice sounding hoarse and strangled. Was she crying? "The guy who used to be there for me every time."

And she walked out of the living room, leaving me alone on the couch, pondering over her words.

"Hey!" Zoe greeted cheerily, and I looked up to see Rachel, her arms linking with a tall, hunky Asian's.

I have never seen him before.

I felt myself going a little rigid. Ray never told me about him.

"Hey," she greeted us with a smile, but somehow I didn't think she was talking to me. I hastily pushed that thought away and concentrated on plastering a permanent smile on my stiff face. Rachel pulled the guy closer. "This is Michael."

Zoe waved politely, and I followed suit.

"I'm Zoe," she introduced, and gave my hand a little squeeze. "And this is my boyfriend, Matt."

She tried calling me Mattie once. I ignored her for a day.

I fixed my stare on Michael as they sat down. Something about that name triggered my memory. Something Rachel told me a few years back, when she had a major obsession with a senior in our school.

"I got so pissed off when I saw him making out with that girl from his class, when just a minute ago we were flirting! So I went straight home and called my favourite cousin," she told me with a sly grin. "And asked him to be my pretend-boyfriend, just to piss Luke off. His real name is Lee, but we pretended that his name was Michael."


I kept trying to catch Ray's eye, but for some reason she kept looking away. Even more reason to prove that Michael, here, is Lee.

I cleared my throat and placed my elbow on the table to hold my chin.

"So… how long have you been dating?" I asked nonchalantly. Zoe pulled my shirt lightly, a warning to not cross the line. I ignored her.

"A week or so," Michael answered, his tone just as casual. He's pretty good at this, that much I admit. "This is our third date, actually."

And third time's the harm.

Or charm. Whatever they said.

I leaned forward slightly and gave him a penetrating stare.

"And your parents are okay with you dating your cousin…" I smirked. "Lee?"

Rachel snapped her head towards my direction and gave me a blazing glare, while Zoe and Lee both looked genuinely confused.

"Uh, my name is Michael." He explained slowly. I scoffed. Right. And my name is Johnny Depp. Yoho, yoho, a pi-freakin'-rate's life for me.


"Show him your identification card, Mike," Rachel said to him gently, and then turned towards me again, her green eyes piercing my blue ones. "Some people don't think I have the ability to date."


Lee took his wallet from his pocket and pulled out a card, still looking slightly befuddled. He passed it to me.


I took his identity card with a nasty leer, and stared at the name.

Michael Wong Zee Han.

He wasn't lying.

He wasn't… lying.

Oh, I am such a stupid, witless arse.

I felt the heat rushing towards my cheeks, even more so when I felt, more than saw, the smirk on Rachel's lips.

I needed to get out.

"Sorry," I muttered in haste, pulling a slightly bewildered Zoe as we got up from our seats. "We've gotta go."

"Since they're not having lunch with us anymore, can we go catch that movie instead?" I heard Michael ask as we made our way out the door.

It took me all the power I had in me to stop myself from running over and punching the living daylight out of him.

I led Zoe back to my house, deciding that I didn't feel like eating lunch. We were lounging in my room when she suddenly spoke up.

"Hey, can I use your computer for a bit?" She asked, her voice a tiny notch above a whisper. "Just need to check something out."

I leaned in and pressed a kiss on her cheek.

"Do whatever you want with it, baby."

She giggled and ran over to my computer, making herself comfortable on the office chair I bought just the other day.

"What are you checking, anyway?" I asked out of curiosity, stretching my arms behind my head as I leaned against the wall.

"Word of the day," she muttered in reply. Then, she turned towards me with a girly smile. "Today's word is recherché."

"Interesting," I said, my mind suddenly lost. Zoe was checking out dictionary dot com.

She laughed once more, then walked toward me until we were embracing each other.

"Baby," she cooed, reaching up and dropping light kisses on my lips. "You have no idea how much I love you."

I blanched and gave her a penetrating stare.

"Is that what recherché means?" I asked dumbly.

She stared blankly back.

"No, I was just being random," she replied earnestly, now nuzzling her head on my chest. She whispered, "But I wasn't lying, you know."

I couldn't concentrate. It was too hard to concentrate.


"I love you," she murmured once more, her lips crushing on mine feverishly, her tongue already tracing my bottom lip, forcing its way into my mouth.

I pushed her away, still overwhelmed with shock. Zoe loves me.

Why can't I bring myself to smile?

"I'm sorry, Zoe. This really isn't working out for me." I turned the doorknob and ran down the stairs, trying to figure out why I couldn't stop thinking about Ray when Zoe said she loves me.

"I don't like it," she commented, staring at the computer screen in my room. I walked out of the bathroom with a towel hung loosely on my hips and looked over her shoulders to see what she was talking about. "Today's word is just plain weird."

"You go to dictionary dot com?" I asked after a while, feeling a little surprised. "I never knew you were a geek."

"Am not," Rachel protested indignantly, her eyes still glued to the screen. I realized for the first time that she was wearing my clothes, but for some reason it looked more like my clothes were wearing her. She's too tiny. "I just like outwitting people with fancy vocabulary, that's all."

I rolled my eyes and walked towards my closet, pulling out a navy blue shirt and white basketball shorts.

"And what's the word of the day?" I asked wryly, pulling the shirt over my head.

"Bouleversement. It means a complete overthrow; a reversal; a turning upside down."

I froze at my spot for a while, and then continued wearing my shorts.


She laughed a little. Ray laughs like a child.

"Bouleversement." She repeated, emphasizing on each syllable.

I shook my head in disbelief and sat on the foot of my bed.

"Phew, I'm gonna have to get you to write that one down!"

"Ah, I see you have been revising your movie quotes!" She said dramatically. I grinned and patted the spot next to me, silently asking her to sit with me. She complied, wriggling my bedroom slippers off before crossing her legs on my bed. "And who's the lucky girl tonight?"

"You," I joked, reaching over to my bedside table to retrieve my quote file.

And then I heard a loud 'thud', followed by a muffled moan.

Apparently Rachel fell off the bed in surprise. I laughed lightly.

"Kidding, Ray. I'm going out with Elizabeth at seven," I told her and helped her up from the ground. Then I pushed my voice a tone lower to create a husky sound. "'I never sought glory as a lover!'"

"Ooh, and she's obsessed with Casanova. Impressive," she remarked, her cheeks slightly red. Probably embarrassed for falling.

I groaned.

"She talks about her hair," I complained, flinging my arms in the air in defeat. "Honestly, what is there to talk about? It's blonde, it's short, it curls, and it's stupid. Did I miss anything?"

"Aw you're so whiny, Mattie." Rachel teased, poking me at the ribs. I pushed her hands away and glared at her.

"Wait, a fly!" I yelled and smacked her forehead lightly. She screamed in shock, causing me to burst out chuckling. "And that's for calling me a whiny!"

She rubbed her forehead gently with her palm, her eyes burning holes on my head.

"I hate you." She grumbled with a menacing smile.

"Love you too, Ray," I replied sweetly. "Love you, too."

I got into my car and started driving past the streets and little houses, slamming on the brake as I reached McDonald's.

She had to be there, I knew, because Rachel eats like a freaking snail.

I just prayed that Michael would've left for a movie, like he said he would.

I stepped into the fast food restaurant and looked around for the sign of Michael or Rachel.

Michael wasn't there, I noted with a slight jolt of happiness, but it sank just as quickly as it came.

Because neither was Rachel.

I sighed and walked out of the restaurant, running my hands through my messy hair in annoyance.

Where is that girl?

We were sitting in McDonald's, both with a set of double cheeseburgers, large order of fries, and vanilla cokes on our tray. I watched in amusement as she munched on her burger. It's amazing how she could fit something so big into her tiny mouth.

"You eat like a cow," I blurted out, and instantly regretted the sudden outburst as she started chucking MY fries at me.

"Oh yeah?" She snapped, throwing two more fries at me. "Well, you… You… You eat like a pig!"

I chuckled and took a bite off my burger.

"A handsome pig." I improvised, earning a dubious look from her. I wiped my mouth clean using a serviette. "You know, if you ever disappear from my sight, I'd have to post up notices everywhere with pictures of you on it, and on it I'd write 'She eats like a big fat cow.', so the people would know where to find you."

Her mouth went ajar in disbelief, and she chucked more fries at me.

"Trust me, Mattie," she said after a while with a tilted smile. "I would never go missing on you."

I pulled to a halt in front of the mall, killed the engine, and ran into the building.

It was a small mall, with less than a hundred shop lots and had just enough space for one cinema. I ran up the elevator until I reached the top floor, and looked around the cinema. It was flooded with people, but not one of them is shorter than five foot five, has long, black hair, wears blank tank top and jeans, and paints her nails with weird colours.

I ran towards the other side of the building and into a small manicure shop, the only shop where she gets all her nail polishes.

She wasn't there.

Pick a colour: Neon green or baby pink?

I scanned through the message once more and rolled my eyes. She sure knew how to waste her phone credit. I strode out of the sports shop that I was in and found my way into the nail shop beside it.

And there she was, standing in front of a whole collection of nail polishes, gripping two different colour choices in her hands.

"You couldn't even remove yourself from this shop for a second to ask me that question face-to-face?" I asked in amazement. She looked up in surprise, but burst into an adorable, dimple-showing grin once she realized it was me.

"Well, I can't exactly walk out of the shop with these two bottles in my hand." She explained, and I found myself thinking that that was probably the stupidest reason ever. "The censor thing would start beeping, and they'd think I'm a nail polish thief or something."

"Ha-ha." I said deprecatingly, staring at the colour choices. "Well, since you asked, baby pink looks less freaky. You should get that, Ray."

She bit on her lip.

"But I already made a decision to buy the green one…" She trailed off. Then she smiled, the light bulb practically shining on her head. "You know what; I've got a brilliant idea!"


She bit her lip again, and then exclaimed very quickly, all the while pushing the two bottles to me. I took it.

"You can buy me both!" She grinned, retreating her steps until she reached the entrance to this shop. I stared at her, mortified. "Thank you, Mattie, you're the best!"

Then to my absolute horror, she ran out of the shop, leaving me with two bottles of nail polish in my hands.

I drove to her house in the next neighbourhood and parked outside her front porch, noting with a pang that her car wasn't there. I ran up the steps and pressed on the doorbell.

After a moment, the door opened, revealing a woman in her mid-forties.

"Matthew, what a pleasant surprise!" She exclaimed, reaching over for a tight hug. I smiled politely and gave her a peck on her cheek. "And what brings you here, love?"

"Aunt Marion, I was just wondering…" I trailed off, not knowing what to say. I inhaled deeply. "Is Rachel around?"

For a second there, her smile wavered.

"Matthew, I know this is none of my business, but she is my daughter, after all," Aunt Mare said graciously. Her smile turned into a concerned frown. "Is there anything wrong with the two of you?"

Yes. Everything is wrong with the two of us. We're not talking, even when we do we end up in quarrels, she's dating someone new, and I just found out that I'm in love with her, as cheesy as it sounds.

"No, everything is going quite alright," I reassured her gently. "But what made you feel the otherwise?"

Aunt Mare chuckled slightly and patted my hand.

"I'm not letting you in on anything," she said with a wistful sigh. "But my Rachel really likes you, you know that?"

My eyes widened in revelation.

"Aunt Mare, quit joking with me."

She shook her head sadly.

"I'm not, love. She has been, since she started letting you into our house."

I scratched my head. That was such a long time ago, way before she started making me memorize silly quotes and whatnots.

That can't be true.

"But I saw her with a guy today… Michael, his name was." I told her. Maybe Aunt Mare didn't know. Maybe Ray doesn't like me anymore.

To my dismay, she started laughing, her eyes crinkling with delight. Like we were talking about her favourite son or something.

"Oh, Michael is just my best friend's son, Matthew." She explained, her eyes getting wet from all that laughter. "He is already engaged to a girl from his town. I asked Rachel to show him around, that's all."

"Oh," was all that got out of my mouth. So that was why he looked so confused. "Thanks, Aunt Mare. I'll just get going now."

"Take care, puppet." She leaned forward for another peck on the cheek, and closed the door quietly.

I sank down on the steps in front of her house, feeling like a complete douche bag.

"I don't understand men," Rachel confessed. We were sitting on her door steps, both licking ice-creams.

"I don't understand women," I told her honestly, crunching on the last bits of my ice-cream cone. She was still licking the top part of her ice-cream. "But I like them because they create babies, and are really good in bed."

She gasped in mock-horror and slapped my arm.

"You're such an ass!" She muttered angrily, but the smile playing on her lips gave it away. "Honestly, though, do you know what it feels like to be in love?"

I gave her a weird look.

"Love is like a breath of fresh air?" I tried, humouring her. She laughed and rolled her eyes. "Oh, and you're telling me that you've been in love, Miss I-hate-men-who-have-penises?"

She blushed and mumbled something totally incoherent.

"English, please." I teased, earning another glare from her.

"Oh, shut up," she spat good-naturedly, and then she stood up from her place and unlocked the front door. She turned to me with a shy smile. "Wanna come in?"

"What on earth are you doing in front of my house?"

I bolted upright in shock and blinked repeatedly. Where was I again?

"Move," she demanded, kicking my ass sideways so she could reach the door. I didn't budge an inch. "Please move."

"We need to talk," I told her calmly, looking up from my spot to get a better view of her. She was in her usual black tank top and skinny jeans, but that wasn't what I was worried about. It was her smudged mascara. She had been crying. "Please."

"We already are talking, Matt. And this conversation is over." She must have known that I noticed her smudges, because she looked away. "Now move. I need a shower."

"Not until I get my point across." I stood up from my seat, but made sure I was still blocking the entrance. She groaned in disbelief. "Why didn't you tell me you like me?"

Colour drained from her face.

"I do not." She argued.

"I just had a little talk with your mother just now, and she confirmed my statement, Ray." I stated coolly. "And you're a terrible liar."

She ignored my last sentence.

"Well, Matthew, the next time you talk to my mum, please tell her that I'm burning all her Desperate Housewives DVDs," she snapped, her voice getting edgier and edgier by the second.

"So you admit it."

"That was just a miniature crush, Matt. Get over yourself already," Ray spat angrily. What a liar. "And I was dating Michael today, remember?"

"Michael is your mum's best friend's son, Ray," I said with a bitter smile. "He's engaged, remember?"

She fell silent. Strike one.

"Is it such a humiliating thing for you to admit that you like me, Ray?"

She remained silent. Strike two.

She's ashamed of liking me. So that's what all the fuss has been about.

I'm a smart guy. I understood her point. Crystal clear.

"My job here is done," I declared, pushing past her and making my way to the car. Don't look upset, Matthew, you bastard, don't you dare look upset.

"I like you."

I halted my steps.

"What?" I asked loudly without turning back to face her. I couldn't bring myself to it.

"I like you, but I couldn't tell you," she burbled quietly, her voice almost washed away by the blowing wind. "You wouldn't feel the same. You've never liked me. Not that way."

"And the mirror on the wall told you that?" I asked, my voice lacing with unwanted sarcasm and bitterness.

"No, my conscience did."

"Ray, if you love someone, you say it, you say it right then, out loud," I murmured, now walking back towards her. "Otherwise the moment just…"

"Oh, don't you go quoting on me."

… Talk about a major ego boost.

"You were the one who told me women love movie quotes." I griped, squinting at her.

"Yeah, I also said that women love men who smelt like puke," she said grudgingly. The sky was getting darker, and I could barely make out her features, even though we were only a meter apart. "It was a lie, Matt. And you were stupid enough to drink in anything."

"But why?" I asked, feeling utterly confused.

"Because a smaller, envious part of me thought that if I couldn't get you, no one else should. But I didn't want to be obvious, so I did the opposite thing. I made you drink stuff that give you foul breath. Most women don't like guys whose mouths smell like they just swallowed dog poop. I fed you lies about girls liking movie quotes. I don't know about them, but I know I hate guys who use movie quotes to hit on me." She stopped talking and cleared her throat awkwardly. "Would it be horrible of me if I said that I wanted to keep you for myself?"

"Well, you can, now," I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper, so that it was just loud enough for her to hear it.

"WHAT?" She shrieked. Well, not exactly the response I was looking for. She stuttered, "But… but why? Why do you like me?"

"Because you're like a breath of fresh-"

"OH, FOR CHRIST'S SAKE, COULD YOU USE YOUR OWN WORDS FOR ONCE?" She yelled, and from the distance I could tell that her hands were balled into fists.

I scratched my head.

"Uh… Because you know four languages, and you're the silliest, stupidest, dumbest, craziest, weirdest girl I've ever known?" I tried again, not sure if this was the best confession when I was trying to make her my girlfriend. I exhaled slowly and tapped my foot against the ground.

Maybe I should just get this over and done with.

"I hate that you made me drink those God-awful shite, but I love that you remember I like drinks that are kept warm in a thermos; I hate the fact that you eat like a snail; but I love the way you're not afraid to take big bites and munch like a cow; I hate you for being so inarticulate sometimes; But I love it when you blush after your incoherent statement; I hate you for deciding who I should and shouldn't date; But if it wasn't for those silly dates I wouldn't have realized what exactly you are to me. I hate that you're so stubborn and stupid when you're with me, but then again I am so deep in love with you that I don't really give a damn about that anymore. How's that for my own confession?"

Okay, I seriously need to breathe. My heartbeat increased as I waited for the reply that didn't seem to be rushing at me.

Great. I've stunned her into a human stone.

After a long, lingering silence, she finally said, "I'm impressed."

"And I'm in love." The words tumbled out of my mouth before I could help it. I stared apologetically at her. She looked away.

"Well, you're not the only one," she murmured. I heard the smile in her words.

We stood beneath the sky, standing more than one meter apart from each other, just plain staring.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, she laughed and ran into my arms.

And I swear, those were my own words.

a/n: Are you still awake? HAHA. Well if you are, congratulations, you've come and conquered. This idea actually came to me when I was online looking for memorable quotes on my favourite movies. I don't know about you, but I don't think I'll enjoy it that much when guys start movie-quoting on me. I mean, it's sweet and all, but where's the originality, dude?

Oh, and special thanks to GrannyP for editing (quite a few) parts to make it more presentable:)

Below are the list of quotes I used:

Did anyone ever tell you that you have six smiles? –Adapted from Win A Date With Tad Hamilton (JOSH DUHAMEL IS TOTALLY DROOL-WORTHY!)

"I saw that in a nickelodeon once and I've always wanted to do it." –Jack said that after kissing Rose's hand in Titanic.

"You jump, I jump!" -... Do you honestly need me to tell you where that came from?

Come, Josephine, in my flying machine! –Some song they sang in Titanic, when they were… 'flying'.

"… I'm gonna have to get you to write that one down!" –Something Jack said when Rose told him her full name.

"I never sought glory as a lover!' -Casanova

"If you love someone you say it, you say it right then, out loud. Otherwise the moment just…" –My Best Friend's Wedding

"I'm impressed."

"And I'm in love." -Casanova

Hope you enjoyed it!

much love,