A/N: Heyoo, I'm back. I re-wrote The Happiest Place On Earth into something less random-bitter-rambly and more of an amusing narrative. Let me know if I did all right. This is not edited or beta-ed so don't bother with too much criticism. I'll probably not do anything anyway. Otherwise, read on. Many thanks. :)

Disclaimer: Disney isn't mine.

--

The Kiss O Meter

--

"Rianne, I think we're done."

When Josh Markham, my boyfriend – no, ex-boyfriend – had driven me home that day after school and turned to me with that kind of expression on his face.. well, I'd known it was coming. Maybe I should have started wailing, or thrown a temper tantrum, or taken it out on his car. After all, he'd just dumped me. I wanted to tell you that he was an absolute douchebag who cheated on me every other day and took advantage of me all the time.

But the thing is, maybe it was just me.

If I wanted to go through all of those 'maybe's, then maybe I should have acted more like the girlfriend he wanted. Maybe I should have let him come onto me at all those parties, half of which I hadn't even wanted to go to. Maybe I should have just let him steal my Starbucks the very first day of senior year in silence.

Maybe this, maybe that.

That's not to say that once I got into the house, I didn't let a few tears fall. I was still a girl, one who was just dumped. Bren got home from soccer practice, saw me perched on the couch alone, swore something about 'faggot football players' and stomped upstairs to lift weights. Beryl appeared in my living room after thirty minutes, Ben & Jerry's in hand. I was grateful that Bren thought to call her over since he was useless at this sort of thing.

I was a dumped ex-girlfriend. What else was I supposed to do?

Why, go to the new girlfriend's birthday party, of course.

--

It was quite the overcast day, complete with black clouds looming in the sky. It was definitely going to pour water the way Kelly Fisher cried when Josh officially dumped her for me. Not that she didn't deserve it, after her pretty Spanish boys (yes, plural) got her busted by texting her too often. Slut.

Where exactly were we on this fine day?

Disneyland. VIP all-access, or whatever the hell a lot of money and influence could get you at the Happiest Place On Earth.

The occasion?

Shelby O'Connor's birthday. Her ridiculously rich parents had decided that 'kids our age' should still have fun or whatever the hell they think we do for fun. So they paid for about a hundred tickets for Shelby's friends. When I say friends, I mean the top-of-the-pyramid friends. And before you try and ask, no. I'm not one of them. I was invited because I had been Josh's girlfriend at the time. And I had worked with Shelby once or twice on some project or another. So she knew me, but I wasn't, you know, one of them.

Sure, I was good looking enough. I dressed well and drove nice cars around. I had long black hair and nice blue-grey eyes. I lifted weights and played varsity basketball instead of back flipping around and waving pom poms, at least. I was just me. Rianne Scott.

Well okay, also known as sister-of-Bren-Scott. Bren was my brother, a year younger than me. Also the up-and-coming king of Torrington High School. Trust me, the last thing you ever want is to walk around your own high school only to listen to all these girls giggling about how hot Bren Scott is, how amazing his abs are, how great his ass looks… Gag me. Please.

Bren was also at Disneyland today of course. As was his entire soccer team. And their posse of girls. And my best friend, Beryl.

I included her on that list because she has stalkerish tendencies when it comes to my brother. According to her, his eyes are the most phenomenal thing she's ever seen or some random crap like that. I'll never understand.

Anyway, so maybe it was just the depressing weather on this mid-December morning. Maybe it was just my dormant psychic powers waiting to be unleashed. But I had this bad feeling about the entire day. I just knew it was going to be a bad one.

Or you know, maybe it's just 'cause the moment I got into the park, I was groped. By Goofy. Let's recap, shall we?

--

"Rianne, come on!" Beryl yelled.

And she was off. Blonde haired, green eyed Beryl reminded me of a bright eyed demon pixie at times. One that played a mean game of basketball and schooled every other point guard in the league, of course. And she was only five foot three (and a half). So of course the moment she decides she wants to go, she just goes, weaving in and out and around people in her way.

I found her somewhere on Main Street, waiting for a chance to take a picture with the first Disney character she saw – Goofy. By the time I got there, she was already up next.

"Riiii," she whined. "Hurry up!"

I sighed. Some Disneyland employee stood waiting to take a picture with Beryl's camera. I stood next to Goofy, who slid an arm around my rib cage drawing me extremely close in what was supposed to be some sort of squishy-hug. Except, that hand was sliding perilously higher and higher as we posed for the camera. Higher.. and higher.. and yep, I was pretty sure Goofy just felt my left boob up.

In my head, I imagined myself exacting revenge by nailing Goofy's balls with a well-placed kick. Or making a scene in public, accompanied by my colorful vocabulary. Or anything at all. But of course, I didn't and a few seconds later, Beryl had retrieved her camera and we were well on our way. I shot the creepo-Goofy a couple glares of death, but really, it was Disneyland. And Shel's birthday. Til next time, Goofy.

It would have been nice if the day had gone wonderfully from that point onward. But I have the worst luck I've ever seen in a person (no really, I always lose) and so the day just kept spiraling from one crap incident to another. Wonderful.

After the Goofy-groping, my ticket didn't work in the Space Mountain Fast Pass machines. So I made Beryl go on it with some other basketball girls while I waited. Fine, sure. I could live without Space Mountain.

Then I lost to Beryl by thirty thousand points on the Buzz Lightyear ride. And by about fifty thousand to some five year old brat next to me. Sore loser? Well, clearly. I was the third best scorer on the basketball team, for crying out loud. Beryl happily emailed herself the picture the ride took – of me flipping the camera off and of her gleefully racking up points. It was probably going on Facebook first thing. Wonderful.

And finally, the kicker – Josh Markham, the ex-boyfriend. With Shelby O'Connor, the birthday girl. Of course. Multiple times. Again, no surprise. I blame my shit luck on the fact that Beryl and I ended up seeing them in close quarters far too many times than what should be considered healthy for someone like me with shiny new ex-girlfriend status. Remember when I said today was going to be a bad day? Well, it just basically all shot to hell straight from there. And no, of course I'm not being over-dramatic.

--

Josh and Shelby sighting number one happened in Adventureland. The Indiana Jones ride, to be precise. It's the one ride next to Space Mountain with the ridiculously long line that is practically a maze in itself. Once you get onto the bridge and near the temple part, you think you're there but you're really just fooling yourself. The ride caught Beryl's eye once I finished refusing to go into the Tiki Room, and I was actually excited for this one because I remembered the giant rolling boulder at the end of the ride. That was my favorite part. But first, we had to tackle the line.

"… don't get why you didn't want to go into the Tiki Room. It looked cool! But you were right, those Dole pineapple floats are bomb. I'm such a Disneyland noob, aren't I? Well, in comparison to your expertise. I mean, it's a good thing you picked this ride since a lot of people are busy getting lunch and hot food –"

Beryl's chattering suddenly stopped. I was half-zoned while she had been talking and suddenly, she kicked me in the shin sharply.

"Ow! The fuck, Beryl!?" I gritted my teeth. My best friend was staring to her right, or my left side since I was facing her in the opposite direction of the line flow. I followed her stare and found myself observing a rather intense round of PDA in another lane close to ours. Well, right next to ours.

Wait, I knew those muscles.

Oh.

Josh.

And Shelby.

Kill me now.

No, really.

Yeah okay, so I might have downplayed my actual feelings a little bit. When it came to sensitive things like this, I bottled it in instead of letting my emotions rage around. So on the outside, my friends and family saw maybe a day or two of obvious moping and depression over the breakup. The rational side of me also kept saying, I knew it was coming, I told you so. And yeah, I had known it would end. But experiencing it is a different story all together. And seeing the nice display put on before me in line for Indiana Jones pretty much killed it for me.

"Oh look. The line's moving," I remarked too casually. Beryl followed as I turned and moved forward to fill the empty space the moving line had left. Or tried to, at least.

A body appeared in the space I stepped into. And newsflash, we had a cutter. I hated line cutters. Or maybe I just hated seeing Josh eat Shelby's face in front of me and decided to transfer my wrath to the line-cutting offender.

I glowered up at the back of the damn tall punk moron's back. I caught sight of a stud piercing in his left ear. Scratch – make that the damn tall pierced punk moron. What kind of guy pierced his ears anyway?

Well, Josh. But he had diamond studs (sometimes). This moron didn't.

The line had paused again and I turned back to Beryl. She was watching me carefully. She knew I hated line-cutters. I refused to look at where I knew my ex-boyfriend was standing.

"He just cut in front of you," Beryl whispered.

"I know."

"Aren't you going to.. say anything? You always say something." She looked expectant. Well, she was right. As you can probably tell, I tended to make scenes if I was so inclined. Within reason, of course.

"Beryl, I'd really rather not draw attention to us. With that nasty shit going on over there. It's too bad, because people who cut in front of others are just rude with a severe lack of respect for personal fucking space," I raised my voice slightly. Take that, damn tall pierced punk moron!

"Okay, whatever you say, Ri," Beryl replied, smirking.

Twenty minutes later, we were in. Yes! Twenty-five minutes later, I just wanted to get the hell out. Why? Well, there is always the chance for the lines to get a little mixed up and around.. and so I found myself buckling the seatbelt in. The damn tall pierced punk moron was in front of me, but I didn't pay him anymore notice since I was suddenly very preoccupied with the fact that Josh and Shelby had ended up two rows behind me. In the same jeep. Beryl kept shooting me sympathetic looks as I sulked.

"Hands up! Pull on the yellow strap, please!" the Disneyland worker told us. He grinned at Beryl and me. Beryl giggled and I ignored him as the ride started.

You know how there's a couple of times on the ride when it goes sort of silent, minus the distant screaming you randomly hear from other riders?

"Josh, are you sure this ride isn't scary?"

I ignored that one. Next.

"JOSH, I WANNA GET OFF THIS RIDE!"

Ahh, Shelby screaming in fear. Okay, next.

"Mmm, Josh… Josh…"

Oh hell.

Don't mind me. I'm just going to jump into the roaring pit of fire right now. Then they'll stop the ride, discover my dead body, and I'll be free to haunt Shelby on her birthday forever.

I think my heart hurt.

I stormed off the ride after ripping my seatbelt off as fast as the ride attendants would let us. Beryl followed me as I vented.

"This is fucking Disneyland! Happy families and Mickey Mouse and shit!" I raged. "Who the fuck makes out on Indiana Jones while the ride is going! I mean, it's not even for my sake. There was a fucking ten year old sitting next to them while they were eating each other's faces! Who the hell does that?! Get out of my way!" I snapped, blowing past the people in front of us. A few younger high school girls. And maybe the damn tall pierced punk moron too.

Beryl calmed me down by dragging me onto the Jungle Cruise ride that floated around the fake animals in the water.

Josh and Shelby sighting number two: face sucking on the boat entering the Jungle Cruise while we were getting out of ours. I shot Beryl a look of disgust as the ride tour guide said, "Watch your heads. If you don't watch your heads, watch your mouths! This is Disneyland, you know."

I stalked away from the ride. We left Adventureland and headed for the New Orleans area. Beryl tugged my arm. "Ri, hey, isn't that the guy? The one who – wait! There's candy!"

I didn't get the chance to look around before Beryl was off like a gunshot, darting straight through a large mass of Japanese tourists over to a candy vendor. I literally lost sight of her amidst the umbrellas and large Nikon cameras snapping this way and that. I hadn't even made it all the way over before Beryl appeared at my side, eyes gleaming as she held on to her sugary goods. I rolled my eyes at my best friend. "Child."

"Old lady."

"Immature brat."

"Stuffy spinster for all eternity."

"Oh, fuck off, Bee."

"Sorry," Beryl was immediately apologetic, green eyes asking for forgiveness as she offered her sweets to me. I sighed.

"Let's go on that," I jerked my finger at the Pirates of the Caribbean ride. We got in line. Suddenly, Beryl grinned. I think she knew all the words to the song or something. There can't have been any other reason why she was excited.

"Rianne!"

"Hey, RiRi!"

"Rianne, wanna be my ride partner?"

"Rothschild, that's my fucking sister. Quit it."

Oh, wait. Bren and his soccer team buddies. No wonder Beryl's white teeth were blinding me. She looked like she'd just spotted her prey. I shot a glare at Bren. The adjective in front of my name was completely unnecessary.

"Bren, your sister looks like she wants to kill you."

"Are you blind, Anderson? She's obviously trying to seduce me instead with those eyes of hers."

"Rothschild!"

I turned away, annoyed and trying not to grin at the same time. Lance Rothschild. He was Bren's age, a junior. Extremely charming (note the sarcasm) and hilarious when I was around him. He was close to Bren and one of the best strikers I'd seen yet. Next to me, Beryl was obviously staring a bit creepily at my brother. I usually ignored it, but it probably looked scary to the average observer.

All was somewhat well – my mood lightened a bit as Bren's friends threw invites and innuendos at me from a distance. Of course someone somewhere up there decided that was a no-no and didn't want me to feel okay.

Rothschild had thrown a particularly suggestive comment at me – something about his deck being wet with the foamy seawater – and what do you know, guess who shows up. Did I ever mention how much I hate line-cutters? Damned Tall Punk Pierced Moron had conveniently cut in line yet again, but this time he was a couple rows ahead. I tried to burn holes in his black button down shirt with my glare. Beryl sniffed condescendingly and returned to staring creepily at my brother. I hate my life.

Ten minutes later, I just accepted that the people I wanted to get away from the most would plague me for the rest of my life.

"Oh, that's just gross. Do we have to sit there?" Beryl complained as we were treated to yet another view of the Josh-and-Shelby face-sucking machine. They were in the row of the boat we were supposed to get on. I wanted to push them both into the water and gleefully watch them spew bubbles while they drowned. Of course I'm not that sadistic. I'm really a nice person usually.

"I'm not hungry anymore," I commented out loud. You'd think they would move once the boat stopped. Of course not.

"Markham, can you move?" Beryl demanded. "Your fucking cooties are contaminating my air."

Did I mention how much I love my best friend? She did as she pleased and said as she pleased most of the time, on and off the court. My eyes met Josh's as he pulled Shelby out of the boat. I said nothing. Josh opened his mouth, but was cut off by Rothschild from the boat ahead.

"RiRi! There's some awesome treasure over here, but I'd rather dig your booty instead!"

Beryl snorted. I heard my brother tell him to shut up and turn around. Josh had looked away and when I turned my eyes to my brother's boat, I saw him staring in Josh's direction. Gotta love my family.

Turns out Beryl did know all the lyrics to the Pirates song. She wasn't afraid to hide it either. She also tried to steal coins and rocks on the displays closest to the boat. But then a voice came on over the ride speaker and told her not to.

"Talk in a fucking pirate accent, you idiot! You're ruining it for the kids!" she yelled. I laughed.

By the time we got off the ride, Beryl tried to sneak away to continue stalking my brother. I caught her by the collar and dragged her off to Main Street for ice cream. It was ridiculously cold outside and still gray overhead, but chocolate chip ice cream it was. Seeing your ex-boyfriend three times in the span of a couple hours called for it.

--

I loved waffle cups. They made eating ice cream out of a cup twice as much fun and there was no need to worry about dripping or messy eating. Beryl and I sat in the ice cream parlor, with our sugary, fat-loaded treats. My eyes wandered around the parlor, flicking from person to person. I liked observing the lives of others around me. Their looks, language, and company made the most interesting first impressions. I basically liked to judge people for fun. Once in a while though, you landed yourself some – what did those Josh-Chicks call it? Oh yes – "eye candy".

I found just that sitting on the other side of the parlor room. I couldn't see the person he was with, but he was pretty good looking himself. It was partly my instinct and I couldn't really help it. I was available after all. I glanced at Beryl and saw that she too watched the same guy. Beryl didn't act like the most thoughtful, deliberate person, but I knew she was sharp. Her thoughts ran deeper than her outward appearance and she knew more than she let on.

Boy band prep, I thought to myself as I observed. Brown hair long enough to swing bangs into his eyes, defined features, band (couldn't see which) t-shirt with unbuttoned black collared shirt on top, and normal jeans. I ate my ice cream slowly, licking all the chocolate chip goodness off my spoon bit by bit.

I seem to have unlucky hormones, however. Cute boy band prep guy got up then, and walked out the door hand in hand with his companion, an equally cute blond guy. I sighed. Beryl sighed too.

"Figures," she muttered. I made a noise in agreement. The good ones were always gay. Or jerks, like Josh.

I finished my ice cream in an agonizingly slow manner. Beryl wanted to explore the candy store next door that was connected to the ice cream parlor, so we went. In the shops along Main Street, there are many arcade-type games and machines where you test your luck, hear your fortune from creepy gypsy robots, or pay money to find out something utterly useless about yourself.

I was browsing around the supplies of fudge, when I felt Beryl appear at my side and begin herding me toward the ice cream parlor instead of the normal entrance to the candy store.

"Beryl, what? The exit's right there." I jerked my arm away and turned.

Oh.

"Josh, Josh, let's find out what I am! I bet I'm 'Passionate' or 'Sexy'!"

The two banes of my existence were standing before me, in front of one of those aforementioned machines. This one was called the Kiss-O-Meter. It was aptly named for its supposed function – telling the person that put money into it what kind of kisser they were. What a rip-off.

Josh put a coin in and Shelby gripped the handle as hard as she could, thinking that it actually affected the outcome. The yellow light danced up and down the display before coming to a stop.

"Platonic?!"

I grinned. Then Josh did it. He at least, was 'Thrilling'. And then he proceeded to demonstrate it in front of everyone in the store. I mean, come on, there was a five year old right next to him pouring jellybeans into a bag.

"Ri, go do it," Beryl said. I gave her a look. As if I would sink to their level and compare myself to them using something as inane as the Kiss-O-Meter.

"I dare you. If you do it, I won't stalk Bren for a long time."

"What's a long time, exactly?" I hissed back.

"A day?"

"A week."

"Riiiii," she whined quietly. I crossed my arms. "Fine, okay, I won't stalk your brother for a week if you do it right now."

"Fine."

I squeezed myself past Josh and Shelby. Behind me, I heard them pause in their tonsil-hockey match.

"Rianne, are you seriously going to do that? While I'm right here?"

I ignored Josh and busied myself with fishing a coin out of my wallet and placing it in the meter. I gripped the handle and watched the light race back and forth along the meter. It seemed to be a long time before it finally slowed.. to a stop.

Frigid.

What.

The.

Fuck.

"Frigid?!" Beryl nearly screamed, either from outrage or laughter I couldn't tell. I heard Josh and Shelby start snickering behind me. I kind of wanted to disappear into the ground at that moment. Frigid! Of all things! I wondered what would happen if I conveniently tried to maul the machine to death. Or assault Josh and Shelby. Did they kick you out of the park for those sorts of things?

"Frigid huh?"

I felt a presence appear in the space between me and the laughing couple behind me. Whoever had spoken had a really nice male voice at the very least.

Wow, stranger. Behind me. Invading my personal bubble. Creep…? After the break-up, I had established a bubble that males were not allowed to enter, with the exception of Bren and his soccer buddies just because it was Bren and his soccer buddies. But now I had a complete stranger in it. I turned around quickly. My eyes narrowed.

"Hey! You're the pierced, punk moron who cut-"

-me off by slanting his lips across my own. I, Rianne Scott, was being kissed by a complete stranger who I had never before met in my life except for in lines for Disneyland rides. And it felt more than good.

It was probably the sweetest kiss I had ever received. It made Josh's kisses look like some slobbering thirteen year old laying a big wet one on you, really. His lips seemed to meld perfectly with me own as he deepened the kiss, doing things with his tongue that made my bitter insides go weak. And wow, he had a lip ring on the left side of his bottom lip. The cool bite of the metal rubbed across me lower lip, and I liked it. A lot.

We gave the candy shoppers (and Josh and Shelby) a show for a few minutes. I was in a world swirling with intense heat and bliss the entire time. My knees felt weak. This guy knew how to kiss and kiss like no other he did until we finally parted.

All was suddenly uncomfortably silent until someone coughed and the rest of the world continued on its way. Josh and Shelby were staring like they'd never seen me before. Beryl was grinning her special grin. I just stood there, pulled close to the stranger's body. He was very warm, at least. Nicely lean and hard too. I took the opportunity to look him down and up.

Tall, I noted, at least six and a few inches, and … well, hot.

My damn tall pierced punk moron had to be just about the polar opposite of my jerk ex-boyfriend in the looks department. He wasn't as much bulky muscle, and he dressed like a classy punk sort. Medium-length black hair was swathed in messy spikes across a defined face that sparked with grey eyes. A small spiked barbell cut through his left eyebrow and he had a stud pierced through his right ear, in addition to the lip ring.

"You just kissed me!" I accused. I felt my face turning red from embarrassment and hid myself back into his chest.

"And you're anything but frigid, babe. I'm Blake. Nice to meet you."

I could hear the smug smile in his voice as he spoke softly above my head, wrapping strong arms around me.

"Rianne, what the hell?" I heard Josh say. I'm pretty sure he was gaping in front of me.

"Back off," Blake warned, voice dropping dangerously soft.

"Josh, let's go. Let it go. Come on." I peeked and saw Shelby tugging at Josh's arm. Finally, they left the store.

Beryl appeared in my vision, the image of gleeful child. "Wow wow wow, Riii," she sing-songed. She grabbed me in a hug after Blake let me go. She craned her head at him, fixing him with her green-eyed stare. "If you fuck this up, I will hunt you down," she said, completely serious. Her expression told it all.

Blake held his hands up to placate my best friend. "You won't have to," he replied, equally serious. I felt my heart stitch itself back up at his words. His hand reached to thread itself through my fingers firmly.

Beryl beamed up at him. "I like you already!" Her expression turned serious again. "But first, we have to fix your bad habits. Rianne hates line-cutters." I smiled.

So maybe this place did something happy for me in the end. I met a guy who stalked me half way across Disneyland and decided he had to get me after watching me eat ice cream (and here I thought Beryl was the only shameless stalker I knew). I was long over Josh who eventually got his ass dumped by Shelby for getting possessive and jealous over me. Even better, Blake also went to school thirty minutes away from Torrington.

Happy did finally happen. But as for actually being The Happiest Place On Earth? After calling me frigid?

Oh, hell no.

--

Fin