I am going to murder him.

I'm going to take a knife to his stupid, Adonis-like body and slice him open. Then I'm going to cut him into tiny little pieces and I'll put those tiny little pieces into my mother's Slap-Chop so they'll be even tinier and littler and all the blood and guts that comes out of him will go into the Magic Bullet my mom just had to have (she's a stay-at-home mom; she lives for the home shopping network) and make it into a smoothie.

Christopher Ricci will regret the day he spread nasty rumors about Toni de Luca.

"Um, Toni?"

"What?" I snap, turning around to find my mother standing in between my doorframe with the telephone in her hands.

"Are you okay, sweetie?" She hesitantly takes a step into my room.

"Yes, Mother, I'm fine," I snap and roll my eyes. Parents. "I'm busy planning the murder of an ugly, no-good hooligan, so if you'll kindly tell me what you interrupted me for, I'd really like to get back to my plotting."

"Chris is on the phone for you."

I swear, I almost growl at the sound of his name. "What does he want?"

Her eyebrow furrows. She says slowly, "To talk to you."

"Tell him I'm busy," I swivel around in my chair, turning back to my desk to complete my scheme.

A few moments later, my mom tells me, "He wants to know what you're busy with."

"I'm planning the accidental death of Christmas Ricci!"

I listen to her repeat what I said over the phone to him. "… He says his name isn't Christmas."

"I'll stop calling him Christmas when he stops calling me Rigatoni!"

My mom laughs. I narrow my eyes at her. This is no laughing matter! It is a serious issue that stems back to my birth when she gave me the name Antonia. Obviously I would hate that name and would want to go by something shorter and cute, like Toni. Charming, attractive boys like Chris Ricci, however, ruin it and are able to spread it around school that my name is in fact short for Rigatoni, not Antonia.

And people actually believe it! I'll never be able to show my face again thanks to him!

"Chris says he wants to apologize," Mother says.

"Apology not accepted," I sniff. "I never want to see him again- is it too late to un-RSVP from their Christmas party tomorrow night?"

She pulls the phone away from her ear looking frustrated. "Antonia Lorenza de Luca! You are going to let Chris apologize to you. Lorenzo is your father's best friend; we have to go to his Christmas party tomorrow night. We all ready RSVPed anyway, it would be rude to not show up."

She leaves the phone on my bed and storms out of my room. Drama queen.

"But Chris was really mean to me!" I call after her but receive no response. I walk to my bed and pick up the phone. "You still there, Christmas?" I grumble.

"Yes, I am, Rigatoni." I could practically hear his smirk through the phone.

"I thought you wanted to apologize," I say impatiently.

"Well, I did," he starts, "But then I heard you want to skip our Christmas party. That hurts, Rigatoni. It'll ruin my holiday if you're not there!"

"I'm hanging up now." I'm able to catch him utter a quick "see you tomorrow" before I click the red 'End Call' button.

Lorenzo Ricci (Mr. Ricci to me) is my father's best friend, has been since they first met in college. I'm not really sure about the story of how they became friends, but I do know that it ended with my father losing a bet and having to name his first born child after Lorenzo, hence my middle name: Lorenza.

As if Antonia wasn't bad enough…

I must have done something terrible to my parents in those few moments of my life post-birth and pre-naming, because it seems they really hated me.

After much reluctance and alligator tears on my part, my parents are finally able to force me into the car for the drive to the Ricci's home. I threaten to stay in the car for the whole party, but my father deems that the appropriate time to inform me that the Ricci's have been having a bit of a raccoon problem lately. Apparently, those little nocturnal buggers have been getting in everywhere: garbage cans, the garage, cars.

That got me out of there real quick.

After wishing Mr. and Mrs. Ricci a very merry Christmas, I sit in the Ricci's red and green decorated living room with Abigail, Chris's five year old sister. She regales me with tales of her adventures with her little friends all around the playground at recess. You would be surprised at all the drama-rama going down on the playground.

"Hey, Abby, can I steal Toni for a minute?" Chris oh so rudely interrupts her story about her friend Catie's (with a C!) birthday party during which a boy had a bad reaction to green frosting.

Abigail shrugs, "Okay," and walks away. Some friend she is.

"Great," Chris grins and plops down in her vacated seat on the couch. "How ya doin', Toni?"

"What? You've given up on calling me Rigatoni?" I sneer.

"Why?" he smirks. "Would you prefer it if I did?"

"No," I say indignantly.

"I didn't know you would get so upset about it," he mumbles.

"You spread nasty rumors about me! Of course I'd be upset!"

"Nasty rumors? You're going a little far, dontcha think?" He continues as I huff in response. "Hey, I didn't get this upset when you spread that rumor about me having herpes last year!"

I flush scarlet red. "I didn't spread it about you, I spread that about Haley after she dumped you," I try to defend myself.

"I was with her for like a year," he points out. "If she did have it, she probably got it from me."

I cringe. "I didn't think that through very well, did I?"

"Why did you do it by the way?" He questions.

I shrug. "Haley was a bitch."

"So?"

My face flushes even more if that's possible. I probably look like a tomato. "She hurt you so she deserved it."

"Wait, wait, wait," he says, the ever-present smirk growing by the second. "Are you trying to say that you care about my feelings and, dare I say it, me?"

"No." The ring on pinkie finger has suddenly become very interesting. "That's crazy."

He pauses for a second. I could feel his eyes burning a hole in the side of my head. "Would it be crazy for me to say that I care about your feelings and, by extension, you, too?"

The room suddenly becomes very warm and I mutter, "If you cared about my feelings then you wouldn't have told everyone my names was Rigatoni."

"It was a joke, Toni," he laughs exasperatedly and rolls his eyes. "If it'll make you feel better, I'll tell everyone that it was a lie and that your name really isn't Rigatoni."

"That's not the point!" I almost yell. "You shouldn't have done it in the first place."

"What do I have to do to make it up to you?"

"There's nothing you can do! What you did is unforgivable," I sniff.

"Don't you think you're being just a bit dramatic here, Toni?" he asks, his voice filled with amusement.

"I'm in the drama club for a reason, Christmas."

"So we're back to that now, huh?"

I roll my eyes. "Just go away." I turn to look at him to tell him to "shoo" again, but I get cut off. By his lips. Is he really kissing me after he did such an inappropriate thing?

The kiss lasts all of one, maybe two seconds before I push him away. "What the heck was that?" I wipe at my lips, hoping to get his cooties off.

I never thought I would see someone look so unabashed after mauling someone else with their lips, but he still sits there as if he didn't just do it.

He glances up between us and nods to the leaves Abby is holding in between us. "Mistletoe," he informs me as he reaches into his pocket and pulls three dollars out to give to her. "Thanks, kid, you did great."

Abby giggles and runs off after stuffing the money into her sock. I gape at him. "Did you pay her to do that?"

Chris shrugs. "Yeah."

"Why?"

"Because I wanted to kiss you," he tells me like it's the most obvious thing in the world. He might as well just add a "Duh!" in there with it.

"Oh… Why?

"Because I like you… I literally just told you that like a minute ago."

He did? Right. He did. He cares about my feelings and me, "by extension." I guess, in boy terms, it is synonymous with like.

I nod and pause for a moment, taking it all in.

"So… Do you have anything you want to say?" Chris asks.

"No," I blurt immediately without thinking.

"Oh." His face drops and his eyes fall to his fingers in his lap.

Awkward.

"Yes."

"What?" He's confused.

"I have something I'd like to say." Woah! What? I have something to say? My mouth must know something that I don't… Do I like him? No, he's a jerk and made my life hell for years… But I might like him. I mean, he's really cute and sometimes he isn't a jerk and actually really nice and those dimples he has whenever he smirks… Oh.

He looks at me to continue. Right.

I take a breath. "I think I might care about your feelings, too." I don't dare look at him.

"And what does that mean?" Chris pressures. "Come on, I said it."

"I think it means that I'm not completely indifferent to your feelings," I reword.

He frowns at me and runs a frustrated hand through his hair. His beautiful hair. It looks so soft. Would it be weird if I touched it? I should hold myself back, I think. Self-control and all that. "I swear, it's like pulling teeth with you. You really can't just tell me you like me back?"

My eyes shoot open as wide as saucers. Did he really just say that out loud? I glance around us hurriedly to make sure no one was around to overhear. The coast looks pretty clear…

"Do I have to?" I whine.

"Yes, because if you don't, I'll never kiss you again."

I snort. How lady like- my mother must be so proud. "Is that supposed to be threatening?"

"Yes, it is. I know you secretly liked it."

"You aren't that good of a kisser," I lie. To be honest, the whole three second experience was the best kiss of my life. Not that it's saying much, since I've only ever kissed one other boy and he had dog-breath.

"You're lying," he challenges. Dammit, he can see right through me.

"Nuh-uh," I reply maturely.

"Yeah-huh!"

"Nuh-uh!" I repeat and, before he can respond, I add in, "If I remember correctly- and I have a pretty good memory, by the way- it was the worst kiss of my entire life."

"Well, let me refresh your memory then."

And he's kissing me.

His lips are on mine.

And… I don't mind it? What? No! What am I doing? Why am I kissing him back? I hate him! I hate him! But he actually is a really good kisser. His lips are so soft and he doesn't have dog-breath, either, so that's a plus.

Wait…

Why is he pulling away? No!

"Wait, no. I need a little more." I try to pull him closer again before he gets too far away.

He smirks. "Not until you say it."

Damn him. "Ilikeyou," I mumble before going in again.

"What was that?" I could slap the smirk off his face right now.

"I like you, okay? Just kiss me!"

And he happily obliges. That is, until he pulls away again. Damn him, he really needs to stop doing that.

"So, are you still made that I told my friends you're name is Rigatoni?"

"Yes," I respond before cupping his cheek and pulling him in for another kiss.

I don't think I'll ever get over that one.