Written By A Romantic

Chapter One

A.N: This one's for Valentina.

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 "Hey," something prods my side, maybe a finger, "are you dead?" the voice asks, amused.

I ignore both the voice and the finger. My head is ringing like nobody's business and I'm still confused as to what the hell happened in the morning. My classes passed without me really paying attention, which is going to bite me in the ass tomorrow when I turn up late to every class. I use to think that figuring out a New Zealand high school is difficult, but this is just plain hell. Every corridor looks the same, with the same posters and the same colored lockers and the same goddamned shaped buildings. It's like the architect tagged teamed with the interior designers and built this place with the sole intention of screwing me over. I'm not sure what's fueling the headache; the ridiculous situation I'm in, or trying to navigate my way around here.

 "Why aren't you in the café?" the voice seems to have decided to stick around, so I answer.

 "Why are you all up in my grill?" I grumble, tempted to backhand whoever the finger belongs to.

The bastard chuckles. "You're definitely her, then."

I figure he's not going to go away any time soon, so I groan and push myself up, stretching with my eyes closed. When I open them, I'm not surprised that the voice belongs to Chase. Seeing his face brings back the scene from the White Room in quick flashes and I blink them away. "If by 'her', you mean Haley, then yeah pretty much."

Chase sits on the bleacher behind me, bright green eyes and all. I sit up properly so I'm not eye-level with his crotch and reach into my bag. "Hungry?" I ask him while unzipping my black bag. I had specifically chosen this one because I wanted to stuff as much food as possible.

His stomach makes a mating call to the fried chicken I hold out to him. "No thanks."

Chase is looking away so I can't read his eyes, but that doesn't mean I can't read him. I study the stubborn set of his jawline, a muscle furiously ticking. The slight crinkle in his eyes aren't there anymore, and his posture is almost hostile with the way he's sitting so straight, unconsciously warning me to drop it. I know he wants me to let this go, but I'm not going to pretend like I didn't hear his stomach basically say he hasn't eaten for maybe even a few days.

 "Don't give me that shit." I hand him the chicken, watching his face close-off even more. "Eat, or I'll kick your ass." I decide that if he resists a second time I won't push him anymore. That could be potentially dangerous. I won't ask questions either, because I know from experience that questions can be goddamned annoying; plus it's none of my business.

Chase scoffs, a smile tugging at his lips. "Like a little thing like you could-"

The bleacher underneath him collapses as I drive my fist through the middle, right in between his legs, making a satisfying crack under my knuckles.

"Holy-!" he yelps as he falls with the wood. He sits there with looking around him at the snapped wood with clear shock. When he looks up at me, his green eyes are wide with excitement, and before I can knock him back on his ass, Chase towers over me with a grin. "That was badass!"