Like Gods

[33] obstacles of one

(Chris's p.o.v)

She'd been on his tail, stared at him, from the moment that he walked into the house ten minutes earlier, and frankly, he was tired of it. It wasn't as if he hadn't seen her, he just didn't want to approach her. He had Dylan, and that was more than enough.

Dylan, who he needed to find and talk to and apologize to. It hadn't been fair to get mad at him, especially not when both of them knew that he'd been right, and he hadn't meant to diss him on Friday. He just... had to come to his senses, and now he had.

"Christopher," Megan was suddenly closer, standing behind him, "I really want to thank you for helping my friend last time, I appreciate that." 

"I wasn't the one to do that," Chris said with a shrug, "that was Dylan." 

"Oh, come on, don't give me that 'I'm not interested' act. I saw how you looked at us- me- when we helped Jen." 'I wasn't looking at you', he wanted to grit, but he stayed quiet and let her continue with the conversation. Or, 'monologue' was probably a better description. "And while that little stunt you pulled on the news was cute, we both know that 'Brooklyn' doesn't exist. Not in any way that matters, at least."

He matters more than you to me, Chris thought as he rolled his eyes. 

"It was too bad that Dylan shot Jenny down earlier tonight," Megan kept on going, the sentence catching Chris's attention and making him smile to himself, "we could have been the ultimate friend couple. I know that the soccer team and the football team have become good friends, it would have been perfect." 

"Look, Meg, I'm kind of occupied at the moment," he said.

"Don't lie," she snapped, her goofy demeanor quickly changing into anger, then back again to happiness, "I know that Brooklyn is fake. If she isn't, then tell me who she is. And, also, if she isn't, then she isn't here anyway."

That was... scary. She was either drunk or had lost her mind. Or both.

He gritted his teeth. Then he thought for a moment. He wouldn't mind telling her that he was dating a boy. Not in the slightest, and especially not right now. People could think what they wanted about it and he and Dylan could be happy and out.

But he didn't know how Dylan felt about that, and that mattered more. "She..." The word died on his tongue, and of course, Megan interpreted that wrong.

"That's what I thought," she grinned, getting closer still, "so, what do you say? You and me upstairs, or in the bathroom, or anywhere." She winked and he wanted to gag. He took a step, trying to get past her toward the stairs, but she followed.

"So upstairs, it is," she giggled, and he snapped. In an instant, she was pushed against the wall with him hovering over her. She looked up through hooded lashes, and he realized that she expected him to kiss her.

"Megan, I cannot be more clear than this," he gritted, "I do not want to be with you." 

"Aw, come on-" 

"No, I will not come on. I will tell you how it is, and this is how it is: I am not interested." 

She was quiet for a moment. Then she tilted her head in a way that reminded way too much about Dylan. 

"I know you want me," she whispered finally and Chris sighed, turning on his heel and walked toward the kitchen. To his despair, Megan was still behind him, practically clinging onto his shoulder like some type of bug.