FicWad

Hey guys. I'm really sorry for taking ages to update again. I really need to start setting time limits for myself. :\
Anyway, here's chapter three. Enjoy.
xo
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Frank's POV


"So, Amanda... want anything?" I asked as I rummaged absentmindedly through the small fridge.

Her quiet reply came after a few seconds hesitation. "Um, no thanks. I'm not really hungry." She stared at her fidgeting hands, and for a moment I swore I saw shame flash in her eyes.

"Is everything okay?" I was met with a glare. For fucks sake, Frank. Could you ask a dumber question? Obviously things aren't fine. After mentally slapping myself, I tried to rephrase my concern. "Sorry. Uh, I meant is something else wrong? You seem kinda... I don't know."

She looked up and her bright blue eyes caught mine. "Yeah. Things are okay, I guess. It's just been a rough night, you know?" Though she tried to reassure me that she was fine, there was something worrying about the look she gave me. Something in her eyes that just wouldn't leave. As if she was begging me to understand something, some untold secret she carried with her. Almost instantly, her eyes left mine, soon returning to her fidgeting hands.

"You should probably get some sleep. It's -" shit, what time was it? I looked at the small green numbers on the microwave. "- three o'clock. You want the bed?"

Her eyes met mine again. "Oh, no. The couch is fine for me. I'm sorry for being such a burden."

I turned to leave, but was stopped by that soft voice again.

"And Frank?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you. For everything." she meekly finished.

I flashed her an apologetic smile before continuing to my room. I laid in bed for what seemed like hours, but just couldn't sleep. I don't know if it was adrenaline from the show still rushing through me, the beer and weed, or the fact that a girl I hate was sleeping outside of my room, but regardless, I was too restless to lay in bed. I glanced at my alarm clock, which read 6:41AM. Well, there's no point in even trying to sleep now. Grabbing a towel, I tiptoed from my room and into the hall. As I passed the couch, I looked down. What I saw surprised me. No longer did I see a spoiled bitch, but rather a small, broken girl. She looked adorable when she was sleeping. Peaceful for once. Like there was nothing that could hurt her. If not for the bruise forming around her left eye, I would have thought she was an angel. Man, who the fuck could do that to someone so innocent?

Suddenly, she began stirring. Shit, she's gonna wake up and see me standing over her, staring like some creep. I darted out of the room, swiftly running into my bathroom.

As I showered and brushed my teeth, I couldn't get Amanda off my mind. Creepy, I know, but for some reason I just wanted to help her. Fix her - make her better. These thoughts kept running through my head as I wrapped the towel around my waist and headed back to my room. I pushed a dripping wet dreadlock out of my eyes as I rounded the corner and bumped into something. Or rather, someone.

"We seem to walk into each other a lot, don't we?" I asked, flashing her a smile. Dude, was I flirting with her? Right here, in only a towel, while she's totally beat up and scared? Man, what the fuck's my problem?!

She mumbled something and stared at the ground. Her cheeks were flushed a bright pink with embarrassment.

"Well, I uh, should, y'know go get dressed." Yeah, way to be awkward, Frank. I walked around her to my room, and grabbed a towel. Coming back out of my room, I tossed the blue towel to her, accidently hitting her in the face.

I coughed in an unsuccessful attempt to stifle my laugh and said, "You might wanna take a shower - there's some dried blood and dirt in your hair. I'll find you some clean clothes to wear. No point in going to class today. Just stay here and hang with me?"

She nodded and shut the bathroom door behind her. I walked to my room and searched my drawers for something tiny enough for her to wear. I'm not the biggest dude around, but still, there was no way my clothes would fit her. Settling on some old plaid patterened pyjama pants and a Propaghandi zip up for her, I pulled out clothes for myself. Jeans and a Cro Mags tee. I pulled them over my still slightly damp body and grabbed the clothes for her. Placing them on the floor outside of the bathroom, I walked to the mini kitchen to make coffee. I reached my hand across the counter to flip the switch. Alright, coffee, coffee, coffee... where the fuck do I keep the coffee? I haven't seen the tin in ages. I rummaged around the counter until my hand felt something cool and smooth. I must have stared at the back of the coffee tin for five minutes before I heard a soft voice behind me.

"Need help?" she said with a slight laugh.

"Uh. No, I just... I'm... reading?" Smooth. She gave me a skeptical look and I sighed, defeated. "Alright. Fine, I need help. I've never actually made coffee before. It's just here for whenever my best friend's over."

"Frank? You're nineteen and have never made coffee... what kind of college student are you?"

"To be honest, I've never actually drank coffee before."

A shocked expression replaced the previously taunting one gracing her features. "Wait... what? How can someone go through nineteen years without even tasting it? It's like the drink of the overly jittery gods! It's beauty in a cup! More delicious than all the candy in the world combined! It's - "

"Yeah, Amanda. I get it - it's good. Can we stop mocking me for a second and make this damn coffee?" I retorted, flashing my signature grin.


Amanda's POV

Never in a million years would I have believed you if you had told me that Frank and I would be sitting in his kitchenette playfully bickering like we'd been friends our whole lives. I'm still not sure how this even happened. We hate each other... we're too different. Well, at least that's what I've been led to believe. But maybe he's just too different from the person I've become.

As if on cue, Frank's voice cut through the silence. "I think you try too hard." he said, biting his bottom lip as he studied me. "This isn't really you, is it?"

"What are you talking about?" came my uneasy reply.

"You're not the bitchy, overly fake and cheery girl I thought you were. There's something deeper. You're not like them. You've got secrets. I can see that - I'm not blind. You're just good at hiding them."

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. He's right. Dead on. But he can't know the real me... no one does. I won't let them. "Oh fuck off, Frank. You've talked to me for two goddamn hours. How do you expect to know all of my deepest darkest secrets? You're completely wrong. I am like them. I'm fucking fake. I know that. There's really no denying it. But I'm happy being fake. I'd rather be that than a fucking freak like you. Matt was right all along about you. And you know what else? I can be a bitch too." With that, I stormed past him and out of the room. I could feel his confused and hurt eyes following me as I slammed the door.

I barely made it twenty feet before I felt something tightly grip my arm and pull me into a dark room.