Chapter 3 NO.3

I give up. I completely and utterly give up. This is the 3rd time I've written this chapter, and I still don't like it. Here's what came out. I hope it makes sense to you guys. Sorry if it sucks :(

Hope you enjoy it though! Next chapter should be out within a week maybe?

On the bright side, I got the two main characters cast! What can I say? Ian Somerhalder and Nina Dobrev are truly the perfect couple. (And they do remind me of who I picture as Ivy and X)

Alexander Ludwig casted as Jace!

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When my mom came home, she investigated why I had my stereo blasting loudly. It wasn't rock music to distract my wild imagination from the sickening images it produced. It wasn't pop music, with bouncy beats and effortless high notes that would lift my rock bottom mood. No, it was my kind of music.

Soft, slow notes drifted beautifully over gentle instruments. The voices of the songs were peaceful. The melodies, although sometimes twisting together not-so-pleasant stories, had a rhythm that wrapped itself around me like warm honey, seeping into my skin and lulling my mind to rest. This was the music I danced to.

I'd been dancing since I could remember. I barely remembered first stepping onto the big stage with bright lights in the auditorium of the local high school; the stuffy dance studio that my fellow dancers and I practiced in was as much of a home to me as my own bedroom. It was a place that offered peace and serenity. My childhood outfits mostly consisted of flowing dresses and the occasional tutu. As I'd grown older, spandex was added automatically under any dress that I wore in case I got the urge to dance. I always made sure I was wearing something comfortable, something that I could move in if I had to calm myself down, like right now. When I danced to my lyrical music, I was a peace.

Lyrical is not ballet; some people confuse the two. They have some similarities, but they are two completely different genres of dancing. Ballet is very classy and soft. Lyrical combines ballet and modern dance techniques. There's also a little bit of Jazz. Whereas ballet is set to soft, slow symphonies, lyrical is performed to popular, more modern music, although it's still very soothing and calming.

Lyrical may not seem all that bad. There's twirling, a couple of steps, some more twirling, and it's over. It's not that easy. Every step has to be in the place I need it to be, when I need it. If not, my balance will be thrown off, and I would end up falling on my face, as I have done multiple times before. Speaking of balance, I need a lot of it. When I'm on the tips of my toes, spinning around in a circle as many times as I can without breaking my stance of round arms and a bent, knee connecting my toes to the inside of my other knee, balance is key. When I land, I can never stumble, since this dance is so relaxing and smooth. I need to be able to catch myself and flow with the same grace as the melody.

Momentum is the hardest part, for me at least. When I'm in the air, and trying to land a perfect leap, my momentum has to be absolutely perfect. If there's too much built up, I'll end up stumbling and not landing in the same position I started in. Not enough, and the full move won't be completed.

When my mom entered my room, she saw my newly arranged room. My bed was shoved into a corner sloppily, probably denting the wall. Clothes and shoes were kicked out of the way, messily clumped in wrinkled masses. Most of my furniture was piled up against one side of my room to give me as much space as possible. The only thing that went untouched was my stereo, where my iPod was connected and spilling out the beats I counted to. The note had been lost somewhere in my rush to clear a space for me to dance.

I hadn't wanted to waste time stretching, so my body alone was making a lot of noise. Snap! My joints cracked against each other. Crackle! My hip joint ground in its socket was my leg reached to do a fan that shouldn't be done until after I'd stretched properly. Pop! My knees sounded as I bent suddenly, slowly rising back up from my low position.

"Ivy!" I jumped at the sound of my name, screaming slightly as I whirled around to face my opened door. My mom, leaning against the frame, burst into giggles at my terrified expression.

"Not funny, mom!" I gasped, clutching a hand to my chest. "You almost gave me a heart attack!"

"Oh, like you're the one that has to worry about heart attacks, " she joked before teasingly grabbing her own chest and fanning herself, as if she couldn't breathe. "You old mother can't take much more of your rebellion! Please, Ivy, just settle down! No more late night parties! No more coming home drunk in the early hours of the morning! Just no more of it!"

I crossed my arms, trying to keep a straight face at her ridiculous accusations. Late night parties indeed.

"I suppose I should tell you now then, " I sighed, plastering worry all over my face. "Mom, I'm pregnant."

"Oh, the pain!" she cried, flopping to the floor. "I can't breathe!"

I rolled my eyes, dropping my act and nudging her with my bare toe. "I swear, sometimes I think you're the teenager in this family."

"Well, one of us has to have fun, " she said in her serious tone, abruptly standing up and crossing her arms in a way that screamed she meant business. "I haven't seen you truly laugh in the past month unless you have Violet over. That boyfriend of yours is no good for you, Ivy. No good at all."

"Mom, " I groaned, "we've been over this. I like Jake."

"You like the security of your relationship, not him, " she retorted instantly, hitting the nail on the head in the way only mothers could.

I shrugged, not bothering to argue. If I thought debating with Violet was futile, going against my mom was verbal suicide. I'd inherited my dad's silent determination and logical way of thinking, not my mom's boisterous personality that could turn a whole roomful of heads at her vivacious presence.

"It's not like there's a line of guys asking me out."

"So go scout one out and snatch him up!" she grinned. "You know, I did see that James Kennedy at the scrap yard. Now that, my darling daughter, would be a fine catch."

"Mom!" I gasped. I wasn't sure whether to be more appalled at the fact my mom was trying to find me a guy when I already had a boyfriend, or the fact that she was staring at senior James Kennedy working at the local scrap yard, where he was most likely wiping sweat off of his admittedly ripped body with his shirt between shifts of lifting heavy metal off the backs of trucks and separating them however he did.

"What?"

"I can't believe you were checking out someone half your age!"

"Well, you won't, and he certainly doesn't mind providing this old town with a little something to liven it up, " she justified. "I'm just appreciating the local artwork that is his sculpted body."

"Just because I don't talk about him doesn't mean I don't look, " I grumbled, which was very true. During our freshman year, Violet and I had talked well into the night about the Kennedy boys, both James and his older brother by two years. Everyone had known James would be a clone to his attractive brother. Now, three years later, he hadn't disappointed. It was common knowledge girls giggled about him when he walked by, which would've been expected by his appearance alone. Combined with his reputation of the town's bad boy, he was more than well-known. Every girl got excited at the mention of the name James Kennedy. Mothers knew they were helpless to stop their daughter's hormones, so they simply joined in with their own opinions and gossip. Fathers remained oblivious when their little princess suddenly became the son he never had and offered to take that truckload of rusty metal to the scrap yard, even when there were only a couple of pieces. They were going to visit the museum that held only a single statue that represented Michelangelo's David.

Oh, yes, I knew just as much abut James Kennedy's carved body as the next girl. I just didn't let people know that I knew. Jake would be the one having a heart attack if he knew what I talked about behind closed doors with my best friend. His perfect girlfriend wasn't so perfect.

"Come on, then, " my mom grinned now. "We'll go grab dinner in town and take a detour past the scrap yard...both there and back."

"You're terrible, " I laughed. Deciding I was going to take what I could get, I figured that the yard was on the left side while we drove there, but the right on the way back. "I'll drive there on the way if you drive back."

"Sounds good to me, " she shrugged obliviously. My mouth tipped up into a smirk. She had no idea just how much I appreciated our little town's personal piece of art.

When we passed the yard, I pressed the brake pedal fractionally, not wanting to seem to obvious, but my mom had other plans.

"Slow down!" she hissed, peering past me out the open window. I pressed harder, bringing the speedometer closer to twenty.

There he was, in all his sweaty glory. His dark jeans were stained with grease and sagged low on his hips, revealing the tops of his black boxers His signature white t-shirt was tucked in his back pocket. He bent down to grab what looked like some piece of equipment. It was long and bulky with bolts the size of my fist, the metal weathered red-brown. I couldn't begin to imagine trying to get a hold on the thing, much less lift it, but James hauled it over his shoulder effortlessly, carrying it like a sack of potatoes. His biceps and triceps and any other –eps in his arms bulged deliciously with the weight. He had a strong, broad back.

A horn honked behind me, making my mom and I snap out of our ogling. I hadn't even realized that I'd stopped entirely, sitting stupidly in front of the entrance to the yard.

"Move it, ladies, 'less ya'll got some type of business 'ere!"

I winced at the loud voice, stepping on the gas quickly. The tires squealed loudly in protest before kicking up a cloud of dust and racing away from the scene.

I lip wobbled as I tried to hold it in. I couldn't believe my mom and I had been caught checking out the town's bad boy, stopped outside of the entrance of where he worked no less! In the back of my mind, I wondered if that was severe enough for a restraining order. I could see the headlines now: "Ivy Ross charged with harassment after getting caught stalking James Kennedy. Intentions can be assumed that she has an unhealthy obsession with the godlike man, and was found watching him in front of his workplace." Would my mom go to jail, too, or would they assume that she'd been trying to talk some sense into me? I hoped for the latter. She wouldn't survive a single day in an orange suit. Although she always said she could pull off orange effortlessly...

"Oh, " my mom hissed softly, "my God."

I glanced at her. She was working her bottom lip between her teeth, holding back the same emotion I was. When our eyes met, we couldn't contain ourselves. Laughter overflowed from out mouths. It was the painful, healthy kind of laughter that only came from being exceptionally pleased. As I heard my mom start to gasp for breath, her head thrown back against the seat, I felt a weight lift from my shoulders. I hadn't had this much fun in far too long.

Just when we started to calm down, my mom dropped the real bomb. "He saw us, you know."

"Who?" I prayed I was wrong.

"James. When you were busy panicking, he turned around and saw us."

"Did he recognize me?" I gasped.

"I don't know. He started to wave before you raced out of there like some sort of speed demon."

"Oh no." My wide eyes flickered between her and the road. "He saw me! And he might have recognized me!" My head fell into one of my hands. "This is terrible!"

"Oh, yes, it's the end of the world. A boy other than Jake may just have noticed you. And he's hot! A hot man checked my baby girl out. However will you go on?"

"The sarcasm, " I replied icily, "is not needed."

"Pardon me, " she giggled, not deterred by my cold attitude. "You know what I think?"

"No, and I really don't want to."

I knew she was going to tell me anyway. "The lady doth protest too much, methinks!"

I rolled my eyes. Trust her to use my love of Shakespeare to her advantage at a time like this.

"Mom, now is not the time to quote Hamlet."

"Is that where it's from? I never did quite know. I knew it was Shakespeare..."

Thankfully, I was able to swing the topic from James to Shakespeare and my schoolwork, although my mom was trying to wring some juicy, teenage gossip from my boring details of my English paper.

I didn't know when I had started to appreciate Shakespeare's work. All I knew was it was before my freshman year, two years ago, when we were introduced to Romeo and Juliet and The Seven Stages of Man. I didn't even need the footnotes much since I just naturally understood the language. I'd internally rolled my eyes when my classmates had slaughtered the beautiful words and couldn't keep the simple story line straight. Was it really that hard to remember the difference between a Capulet and a Montague? Were the characters' intentions not clear when they screamed their accusations before drawing their sword? My tongue had been held, though, mainly because Jake was also in the class. I couldn't ruin my Good Samaritan image, now could I?

I huffed at my own thoughts. My wild streak was beginning to rear her ugly head, and I didn't know how much longer I could contain her sarcastic, witty side. Sooner or later, I was going to burst.

***

"Mom, please, just drive home!" I pleaded once again. After we'd eaten, I had stupidly handed the keys over to her, forgetting just how little she cared if James caught us sneaking a peek at him again. She wasn't the one that would have to face him tomorrow, after all.

"We'll go home, " she grinned. "We're just taking a different way."

"Mom, what am I supposed to say to him if he approaches me tomorrow at school and asks why my mother was checking him out? What if he does it in front of Jake?!"

"Then you stand tall, look that boy straight in the eye, and tell him how he should cover up his body if he doesn't want people appreciating what he's showing. That boy has a body that could make a nun sin, and I'm willing to bet that he knows it. Trust me, baby girl, I'm sure I'm not the only one looking. I'm probably just the only one that will admit it."

I sunk low in my seat when we passed the scrap yard but couldn't resist glancing out the window cowardly. James Kennedy was someone a woman just couldn't ignore.

To my complete and utter shock, he was staring right at me when I looked over at him. My eyes widened to the size of basketballs.

"Mom, drive! He saw us! Go!"

"Too late, " she replied cheerfully, rolling my window down from the control panel on her door. She smacked my hand when I tried to force it back up. "He's coming towards us."

This was what made up the horror stories of high school. A hot guy never approached a girl that wasn't stunningly gorgeous, and he never, ever talked to a girl in the grade below him. Older, sure, but never younger. It just wasn't done.

"Hey, " he smiled when he was close enough for us to hear him. "How's it going, Ivy?"

My tongue felt way too big for my mouth. I was sure I was acting like a complete idiot, staring at him mutely, but his voice that was like warm honey had completely melted my brain. I couldn't even talk, and I knew that getting out of the car was definitely not going to happen. I would quite literally melt into a puddle at his feet. And was it even legal for a smile to be so blindingly perfect?

"Uh, good, " I finally managed to squeak out. "How are you?"

"Same old, " he shrugged. "Not much excitement in this little town, y'know?"

"Yeah." He even made shrugging look hot. I was pathetic.

"Would you mind if I borrowed Ivy for a few minutes, Mrs. Ross?" he asked politely. His shirtless torso made him impossible for females of any kind to resist, but his respect left my mother absolutely defenseless. I could see it in her eyes. He could have asked to borrow me for the entire night, and she would probably let him.

"Sure, that's fine, James, " she practically cooed, shooting me an excited look.

"Great." He turned his attention back to me. "Follow me. This place can get a little confusing. I'm sure you wouldn't be able to tell the difference between ferrous and nonferrous metals and some of the guys aren't as nice as I am about lost girls."

His confession made my stomach twist uncomfortably, as did the mention of trusting my legs with my weight, but I agreed anyway, slowly unbuckling my seat belt and carefully stepping out of my sanctuary.

His arm came around my shoulders, and I stiffened. Did he expect me to be able to function at all? It was going to be challenging enough to not make a fool of myself without him touching me!

"I'm sorry, " he apologized, dropping his limb. "I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable."

Uncomfortable? Yes. Did I mind? No way.

"It's okay, " I replied, giving myself a mental pat on the back when my voice didn't sound too out of breath.

"Watch your step, " he warned, just in time for me to catch a piece of glass glinting in the sun that I almost stepped on. He took my hands, and I tried very hard to control my heartbeat. He graciously guided me over any obstacles until we were behind some sort of shed.

"So, " he grinned playfully, unleashing his bad boy persona on me full force. His eyes glinted teasingly as he leaned against the side of the building and stuck his hands in his pockets. "You drive by here often?"

I flushed profusely. "O-Once in a while, " I stuttered.

"Any specific reason you didn't take the main road into town? 'Cause I know you don't drive past here everyday after school to get home. I've only seen your car a couple of times, actually. Was there something you were looking for?"

Was I imagining the double meaning in his words? If his smug expression was anything to go by, I probably wasn't.

"I j-just wanted to go a different way, " I lied, my wandering eyes giving me away before I'd even opened my mouth.

"You sure?" His voice had dropped a few octaves, making it deeper and oh so attractive.

"Yes?" My reassurance sounded more like a question.

"Because I think I remember you staring at me, " he rumbled, taking a step closer to me. I pressed my back against the wall behind me.

"Really?"

"Mhmm..." he hummed, slowly lifting a hand and trailing one finger down my cheek before cupping it in his palm. My breathing stopped as I cursed the onions that I'd had on my cheeseburger. "You're so pretty, you know that, Ivy?"

I felt like he'd thrown a bucket of ice water on me. Jake always said how pretty I was. Jake, my boyfriend, who was currently a second away from having a cheating girlfriend if James didn't stop staring at my mouth.

"I have a boyfriend, " I blurted out. "I don't know what you're doing, but it has to stop."

He looked confused and surprised, no doubt wondering how someone like me could turn down someone like him. He was James Kennedy; girls didn't reject him.

"Dump him, " he suggested. "I can make you have fun, Ivy. Whenever I see you with him, you look so perfect. You look too perfect, more prim and proper than I know you want to be. It can't be fun acting all the time."

"You don't know anything, James, " I snapped as I tried to find away around his arms that were suddenly caging me in.

"There she is, " he grinned. "I knew that bad girl was in there somewhere."

"Look, I don't know why you brought me out here, but-" I was cut off by his mouth.

James didn't kiss like Jake. There was nothing perfect about the way he completely covered my mouth, giving and taking without asking. The kiss was rushed, his mouth frantically moving over mine like a dehydrated man finally finding water. He was sloppy in his kissing, but that added something that I didn't know could be shared through the mere meeting of two people's lips. I was clearly wrong. It wasn't clean or respectable, but I liked it.

However, despite how much better of a kisser James was than Jake, it didn't change the face the Jake was my boyfriend.

I pushed him away roughly, actually managing to force him back a few steps. "Never do that again!" I gasped, partly breathless from his kiss and partly due to my hysteria. Jake didn't deserve a cheating girlfriend! How was I supposed to face him now?

"Why? Did it make you see that your boyfriend isn't that great after all?"

"This isn't right, James, " I glared harshly. "Unless I give you my consent, you should keep your hands to yourself!"

"What about my lips?" he pressed.

"You're impossible!" I snapped. "Get me out of here. I'm done with you."

"Fine, " he sighed. "But let me clarify one thing, Ivy. Even if you hate me now, even if you never want to see me again, it was worth it. Finally being able to kiss the prettiest girl I've ever seen was worth it."

"Take me back, " I demanded, not wanting to complicate my love life. Jake was my boyfriend. Jake was caring, driven, and smart. Jake was safe. Jake was everything I needed. And yet...

James was wild. He was fun, stubborn, and had that daring smirk that promised a good time, even if that good time wasn't exactly in my comfort zone.

After we got home, my mom allowed my to retire to my room peacefully. My mind was still buzzing as I got ready for bed, tugging this way and that as I tried to sort out my thoughts about two certain boys.

My emotions were unstable. I knew that I would have to simply free fall into them, like a trapeze artist at a circus, not caring which way I turned, what moves I had to pull. I just wanted to come out unbroken in the end. My heart was on the line instead of my body.

Jake was safe. He was like the safety net below a trapeze artist, reliable and secure. Why would I want to get rid of him? It would be risky and stupid. It would be completely reckless and I shouldn't even be thinking about the possibility. At the same time, it would be such an adrenaline rush to be without him, know that all of my decisions rested in my hands, there was no one there making sure I was safe. I could be dangerous, free.

Jake may have been the net, but James was the platform high above the ground, daring my to get closer and closer to the edge as adrenaline flooded my body. He caused my heart to beat faster, my muscles to tense, and a grin of anticipation to spread across my lips when I finally fell to begin my act. And I knew he would still be there, in the end, when I returned.

How was I supposed to choose between them?

I collapsed in my bed when I had my pajamas on and my teeth brushed. It was only eight, but I was exhausted after the roller coaster my emotions experienced after school. I allowed my head to connect to my pillow, the pull like a magnet. I had no idea that "X" had put his note inside my pillowcase, keeping it close to me.