I stare down my enemy, weapon of choice clutched in my right hand. The door behind me is gaping open just in case I'll need reinforcements. I'm confident that I can tackle the horrid beast myself though. But you never know when a fight can turn really savage. I purse my lips, kneel down on my knees, dunk the scrub brush into the bleached water and begin to scour the sides of the toilet bowl.

This isn't my own bathroom, by the way. It's David's. How the heck did I end up in such a depressing situation? He offered me a hundred dollars . . . but then I demanded more until we reached an agreement of a hundred and fifty. And I was paid up front, too. Why was my brother hiring a maid to do his chores? Because he didn't want to miss the huge Ultimate Frisbee game in the park. I don't see what's so appealing about rolling around in the mud, shirtless, knocking into people who are sprinting at you at full speed, just to accumulate bruises and sore joints.

Anyway. Back to my battle with the toilet. My nose and eyes are stinging from the bleach so much that tears are forming and I can practically feel my nose hairs burning and my brain frying. I manage to finish the job with out keeling over. But when I stand up, I notice all the cobwebs on the wall and in the corners. Since I'm in the cleaning mindset, the white wisps irritate me. I also find that the dust behind the toilet seat and the unclean floor and the filthy sink annoy me as well.

When I actually exit David's bathroom, it's sparkling from top to bottom. Uh-huh, yah, I'm definitely charging Dave another hundred.

I put away the cleaning supplies, change into black yoga pants, a tank, and a short-sleeved crop top, and head into the kitchen, searching for something to eat. All that cleaning left me ravenous. I'm heating up leftover pizza when Juliet comes whizzing down the stairs and slides across the floor to the front door. I poke my head out of the kitchen. "Where you goin', Jules?" Juliet starts at my voice, making her drop one of the sandals she was slipping on. She picks it up and puts it on before looking at me and answering, "First: don't call me 'Jules'. Second: I'm going to the Dairy Queen with a few friends." After a pause, she adds casually, "I thought you were going out today."

The microwave beeps. I head back into the kitchen. "I am after I eat. If you want to wait fifteen minutes I can drive you to the DQ." Dave walked to the park so that I could use his Honda to go to the library. I hear shuffling and then the front door yawning open. "No, it's alright," my sister calls, walking out. "It's not that far." Then the door slams closed. I shrug, taking a bite of my pizza. Whatever, I get to drive the car either way.

* * *

The library's air-conditioning is broken, so when I walk in through its automatic doors, I'm not welcomed by a blast of icy air. It's just as humid inside as it is outside. Wait, no, I think I'm sweating even worse in here.

After a half and hour of browsing the shelves, I have a large stack of books in a plastic bag beside me while I'm surfing the Web on one of the computers. I have my headphones plugged into my iPod (and is ironically playing 'I'm Sorry' by NU'EST) so it scares the freaking bejeezus out of me when two large hands clamp down on my shoulders. I'm startled so badly, one of my ear buds knock out of my ear and it's a challenge to turn my gasps into normal inhales and exhales. I turn around, more than ready to bust some teeth out, when I come face to face with Adam Craig.

Adam Craig has been a friend and a classmate for the past two years. We met during freshmen year (God, that year is Hell brought to Earth . . .) and hit it off instantly. We had the same lunch and study hall period and a class or two together at a time, but for some reason we were close and always found ways to hang out during school despite our schedules.

Then somewhere along the line Adam developed a crush on me. I don't know when or how (or why for that matter) but when he first started to like me, neither me nor our friends noticed it. Until we were both invited to the same party. And for some God-forsaken reason, at every boy-girl party I've been to, there just has to be a game of Spin-the-Bottle.

I had never played before, but I decided to try it (okay, so 'decided' is much too mild a word; I was practically trussed up by my girls and hurled into the circle). I was thirteen and was a bit self-conscious about the fact that almost everyone I knew had had their first kiss and I hadn't. Spin-the-Bottle was the easiest, most painless way to do it. Besides, the selection of guys wasn't the worst I've seen.

The host (I can't remember who) spun the bottle to start the game. A few minutes and kisses later, the bottle's neck pointed in Adam's direction. The girl walked up to receive her prize. But when Adam spun the bottle – out of ALL the females in that circle – who do you think it determinedly landed on?

Amber.

I'm lying; ME, OF COURSE!

At first I didn't mind. But when we went to the center, I felt that Adam was taking more out of the kiss than I was or what was meant to be taken away. What I mean is I sensed that this was a much bigger deal to Adam than it should have. And I was right. The rest of the party, I heard whispers of Adam suddenly having the hugest crush on me and how, from the spectators, how into the kiss Adam was.

So whenever I talk with or hang out with Adam now, it's an unspoken confession. He likes me, plain as the color of my hair. He never said the words out loud, but when it's subtly hinted at or we hear people talking about it, he never denies it. The surprising fact of all of this though? Last year I started to like him back. I had even thought of dating him after my Break Through.

But then, y'know . . . yah. NU'EST found their adorable way into my life. Which includes Kim JongHyun. Which means excluding Adam Craig.

So having to turn around in my seat to see Adam's face sends a pang through me. I don't want to hurt him. He's my friend. And, truthfully, he's not painful to gaze at. Tall with broad shoulders, thick arms, long legs, wavy golden-brown hair, light green eyes, square jaw, high cheekbones, long eyelashes. Just being with him, too, is a pleasure. He's funny, he's nice, he's . . .

Um. Huh. Well, he has a lot of characteristics that JR does. Actually. ^^;

"Adam!" I whisper-scold. "I was about to my pants. What is wrong with you??" Adam just smiles and sits in the empty seat next to me. He logs onto the computer while saying, "It's a good thing you were able to hold yourself then; that would've been quite a mess for the librarians." I frown and playfully smack his tough shoulder. "Well, aren't you the comedian?" I grumble. I notice that his left hand's in a splint. Alarmed, I question it. Adam glances down, shrugs, and says that he misjudged the distance between the garage roof and the ground.

Girls, don't ever ask a guy how he injured himself; it will most likely result in restraining yourself from causing more bodily damage to the said cripple.

We continue to chat for a while, muffling our laughter, showing each other the absurd comments on our Facebook pages, and just being friends. . . . Only, I can't shake off the twinge in the back of my mind whenever Adam looks at me in a certain way. I can't forget that I've fallen for someone else, that I'll have to turn Adam down. I had never explained Break Throughs to him, but he knows that I'm allowed to date after I turn sixteen. He has my birthday memorized (not that he'll admit it). I'm surprised that he didn't appear at my front door June 16^th.

Just as I'm thinking this, Adam asks oh-so-nonchalantly, "Sooo, you're birthday was last week, wasn't it?"

I wince internally. Oh, no, here we go . . . "Uh, yep. I had a blast."

"You're sixteen now?"

Gulp. "Uh-huh."

"So you can date now?"

I stifle a sigh. "Yes."

Adam's silent for a minute more as we both do our own thing on our separate computers. "Do you think we could catch a movie then?" he finally asks quietly. He's fidgeting with his splint and he acts like he's intent on reading his all-important email. I slightly tilt my face away so that he can't see my expression. My eyes are squeezed shut and I'm grimacing as if in pain. Oh, God, how am I supposed to tell him?? I wonder if Adam not knowing JR makes the situation better or worse.

I slowly shift in my seat so that my whole body is facing Adam. He glances at me from the corner of his eye. Is he holding his breath? I sigh heavily yet quietly. "Adam, look. I – I can't. I don't want to sugarcoat this with all the cliché friendship talk 'cause I know how you hate that, but there's . . . there's someone . . . e-else," I almost whisper, stammering on the last word. Damn, how can I blush this much?? Isn't it unhealthy to deprive the rest of my body of blood?? Adam stares at me with a look I don't want to see. There's deep hurt in his eyes and the slight twist of his mouth is sad, if not angry or resentful.

I expect him to spit "Fine!" in my face and stalk away, forgetting to log out of his computer and having everyone he passes watch him storms out of the library, the doors opening up for him dramatically. But instead of all the theatrics, Adam mashes his lips into a thin line o resemble a small, grim smile and says, "Someone else, huh?" He peeks at me as I nod once, barely moving my head. I'm so miserable now, dammit! Adam continues, "Do I know him?"

I shake my head. "No, you wouldn't. He's completely foreign."

Adam raises his eyebrow. "Starr, a third of our class is foreign." A nervous giggle escapes me. "Oh, haha, yah. But he doesn't go to our school – he's a year older than us, anyway, so he wouldn't be in our class – and he just came to America."

"Fresh off the boat?"

I try not to frown. "You could say that, yes." I look up from my lap, where I let my eyes stray, into Adam's green ones. He still looks stung but he accepted – or at least reacted – better than I thought he would.

Adam sighs audibly. He locks his eyes on his left hand, flexing his fingers carefully. I'm sure he knows just how much his pained silence is murdering me. Then he says to his arm, "It's alright, Starr. I get it. I'll get over it. Um, but I hope we can still stay friends?" He looks up now and gazes at me through his lashes, his mouth twisted into a wry grin. I smile back effortlessly, relieved and thrilled that I haven't lost him. Adam's true emotions are still visible but he's trying to hide it the best he can for me.

I bump my shoulder into his. "What, now you like clichés?" I tease. I let my head drop to his shoulder very briefly to let him know that we can still be friends.

Everything will be fine as long as he never meets JR. If he ever does, he'll never get over this.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: = w =; Guys? I'm worried about what I'll see if I look up images of 'teenage boys' >///> I mean, that's what I looked up to find David's picture, but I didn't have to click on images; it just came up. Sooo . . . who wouldn't mind sending me a link to and APPROPRIATE picture of what best resembles Adam? Or what you think Adam would look like, at least. It would be greatly appreciated! ^.^ Not an insistent demand (like the please-advertize-BT), but you can look for a picture if you want to.

Tank chu~! How 'bout one more chapter tonight? I'll just give all the complete chapters to my patient, loyal subbies today ;3 <<<333