Chapter Three

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A/N This is dedicated to Teenageninjachicken for helping to lift my spirits when writers insecurities hit and for helping me to make the executive decision on who should be Lucas, which is the boy to the right ^-^

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The next morning I lay in bed wearing my black and turquoise stripped puffy sweatpants and a black camisole that rolled up to my stomach. My blonde hair was a mop spread across my pillow mixed with the black mop that belonged to Marceline who was curled up in my bed. I lay on my back with Marceline cuddling my side, the sun far from rising.

Last night after Lucas left us in "The House" I was barraged with a stupid explanation/ lie from Mason on why ha and Marceline were in the closet. Mason said it was because one of the groupies had spilled her drinks on them and they went into the closet to dry them off which is total bull because last year we had our annual skip class and have a water balloon fight and we paraded around the around the school shirtless. Marceline just straight up said they were doing it.

After assuring them that I already knew about their not so secret rendezvous and that their discreetness was that of a tank. After that they asked me about Lucas and I told them most of the story about how he thinks I know something about him and how the threatened me causing a rise out of both of them. I also told them about my own aggressions and Lucas' acceptance of my "bet".

Afterwards Mason drove us back to my house where Marceline and I curled into my queen sized bed. A few hours after I woke up after dreaming of Lucas and could'nt go back to sleep. I look at the clock which reads four-thirty a.m and sigh.

I stare at the blackness that is my ceiling, images of Lucas popping into my head. His icy blue eyes staring at me with the coldness that chills my spine, but in a good way. I also see before that when he  was smiling and teasing me; his smile sends anything chill down my spine that reaches another area it shouldn't.

I bite my lip and sigh; I had only just met the guy not twenty-four hours ago and he was all I could think about. His looks: the icy blue eyes, the shaggy black hair, the square jaw and prominent nose; not to mention the fact that he could bend over and still be taller than me. And believe it or not the most attractive thing about him had to be his personality. His friendliness reminded me of that of Marceline's but his bad boy aggression was so sexy (after it stopped somewhat frightening) that it left me repressing the urge to remove my hands from underneath my head.

I groan at the stupidity of what I was doing. Somehow this had turned into some amped up version of Twilight and I was playing Bella; the mir thought was infuriating. I feel like growling and giving my pillow the death squeeze but Marceline's limp arm across my chest stops me.

So instead I snuggle up close to her and wrap my arm around her, she moving her head down onto my "monster pillows" as Marshy liked to call my boobs. It's easy to forget that Marshy is only five-four and one cup size smaller than me. With her attitude and her promiscuity you tend to forget that I'm technically hotter than her (in my eyes the bigger your boobs are the hotter you are).

I close my eyes and sigh, when I open my eyes I instantly recognize this as a dream. I have always been able to separate dreams from reality, even the most realistic dreams, ones like this one. But one reason this dream was easy to spot was because: one, I was in bed alone, two: all I have on is a pair of boy shorts and a over sized sweatshirt, three: my hair was tumbling down in curly waves and my breath tasted like peppermint, not a just waking up condition.

I stand knowing that the dream would be shorter if I did something. I walk over to my bedroom door and open it yelping as it swings open. In the doorway stood Lucas wearing the same outfit from The Garage minus the shirt, his shroud behind his back. In the dream it was somewhat clearer, a definite shape hiding in the shadows of his back.

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