I was going to post the contest entries on a seperate chapter so you guys could read them, but only one person emailed me a copy of their entry, so you'll have to find the entries under my profile in my reading lists if you want to read them.
First Place: invader_batman
Second Place: Immature_writing
Third Place: Forever_unperfect
Honorable Mentions: leeann32101 and 4ever_here.
Thank you to everyone who entered the contest, and congratulations to the winners! They were already emailed and prizes were already distributed. :)
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A/N: Leeann32101's prize was a chapter of her choice written by me in Christian Ryder's point of view. Honestly, guys... you might want to grab some chocolate or something to get you through this. I mean, I thought living this through Sophia's eyes was rough, but after writing this and living it through Christian's eyes (and this is after I've gotten to know his character better than I know myself)... I have to say, this is even rougher.
I hope you guys enjoy this! It was a nice change writing in his POV for once, although leeann32101 really picked a tough one. Anyways, yeah, enjoy!
**** This is not fan written. I wrote this. I thought the author's note had made that clear, but I guess not, so I'm clearing this up now to avoid having to answer the same question multiple times. :) *****
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Chapter 24
Christian's POV
She didn't say anything. Sophia stood there and stared at me like I'd finally lost it, like I was about to pull a Britney and attack her car with an umbrella after shaving my head. By the horrified look in her eyes, I figured she thought I was going to shave hers, too, and maybe Blake's while I was at it.
God, why had I said it? I should have kept my damn mouth shut. And seriously. "Because somehow, my annoyance with you turned into something else." Could I have been any lamer? What kind of a confession was that? I was losing my touch.
Why isn't she saying anything?
I couldn't help the pained look that crossed my face. I just needed to hear her say something, even if it was something about my face breaking a mirror or reminding her of an exhibit at the zoo.
"Say something," I finally exclaimed. I tried not to look so pathetically nervous, but I was pretty sure I failed.
Sophia closed her eyes and shook her head. Why did she shake her head? What was that supposed to mean? "Oh, God, my weird costar has a crush on me?" Or maybe "How am I going to tell him I'm not interested?" Or maybe, if I was lucky, "Maybe I'm on the same boat and want to take his pants off?"
Alright, I was over-analyzing things; I was turning into my mother. Christ. What was this girl doing to me? I mean, I'd never been on this side of the spectrum—the side where you have to throw yourself out there and hope you don't sink—but so far, it fucking sucked.
She still wasn't speaking, so I continued. "Please."
Finally, she slowly opened her eyes and looked at me. That was a good sign, right? At least she wasn't running away screaming. Anything but that seemed like a good sign to me.
I took a step closer to her and said, "Soph."
There was another bout of silence before she finally spoke. "Do you think this joke is funny? Because I sure as hell don't. This is just plain weird... I don't find it funny at all."
A joke? What was she talking about? She couldn't honestly believe I was joking around about this. I knew I'd given her reason to doubt me, but I wouldn't go this far. "What?" I asked. "It isn't a joke, Soph. I'm being serious. Honestly. I've never been this serious in my life. I'm not joking around."
Sophia looked at me, and I wish I could say there was affection or passion or something mushy/romantic like that in her eyes, but there wasn't. All I could see was anger.
She shook her head quickly, breaking eye contact. "Ugh, don't call me that," she snapped. "And stop lying! Just... just stop it!"
"I'm not lying," I insisted, and my voice broke. My. Voice. Broke. What was I, twelve years old? My voice hadn't broken since I got through puberty. What was going on with me?
She didn't reply immediately. When she did, her words kind of made me wish she hadn't said anything at all. Painfully awkward silence was better than what she was throwing at me. "Stop it!" She glared at me. "Give it up, Christian. I don't believe a word you're saying to me. Lying is what you do best."
She didn't believe me. I was actually falling for this girl, for once in my life, and she didn't believe my feelings were real. Motherfucking karma.
I carefully considered my words. Sophia was like a ticking time bomb, ready to explode, and I didn't want to be on the receiving end. I had a feeling I'd be on it, anyway. There was no one else around but me, and I'd never seen her so upset. This time, it seemed I'd caused it without meaning to, but I was still the cause. I was always the cause. This was going to be even harder than I thought.
"I know I have a reputation for lying," I began, "but I swear, Sophia, I'm not lying at this moment. I wish I was, but I'm not. I don't know what happened—"
She didn't even let me finish. She cut me off and shrieked, "Stop it! Stop lying!"
"But I'm not lying," I insisted. "You have to believe me!"
How was I supposed to make her believe me? How? She was so stubborn and thick-headed. How was I going to get it through to her that I was telling the truth? That she was the most amazing girl I'd ever known?
Sophia took a big step back and snapped, "I don't believe you. Besides, I could never feel anything but hatred for you!"
I'll admit it. That stung. Alright, it more than stung. It hurt. It hurt, and the way I flinched made it clear just how much it hurt. She still hated me. Nothing I said would ever matter because she still hated me, and I still didn't understand why. But enough was enough. The least she could do was tell me why she wanted my head on a platter surrounded by shish kebabs.
"Why do you hate me so much?" I asked. "I know I'm not perfect, despite what people usually think. I know I was rude to you when we first met and I know I'm a cocky asshole, but I really don't think I deserve this level of hatred... I can't think of anything I could've done to deserve this."
The way she looked at me was horrible. Like I was the Devil, or maybe Hitler. She shook her head and asked, "You honestly don't remember? You seriously forgot?"
"What are you talking about?"
"How the hell can you stand here and look at me and tell me you don't remember?" she exclaimed, her hands balling up into small fists. "Look at me. Look at me and tell me you forgot."
I looked at her. I looked at the beautiful face I'd grown to care for so much it freaked even me out, and I had to shake my head. I had to disappoint her and say, "I- I don't remember. I don't know what I'm supposed to remember."
She didn't seem surprised. "Of course you wouldn't remember," she said bitterly. "You weren't the one who was emotionally scarred, were you?"
Emotionally scarred? What was she talking about? What... I didn't understand. I tried to rack my brain for some sort of clue as to what I'd done to her to make her hate me so much, but I came up short. I had no idea what was going on, as usual, except it was even worse than usual. "Sophia, what are you talking about?" I asked, my voice going quiet and my eyes going wide.
I thought she wasn't going to tell me. I thought she was going to walk away and I'd never know why she couldn't stand me and couldn't stand the thought of me liking her. I thought I'd have to turn into one of those scraggly emo guys in teenage books that wallowed in self-pity and painted their nails (why) because of their one-sided love. But I wouldn't get the chance to. Eventually, she spoke, and the selfish part of me couldn't help but think that maybe it would have been easier if she hadn't said anything at all. (Plus, I would have made a great emo guy.)
"When I was in middle school, around sixth or seventh grade, I was a total dork," Sophia said. "I was the whole package. Braces, frizzy hair, awkward body type, glasses, you name it. And to top it all off, I was a nerd with straight A's." She paused to swallow, and her action was so loud I could hear it from where I stood. I was kind of close to her, but not really. She'd made sure to keep her distance from me, treating me like I had the plague.
Honestly, I would have never guessed she'd ever been a dork. From the moment I saw her in that movie theater, I thought she was hot. Annoying, definitely, and rude for sure, but still hot. We'd kind of had our hot-and-cold moments (mostly cold moments, actually) but the one thing that hadn't changed was my physical attraction to her. It had grown from there, and when I looked at the girl in front of me, the only word I could think to describe her with would be "beautiful." I couldn't tell her this, obviously, or I'd be staring at my two front teeth on the pavement—not in my mouth where they belonged.
"You and your gang of buddies were freshman or sophomores at the time. I can't remember. I do remember that you guys were the popular kids, though. Obviously. I don't think I have to tell you that part," she went on.
I was absolutely confused. I obviously knew I'd been a popular kid in high school, but I didn't understand how that was linked to her yet. I almost frowned. Did we know each other?
"Well, you and your gang emotionally harassed me on a daily basis," Sophia continued, and she looked pained. "The names you called me were the adjectives I used to describe myself for so, so long... Ugly. Loser. Dork. Dweeb. Freak. Four-Eyes. Nerd. Geek. Lardass. Pig. Blimp. I'm sure there's many more, but I think I blocked off some from my memory. You, especially, made my life a living hell. You were kind of like their leader. I guess you felt like it was your job."
No... oh, God, I didn't... please tell me I didn't... I couldn't believe what I was hearing. There was no way the girl in front of me had been one of my victims in school... she couldn't be... I knew I'd been an asshole in high school, and I knew I'd treated people badly, but hearing the names I'd actually used... having it thrown in my face... my God. I was a monster.
What was I supposed to say to that? I couldn't say anything, not without looking like an even bigger jackass. I kept my thoughts to myself and let her continue, and I think she was glad I did.
"I came home and cried every day. I don't know how many nights I cried myself to sleep. I dreaded going to school. Combining the middle school and high school was the worst thing that place ever did. I grew to hate myself because of what you guys said to me, and the sad thing is, I believed every word that came out of your mouths. My self confidence was in the absolute dumps for so long. I don't think I even had any self confidence, actually. Not really."
I'd made her cry. I'd harmed her almost irreparably, and I couldn't even remember until she'd thrown it in my face. She just... she looked so different. She acted so different. The child I'd harassed in school was nothing like the girl that was standing in front of me just then. Not physically or otherwise. This Sophia was beautiful, feisty, witty and outspoken. From what I remembered, the old Sophia hadn't stood up for herself once.
My past wasn't something I could just shove away anymore. It was back, and it came back with a vengeance. My past was staring me right in the face, and I didn't want to forget her.
She was silent for a while so I finally spoke, but it wasn't much more than a whisper. "Oh, God. Soph, I'm so sorry. I—"
She laughed mockingly. "Oh, you think I'm done? No, no, no, this isn't even the worst part. The worst part makes this look like child's play."
I wanted to say something. Anything. Anything to make this up to her. But if it got worse from here? I couldn't even imagine what was about to come out of her mouth.
"I moved away my eighth grade year but came back halfway through my freshman year," she continued. "I guess you could say I made a bit of a transformation. Not many people recognized me when I came back. I looked like a different person. My braces were gone, I was having better hair days, I got contacts, and I lost some weight. All of this was thanks to my mother, who thought I'd be happier if I changed my appearance a bit. She didn't know how bad the comments you guys made were, but she knew enough to worry her. You were a senior by the time I came back, and you and your friends were in the middle of playing a game... a game to see who could sleep with the most freshman. How original, eh?"
No... no, not her. I couldn't have... I didn't remember her...
But I had. I must have... That was the only explanation. That was the only explanation for her bitter hatred, apart from what she'd already told me.
I understood. I didn't remember, but I understood, and I didn't want to hear her say it. The idea was bad enough, but if she said it, I'd never be able to forgive myself. "I got it," I said. "I don't need to hear any more."
I should've known she wouldn't stay quiet. This was Sophia we were talking about, after all. "No, I'm already telling this story, might as well finish it, right? Now, you and your little friends didn't notice me at first. I had changed, but I still wasn't a beauty queen, by anyone's standards. You didn't notice me until I went to a party with a friend. You ran into me and probably figured I was new. When you found out I was a freshman, you decided to make me your next conquest of the night."
I couldn't hear this. I couldn't let her continue. I interrupted her and meant to sound confident and collected, but I just sounded quiet and puny. "Soph, I've heard enough. I—"
"Shut up," she cried. "Just shut up! Let me finish!"
I didn't want to let her finish. I kind of wanted to be a complete pussy and run away. It would have been pathetic, but at least I wouldn't have heard what I heard next. But I did, because instead of running, I closed my mouth and stood through the pain.
"Now, I didn't know about your little game. Not until it was too late, at least... when you came up to me, I was in the clouds. I knew who you were and I remembered how you had treated me, but I was stupid. I didn't consider the fact that you obviously had ulterior motives. You charmed me so easily. I was silly and I was innocent and I was gullible and I fell right into your trap. I didn't even need a single drop of alcohol. You were the hottest guy in school. What girl could say no to you?"
At this point, I still didn't remember her. You know why? Because I'd been that asshole who pulled the same shit with every girl, making her feel special when she wasn't; I'd been that asshole who actually recycled romantic words and used them to get into girls' pants. I'd been that asshole who was so hot and popular, it actually worked.
And back then, Sophia had clearly been just another victim. Just another tally on the scoreboard. But now? Now she was the highlight of my days. She was what I looked forward to everyday. She'd turned my cliché Hollywood life into something different—a good different, despite our fighting—and I was about to lose that because when she looked at me, she still saw the asshole from the past.
Except she wasn't looking at me anymore. She couldn't even look me in the eye. She was willing to look everywhere but me, and it looked like she was about to cry.
"When I woke up, I looked for you, but you were gone. I was naive enough to think you'd still be there in the morning, but you're not that guy. Instead of sticking around, you sent me a text. I deleted it after awhile, but I still remember what it said. 'Sorry I didn't go easy on you. Hope you're not too sore. Thanks for the fuck.'"
No....
A single tear rolled down her face, and I wanted to be the one to comfort her, but I couldn't even move, and I didn't want to make things any worse. She finally looked up at me, and I'll never forget the way she looked at me. Not even like I was Satan or Hitler—like I was the combination of every evil person that had ever walked the earth. "And that is why I hate you, Christian Ryder, and why I could never feel anything but hatred for you!" she shrieked.
I felt like Satan. Or Hitler. Or that evil combination I'd mentioned earlier. I felt like the worst person on the planet, and I was so shocked by her entire confession that I couldn't say anything at all. I wanted to apologize, but I couldn't even begin to form the words.
She shook her head wildly and ran away, and I wanted to stop her, but I didn't. I really wanted to reach out and stop her from leaving, but I couldn't even stomach the thought of looking her in the eye anymore.
I remembered her.