Does it have to be this way?

Chapter 1: So how come you're not out with your whores

Soundtrack: Falling for you: Busted

I, I'm really falling for you

I hate what you're putting me through

What have you done to me now?

Fuck. He was late.

I sit in a corner of starbucks, sipping my chocolate latte, swearing mentally for ever agreeing to the stupid date with a boy I know I'll never like. Rob Orson, he just seemed a cool guy and I haven't been out on a date for so long, I just thought I wanted to try something new. Plus, Jeremy had asked me to give it a shot.

I stand up to leave, get in my stupid old car and drive back home, feeling slightly pissed off. Well so would you if you just got stood up. Even if the date is someone you don't like.

At the last minute I decided not to go home, but to go further down the street to Jeremy's house instead. Jeremy, the fucking playboy and my best friend. I've known him since I was 6, when we were young all he did was call me fat and stupid names, but he started treating me a little better when we were both 14. I love him like fuck, he was always the one cheering me up, by my side whenever things went wrong, and even when he has his slutty bitchy girlfriends he never neglects me. Though okay, sometimes it gets a little irritating when all I wanna do is hang out with him and he's out with some bitch who he calls his girlfriend.

I really don't get his poor choice of girls sometimes. It's like, there are so many nice and pretty girls around, why does he always have to choose the slutty ones? I mean sure, they're hot but come on, that's all to it, they're just attractive outside but on the inside they're just fucking no-brainers. How do you even talk to people like that?

Jeremy opens the door 10 seconds after I ring the doorbell, he doesn't have any shirt on and his jeans are riding low on his hips as usual. I really can't stand the fact that he always looks so fucking gorgeous whenever I see him, I've probably seen that body of his a thousand times but I never fail to be impressed by how defined his six-pack is.

So anyway he stands there, his smoky hazel eyes focused at me, and then he flashes me a cheeky grin. "Looking hot huh, baby?" he says, closing the door as I brush past him in my light green figure hugging shirt and gray shorts that show off my legs. Okay I'll tell you, I'm hot and I know it, but unlike what you think, despite being hot, guys just don't come flocking to me. And I don't know why either. On the contrary, my love life is a fucking mess. But I won't elaborate.

I turn to narrow my eyes at him. "Your fucking friend fucking stood me up,"

He laughed. Okay, I forget to mention that Jeremy can be quite the asshole sometimes.

"Fuck you," I say, flipping him off, but he catches my wrist and pulls me close into a hug, kissing my cheek tantalizingly before pulling away, still smiling. "I fucking love you, Becky," he says. "He's a fucking loser who just doesn't deserve you,"

That's why I fucking love him too, sometimes maybe more than I think is healthy, but I don't think anything of these feelings, I mean its normal to love your best friend right?

I shove him away as he reaches out to hug me again, he always touches me and it's confusing, sometimes he even steps over the line that defines a friendship and something more, but I attribute that to him always being horny. And, well, me being lonely.

I reach into the refrigerator and help myself to a soda and some leftover pizza, which someone had picked out all the pineapple chunks. Jeremy loves pineapples.

"You're gross," I say, eyeing the chilli sauce around the empty spaces where the pineapple chunks had been.

He smirks at me. "How so?"

"You contaminated the damn pizza," but hunger overwhelms me, I take a bite into the pizza anyway, despite the fact that I don't take chilli.

He continues smirking at me, and watches me eat my pizza.

"Fuck off," I tell him with my mouth full, I have never been much of a lady other than how I dress. Well I'd say it's the influence of Jeremy, when I was small I used to look up to him- a lot, whatever he did I'd follow. And I guess the habit of talking with my mouth full stuck with me then, a lot of habits have. Like how I sit with my legs wide open. And for that matter, I don't care when my skirt rides up my legs. I'm not trying to seduce any guys, it just isn't comfortable, you know, to sit all prim and proper, and cross your legs like a lady. Besides, its not like I'm not wearing underwear underneath, and guys'd see me naked if they tried looking. The way I see it, it's totally the same as a guy ogling you when you're wearing a bikini in the beach. But that's only me. My mum and my sisters would totally look at me in disgust whenever I do that. In fact my mum used to give me a long lecture every night about how a lady is supposed to behave, but she has since given up on me. I think she knows that I can fight for myself, if some rapist really gets me into a corner.

But I digress.

"So how come you're not out with your whores?" I ask while reaching for the next-and-last slice of pizza and watching him drink my soda.

He shrugs, lifting his broad, tan, muscular shoulders. "I'm taking Suzie to dinner later,"

I couldn't resist a dig at his newest stick-thin, bimbotic shit of an airhead whom he calls his girlfriend. "Dinner, huh? So you don't have to pay for what she eats, cus all she'll be having is water?"

He gives me a slightly reproachful look but doesn't say anything, because he knows what I just said is true.

I finish with my meal and we go back into the living room to watch some videos… which bored me senseless. I managed to doze off somehow, and when I wake up my head is on his shoulder and I realize it's nearly 6. And he's still watching the stupid videos.

I raise my head from his shoulder and he shifts in his seat. Then I remember, he's supposed to take Susannah to dinner. "Jer," I turn to look at him, "Suzie's dinner?"

He lifts his gaze to the clock above the television, and when he does, he swears rather colorfully, then hastily runs up to his room to throw on a shirt. I help him to stop the video player, and switch off the television, then wait for him outside on the porch.

Five minutes later he comes out in a white shirt, which I'd given to him last Christmas. His hair had been hastily spiked up, and in his hand he held a beautiful bouquet of flowers. Always the ladies' man, a voice in my mind says as I watch him lock up the front door. When he's done he turns to me and apologises for not being able to send me home, I smile and let him escort me to my car. He gives me a kiss on the cheek before I get in; I make my way back home.

When I get back home I realize everyone's present. My sister and older brother are arguing over the remote control as usual, my younger sister's helping mum with dinner and my dad's warily trying to read the newspapers in all the noise my siblings are making in their argument.

Dad looks up as I walk in. "Rob called," he says.

I roll my eyes. "That fricking jerk,"

Dad frowns at me. "He sounded like a nice guy,"

"He stood me up today," I informed him.

Dad shakes his head, left speechless. Well I told you my love life was a mess. You'd think that every guy's queuing up to shag me, but no. Maybe I'm destined to be a lonely old hag when I grow up.

Right. But why am I talking about this?

I stayed in my room after dinner to finish my work, when I'm done I decide to turn in, it's nearly midnight. Usually I stay up till 2 on the computer, but today I'm tired.

But as it turned out I couldn't sleep in peace, no, someone had to throw stones against the wall of the house. It was making a steady thudding noise, and I got up, thinking it was Jeremy, but when I near the window, I see it's Rob.

Fucking Rob.

I suck in my breath and draw back from the window, hoping he didn't see me, because you know what? I totally didn't want to see him. But judging from the increased pace at which the stones were being thrown, he did see me.

"I'm coming," I hiss down at him, I don't want to see him but if I don't he's probably gonna wake the whole house up.

I throw on a gray sweatshirt that was once Jeremy's, together with my favorite pair of jeans, the faded denim one that Jeremy likes to see me wearing. Okay he didn't quite say so, but a girl can tell, alright?

I go out to the front porch, where Rob's waiting. I nod my head at him stiffly after he greets me. He takes a few steps towards me but I take a step back, nevertheless we are still close, at least close enough for him to touch me if he wants to.

"Hey, about today-" he stops, then reaches out to me but I step back again. "Becky, I'm sorry,"

He looks sorry enough. I'm staring him down, or rather, staring him up, since he's taller than me, and somehow I find myself comparing him with Jeremy, and I don't even know why. Jeremy would never stand a girl up. But then again, Jeremy's a playboy. He's had too much experience in the game of dating and he knows how to treat a girl right. Besides the part where he dumps the girl after a week.

I don't say anything but take two steps back; his face is getting too close to mine. But oh, horrors of horrors, I find myself pinned against the porch pillar as he moves closer to me again. "Rob," I say, placing my hands on his chest and trying to shove him away. "Don't," I tell him as his lips come closer to mine.

So much for being able to fight for myself. Well what can I say? I'm a girl after all, I certainly can't push a god knows how many pounds he weighed guy.

But what do you know? This pair of car headlights come beaming at us and we both turn our heads to the light, only to see Jeremy pulling his car at the front of the porch. I congratulate him mentally in my head for his timely entrance to save the day as Rob steps away from me, rather hesitatingly I must say, looking not very pleased. But you don't want to get on the wrong side of Jeremy.

"Rob," Jeremy acknowledges with a nod of his head as he slings his arm casually around my waist and kisses me on the top of my head. What a jerk… but a suave one at that.

"Well," Rob says, his eyes darting from me to Jeremy, "I guess I better go,"

Jeremy barely looks at him, he's kissing my earlobe, his breath hot on my skin, and he continues tracing kisses to my cheek until Rob's gone and I pull away because I'm getting way too much into his kisses. And when I do, I long for his body warmth again.

His eyes are unfocused for a moment, and when they focus on me they are full of anger. Not directed at me, but directed at Rob, probably.

"So were you gonna let him rape you?" he says, scowling.

I grin. "You look so cute when you do that," I say.

He scowls even more, but his eyes soften. "I'm serious,"

I tilt my face up to look at him, did I mention he's about 6 foot tall, I'm only a 5'6, he's like half a head taller than me. "That's what you do to girls all the time," I point out

He lowers his head and as he does so, the distance between our mouths shorten and for a brief moment I almost think he's gonna kiss me but why would he do that? He has a girlfriend.

"But they were willing," he says, and I find myself watching his sexy lips move. I frowned. "What makes you think I wasn't willing?" I demand. He laughs, the laugh that I'm so used to hearing. "Just this afternoon you were saying what a fucking jerk he was," he says, brushing a strand of hair that had stuck to my lip gloss away from my face. "Besides, he's not your type,"

He confuses me. "So who's my type?" I ask glaring up at him, he looks so smug well wouldn't he, that guy practically controls my love life.

His lips quirk up in a smirk, "me," It was meant lightly, probably a joke but it triggers something in me, I'm furious. Why does he have to fucking flirt with me, he is such a fucking ass hole.

"Fuck off, dickhead," I tell him, turning around and preparing to stomp back into my house, at this moment I don't care if the whole house wakes up, I'm so pissed. But he catches my wrist and kisses me on my cheek. "Goodnight," he whispers into my ear.

"And stop all that kissing," I snap, narrowing my eyes at him, pulling away from him. Something flashes in his eyes but I can't read it, it's too dark. "It's just on the cheek," he says ruefully.

No it's not. Not just on the cheeks, but ears, neck, forehead and occasionally the lips. Why does he torture me with his shit?

I make my exit and stomp into the house, and from the window I watch him pull away from the curb, and I wonder to myself why I get so pissed by his flirting, why I get so upset.

But somehow as I review the way I had felt when he kissed me earlier on, I guess I kind of know the answer, and it scares me.