Wow! So, I officially suck! I'm so sorry. School has been so busy, I didn't even think to look if I had chapters that were waiting to be posted . . . low and behold, I did! So, here is a very late update and an apology from me. Please enjoy!

UPDATE: I just remembered to go through and fix this chapter with Waffle's suggestion! So, if you caught the chapter before that, my apologies. I have fixed it now! Please let me know if it is any better :) Thanks!


CHAPTER FOUR: "Perfect . . . Somewhat." PART ONE

I might never be your knight in shining armour. I might never be the one you take home to mother. And I might never be the one who brings you flowers. But I can be the one, be the one tonight.

When I first saw you From across the room, I could tell that you were curious. Oh, yeah. Girl, I hope you're sure What you're looking for, 'Cause I'm not good at making promises.

But if you like causing trouble up in hotel rooms, And if you like having secret little rendezvous, If you like to do the things you know that we shouldn't do - Then baby, I'm perfect. Baby, I'm perfect for you!

And if you like midnight driving with the windows down, And if you like going places we can't even pronounce, If you like to do whatever you've been dreaming about - Then baby, you're perfect. Baby, you're perfect! So let's start right now.

I might never be the hands you put your heart in. Or the arms that hold you any time you want them. But that don't mean that we can't live here in the moment. 'Cause I can be the one you love from time to time!

When I first saw you From across the room, I could tell that you were curious. Oh, yeah. Girl, I hope you're sure What you're looking for, 'Cause I'm not good at making promises.

But if you like causing trouble up in hotel rooms, And if you like having secret little rendezvous, If you like to do the things you know that we shouldn't do - Then baby, I'm perfect. Baby, I'm perfect for you!

And if you like midnight driving with the windows down, And if you like going places we can't even pronounce, If you like to do whatever you've been dreaming about - Then baby, you're perfect. Baby, you're perfect! So let's start right now.

And if you like cameras flashing every time we go out, Oh, yeah. And if you're looking for someone to write your break-up songs about . . . Baby, I'm perfect.

Baby, we're perfect!

If you like causing trouble up in hotel rooms, And if you like having secret little rendezvous, If you like to do the things you know that we shouldn't do - Then baby, I'm perfect. Baby, I'm perfect for you!

And if you like midnight driving with the windows down, And if you like going places we can't even pronounce, If you like to do whatever you've been dreaming about - Then baby, you're perfect. Baby, you're perfect!

So let's start right now.

"So, what you're saying is . . . you slept with Grant?"

"I did not sleep with him! At least I don't think so . . . I just remember thinking my head was pounding like the freaking gate of hell was banging on it, and then I realized I was holding onto something. And that something was very firm. And then it moved. Then I fully woke up, saw Grant in my bed, realized it wasn't my bed, and kind of freaked out."

"So . . . you slept with him."

"I did not!"

"Not in that sense, sheesh Megara. You're always jumping to conclusions. How did this come about?"

"I have no idea," I groan and cover my face. I feel so ashamed.

Em clicks her tongue. "Well, according to my phone history, you texted me just after two that you were going home. I think it's reasonable to deduct that Grant wrote that message, seeing as how we were your ride, and it had perfect grammar, which you do not have when drunk."

"Shut up."

I hug my knees as I peer at her. She puckers her lips. "Well, the least you could have done is let him explain instead of jumping to conclusions. The boy probably saved you from being raped."

"It was nearly one in the afternoon! I thought my parents were going to flip out! What would you have done?"

"I don't know, reacted a little more sensibly?"

"Ugh."

"So, what did your parents say?"

"Nothing! They thought I was at your house!"

She rolls her eyes. "Oh Meg. You silly thing." She pauses. "So, no hangover? No bloodshot eyes?"

"Surprisingly enough . . . no. Which is weird. I always get hungover when I'm drunk."

"Huh. Well, only thing to do is come out and shop with me."

"Good lord, Emma! I don't feel like shopping today. I feel like absolute crap. I need a shower." I get off my bed. Emma follows me. "It's okay, you can take a shower and then we can head out."

"I have to go to tutoring today."

"It's Saturday. Plus I thought you were passing all your classes?"

"I am. I'm tutoring a little boy in sixth grade. Special needs."

"Aww, that's so sweet of you, Megs!"

"Shucks, Ems, I don't know what to say!" I mock her and slam the bathroom door in her face. She huffs. "No call to be rude!"

"Shove off, Emmalee!"

"Fine, I'll drag Tim with me."

"He won't go either!" I pull my shirt off. She doesn't respond immediately. When she does, she sounds oddly smug. "Sure he will. I'm very persuasive."

"Like hell you are," I joke and step out of the bathroom. I stand frozen just outside the doorway. Emma smirks at me and slips past Grant and out of the room. "I . . ." Suddenly my voice doesn't want to work. "Closet . . . ," I mutter dumbly, and point to it as I stumble over to it. He runs a hand through his hair, avoiding looking at me. He exhales. I step into the closet and pull the first shirt I see off the hook.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I demand.

His head snaps up. "You, uh, left your phone in my car. Your jacket too." He holds up said items. I huff and grab them from him, tossing them on the bed. "Is that all you needed? I could have swung by and gotten them from Drew later."

"Yeah, heard you and him were chums."

"We're just friends," (Why am I pressing this point?)

"Whatever."

"Well, it's not like you care at all. I believe your exact words are always "fuck off, Drew". Or something along that line."

He simply shrugs. "I tend to not actually listen to what it is my siblings say. Bad habit." I roll my eyes at him. "Well, if you're quite done annoying me, I'm late for an appointment and I have to shower."

"You're going somewhere when you're hungover?"

"I'm not hungover, actually." I can't resist the haughty loft of my chin. He looks surprised. "I guess the water and Advil helped, then?" That catches me off guard. I hurry to fill the silence.

"Excuse me?"

"I gave you a couple advils last night."

I frown, stepping around my bed and heading toward the bathroom. "Whatever."

"Why are you so mad at me?" The raw plead in his voice, like he truly can't comprehend it, makes me turn.

"Because you've basically ruined my life," I'm not a sugar-coater. So I won't now. "I don't know if anyone has ever told you, but you're not exactly a nice person."

"Oh, and you are?"

"Usually, yeah. Just not to people who are rude to me."

"Yeah, whatever." He waves me off and I turn to the doorway. He leaves the room. "Have fun tutoring."

I whip around to bite something at him, but he's already gone.


"Meggie!"

I laugh and tightly hug the excited little boy. "Hi Carter!"

"Miss Meggie, guess what?"

"What?"

"I got an A on my maths test!"

"Carter, that's great!" We settle down at the table, wide smiles plastered on our faces. I help him set the break on his wheelchair and situate him. "Let's aim for that everywhere else, okay?"

"Okay!"

We get to work. Carter is a brilliant kid. He really is. I honestly don't even know why they put him in a separate class - slightly autistic and paralyzed in his legs should have nothing to do with it. He's the sharpest knife in the drawer.

We must have been working for a couple hours when Carter taps my shoulder. I'm grading a math paper for him. He points to something behind me. "Do you know him? He's glanced over here a few times." I look over my shoulder. Grant is rounding a shelf, several books stacked in his arms. I see two Steven King's, a John Grisham, and the other one was too sunk in his arm. I groan and turn back to the paper. "Yeah, I know him."

"Is he your boyfriend?"

"God, no."

He tilts his head, giving me that cute look he makes. "You seem interested in him."

"I'm not! Jeez."

"Hey Meggie."

"Oh my gosh!" I jump in my chair, whipping around to frown at him. "Piss off, would you?!"

"I'm not stalking you, if that's what you're thinking. I come here every Saturday." He tilts his head, much in the same way that Carter does. He turns a smile to my student. "Hey, the name's Grant."

"I'm Carter." He turns his grin to me. "He calls you Meggie."

"I told him not to."

"I like it."

I frown as Carter looks up at him. His grin widens. "Me too! Meggie doesn't like for people to call her Meggie. She says only the special people can." That smirk is way too sly. "You're special too, huh?"

"Yeah, a special pain in the ass," I retort.

Carter giggles. "You're funny, Meggie." He picks up his pencil. "Those are some good books you got there," he eyes the stack Grant is carrying. Grant shrugs. "It's just some weekend reading."

"You can read all of that in a weekend?" I turn a skeptical eye to him.

He frowns at me. "Don't you have maths to grade?"

"Whatever." I shake my head as I chuckle softly, lowering my head again.

"And yes, I can."

I move my eyes to spy on him. He pulls a book out of the stack and hands it to Carter. "This one is really good, you'd like it."

IT

"Absolutely not," I snatch the book and toss it across the table. "Carter is not reading that."

"You're not his mum."

"Yeah, you're not my mum," Carter argues.

I roll my eyes. "I practically am. Plus, your mom put me in charge of you, and I'm not losing her trust over that."

"Fine. Here."

I sigh, prepared again. But Grant hands him a book on the buildings of the world. "This one is really cool. It talks about the famous buildings and the blueprints, and the ideas and inspiration behind them. It also talks about the architects and which companies built them."

"Awesome!" Carter beams at it like it's gold in a treasure chest. He holds it up. "Meggie, look! Isn't this great?!" I glance at Grant before nodding.

"It's really cool, Carter." He continues to beam as he flips through it. I continue to ignore Grant. He points interesting facts out to Carter. I grab another sheet. "Carter, we need to continue your lesson. This sheet is due Monday, right?" He looks so forlorn as he sets the book aside and pulls the paper toward him.

"Yeah . . ."

"You guys have been working for a while, why not take a break?"

"I don't think-"

At the same time Carter brightens. "Yeah, Meggie, please?!"

I glance at Grant. He shrugs and leans back on his heels. I sigh. If I say no, I'm going to look like the bad guy. "Your mom is coming to pick you up in two hours. If you have time to get your paper done-"

"Yay! Thanks Meggie!" He quickly flips the breaks and swivels to Grant. "So, what should we do?"

Grant shrugs. "There's a basketball court outside."

Carter's grin fades. "I've never played."

"I'll teach you," Grant prodes gently.

Carter beams. "Nobody has ever offered to play sports with me!"

Grant grins and grabs the handles of his wheelchair. "Let's go, then."

They both turn to me. "Are you coming, Meggie?" Carter asks. I shake my head, feeling pushed out of my little bubble with Carter.

"No. I'm just going to clean this up."

"You should come, Meggie." Grant's voice is gentle. I shake my head, dropping my eyes. "I'm fine." They leave without another argument.

I collect our stuff, neatly tucking it in Carter's or my bag. I glance out the window. Grant shows Carter how to dunk the ball. Then he hands it to him. He doesn't make it the first time. Grant hands it back. It's closer this time.

I quickly look away from the window when Grant looks my way. I peek again as he says something to Carter and trots off. I feel my cheeks rush with heat and drop my head into my hands. My silent frown isn't heard.

"I think Carter would feel better with you there."

I look up into Grant's brown eyes. "He seems to be doing fine with you."

He runs a hand through his hair. "Meggie, look, I-"

"It doesn't matter. He needs the ball again." I nod toward the window. My sour feelings seep through.

"I didn't mean to steal him from you."

"I said it doesn't matter, Grant."

"It does to you." I look up at him again. He starts to back away. "Just think about it."

I see when he goes back out and chunks the ball at Carter, chuckling. Carter glances at me with a grin. He waves. I smile faintly and wave back.

The wind is chilly as I step onto the court. The ball slams against the board before tipping into the net. Carter screams. "I got it! Meggie, I got it!" Grant looks up as Carter screams my name. I give them a shy smile. "That's great."

"I'm gonna ask mom if we can put a hoop on the garage. Do you think she'll say yes?"

(The woman who hates the fact her kid isn't 'normal'? Yeah, no.)

"I think she'll consider it."

"Hey, you're always welcome at my house, kid." Grant gently clocks his shoulder. He grins.

"Okay!"

"Meggie, watch me do . . . this!"

I cheer for him. He's so happy. I've seen him happy, sure. But nobody has ever made him this excited before. Maybe I'll write to his dad. The man loves him, but is hardly ever home.

With a bright red nose and pink fingers, Carter happily agrees to finish his paper before his mom comes back. He asks Grant to work on it with him. I hope my disappointment doesn't show. Grant glances at me. "Actually, I think Meggie is better at that than I am." I look up in surprise as he collects his abandoned books. Carter nods. "Yeah, you're right. Meggie's the big sister I never got."

"Had," I correct under my breath. Grant's lip twitches.

Carter hands me a pencil. "Help me out?"

"Any time, kiddo." I look at Grant as he walks away. "Any time."


I groan and turn over. My parents are gone on business, and my stupid body decided to come down with some kind of sickness. I think it's the stomach flu.

I grab my phone and dial Em. She picks up on the second ring. "Hello?"

"Em, I need you, I'm dying."

"Oh you big baby, you're fine. What's up?"

"I'm dying of the stomach flu."

"Put a glass of water and the trash can next to you. You'll be fine."

"I don't feel like puking, though."

"Then you probably just have a fever."

"I don't know . . . I'm telling you, my stomach is killing me."

"You're fine. It's probably just nerves from your parents being gone."

"Fine, forget it. So much for being my best friend."

"Love you."

"Yeah, right."

Ugh, I just wish my dad was here. He'd know what was wrong. I try calling them, but no answer. I wasn't really expecting one. They're in a different time zone.

The pain settles down after a while, and I manage to at least relax.

When I finally do vomit, it's oddly red tinted. The stomach pain blocks out any thoughts on it, though.

I try Drew. There is no way I'm making it through the night by myself.

His phone goes to voicemail.

I whimper, grabbing my pillow and spooning it. I try again.

Voicemail.

I close my eyes and set my phone in the drawer by my bed. My fingers touch a piece of paper. Curious, I grab hold of it and unfold it. The writing is sloppy. 561-3310.

Grant.

I grab my phone, my fingers shaky. I might hate him, but he usually answers his phone . . . Right?

It rings.

"Who the fuck is calling me at . . . Bloody hell, it's three in the morning. This better not be a prank call, Drew."

"I'm sorry," I start weakly. "I didn't want to disturb you, but Em wouldn't listen to me, and Drew wasn't answering, and-"

"Megara?"

"Yeah?"

"I . . . didn't realize it was you. Why are you calling?"

"Well, I tried to call Em but she didn't believe me."

"About what?"

"Having the stomach flu."

"Why do you need Em if you have the stomach flu?"

"I'm a very needy person," I whine. I can feel that sensation of being sick floating up. "Hang on a second-" I drop my phone and grab my trash can just before I hurl. Gosh, it hurts. More than normal.

"Meggie?"

I crawl back into the bed and grab my phone. "I'm fine. I feel a lot better now. I'm just tired. I'm sorry I bothered you." I grab the blanket as the room spins.

"You still there?"

"Sorry, dizzy spell. Sorry again for bothering you. I'm gonna try to get some sleep now."

"Meggie, wait-"

I end the call and toss my phone on the end of my bed. I snuggle down and basically lay on top of my pillow.

I faintly hear a pounding noise, but think nothing of it. I'm barely awake, anyway.

"Meggie, get up." The male voice commanding me sounds younger than Greg. Or dad.

"Why?" I murmur, not moving.

"I'm taking you to the ER, lets go."

"Why?" I question again. He sighs. I peep an eye open as someone brushes my hair off my face. That beautiful pale skin glimmers in the light. "Meggie, come on. Get dressed."

"My stomach hurts, I don't want to move."

He doesn't say anything as he walks off. "Wait . . . Meggie, did you puke in your trash can?"

"Go away!" Moaning does nothing for my sudden headache.

"Oh hell," he mutters. I protest as he scoops me into his arms and carries me. He shushes me. "Just hang tight, okay?"

"It hurts so badly," I whine. He readjust my weight. "I know, I know. I'll get you there as fast as possible, alright?" I simply nod.

Tucked into his car with a blanket on my knees. It drives smoother than my dad's.

And then he's skidding the car to a stop and rushing over to my side, flinging the door open carelessly. He reaches down for me. I let myself be lifted. "Why are we here?"

"You need a doctor."

The wait is long. Grant keeps pacing, huffing under his breath. He grabs my face and checks for a fever. I brush him off. He paces. Mutters. I snuggle into the chair and start to drift off.

"No, no, Meggie wake up." He gently shakes my shoulder. I grumble. "Why?"

"You need to be awake in case they-"

"Megara Creon?"

"Speak of the devil," he murmurs before collecting me in his arms. I wave to the doctor who looks on us in concern. "Hi, Alan." He doesn't greet me back, simply hurries us further into the hospital. I sigh and bury my face in Grant's neck. His skin is warm.

"Put her here."

"Is she gonna be okay?" Grant sets me on the bed. Dr. Alan shrugs. "We'll see. Thank you for bringing her in."

"You're welcome."

Alan starts to wheel the bed I'm on. "So, Meg, how'd you come by a bleeding ulcer?"

"Huh?"

"Yeah, he said you were out of it. Seems like a nice young man."

"He's an asshole."

"Fine line between love and hate, Meg."

"Piss off."


I was out for a long time. Must have been most of the next day. I awoke to my parents talking to Dr. Alan. Dad was shaking his hand. "Thanks again, Alan."

"I always keep my word. I saw Creon down the name on the ER list and I pulled it out as fast as possible. Had to pull some strings, but I managed."

"We couldn't be more grateful."

"I'm just glad she came in when she did. I'm afraid it would have been a lot worse even minutes later."

"Where is Greg? I'm so glad he decided to check in on her like we asked him to."

"Greg?" Dr. Alan gives a nervous chuckle. "Greg didn't bring Megara in, Cajsa."

"Then who did?"

"It was a young man . . ." The door opens and Grant steps in, oblivious to the others in the room as he stares down at his phone. "Yes, it was Grant here." His head snaps up at the sound of his name. His eyes are wide. My dad grins and holds out his hand.

"My deepest thanks to you, young man. Our daughter is very important to us."

"I wasn't gonna die," I groan. They all look over at me.

"Honey, you're awake!"

"And alive, thank you."

"So . . . how do you two know each other?" My dad suddenly looks suspicious. "Nothing funny going on, is there Megara?"

"No!" I glare at Grant. "He's a pain in the ass."

"You're not much better," he grumbles.

My mom frowns at me. "So, how did he come about bringing you here?"

I shrug. "I don't know."

"I'm Emmalee's neighbor. She was unavailable to come and check on Meggie, so she asked me to."

"Oh. So you two didn't know each other before?"

"Nope!" (Wow, lying through the skin of my teeth. Great job, Meg.) It might come out a little too quickly. She glances at Grant. His eyes flick to me before he shakes his head.

"Haven't had the pleasure."

"Well, it's wonderful to meet you! I'm Cajsa Creon, Meg's mother."

"It's nice to meet you," he seems sincere as he shakes her hand. "Grant Cole."

"Hint of British, I hear? I'm Dr. Jameson Creon, her father."

"A pleasure," he shakes his hand again. "And yes, my family just moved here from England. We're kind of a mix here and there."

I yawn. Grant glances at me with a smirk. I flip him off.

"Well, I guess that leaves me. Dr. Alan Uni. Old family friend."

"More like ancient,"

"I heard that, Meg."

I smirk sarcastically.

"So, you joining Meg and her friends for the last year?"

"Actually, I'm done with school."

(Done?)

They've all settled in the chairs around the room. (It's cool, don't mind me. Just get comfortable.)

"It works a little differently in England," Grant explains in answer to my mom's question. "We go to college at sixteen. Finish at eighteen. I could go to school again, to university, your American version of college, if I wanted to." He runs a hand through his hair. He glances at me. I look back at the wall and cross my arms.

"Well, Meggie is headed straight for the Ivy Leagues," my dad says proudly. I roll my eyes.

Grant raises an eyebrow. "Impressive."

"Yale certainly is nothing to scoff at."

"It's not. My brother Drew will be starting Stanford in the Spring."

"Impressive," my dad nods slowly. "And you?"

"Oh, I'm not . . . I'm not going back to school."

"No? I see so much potential in you."

"I like my freedom."

His eyes flick over to me. I look away shyly. Dr. Alan leaves with a goodbye to Grant and my parents. He sends the nurse in to check on me. Grant heads out. My parents leave to go get the car. They prescribe me medications and bed rest for at least 2 weeks. Then I have to come in for a check up. And could have longer rest.

The drive home is quiet. Mom and dad talk about the conference among themselves. My brother is called as we pull up in the driveway. I go up to my room and lay down. My phone is still on the end of my bed. I have three missed calls from Emmalee and four text notifications. One is from Drew.

[Hey, what'd you need?]

I pick up the phone, staring at the messages. I don't feel like answering them. I lay down and go to sleep.

Bing.

I grab my phone, swiping the sleep from my eyes.

[Any idea where Grant is?]

I sigh and type a message back.

[Isn't he home?]

[Ah, so she is alive.]

[Huh?]

[I figured if I said something about Grant, you'd answer.]

[I literally hate you. What is that supposed to mean?]

[No you don't. And the secret is all mine. :) ]

[ :( ]

[So, how are you? Grant claims he took you to the ER.]

[He did.]

[You're joshing me! What happened?]

[Bleeding ulcer, apparently.]

[How the bloody hell did Grant know that?]

[Beats me.]

[Well, get better soon, love!]

[Thanks, I'll try.]

I ignore a call from Emma and fall back asleep.


"You asshole, get up!"

I groan as I'm hit on the head with a pillow. "Bloody hell, Emma?"

She huffs and plops into the chair. "I've been calling and calling!"

"I was sleeping," I push my hair out of my face and slide up into a sitting position. I swipe my eyes. She brightens.

"Yeah, I bumped into Grant! He asked how you were doing. And, of course, since you're the worst best friend and didn't answer my call, I had no idea what he was talking about. You didn't tell me you had a freaking bleeding ulcer!"

"I didn't know!"

"I'm telling you, only an angel deserves that boy. He's so smart and handsome. Definitely top notch."

"I thought you were trying to get into his brother's pants."

"Ew, Meg, you're so crude sometimes!" She giggles and slaps my arm.

I half grin. "You said it!"

"Not like that!"

"It all means the same thing."

"Whatever. So, what are you gonna do while you're resting?"

"Watch netflix and add thirty pounds to this extremely fit body."

She giggles. "Meg, you're not fat! I like you the way you are."

"I didn't say I was. Just that sitting on my ass all day will make me fat." I shrug as she giggles again.

"A hundred and thirty pounds is nothing to scoff at. I which I was that light."

"Get rid of those boobs and you'll be twenty pounds lighter."

"Shut up!" She laughs, leaning on the back of my chair. "So . . . Pretty Woman?"

"Uh, duh. Just get the whole shelf of Rom-Coms."

"I don't see The Proposal."

"Sacrilege! Go look on the dvd shelf downstairs! Hurry!" She laughs as she hurries out of the room and down the stairs. "Hi Mrs. Creon!"

"Hello Emma. How's that neighbor of yours?"

"Huh?"

"Grant?"

"Oh, right! Grant! He's great. Fantastic. You know, the whole lot."

"Wonderful. You should invite him to your gigs. I think he has the hots for Megs."

"Who wouldn't?" Emma gives a nervous laugh. "Welp, gotta hurry, Meg wants to start with this one."

"Run along, dear."

Emmalee plops onto my bed after grabbing my laptop. She gives me a breathless grin. "Your mom thinks you and Grant are in love."

"Well, she's wrong."

"Maybe," she hums and inserts the disc. She climbs up to cuddle with me as the movie starts.

"Maybe one day something will happen. Maybe nothing ever will. Only time will tell."

I don't have an answer for her.


After the first week I was pretty much done with being cooped up in my room, but my mom insisted that I stay there. My check up confirmed that I was fine, and I was finally let free from the cage. I had to promise not to drink for a long time. Dr. Alan said alcohol was the reason for the ulcer. I had to explain about the night Aaron broke up with me. My parents were disappointed.

My dad's beer is gone from the fridge.

It was like walking in eternal punishment. I was grounded from going to parties, unless my parents knew for a fact that there would be no alcohol involved. Tim was smug and said he told me so.

I really hate the bastard sometimes.


And the plot thickens! Or continues, however you want to put it. Thanks for sticking with it!

Reviews, please! ^.^ I really do love them.

Angel Princess 31