Like a Romantic Comedy

Chapter IX: I hate mind games

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“So…”

I turned to look at the bloke that had just plopped down next to me in history of magic and greeted me with the rather unconventional salutation… not really charming, honestly. “So…”

At that quip he threw me a rather nasty and withering look that actually managed to make me question why the hell I actually liked the bastard. Because really, in all honesty, all feelings aside—and all of that other preposterous shite—at the end of the line he was just an immature arse who still thought that poop jokes are funny… not that they aren't, but they aren't quite deserving of the hour long heckling in response that they tend to receive from James.

So why do I like—love him? What the hell is it about him that makes me swoon? Fuck, even I can't figure that out.

“No need to be sarcastic.”

“No need to be monosyllabic,” I retorted, smiling, I always do enjoy our rather less than witty battle of the wits. In reality they're just filled with pitiful insults that even a four year old would most likely mock incessantly. But, then again, I suppose James never was the brightest crayon in the box… he's more so the eye candy… even if he is in the top ten percent of our year… that's beside the point if he still laughs upon hearing the word “duty” because of its striking resemblance to the word “doodie”.

He chuckled lightly as he threw an arm around the back of my chair and turns to me, intently ignoring the professor. “So I heard your date with McCoy went well, apparently the entire school is abuzz with the news that you're actually getting into a committed relationship.”

I groaned loudly. “Our school is far too small, I really don't understand why they can't have more students when the damn castle is so huge, really, there's the space for them, and then they couldn't care less about me because there would be far more interesting people to talk about… wait a minute… why do you care?!”

That question seemed to throw James for a loop as he immediately withdrew his arm to run a hand through his hair as he fidgeted in his seat… actually looked like he was dying to go to the loo, not a very striking sight.

“You just look… I don't know… calm, I guess. It's sort of scary—actually… more so disconcerting.”

A cocked my head to the side as I sent hi a puzzled look. “How so?”

“You've never been this calm… makes me wonder if you're planning something,” he slowly admitted, scrutinizing me curiously.

I laughed at the irony of it as I nudged his shoulder with my own, playing it off as a joke in a desperate attempt to detract away attention from my increasingly sweaty palms. My body always just seemed to “go asunder” when around him. “And what sort of a plan could possibly ever include Henry? Come on, he's probably the sweetest bloke to ever grace the planet, I highly doubt he's who I'd enlist for one of my usually catastrophic plans.”

He grinned as he raised his hands in defeat. “Just saying that you went into that `cat caught the canary', eerily normal mode and it was scaring me… besides, love, I happen to like your crazy self, it's oddly endearing in a `Merlin I wish you'd just shut up already' way.”

I hate to admit it, but I giggled then. I GIGGLED, I actually giggled. I swear I sounded like some Jane Austen fanatic, hopelessly romantic tart—it was embarrassing, it went against all my principles, as ridiculously feminist as they may have been… at least I wasn't about to burn my bra, though, right?

Still… I hated him for being able to bring me to such lows, it was just cruel…

“Cute,” I drawled, trying to ignore the affect that he had on me. “So I'm planning something?—What makes you think that?” I raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

He shrugged, and damn him for that trademark move that was so manly-grunt-esque, as I had aptly and none too fondly, named it. `I don't know, I don't even think I want you to tell me if I'm right or wrong.'

“And why's that?”

He shrugged again. Really, what the hell is it with blokes and shrugging? “well on one hand, your plans never fair well, and on the other… well the idea that I was able to suss out the fact that you're planning something… well that would mean I'd actually understand you, and entering that realm of terrifying logic doesn't sound much better than falling victim to your catastrophic plans. In fact I think I'd prefer my sanity to—to the other possibility.”

I scoffed, throwing him a glare. “You're such an arse!”

He smirked. “And yet you love me nonetheless.”

And I hated the fact that that there was truth to that statement… it just wasn't fair.

Damn prat.

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author's note: so it's a short interlude, but I figured that after the revelation in the last chapter it was fitting... I think... was it?

btw I don't know if any of you watch ugly betty, it's a guilty pleasure of mine that is just so out there that I can't help but love it, but anyway. I was reading the line up for next years cast and Gio WON'T be there, so I've reentered a very sad state of mind now, so I apologize if the chap is total crap, I blame it on that.

on a brighter note, however, for bones fans out there: BOOTH AND BONES ARE FINALLY GOING TO KISS NEXT SEASON… FOR REAL THAT IS.

p.s. the banner for this fic is posted on my profile for anyone interested.

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