Who am I kidding? This isn't a fairy tale. It's my life.
—Zoe Cruz, Beastia.

The sun is just starting to rise when I get back to the place I call home.

Everything around me seems like a blur through focused lens. My movements can be called robotic. I park my car. Get out of the garage. Walk to the house. Open the door without any problem. Start my way towards my room.

I'm roughly pulled back by the shoulder.

"Where have you been?!" Father bellows in my face and I stare up at him through unblinking eyes as his grip on my shoulder feels like steel. "You did not answer any of my texts! Why?!"

"I went to a party," I say tonelessly and Father turns red in the face. His grip tightens. I try not to wince. "I'm sorry. Didn't mean to make you text me and stuff. It won't happen again."

It's almost like I've splashed a bucket of ice cold water all over him. His hand drops away from my shoulder like I've scalded him and the anger on his face suddenly vanishes, quickly melting into a softer look.

Some people may call it concern. But right now, it looks more than unwelcome to me.

"Scarlett... are you okay?" he asks warily, straightening his physique and I'm forced to notice that he's wearing the suit he was wearing yesterday. Did he really stay up all night for me or was he up all night for a completely different reason?

I ignore my thoughts and shrug again. "I'm fine," I lie and even the words sound like a fib to my ears. "I'm just tired. I need to lie down."

He eyes me again for a few more seconds and then, shakes his head. "Very well," he says and suddenly, he moves aside for me to continue on my way. "Sleep tight."

I try not to feel disappointed but it's hard. I don't know why I keep thinking Father cares. It's not like he wanted to be a father. He didn't plan for me to exist. He's the guy that mistakenly knocked up my mother because of his weak pull out game, ruined her career as a successful supermodel and had to marry her because her dad was his boss. There wasn't love in their marriage. Just business. Amongst other things like fashion events, intense pretense and a kid.

I shake myself out of my thoughts. Without sparing him another glance, I quickly run up the stairs and push my way into my room, slamming the door behind me. I stalk to my bed and flop down on it almost lifelessly without kicking off my boots.

Everything is rushing into my head at break neck speed. I have feelings for a guy that isn't even attracted to me. I'm a failure. My own father doesn't care about me. I broke a nice guy's heart— the same guy that has enough ammunition to use against me.

Why does life suck so fucking much?

Before I can really think about it, I reach on my phone and speed dial the only person I can really trust to answer. She answers on the third ring. "I'm worried. It's definitely, like six over there and you're calling me. No— you're awake. Are you okay?"

"Reyna..." I brace myself for my next words. "I have feelings for Ian Ross."

Nothing life changing happens. The words are ordinary. They aren't complex and yet, they pack a punch. They taste sour to my tongue. It's not something I'm willing to say again.

There's silence for a moment and I keep counting my breaths. Finally, she laughs. "Well, that's great. Took you long enough to admit to yourself."

"I didn't. I was drunk and high, and I confessed to this random guy thinking it was Ian."

"Oh shit," Reyna says and now, she doesn't sound so smug. "That's got to suck. I honestly thought you'd realize it when you find yourself scrolling through his pictures on your phone and just smiling at them or something. Something simple."

I can't even force myself to chuckle. "I also told the boy about the whole ballet thing."

"Double shit. I've told you to stop getting drunk to the point of stupidity!"

I nod. This is classic Reyna behavior. She'll scold me first. Then she'll sympathize. Then try to make me feel better and nothing will really work but the effort will be appreciated all the same because she's Reyna and it seems like she's the only stable person in my life, sad as it is. "You do. I have a problem."

Reyna says something in reply but I don't hear it. My attention is suddenly focused on my door. Or to be more specific, someone that is standing by my door.

Father, holding a tray of snacks. I blink and actually manage to sit up. "Reyna. I think I'm going to have to call you back."

"Huh? Wha–?" is the last thing I hear her say as I cut the call and drop my phone on my bed, looking at the guest in my room.

"Father. I didn't hear you come in. I... I'm sure I slammed the door behind me."

He nods and walks towards me. "Yes you did. But you didn't lock it," he says quietly and then, he sits on my bed and places the tray on my lap. "You should have this. It'll help to alleviate your stressed out mind."

The tray in front of me holds a bowl full of scoops of diverse ice cream flavors and there's also a large bar of Dairy Milk chocolate. I blink at them and look up at Father because I'm pretty sure this ice cream isn't low fat and he's basically messing up his so called meal plan for me. "Uh..."

"You are in desperate need of a shower," he continues as he pulls my combat boots off my feet. "Brush your teeth too, your breath is awful. And here," he digs into his pocket and pulls out a credit card. He drops it on the tray. "Take this. Go shopping."

"Oh," I mutter. "Um. Thanks."

He nods and stands up. "Don't thank me," he says and is it just my ears or does he actually sound a bit bolder? "Just get yourself together. You're my daughter. You're an Anderson. Anderson's don't mope."

I don't know why but his words make me smile. They aren't exactly comforting but Father isn't the type to try and comfort someone. He neglected the maids and got me ice cream and chocolate himself. I'm holding his credit card to do whatever I want with it. He's telling me to stop being sad.

It's progress. It shows that he does care. Maybe not like how all the Father's on sitcoms act but nonetheless... he does care. He just has a stiff way of showing it.

I scoop a large dollop of chocolate ice cream into my mouth and swallow without really tasting it and I wonder if it really is low fat ice cream. "In summary, you're telling me that I should act like an Anderson?"

He finally turns to face me and he smiles lightly, blue eyes twinkling prettily. "You're an Anderson," he steps closer to me. He pats my head and my heart swells at the gesture. "So you should act like an Anderson."

Without another word, he walks out of my room and quietly shuts the door behind him. I look down at my bowl of ice cream and take another large bite.

For once, I want to obey my Father.

And for once, I don't think I need Reyna to try and comfort me.

***

"Do it like fucking Nike," I repeat over and over again as the elevator takes me up to Ian's floor. "Do it like fucking Nike."

After I finished my impromptu breakfast of chocolate and ice cream, I followed Father's advice and took a long shower. I also brushed my teeth and then, I found myself dialing Reyna who was just as surprised that my Father personally served me 'diabetes' on a tray.

Of course I didn't tell her about the whole 'act like an Anderson' thing. That's a moment I'd like to keep to myself.

But anyway, Reyna found it in herself to talk me into telling Ian about my feelings. I mean, he had feelings for me once, right? Briefly, yes, but he had them nonetheless. Feelings fade but sometimes, maybe they don't fade completely. And even if they fade, maybe they tend to come back into focus again like they never really left.

Reyna's words, not mine.

But after a while, I couldn't help thinking that maybe she's right. Father, Reyna and even Freya think something is going on with us. There has to be something they're all seeing that Ian and I aren't, right?

Plus, even if I tell him about my feelings and it turns out he doesn't particularly feel the same way, I can easily brush them away and forget about it. It's my first time having a bit of a crush on a person that's actually real. Forget what Liam Baxter said— I don't love Ian. And even if I do, I'm pretty sure I used the word love very loosely. People say they love people all the time but they still end the so called love story by breaking up. Love is just an over rated word. It's still synonymous to like, like-like, crush, adore. Society and tons of Harlequin novels just make the word feel like some kind of life changing anchor or something. It's just a word. Words can be used in several, loose contexts.

All in all, I like Ian. And chances are, he may like me too. He's worth the rejection. And he's worth the risk.

Which is why I'm on my way to Ian's apartment at eight in the morning, wearing the sexiest clothes I could find in my closet. Black high waisted pants with a black high neck crop tops and for once, pretty sandals and not my trademark combat boots. I'm also wearing make up; eyeliner, pink lip gloss and my hair is in fancy French pigtail braids.

I'm dressed to impress. Basically, I'm dressed to also kill.

The elevator doors ding open and I quickly start my long journey down to Ian's corridor. I take a deep breath as I give myself an impromptu pep talk. "Okay, Scarlett Rose Anderson. You look hot right now. It's eight in the morning. You're just going to march up to his door and knock. And when he opens it up, you hope to the Universe that he doesn't have morning breath as you give him a kiss his morning wood will never forget."

I finally stand in front of his door and I stare at it for a moment, steeling my nerves. I quickly dig into my purse for my little bottle of perfume and I spritz some of it around my neck. Then I drop it back into my purse and push my knuckles out to knock on the door.

The door swings open before my hand can connect with the door. I take a step back as I take in the view in front of me.

It's a gorgeous girl with disheveled dark hair and darker eyes. She's wearing extremely skimpy yet rumpled clothes and she's... holding onto a shirtless Ian. Her hand drops from the space around his waist as she sights me and she frowns darkly.

Ian frowns but then, gives me a double take. "Scarlett?"

"Hi," I croak.

The girl eyes me slowly before turning to face Ian with a wide smile. "Well, I better be off. I've got a twelve o'clock shift. Call me soon, hot stuff."

And then, she leans up, stands on the tips of her toes and kisses him. Right on the lips. The same lips I was just planning to kiss a few moments ago.

Ian returns the kiss briefly and lightly pushes her off him with a slight smirk on his lips. "I will."

With a wink, she roughly pushes past me despite the space I created for her to pass. I try not to let it get to me but a lot of things are getting to me right now. So, I mark her face in my head and hope to find her walking by an abandoned alley way in the nearest future before turning to face Ian again.

He's leaning against the door and his eyes finally land on me. He could have been checking me out, but now I'm not so sure. He's still frowning at me, blue eyes looking more like ice. "What are you doing here?"

His tone isn't friendly and I almost wince. But I feel slightly humiliated and angry so instead, I frown right back. "Obviously here to see you. Why don't I come in first?"

He doesn't make a move to let me in. "I didn't invite you here."

"Do you have to?" I gulp. "I'm apparently meant to be your friend, aren't I?"

That shuts him up. He moves to the side and lets me pass without a word. I ignore the way he smells like sweat, cologne and sex as I walk into his slightly messy apartment. He slams the door shut behind us.

"Who was that?" I ask as Ian breezes past me into the kitchen. I follow after him. "She's pretty."

"Brooke," he replies offhandedly as he opens his refrigerator and pulls out a bottle of water. "And she knows. I'll pass across the message that you noticed too."

"Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed or something?" I snap. I have every reason to because why is he suddenly being a dick to me? I haven't even said anything particularly insulting yet.

He shrugs but it looks like he's trying to mock me with his shoulders. "Just tired I guess. Brooke didn't really let me get much sleep last night."

Bile is suddenly at the back of my throat. I quickly swallow it back down. "Oh."

"Yeah," he says and the bastard sounds smug about it. "Now why are you here? Shouldn't you be nursing a hang over?"

I blink. "What?"

"You went for some party last night, right?" Ian says coldly. "Freya told me about it. About how you had plans to go and screw someone or some crap like that. How was it?"

And suddenly, I don't like Freya much anymore. "Why did Freya tell you that?"

Ian shrugs again and leaves the kitchen, purposely knocking my shoulder roughly on his way out. Anger spikes in my chest again and I try not to let it show on my face as I follow him into the living room.

"Jameel and I were going out to vandalize a few walls with graffiti and I wanted to invite you," Ian says, his back turned away from me. "You know. Since you like doing daring stuff. But Freya told me not to bother and that you've already made plans to go and whore yourself out to the highest bidder."

My palm itches to connect with his face. "Excuse you?"

"No, excuse you," Ian snaps and then he finally turns to face me. "So tell me. How was it?"

"Why are you angry?!" I finally let my anger consume me. "Did you want me to invite you to a high school party?! I'm sorry that I have a social life and I wanted to catch up on it a bit. My life doesn't revolve around you, okay? I'm sorry that I can't hang out with you 24/7."

Ian laughs but it's a sound void of humor. "Oh, you're so not worth it," he says and okay, that hurt. "I'm angry because I have the right to be. Get the hell out of my house."

This isn't how I pictured our conversation would go. I imagined lots of awkwardness and awkward situations make me cringe. But right now, I'd pick that scene over this, any day, any time. "What the fuck did I do?" I snap and I step closer to him. "Huh? Be straight forward with me for once in your life."

The thing is, Ian is acting like he has a thing for me. A legit box of feelings for me. But then again, I just saw the girl he screwed last night. So doesn't that mean I'm just reading into this situation wrongly? That I'm seeing things that aren't really there?

He evades the question. "Oh for goodness sake, leave me alone. Run back to your little fuck toy, why don't you? And stay away from me while you're at it. Lose my number. Forget you know where The Canvas is. Just stay away from me."

"You want me to lose your number?"

"I want you to dance out of my life like a pretty ballerina," Ian huffs and tears prick at my eyes as my mouth drops open at the blatant low blow. "But apparently, you can't do that. So I'll settle for you simply walking out."

I stare Ian down for a moment. Then I chuckle bitterly, wiping away my tears quickly before they can really rush down my cheeks. "You're serious about this shit?"

"Yes," he says and then he hesitates for a moment. "I am," he finally says.

I nod and feel something in my chest get heavier. I've had this feeling before. I've had this feeling a lot of times.

"Before I go," I gulp. "Can I tell you how the party was? And how my day has been going so far? Why I came here in the first place?"

He frowns a bit harder but he nods.

"It was loud, dark. Can't remember most of it. I know I gave the host a shit time for a while and then, I can't remember much after that. I woke up in bed with a hot guy," I watch as Ian's jaw clenches and my suspicions are confirmed but the knowledge only makes me sadder. "Fully clothed. We didn't have sex."

Ian's stance relaxes and his face softens just a bit as he eyes me suspiciously. "You're sure about that?"

"The guy filled me in on what happened. I told the guy about my whole not being good enough for ballet episode. Then I cried. One way or another, we found ourselves making out," I say and I watch as Ian clenches his fist. "When in the moment, I confessed my feelings for another guy named Ian."

At this point, I'm not looking at Ian anymore. I don't need to. "I popped his erection with that and then I woke up today feeling like crap. But then I felt, oh, let me come over here and confess my feelings for the asshole. It will be worth it if he actually does like me too, right?"

"Scarlett–"

"So I dressed up and even used fucking lipstick because I wanted to impress him. And then I came to find out that the guy I like is a fucking coward. He has feelings for me too but instead of being mature about a misunderstanding, he spent most of his night screwing a girl, basically tries to slut shame me, tells me to lose his number and tries to throw me out of his place while simultaneously emphasizing on my epic fail in life."

I finally look away from my sandals to stare at him. "Doesn't he sound like an asshole?"

Ian gulps audibly. His face is red. "Yeah. He does."

There's silence for a moment as we stare at each other. Finally, Ian looks away from me and scratches his neck. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too," I say and he looks up at me fast. "I'll be taking my leave now."

I feel numb as I quickly march towards the door, breezing by him in the process. He grabs my hand just as I try to turn the door knob.

"Wait–"

"I was going to confess, whether or not you returned my feelings, Ian," I say and I sound angry. And once again, I have the right. "I imagined it'd be awkward but I'll brave through it. The feelings will fade if you don't like me the same way and we'd have continued our friendship. I value our friendship but I was really looking towards a relationship. In general; I thought any way it ended— be it friends or more, it'd be worth it. You're worth the risk."

"I–"

"I'm not done," I sharply cut him off and I finally look away from the doorknob to glare at him. I pull my arm out of his grip. "But you... you meant what you said. You wanted me out of your life. To dance out like a pretty ballerina. Because I'm not worth it. I'm not worth a little heartache, right?"

Ian licks his lips and looks into my eyes like he's trying to say a million things at the same time. "I say a lot of shit when I'm angry, Scarlett. You are worth it. Just..."

"We feel the same way about each other and yet, we don't feel the same way about each other," I sigh. "You like me but I'm someone you can dispose of at anytime, right?"

Ian gulps. "I'm confused. I'm sorry. Tell me how I can make it up to you. To show you how sorry I am."

I shrug and finally turn the door knob. He doesn't make a move to stop me this time as I reply.

"For starters? Lose my number."

Without looking back, I walk down the corridor and figuratively, out of Ian's life.

To be heavily edited, I kid you not.
Merry (late) Christmas to all those celebrating :)
This chapter was meant to come out yesterday
But yeah... I'm a lazy Santa ;)

Any thoughts on this chapter?
Too dramatic? You think Scarlett could have handled it better? You think Ian is an ass? Please tell me. It's 7:44AM and I haven't slept yet because I had to rewrite this chapter tons of times.

(Like damn, Scarlett and Ian are so dramatic. Honestly, I think humor is the right genre for me at this point I can't even deal with these kids anymore. On another note, Mr Anderson was pretty sweet I think?)

Have a fun day guys and I'll be waiting on my Christmas present ;)

And here's a little gift from me to you x