"Erm, but I was only going to – " My words get clogged and stuffed back down my throat, his damn beautiful contact eyes remaining fixated on me, trailing agonisingly from one feature to another.

I'm grateful for the cold now, my face may seem red and flustered due to the bitter air but I'm red because of his intensive scrutiny. If I cry for help will anyone or anything hear me? And even as I describe this "romantic" and sentimental moment, which only exists in theory, my damn nose starts to get runny and a snotty, red-faced Catherine is not a sight worth picturing.

My thoughts are so engrossed into how awful I must look that Zander's movements take me by surprise; his arm holding onto me tightens and his face inches closer, making the air that was freezing cold a few nanoseconds ago, stifling.

"Hey lovebirds! We're closing in ten minutes, get off the ice!"

Blinking rapidly, I try craning my neck to look past Zander who's turned his head to look at an old man glaring at us in annoyance. Taking this as a golden opportunity, I upright my body and quickly distance myself from Zander entirely.

Placing a hand against my cheek, my other hand digs into my pocket in search of tissues and without having to hear another bark of warning, I skate to the edge of the rink and get off the ice – leaving Zander alone.

"Hey! Catherine! WHAT ABOUT ME?"

Wincing from the guilt he inflicts onto me, I refuse to look back and swiftly unlace my skates, fast walking the rest of the way to the little rental shop and hand them over to a middle aged man over the counter who looks like he's about to nod off to sleep at any moment.

"CUPCAKE!" Zander hollered from somewhere in the distant, making my flushed state even worse as the man behind the counter presents me with an inquiring look.

Gnawing my lip, my eyes widen and a sudden bout of frustration mixed with anxiety crashes down onto my conscious while the more functional and rational side of my mind demands me to grab my boots and make a run out the backdoor, find the nearest empty recycling bin in a back ally, and hide in it.

Shaking my head, I quickly look up to the roof that's draped with flags of hockey teams and plead to the heavens to forgive me for abandoning Zander before stomping my foot and running a frustrated hand through my bun, shaking my head violently.

My actions seem to amuse the once sleepy rental shop man because he raises a questioning eyebrow at me, "um..." Feeling caught, I stare open-mouthed, slightly embarrassed.

"Don't bother explaining, could you even?" He asked, his eyes trailing behind me in indication to what's happened between Zander and I.

"Uh..." That's a very interesting question, my 'Zander story' stems as far back to only a few days and it's still incomprehensible, even to me.

"CUPCAKE!"

"Cupcake?"

Gritting my teeth now, my internal verbal meter rises as a stream of profanities cross my mind. The man behind the counter chuckles before shaking his head in amusement and any dignity I had left, symbolically melts on the ice a few feet away from me.

Rental shop man has a faraway gleam in his eyes, recalling a memory. "I used to call my girlfriend Cookie. Cupcake's a good one." He winks at me with a grin and I lean over the counter and shake my head with vehemence, my eyebrows knitted in anxiety. Why do people constantly get the wrong idea?

"I'm not his girlfriend and he's not my boyfriend," I squeaked out desperately, humiliated beyond repair. Why is Zander and everyone else doing this to me? I can't continue to live a life full of misunderstandings; especially if I'm to be unofficially christened with the name 'Cupcake.'

"No need to be shy, I'm sure you two are meant for one another...or whatever people say to couples."

"False impression Sir, we're just good neighbours."

"Neighbours huh? Well, let me tell you something sweetheart. No boy his age would ever go out of his way to go somewhere with a girl he doesn't like."

Hah! If he only knew I was pressured into finding myself and that Zander over there and his dear friend Patrick, have flipped my peaceful, mundane life upside down.

And did he just call me sweetheart? If I had half the guts Celia does, I would give the man a piece of my logical mind, I wasn't anybody's sweetheart. Especially, HIS. He already has a Cookie, how dare he go after a Cupcake!

Groaning out loud, I shake my head again frowning – I just referred to myself as 'Cupcake' and willingly at that, my subconscious has even given up. Why I'm even getting worked up about a single, two-syllable word is ridiculous to say the least.

"Catherine!" Zander continued to cry.

"Your boyfriend is calling you."

"He's not – we're not..."

"Found you!" Before I can run or explain to the rental shop man my life's current dilemma, an arm slings over my shoulder lazily.

"I wasn't hiding!" I blurted out stupidly, causing an eyebrow to shoot up from both Zander and rental shop man.

Zander leans in to whisper, brushing against my hair. "Oh I believe you, because if you were, I'd make you pay for it."

My insides whimper in protest from the threat laced underneath in his words. I knew I should have stayed home watching reruns of cartoons with Celia. I'm too old to be bullied at this age, can't he just find someone else and rob them of their peace?

"You better hold on to her, she's a keeper." Winking at me once more, the man behind the counter enters a back door and vanishes from sight, leaving me entirely alone with Zander as the arena goes deadly silent.

"So now what do you want to do?"

"Go home obviously," I mumbled out all too quickly.

"Not go home, we haven't even been gone for two hours."

"Really? It feels like several."

Gapping at my honest answer, his arms cross and a bemused yet, irritated look clouds his face. "That hurts Catherine, you're in the presence of a man who knows exactly what the ladies want, but in all honesty leaving me stranded on ice felt like a near death experience, so I'd rather erase that from my memory."

"Which is why you're looking for a Matchmaker right? I mean, if you know so much about women then you should be able to resolve all your issues without one," I stated matter-of-factly, a bit of smugness in my tone and ignore his possible expiration on ice.

"That, and this are two different things."

"How so?"

"What I mean is – " Patiently waiting for his reply, something filters across his face and he only looks down at me momentarily with an odd intensity before shrugging lightly.

"What?" I asked skeptically, curiosity growing inside of me like an evil little monster.

"It's better if I don't say anything."

So now he decides to be on the same page?

"Your choice, but I'm going home now."Turning around, I don't wait for a reply and with determination, I head for the doors; the exit sign a vision of art, the letters E to T appealing to my eyes.

I'm almost out into the cold tundra when my hood gets yanked back. "Yeah, not so fast."

Losing my balance, I pathetically allow myself to be dragged backwards like dead weight till I'm next to Zander again, a bitter frown set on my face.

"I think there's an arcade place nearby, we could kill time there?"

Scoffing, I raise an eyebrow without saying a word but he only grins before grabbing my hand and placing it in the crook of his arm. I clearly don't have a say in the matter, and with a huge sigh I'm once again dragged pathetically, but this time at least, out the door.

"Couldn't we just go back to the apartment complex at least?" I pleaded.

"And do what? Sit?"

"Now that you've mentioned it, that sounds like a great idea. Might even be the best thing you've ever suggested since I've met you...plus we'd be breathing too. Not just sitting."

"Ha ha. Funny." Sending him a glare through the darkness, I internally harrumph. I thought that was a great suggestion, sitting and breathing happen to be a favourite past time.

"We're here." Looking up, I almost scream as my eyes become completely blinded by neon signs; 'Have Fun!' 'Come In And Play!' 'Win Some!' All blinking brightly and manufactured to damage one's sight.

"Win some?" I said aloud, finally adjusting to the brightness. What the hell does that mean?

"That..."

"Doesn't sound sketchy at all right?" Turning to look up at Zander, he looks at the sign with humour before taking my hand and walking into the small arcade.

"Hey there folks!" An elderly man with glasses behind a counter waves with a cheery smile. An old man runs an arcade?

Scanning the place briefly, I notice some skeptical figures hunched over in a corner playing cards and another group of shady individuals playing pool. Too afraid to point, I shove an elbow into Zander before plastering a smile full of wrath, "big kid arcade? Because it looks like a den for drug dealers."

Clearing his throat, Zander waves a lazy in front of my face, "nah don't let your imagination run wild...but I'll keep my Dad's secretary on speed dial."

"What good are muscles if you don't put them into use?"

"Hey!"

"Ah, they're just for display right?" I mocked, jabbing a finger pointedly at his arm.

"Not necessarily, but they do help in the display department."

Nodding curtly, I simply pat his shoulder sympathetically. "Isn't that just wonderful?"

"No sass, Catherine."

"You're worried about sass right now?"

"Yes. That and whether you can beat my score."

"At what?"

"Pac-Man of course."

Observation: Zander Nolan is an idiot whose idea of a good competition is Pac-Man.

Groaning, I turn to look back at the door then glance over to the elderly man who's busy humming. Does no one read the expression on my face? I think it's fairly apparent that I wish to be rescued or it might convey just how much I've lost my mind.

Am I that desperate to know everything about Zander Nolan? The man, or rather boy, possesses an appearance that isn't as transparent as it seems. Me of all people know outward standards are only a fragment of what's really there but I'm beginning to wonder if a ten year old lives inside of him.

"Hey Catherine, why the long face?"

Startled, my eyes widen to see a palm come directly at me, creating a cross-eyed moment.

"This is why you need to pay attention, and I could have slapped you right in the face." Moving his hand swiftly, he parts a few strands of hair that have tumbled out, covering a part of my face.

"Thank you. For your senseless reasoning," I droned out sardonically, questioning my safety, which I've placed in the hands of this idiot and also not liking how comfortable he is with touching me so freely.

"Anytime, now let's see how good you are at arcade games." Unzipping his jacket, he leans over an arcade machine, which looks like it came from the 80s. Inserting coins into a coin slot, the thing comes to life and a look of serious concentration clouds his features.

"Do I win money if I am?" I finally whispered, hating myself for being so engrossed into what he's doing.

"If you're what?" He asked faintly, absorbed in the game.

"If I win."

"No, the most you'd win is a free case of beer and diet juice."

Proffering a look of mild disgust at the thought of diet juice, I give Zander a look of disbelief. "At an arcade?"

Shrugging, his eyes never leave the game machine. "It's unconventional."

"That's an understatement." Having failed an advance level, he steps aside and shrugs lightly in the direction of the large yellow machine.

Sighing, I step in front of it and shove more coins down the coin slot. "Why not? I have no social reputation to maintain," I mumbled under my breath, secretly wanting to beat Zander's high score and add, "If I win, we go home."

"I'm not supposed to give you a prize, the old man behind the counter is."

"Yeah but all I really want right now, is to go home."

"Fine, I have nothing to lose."

"Oh, and that's when I win." Raising an eyebrow in surprise, his lips twitch to form a grin and I only turn back to the machine with an air of self-satisfaction. No, Catherine Lewis is not a gamer or even remotely interested in games but when faced with something that's preventing me from going home, I'll make sure to ensure victory.

And within three minutes, I do win.

"Yay!" I squealed, bringing my hands together into a fist and shaking them in victory.

"What? How?" Zander muttered in shock.

Looking back at Zander's baffled face innocently, a complacent smile registers on my face. "Beginner's luck?"

"Here you go young lady, you win a whole case of beer." The old arcade man, hands me the case and I humbly take it from him.

Wait...is this legal?

"That was supposed to be my case." Zander's eyes are zeroed in on the six cans, and I can only scoff in consideration of him being a grown child legal enough to drink, and that alone is terrifying.

A drunk Zander? I can hardly handle a sober one. Shaking my head from my wandering thoughts, I'm brought back to the present where Zander's still whining about winning. "I was supposed to win."

Proffering a gloating smile that was akin to a winner's, I pat his shoulder tauntingly. "Ah well, maybe next time."

Whipping around with the case of beer in my hand, I quickly thank the arcade man (a title I've bestowed on him) and walk out into the cold for the millionth time.

"You are going to share right?"

"If you'll stop being a sore loser..."

"Deal!"

"Then I'll think about it."

"Damn." Not being able to repress my laughter, I do the one thing any cruel individual with half the brains of a lunatic would do – openly laugh in his face.

"Yeah, whatever. Ohh I'm Catherine, I act like I suck at everything but I'm a real queen," Zander mimicked, his voice pitched a few octaves higher than normal.

Clearing my throat, I simply pick up my pace and make a run for the bus stop, yelling back. "I have no idea what you mean." To my relief, the bus comes right away, and I jump on, paying the fare and heading for a seat in the back. It was too late for many commuters, so it's barren and dead quiet – perfect.

Letting out a sigh, I get shoved over closer to the window as Zander places himself right next to me. Looking to my left, I stare in disbelief. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why out of this entire empty bus do you want to sit next to me?"

"Are you kidding me right now?"

"No."

"Catherine, why would I not sit here?"

"Because you could have two seats instead of one all to yourself. It's a better offer, trust me," I declared appalled, surprised that this thought hasn't crossed his mind.

There's a moment's pause before a small smile forms and he only shakes his head with amusement. "Did anyone ever tell you you're strange?"

"Yeah, but that's besides the point."

"No, I think you need help. The first ride here, you were all glum and good and now you're telling me to piss off?"

"I need help?" I asked indignantly. "If any one of us needs help, it's you!"

"I don't think so, because I don't have a problem with bus seats."

"I don't!"

"See, I offended you which means I'm right. Tell me Catherine, do you always yell at the person sitting next to you to move somewhere else? Were these seats not designed for a single bottom each?"

"N-n-no but the bus usually isn't empty like it is now," I squeaked out defensively.

"Whatever makes you feel like you're not a horrible human being."

"Are you seriously accusing me of being a bad person because I asked you to sit somewhere else?"

"Is it some kind of personal space paranoia?"

"It's – " Yes, I do like my personal space, who doesn't? But do I require it more than the average person, who knows? It's all relative anyways.

My idea of space is different than his but he didn't have to label it like it was a huge deal but the nagging sensation tickling the back of my mind can't help but take this personally, since I felt I was always alone and breaking away from that would just be odd. Granted, we're on a bus, but I haven't been in this close proximity with anyone besides Celia in years!

"Well?"

"It's nothing dramatic like that. Why would you even think that?"

"Just asking."

"Well you're wrong. About personal space issues and about bus seats," I said evasively, not bold enough to look directly into his gaze.

"So it would appear."

"Or it might be because I don't like you," I mumbled under my breath, not liking the feeling of being a fish out of water.

Inwardly, danger was blaring like a red siren in my mind. That was too close; I was too close to admitting a fact about myself. To have almost spilled my insides out to Zander Nolan of all people, horrifies me.

Rather than simply having paranoia, I have multiple issues – trust being one of them. And as cliché and emotionally weak as that sounds, it's the result of several scenarios, several encounters, and several counts of betrayal.

The present is only the product of the past after all. And my past...biting my inner cheek, I swallow back the lump in my throat and blink away the moisture pooling around the edges of my eyes and stare at my own miserable reflection through the window.

"I wasn't being serious you know." I had almost forgotten the presence of the person next to me.

"I know."

"So you're not mad?"

"No."

"Then why the look?"

"What look?"

"The look that every girl has before she cries."

"I'm not crying."

"Do you want to?"

"No."

"Do you want to?"

"I said no."

"Are you afraid too?"

"I – " The bus jerks to a stop, startling both of us.

Diverting my gaze, I point towards the back doors and he silently gets up and taps the yellow tape that reads, "TOUCH HERE" and I follow him out the doors before they can shut close. Now what? I ask myself bitterly, here I am, all alone in the dark with Zander. There isn't anything or anyone in sight to put an end to his lucky guesswork.

Glancing at him with nervous apprehension, my mouth sets in a firm frown to see a look of concentration on his face. "What about a dual personality?"

"What?"

"You act really strange, timid one moment and then a total beast the next."

"WHAT?" I asked mildly furious, still in the process of getting my emotions locked and sealed underneath.

"See, that's the beast emerging right there."

"Says the person who isn't a qualified doctor." Well I worried for nothing, if I could only glare at my conscious with scorn for over thinking so much.

"I don't think it takes a doctor to notice two polar personalities."

"If that's the case then no one could blame me for killing you, I could simply say it was my other personality." Playing along now with my worries set aside, I shrug innocently and take one dramatic and threatening step towards him.

To my amusement he actually takes a step back. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hold on a second there Cupcake, I was kidding. Why would you want to murder this beautiful face?" And the egoist has emerged once again.

Rolling my eyes, I shake my head."That's not what you should be saying."

"Then what?"

"How much do you want?"

Grinning widely, I tilt my head matter- of- factly. "That should be your line."

Patting his pocket, he pulls out his wallet and opens it before frowning. "What if I only have credit cards?"

Blinking, I nod in agreement with his skeptical expression. "That would be a problem. I wonder what a criminal would do then."

"Pull out a gun and demand I tell him my pin?"

"I don't have a gun."

"I think a pretty deadly looking water gun would work."

Nodding, I run the possibility through my head. "You think so?"

"Ice cold water in the dead of winter, think about it."

Shivering at the mere thought of that, I make a run through the complex and enter the right building. Sighing at the warmth engulfing me, I look back to see Zander laughing.

"What?" I asked, nudging him in the gut.

"It scares you that much?"

"If the criminal was smart enough then he or she would leave you out in the cold with nowhere to run. That would be a total nightmare, imagine yourself slowly, and I mean SLOWLY dying from pneumonia or worse, frost bite because you're drenched in ice water."

"That's coming from a girl who loves horror films."

"It could happen!" Pressing the elevator button, we ride up and walk out without encountering anyone in the hall. Having left the apartment unlocked, I turn the handle and open the door, then slam it back shut.

"That..." Trailing, my words get caught in my throat.

"Was awful," Zander finished, his face mirroring mine.

Sighing, Zander takes the initiative this time and opens it but hesitates as the sound leaking through could render anyone dead.

"Cat! Your back! Grab a mic and play with us!" Celia barked, ushering us closer to the subject of our misery.

"Play or kill?" I asked with aversion, cringing.

Singing or rather screeching into a mic, Patrick's face contorts into a questioningly distorted expression. "WHAT I CAN'T HEAR YOU?"

"Hey, this is our line!" Celia beckoned, a second mic magically appearing in her grip.

"LOVE IS LIES, OH LOVE IS PAIN, LOVE IS A LOSING GAME!"

Crumpling behind the couch, my hands quickly move on their own accord to cover my ears.

It just had to be karaoke.

"LIES! PAIN! LOSING GAME!" They both bellowed, significantly off key.

Kneeling next to me, Zander's face twists into a painful mix of expressions. "I knew Pat was bad, but your friend is – "

"Tone deaf," I asserted, wincing as they hit the chorus.

"OH SING IT NOW! LIES! PAIN! OH, IT'S A LOSING GAME!"

Groaning, Zander cups his ears firmer."God, please make this stop."

"Hey! Don't steal my pink mic!" Celia hissed.

"But I don't like the purple one!" Patrick retorted.

Taking that as my cue, I make a dash for the jumble of wires connected to an extension cord and yank all of them out. The television screen turns pitch black and the mics turn off.

"Wah – "

"Cat!"

"I vote for another game," I pitched in, my smile wobbly as my ears were still ringing from the after effects of hearing two voices from the depths of hell.

Popping out of his hiding place, Zander raises a hand. "I second that."

Scoffing, they cross their arms over their chests in unison.

"They go out for coffee and they come back as best friends," Patrick mused darkly in a feeble attempt to chew us out.

"Look guys, please just anything other than what you two just did," Zander impeded, giving them with a pleading look.

"You mean karaoke?" Celia questioned, raising a questioning brow.

Patrick shakes his head unconvinced. "We were winning too before you ruined our game."

"I hardly doubt that," I gritted out quietly, finding it impossible.

"How about a game of tennis then, we can grab the game console from next door? That's an ancient game I could win in my sleep," Zander said, easily swayed.

Groaning, I know this night isn't going to end in anything but disaster – considering the fact that I've seen Zander's extraordinary Pac-Man game skills, Patrick must be just as bad if not worse.

"Winner gets the case of beer Cat's holding,"

Patrick's eyes gleam as he nods appreciatively at my goods while Celia smiles in false sweetness.

"What?" I interjected.

"Yes! Redemption!" Zander yelled excitedly.

Glaring up at Zander, I regretfully say goodbye to the beer as it gets snatched out of my hands and placed on the coffee table as the ultimate prize.

"You did say you didn't even want it," he grumbled.

"But I do want it," I returned.

"Sorry Catherine, but I'm winning indefinitely this time."

"That's not – " A thunderous knock booms through, my spine going limp from fright.The four of us freeze and stare at one another questioningly.

Groaning, I cautiously tip toe to the door and open it to find one angry Ms. Zhao, who had suddenly disappeared after being drugged and brought up the incident ever again, standing next to two other strangers furiously bawling their fists.

"Um, hello?" I draw out slowly.

"WHO WAS WAILING AND CRYING LIKE A DYING DOLPHIN?" One of the strangers demanded.

"Uh that would be..." The door gets pulled back and Celia steps in front of me with wrath in her eyes."WHO ARE YOU CALLING A DOLPHIN OLD LADY?"

Uh oh.