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Life Can Be So Screwy
by Kit Kat
"Of course they like you. Everyone likes you."
He began to walk away. What the hell had she been thinking when she thought no one liked her?
Of course everyone liked her. They should since she was everything that he wasn't. He was a
sarcastic, cranky jerk who couldn't care less about what people thought of him while she on the
other hand was a sweet, nice, caring person who cared about everything people thought about
her. Ergo the whole "no one likes me" statement. He thought she was being a tad bit over the top
for this whole thing. It was her who had read a book on how to manipulate people so they would
notice her. Sad really...
He thought he had firmly established that this whole conversation and moment between them
was over with that last reply but she didn't seem to get it. He was merely a few feet away from
her, thinking everything was cool between them, when she spoke.
"Do you?" she asked him.
He turned around and stared at her face, unsure of what to say. Why had she gone and asked a
question like that? Did she want him to say that he liked her? Or no? He was getting confused.
He studied her face for a moment and saw a look of longing and hope in her eyes. He still didn't
say anything, his face was blank as stone. How was he supposed to with a question like that
being thrown at him. He was him after all. No one asked him questions like that. Maybe if he
stood there long enough without saying anything she would get uncomfortable and leave. Yeah,
that would work...
"I have to know," she said after his silence had gotten to her. She stepped closer when she said
that, making his insides do back flips against his will.
Damn her! He thought she would go away but here she was pressuring him into admitting to
something that he had been trying to deny since the monster truck rally thing. God, how had that
night been replaying in his mind over and over again even when he wanted it to go away. He
didn't want to admit to her that he had actually enjoyed one of his colleagues company. It wasn't
like him to ever do things like that.
He stared at her a moment longer before finally managing to say something.
"No," was all that came out of his mouth.
He saw the change in her eyes go from hope to pure sadness. She seemed crushed. Her jaw
quivered a little as if she were about to cry and he wanted desperately to say something but his
throat was so dry that he didn't even try. He hadn't meant to hurt her feelings it was just that it
was the only thing he thought that he could say. He knew it was for the best though but
something inside him kept saying that it wasn't true. He would never admit it since he would
probably set something off in that brain of hers.
She looked at him a moment longer, expecting him to say something else, something sarcastic,
but he didn't. He stared. He just stood there and stared. He watched her as she gave a small nod
and turned to walk away, almost robotic like. He stayed there watching her leave until she
disappeared behind the corner, out of his sight. When she was gone he turned and walked away
in the other direction. No matter how much he tried, pictures of her fallen face filled his mind all
the way to the elevator. He sighed as he walked in and the doors slid shut behind him. He pulled
a small bottle of Vicodin out of his pocket and popped one into his mouth.
Life could be so screwy sometimes.
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Legal Disclaimer: The authors published here make no claims on the ownership of Dr. Gregory House and the other fictional residents of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Like the television show House (and quite possibly Dr. Wilson's pocket protector), they are the property of Fox Television, David Shore and undoubtedly other individuals of whom I am only peripherally aware. The fan fiction authors published here receive no monetary benefit from their work and intend no copyright infringement nor slight to the actual owners. We love the characters and we love the show, otherwise we wouldn't be here.
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