Every Boy's Got One Ch 4

THE PDA OF DAN FENTON

6/11/06, 5:47 PM

Wow. I never would have figured Valerie would be friends with the girl who used to be a goth. That’s what Tucker said, at least. Not that she doesn’t look goth now, but at least she doesn’t have multiple face piercing or something creepy like that. She does have that tattoo on her back though, but that’s more seductive that gothic, anyways.

She is a bit of a bitch, however. Though that’s starting to sound like an understatement…

S2

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. The least the Maid of Honor could have done was to give up her aisle seat for me. I mean, it’s not like she won’t fit in it, or whatever. But she seems intent on holding on to old grudges, since all she did was give me a smirk and glare at me some more when I asked.

I glared right back at her. All I did was run into her. Why did she have to act like I was some sort of evil monster? All she’s done from the few minutes I’ve talked to her is be sarcastic and rude to me. And she won’t give up the stupid aisle seat! Doesn’t she understand that I am a 6’2 male who isn’t exactly skinny? Does she want me to suffocate?

Wait, don’t answer that…

I leaned heavily into the armrest. If I had to be uncomfortable the entire flight, then she’ll have the deal with the consequences of being a complete bitch to me.

You’d think, for someone with Tucker’s money, that he would have chosen a flight on a better airline. But we were stuck on this cheap, tiny flight, with scratchy seats and no foot room next to an tiny, obnoxious little amethyst-eyed goth with too much black eyeliner and a tendency to rant, if the way she was talking to Valerie earlier was any indication.

Wonderful. Note my sarcasm. I was going to kill the secretary at the publisher for not reserving a business class seat for me.

This trip is going to be worse than I figured. And my publisher is going to kill me for going off on a trip when I’m supposed to be working on my next book. Which I haven’t decided what to write about yet. But he doesn’t need to know that.

“Excuse me,” she snapped at me, ”will you please move your elbow?”

I’ll move the moment you decide to let me have that seat in the frickin’ aisle, so I don’t have to scrunch here like a freaking five-year old.

I’m not bitter. Not at all.

“Why don’t you move,” I suggested reasonably. It would make way more sense anyways, if she just let me have the aisle. Then we’d all be comfortable.

She didn’t seem to appreciate my tip, because she responded with a flick of her middle finger, and said very graciously, “What the hell is your problem, Danny?”

She started ranting on about personal space, so I ignored her for a moment, taking my time talking to the flight attendant. Sam seemed to be fuming, both at me and at the flight attendant. Oooh, a bit jealous, are we Sammy?

Though somehow, I got the vibe that she was more pissed off than jealous. Too bad.

Knowing that if I dared mention that she was jealous I’d probably regret it, I just replied simply, “My name is Dan.”

I didn’t like being called Danny. When I was in high school, that was all everyone called me. When I went to college, people started calling me Dan, and I liked that immensely. Danny sounded so…childish. Only Tucker still called me that. I didn’t tolerate it from anyone else.

Plus, she called me that.

Miss Manson wouldn’t drop the subject, however. “Tucker and Val call you Danny,” she persisted.

Does this girl ever give up? Why can’t she just shut up and drop the frickin’ subject? “Only Tuck is allowed to call me Danny. I can’t get mad at Val because Tucker will immolate anyone who dares insult his fair princess. But you, or anyone else, are not allowed to.” I said, my sarcasm matching her own.

“Why? Because Danny isn’t cool enough?” she said with a toss of her short, ebony-colored locks.

Does this girl EVER shut up?

“It’s none of your concern,” I sighed dramatically, hoping she’d drop the subject and leave it alone.

“I’ll call you whatever I want to,” she smirked at me. “I don’t give a damn what you think, and I don’t feel like calling you Dan.”

My fists clenched. Count to 10 slowly, take deep breaths, just don’t let this girl get a rise out of you! It’s what she wants, anyways…

Then I realized that I was going to have to deal with this every single day for the rest of this trip. Someone really hates me up there. Tucker was going to pay for ever even meeting Valerie.

I had to break up this engagement fast, before this insane maid of honor gets to me. I gotta think of a plan. Maybe I could get Tucker drunk and do something stupid…hey, maybe I could do this even on this flight, so I could head straight back to New York and not even have to deal with a certain Miss Manson for any longer than I needed to.

See why I hate—uh, dislike women in general? Because they are pushy, irritating, and never stop talking—Samantha being a prime example. She shouted at me earlier how it was people like me that gave the human race a bad name, well, it was women like her that gave women the stereotype of being talkative, annoying, and whiney!

I checked my watch. How much longer til this damn flight ended…

“Fine, Sammy,” I said with gritted teeth.

This didn’t sit too well with her, as she promptly kicked me in the shin.

OW! “WHAT THE FRICK?!?!” I shouted at her (not exactly using the word frick either, if you know what I mean). Oh, so she could call me Danny, but I couldn’t call her Sammy? Stupid hypocritical bioch…

Cussing doesn’t apparently work on public flights, however, because I instantly became the enemy in many a mother’s eyes. I felt like flipping them all off, since they didn’t have to sit next to this goth freak, and had no idea how this was testing my patience. I leaned back in seat as the flight attendant started lecturing me. And of course, dear Sammy had to jump in and rub it in my face that I lost my cool. I’m only human, what do they expect, especially when there was a very obnoxious female that wouldn’t stop pushing my buttons!

Though I wouldn’t mind pushing hers…she did look pretty hot in those jeans…

Wait, what the hell was I thinking? I mentally slapped myself and brought myself back on topic by reminding myself how much of a bitch she was.

Sam finally fell silent, and I thanked the god of anti-talkative women, whoever he was. I reveled in the silence, appreciating it while it lasted. God knew that these moments probably would be rare for the next few days…

“Hey Danny—Dan,” Sam interrupted hesitantly, and I smirked. There was a hint of an apologetic tone in her voice, but I wasn’t planning on making it easy for her. She had given me so much grief lately, she deserved it.

“Listen,” she continued. “I hate you”— somehow I’m getting the vibe that she isn’t used to apologies—“and you hate me. We both hate each other. But—“

“What an ego booster.” I mutter sarcastically.

“You don’t need an ego booster,” she snapped, losing her cool for a moment. “What you need is a—ugh, anyways, what I’m trying to say is that the feeling is mutual, and we both don’t want to spend a we—“

I couldn’t resist adding something else. “It’s pretty presumptuous of you to say that the feeling is mutual. I don’t hate you, I just happen to think you’re a complete bit—“

“Will you stop interrupting!” she glared, not allowing me to finish the sentence. I didn’t hate her, either. She was annoying, but I didn’t hate her. I hated people like—oh, never mind.

“What I am trying to say is that even though we hate each other—and don’t interrupt!” she said when I had opened my mouth to comment on her assumptions.

“Anyways, but this is Val and Tucker’s wedding, and I think we need to put aside our mutual dislike of each other for them. Val’s my best friend, and that overpowers all the hate energy that I’m dying to send your way in order for her happiness. Besides, Tucker and Val love each other—“

That’s why she was apologizing? Because she wanted to help Tucker and Valerie’s wedding? Oh, cute, she’s acting all supportive of her best friend, who probably seduced Tucker and has been plotting to get Tucker to propose to her all along. Well, maybe I’m being harsh on Valerie, she did seem like a nice girl overall, but I still felt a bit suspicious of her. But as touching as her display of emotion towards her best friend, I wasn’t interested.

“Really? How sweet!” I replied sardonically. Then I said in a more serious tone, “I’m not here to support Tucker or Valerie, even if Tucker is my best friend. I happen to believe that he is making the biggest mistake of his life.”

I suppose that was a bit overboard, but I needed to be blunt with her. No way was I going to support her and her help-Tucker-and-Valerie’s-pending-marriage plan. Not when my sole goal in coming here was stopping him.

Maybe it was a mistake to tell her, though, because her purple eyes widened in fury and she let out a shriek.

“Excuse me?” she said angrily, much to my amusement. Guess I struck a nerve. “Do you have a problem with my best friend? Is she not good enough for Tucker? Why you arrogant bastard—how dare you say that about my best friend!”

I grinned lazily at her. Despite the fact that she has been an irritating bitch the entire time I’ve known her, I couldn’t help but think that she looked adorable when she was angry. I suppose she was trying to intimidate me, but considering how I towered over her, it wasn’t working too well. And violet eyes could never look intimidating. It was a rule of life.

“Calm down,” I said boredly, ““It’s not like I don’t like Valerie, but I don’t think Tucker should get married.”

I wasn’t lying, either. I did like Valerie, and I’m sure Valerie and Tucker felt like they were madly in love with each other. But marriage? Why don’t they, I don’t know, shack up or something? Isn’t marriage a big step?

She rolled her eyes at my comment, and said in a condescending tone, “You know, just because you are afraid of commitment doesn’t mean Tucker is. Besides, isn’t it obvious that they’re in love? How can you look at them and want to break it up? Do you have a sadistic pleasure in breaking people’s hearts, or something?”

She thought I was afraid of commitment? Hardly. “Who said anything about commitment? Marriage is outdated and it’s going to rob him of his life. Besides, I don’t believe in love. Love is just a chemical reaction in the brain caused by surges of surges of phenylethylamine.” I said in a science-teacher kind of voice. When she blinked in confusion, I continued on with my rant. “In a few years, Tucker and Val will become immune to the chemical and will ‘fall out of love,’ and they will be stuck in marriage shackles.”

“So basically,” she said in a dazed voice, “their obvious happiness and love is just a simple chemical reaction, so everything they thought they feel about each other is just something that will go away?”

“Pretty much,” I said seriously.

“So you think that since you know so much and are so experienced that you have the right to break up their engagement?”

“I’m his best friend,” I said softly, “don’t want him to make the same mistake I did.”

Sam didn’t appreciate my opinion, since all she did was tell me very kindly to go visit the fiery lake that resided below us. I shrugged my shoulders, and settled into a book while she drowned herself in music that was certain to damage her eardrums someday.

She may think that I’m the enemy here, but all I’m doing is looking out for Tucker. She’s young, in her early twenties and just graduated college, and hasn’t experienced life and love. Tucker’s my best friend, and while I’m sure Valerie is nothing like her, I didn’t want Tucker to do the same thing I did.

And in the long run, everybody’s going to appreciate it.