P-Please! I need this...

The autumn settled in with ease that October. The warm collection of yellows, oranges, golds, and reds slowly consumed the once green foliage. Ellie absolutely loved this. Every time she got a chance to go outside, she would kick up the dry, fallen leaves, slowly piling them up into a gigantic mound! She would turn around swiftly, and fall back into them. From there, she would simple stare up to the clean blue sky and simply relish in the wonderous senses of fall. The texture of the leaves beneath her light body, and against the skin of her soft cheeks and hands. The musk which hung lightly in the crisp air. It was safe to say it was Ellie's favourite season. The weather was never too warm, nor was it too cold; there were many sunny days, and few rainy days. Most of all, school was back in the full swing of things!

She loved summer vacation like any other student, but she typically spent most of them visiting museums and galleries in Europe. This summer she had gone to France. It was here where she flourished---a bit. She had made a friend! A real friend! A gorgeous friend. Named Astrid! But of course, when she came to school and told the class about her new friend, they all laughed and ridiculed her. One person started the torment with, 'she probably made it up. AGAIN.'

As fortunate as Ellie Lovelock was, she had one problem: no one liked her. No one at all. Actually---that is a lie. Ellie got along with most children, and adults, but no one her age liked her. During such developmental stages of life, how could one go through it as a social out cast? Ellie had terrible when it came to interacting with people her age. To girls, she came off as nerdy and idiotic with her lack of style, and knowledge of this alleged "pop culture". It stumped her a great deal as she memorized all the facts on the category from Trivial Pursuit. And boys... oh god... No. Just no! She could hardly be in a five foot radius from one, let alone TALK to one! She became a bumbling idiot if she were to be pressed for conversation. But, despite being picked on, Ellie was a happy go-lucky sort of girl. Why? Because her lack of friends, she had lots of time to work and obtain goals.

Miss Lovelock was fluent in five languages, played three musical instruments, and trained in several styles of dance. Other than that she was an art enthusiast, a lover of literature, singer, playwright, horse back rider, tennis champion, toast master, yoga-goer, held a GPA of 4.0, chef, and in her spare time she helped out at animal shelters and soup kitchens; her mother always said it helped to keep one humble. All of this was acquired over <16 or 17 can't quite remember what we agreed on> years. She came from a very well to do family, who could not help but fund her and every single one of her endeavours. Being the only girl, and the middle child, was irrelevant. Her parents loved her dearly, as did her old and younger brother.

One thing they did not approve of was her recent interest. Afterschool, Ellie would sit in the foodcourt of just any mall, and would simply observe the teens. These 'hooligans' intrigued her... Especially the girls. Women were always depicted to her as being the gentler sex, but these females... they were as wild and feral as lions!

But... how she longed to be accepted by her age group.

That is when she came up with the most brilliant idea! Through her observations, she would find someone, anyone, who was so smooth that he or she was able to go from any social group and be accepted. That person would be her tutor! SHE WILL BECOME P-P-POPULAAAAR! (Or at least she hoped.)

It was now, in October, that she discovered such a gregarious creature. He was a force to be praised, and feared. Much like the Greek God Apollo. Every day for two weeks, Ellie left him his favourite cookies on his desk in English class. But today, she did it. She left a note; "Would you like a tin? If so, please meet me at the big maple tree by the parking today during lunch."


During lunch, Ellie stood at the tree. Her wild blonde curls were styled half-up half down, meaning a portion from the front, excluding her bangs, were brought back into a little pony tail. While the rest was left loose. It was a brilliant in colour, just as gold as sunshine on a warm spring day. She wore the school's uniform of charcoal blazer, white blouse, black tie, and light grey pleated skirt. Her navy socks pulled up to her knees. Ellie leaned back, holding onto a metal container filled with her home baking. She let a little sigh out, where was he? The breeze picked up, ruffling her skirt. Blushing at the sensation, one of her hands jumped down to tug her skirt down. These hemlines were just so damn short!

RE: P-Please! I need this...[Alan x Izzy]

Mr Rudyard Kipling stated that one of the true tests of a man is the ability to "Walk with kings, nor lose the common touch," - an ability that had added greatly to the social acceptance of Jarrod "Flea" Walcott, and done much to mitigate the effect of traveling around to so many countries. Born in Guyana, to an Australian father and a Trinidadian mother, and with a record that included schooling in Sark, The Andaman Islands and (for a very brief time) Mawson Station in the Antarctic, Flea was surer of his identity than he was of his roots. While the lament of his two sisters was a wish that their parents were anything but the Research Geomorphologists that they actually were, Flea was sanguine enough about the life. Saying goodbye to friends - or rather, transferring the friendship from a physical one, to one conducted by email and chat lines - was a phenomenon he'd grown well used to.

So, now, he'd fetched up here, and in the eight months since his parents had taken residence, Flea (with his usual existential fatalism) had accepted the situation, dealing with the jealousy that attaches to any good looking, brown-eyed, dusky-skinned newcomer with a placid, dazzling smile and (if this didn't work) the ability to fight like a threshing machine on caffeine.

There had been times, however, when his sanguinity had been shaken. Most recently in Mawson, when one Celia Withesby, six years his senior and daughter of a Meteorological Technician had initiated him into, in this order, the joys of longing, love, sex and loss. The exact details, as the phrase has it "do not come into this tale", save that the final cause - loss - had not been in any way her fault. His loss of her had been no tearful rejection, but a deep fissure, into which the unfortunate Ms Withesby had fallen during a snowdrift. Genuinely shattered as he'd been, and true to his nature, Flea had spent the three counseling sessions that this led to looking up the skirt of the counselor.

This however, was the past. And now is now. So...

"Yeah, well, that's a come on if I ever saw one," laughed Roy O'Rourke, slapping Flea on the back. "Hey, look, guys. Flea's got another love token."

"Who from?" came the obvious question, from Tony Polley.

"Yeah, that's just it. He don't know. I bet it's Julie Faulkner. She's had the hots for him ever since he came here."

"Nah! She's hanging with Rick Field. I'll take any bets it's Deirdre Piper."

"Sami Rendelle, maybe?"

"Or Brenda Lunt," added Mick Walsh, sadly, for he had his eye on Brenda himself.

"Come on Flea. Give!"

"I really don't know," Flea admitted, spreading his hands. "I note you've picked all the good looking girls, though. Isn't it more likely it's someone, y'know... "

"More of a dog, you mean?"

"I didn't want to say that, but -" said Flea, whose nature was essentially kindly.

"That's a point," laughed Mick Walsh. "What about Penny Starr, with the bad acne? Or Eulalie Tomson, the walking heffalump? Ellie Lovelock, the superdweeb? Or Sue Miller? Hellen Grant? Wendy-Jane - "

"Yeah, well, I guess I'll never find out - unless she ever declares herself," said Flea, in a "The-subject-is-closed" kind of voice. He was glad he'd quickly pocketed the note.

And so now, ten minutes after the conversation, here was was, padding towards the appointed rendezvous. And soon, his excellent eyesight made out just who his mysterious benefactor was. A very slight tinge of disappointment struck him, though he was careful to hide it. He'd been hoping for Sami Rendell. Well, too late to back out now, He smiled a gentle greeting, his hand waved in a gentle hello, and with a slightly quizzical look on his face, that said, in so many words...

"So what's this about, then?"

RE: P-Please! I need this...[Alan x Izzy]

Jarrod Walcott was quick to reach the height of popularity here at Saint Mary's. His thick accent, rustic charm, and humour were all traits that everyone on campus found to be endearing. Ellie just thought him to be goofy, not that was a problem, but he was a male, and those made her brain melt quicker than crayons on asphalt during a summer's heat wave.
Ellie looked over just in time to see him wave. The breeze picked up again, her hand held the tin down close to her thigh to prevent her skirt from flipping up. Her opposite hand tucked a long, curly long of hair behind her ear.

Ellie was a petite young woman, with a very pretty face. She stood at five foot even, with a proportional body. The uniform had been tailored to each student, complimenting their natural figure. With her dance and yoga, Ellie had a very slender form. Perhaps it was a bit hard to see with a coat on, but she did not have the shape of a box, or pear, or carrot, but a lovely hour glass figure. Her chest was large with plump breasts, and was contrasted by a very tiny waist which smoothed out into very round hips to smooth thighs and plush buttocks. As he neared, he could very well look onto her pretty heart-shaped face. With her high cheek bones slim nose, perfectly pink, plush, plump and kissably soft lips. But most importantly, her eyes. For generations humanity has always believed that the eyes were the gate way to the soul. Hers were large as they were often filled with wonder, and the colour was as blue as the truest of oceans. Her mother always told her that she had the crashing waves in her eyes.

She blinked lightly, fanning her long lashes as he neared. Her cheeks quickly reddening with blush. My, he was handsome up close... For a moment her voice was caught in her throat, her thought process turned to the consistency of porridge, and her heart--it skipped a beat. He spoke to her! Without mimicry! Oh happy day!
"I uhh..."
Ellie started, blushing a bit harder as she was quite lost in thought, and her courage was severely damaged. Her eyes trailed down to the tin against her thigh, her lashing kissing her cheeks when she blinked. Clearing her throat, she held out the cookies,

"... I was hoping that... well, maybe, if you had the time, we could... that is, p-please?"

She sounded like a super dweeb indeed! The breeze picked up, ruffling her skirt once more. Her opposite hand tugged at the surprisingly short skirt, trying to keep her thighs covered as best she could. Its better to bite the bullet, no? Ellie looked up to him pleadingly, "Jarrod, w-would you please teach me how to be... popular? I-I'd like to learn how you make friends so easily.."

RE: P-Please! I need this... [Alan x Izzy]

"... I was hoping that... well, maybe, if you had the time, we could... that is, p-please?"

We could eat cookies? Is that what she wanted. Well, he'd always known Ellie Lovelock didn't exactly have the highest self esteem - he'd seen the other girls bully her, even the younger kids, and truth to tell he'd always felt a bit sorry for her. The fact that she couldn't fight, and wasn't confident enough to make a snappy comeback to teasing seemed to make her a natural victim. Or was it that modesty of hers. While the other girls were forever lounging around, taking no care at all, poor Ellie was forever fussing with her skirt, tugging it down or fighting the breeze, only for it to defy all her efforts. Cries of "I see London, I see France," or simply the shouting of a color "White!" "Sky Blue" "Pink" followed her aruond every time she gave an inadvertent showing. In fact, despite her discreet tug, the hem had ridden up again even now, revealing a hint of pale green material, decorated with a small forget-me-not pattern. Flea wondered if he shuold mention it, and hoped she hadn't seen he'd noticed.

But to plead with him, to eat a cookie? That seemed to be taking the sense of favor too far. Surely she was doing him the favor. And in any case, the consumption of food was hardly a private act? Why the need for this secret rendezvous?

"Yes, thanks, I'd - " he began, noting her shy downward glance. He wondered why he'd never noticed her before. She really did have the most extraordinarily long lashes. Come to think of it, her legs were longer - and much sexier - than he'd noticed, too. He wondered why she didn't have a boyfriend. "I'd be pleased to. Thanks. I guess it's you that's been - " He stopped. Somehow, it seemed gauche in the extreme to mention her past gifts. In any case, what if her missive had been unconnected to the other cookies.

" ... w-would you please teach me how to be... popular?"

And that one threw him!

How could he reply to that, even if he did't have a mouth full of biscuit. Oops, had to remember to call them "cookies" now. He swallowed hurriedly. In any case, how could he answer without having to admit that "yeah, I've noticed everyone takes the piss out of you, therefore humiliating the girl even more than she obviously already was by having to make such a request.

"I... er... I hadn't noticed you weren't," he lied, his efforts to think fast handicapped by the fact that in the short time he'd taken to say it, the hem of her skirt rose another half inch. Think, Flea, think. Say something nice. And not "these are nice cookies" either!

"Though I suppose a girl like you can never be totally popular... you know, you being so pretty. It's bound to make some of the other kids jealous."

He hastily pretended interest in a group of kids kicking a football about, at the far end of the field. The alternative was either looking down (and drawing attention to the fact that she was putting on a panty show) or at her face, i which case she might get the wrong idea. "urm, you've got friends, though, haven't you?"

he suddenly realized that he couldn't take the affirmative for granted.

"Urm, haven't you?"

RE: P-Please! I need this... [Alan x Izzy]

MAY THE MOCKING BEGIN! And to believe--- just moments ago, her heart was sent soaring to new heights because she thought he was actually going to be nice. Since elementary school, she has dealt with these type of people. The ones who pretend to be friendly, and tell her that she is cool, then two seconds later double cross her by revealing that they were lying and she really was a looser. Ellie's eyes expressed this disappointment; as if she were to know that he was actually just trying to be nice. Ellie had trust issues, and there was no doubt about it, but she also was an over achiever. When she wanted something, she would work to her goal, and would continue to until she conquered it. So come hell or high water, she would learn to deal with talking to men, and through this become friends with women her own age!

Ellie gave a sigh, her hand falling back down to her side, pressing the tin against her nice, smooth thigh; thus pinning her skirt down. It was harder than she expected it was going to be. Just from this single interaction, Ellie assumed that it would be a long winding road that she would be traveling up, rather than down as it is harder to walk up a hill! Now, just to perceiver. Step 1: admit aloud to the most popular guy in school that you are indeed friendless and rejected by the social system. Ellie furrowed her brow, and bit at her bottom lip. How to word this, 'Yeah, I'm totally friendless. So, teach me? Promise I really aren't that big of a looser, its just an exaggeration' or 'yes, I have no friends at all, and haven't bothered to done anything about it until now. Please be my friend?' or how about 'Yea bitch! I ain't got no mo' fo' friendz, I roll a-mother-lovin'-looooone!' ... No. Definitely not that. All of her experiences of being bullied and teased, even if it didn't seem like such a big deal to the kids who were doing it, all began to pile up and weigh down on Ellie as she tried speaking.

Her little bottom began to shake visibly. Her legs felt like jello, her stomach felt like an alien life form was gnawing its way out, and her tongue felt it swelled to the size of a sweet potato! There was a moment of silence, before Ellie's lip began to quiver. Her large pretty blue eyes filling with tears that quickly began to stream down her face. She shook her head, trying to act like she wasn't crying, but she was! She never did anything to hurt anyone else, but they always made fun of her! She just wanted to be liked for who she was, something that everyone preaches but never acts upon! She hung her head slightly, try to cover up for the fact that she could hardly speak. She then shook her head from side to side, her voice broken up as she held back in wails of pain,
"I-I don't... have a-a-any friends.."

RE: P-Please! I need this... [Alan x Izzy]

To say that Flea was shocked at Ellie's reaction was understatement indeed. The claim of being friendless, misunderstood, alone against the universe, was a common cry of the tribe known to urban anthropologists as the "Emo", in fact such an affectation was almost mandatory for adopting that image. But it was usually said in a sharp, aggressive, slightly wistful way, as if neither the speaker nor their audience need take it too seriously.

But looking at Ellie, he could see this was no act. These were not faked tears, and this was no romantic distress, feigned to make herself seem pale and interesting. The tears, the shaking of her body, her obvious distress and humiliation... here was real hurt, real pain.

Every fiber of him yearned to say something to end her distress. But what? Obvious reactions, such as "Oh, I'm sure that isn't the case," or "Just be yourself and friends will come," were both banal and useless. A sterner reaction, such as telling her to pull herself together, was so alien to his nature as not to be considered. Fate had challenged him, and he feared the challenge was beyond him.

There was just one chance. To forget any analysis of the situation, cease trying to think a reply. To open his mouth, let his right-brain take over, accept whatever came out and trust to inspiration, and what Chance sent.

"Yeah, that's the thing about jealousy," he found himself saying, listening intensely to himself, fascinated by what he might say next. "It's always the pretty girls suffer most from it. Funny, hey? Every girl who isn't that good looking wants to be a fox. If only they knew the truth - the hotter the girl, the harder she finds it to make friends. No-one wants to be seen with her - 'cos they look so plain by comparison." He was babbling, and he knew it. But like Shakespeare's Scottish hero, he'd reached a stage where turning back was fraught with more peril than continuing.

"I mean, imagine if a girl introduced you to her crush. One look at you, and they'd lose him. Someone as drop-dead gorgeous as you - they wouldn't have a chance." Had he laid it on too thick? Much to his surprise, he realized, he wasn't actually lying. Her sweet vulnerability, her neediness and emotional frailty were doing things to him that he couldn't quite fathom. He put his arm around her, gently. "I guess the only way to fix that, for a girl as pretty as you, is only hang with supermodels. And I guess no guys dare approach you - they just assume you've already got shitloads of boys fighting over you already. I reckon every straight guy that looks at you wishes they were your boyfriend."

And then, his inner-mind went too far.

"I know I do!"

RE: P-Please! I need this... [Alan x Izzy]

His words, though sweet, only seemed to make things worse! Oh no! Her salty tears continued to well in her eyes, before dripping down her cheek. One, wet, bulging tear at a time. They were getting everywhere! Her cheeks, her jaw, down her neck, and on the finely pressed collar of her shirt! In a desperate attempt to calm herself down, Ellie began to sniffle. Closing her eyes, she used the back of one hand to wipe her eyes, but the moment she opened them again, more tears came!

H-how could anyone be jealous of her? The first time she was holding a conversation with a man, and she was crying! For God's sake, someone get her a tissue! Ellie looked up to him with her tear filled eyes, her lips trembling with nervousness. She did try her best to listen to him, but with what he was saying, and how good looking he was, it just seemed so much more unbelievable! She was about to disagree when he placed his arm about her. Her eyes opened wide as she stared forward, it was the first time a guy had put his arm around her! His large hand holding onto her small shoulder. The heat from his body warming her up through all those layers. Her face burned up into a bright red colour with all this heat. For a moment she stayed very still, but then her body began to quake! She leaned against the tree, sliding down a tad as she began to tremble all over. Her tears rolling down her cheeks. Ellie wanted to say stop it, or no, but no words were forming. All she could focus on was him, and his arm.

"I know I do!"

No. That was too much! Ellie began to cry harder once more, sobbing away this time. She couldn't bare to believe him! He was just trying to gain her trust like all the others! Dropping the tin, she used both of her hands to cover her face as she cried. He could feel her tiny frame shaking under him. In a desperate attempt to communicate Ellie's petite hand escaped her face, as she turned away from him slightly. Held in the most feminine manner, this tiny appendage lightly pressed to his chest, smearing her salty tears onto his shirt. She tried her best to push away, but that was not much of an attempt. She was a frail creature, who's strength was no match for Jarrod's.

As she stood there turned away, she spoke inbetween sobs, "N-Now t-t-that isn't... isn't true... P-please don't lie to me, I...I can't take it!"

RE: P-Please! I need this... [Alan x Izzy]

Perhaps surprisingly, this was not the first time Jarrod had seen Ellie cry. The propensity of the other girls to tease and bully her - this taking the form of such cruel activities as stealing her belongings, and tossing them to each other over her head, thus forcing her to play "piggy-in-the-middle", flipping up her skirt when boys walked by or simply calling her insulting and hurtful names - had occasionally reduced the unfortunate girl to tears of anger and frustration, and Jarrod had been a distant and unattached spectator to this. But those tears had been mild, and short-lived, borne of anger and mortification rather than genuine pain.

These tears, he saw, were something else again. There was genuine hurt there, genuine sadness. As if the dam of her humiliation had burst at last, the floodgates open, the pain and longing gushing out in a tidal wave of melancholy. This was a girl at the very end of her rope, on the abyss. It struck him, abstractedly, that if he chose, right now, he could condemn her or save her, laugh at her and push her over the edge into total surrender to darkness or bring her back. There was no middle ground. Mock her, and confirm he'd been lying, or deny the lie. The choice was binary.

And, to his credit, the cruel option, to Jarrod, was no option at all.

"Why would I lie?" he asked. "If I didn't think you were pretty, what would I gain by saying you were? Sure, these are nice cookies, but I can buy some for myself if I needed to." He rummaged in his pocket, glad, for once, that his mother insisted on his taking a clean handkerchief to school every morning. Gently, he began to wipe the worst of the tears from her cheeks, registering again how large, how blue, how seductive her eyes were, even when red-rimmed with tears. "You know what I said to Froggy, the first time I saw you? I said 'shit, who's that girl - what a honey!' It's true." It wasn't, in fact, but he sensed it was what she needed to hear. In fact, he'd asked "Why does everyone tease that girl, she seems quite nice," and Froggy had explained that the crueler among the girls just regarded her as a natural victim, and it was best not to interfere, or he might make things worse. But there was certainly no need to tell her that!

"But then, like I say, I just assumed you had a boyfriend, so I didn't say anything to you," he continued to wipe her eyes, conscious of the fact that her touch was doing things to his libido that he hadn't planned, that somehow he liked the idea of comforting her. "Come on - you must know how hot you are, with those sexy eyes of yours!"

RE: P-Please! I need this... [Alan x Izzy]

Ellie was mortified when he produced a handkerchief out of his pocket. She had him all wrong. Ironically, she had done the exact same that all her bullies had done to her. Based on the way he acted in class, Ellie had preconceptions of Jarrod. Feeling guilty, she began to cry even more! Her eyes pressed tightly together, but still her lashes were slicked with her salty tears. They began to stream down her cheeks, dripping off of her lovely chin. Her hand removed itself from her face, and joined the other on his chest, causing her to turn towards him. She stepped a little closer, just enough that her chest lightly brushed him, but her forehead could rest against his pecks, her little hands making light imprints on his flesh. Her tiny form trembled with emotions. How could she ever make it up to him? For being so sweet to her, when she has been such a hypocrite?

She gripped onto his shirt, just slightly, turning her face to him. He pressed the soft cotton handkercheif to her wet face, mopping up what he could. It was a good thing she was far too dorky to wear make up! Or it would most definitely be running down her face. Opening her eyes, she looked up to him. Her vision slowly focusing as the tears were released. Hearing those words just made her blush hard. Her ears and cheeks burned such a bright red colour! In disbelief, she repeated, "Ss... S-sexy..? Really?" She sniffed, letting go of his shirt and using the sleeve of her blazer to wipe her face on; an act she had grown quite used to. She gave a slight chuckle, "P... Probably not very attractive---crying, that is... I..." She looked up to him once more, her voice catching in her throat. She blushed once again, but no where near as hard, "I..." She said again, her eyes glazing over with tears once more. Bitting her lip, she turned her head back down, her little frame trembling once again. She squeezed her hand into a fist, trying to give herself courage,
"I... do not deserve such flattery and kindness Jarrod, I have wronged you!! F-for I have miss judged your character, like my bullies have done to me," Raising her head a bit, Ellie looked to him shyly from her wavy bangs, "C-could you forgive me? And find it possible to teach me to be... p-popular? I-I just..." She hung her head again, speaking in a quieter voice, "I just want some friends..."

RE: P-Please! I need this... [Alan x Izzy]

Jarrod had always thought of himself as braver than average. In Antarctica, he'd accompanied the adult men through blizzards on dangerous duties, and had once braved a treacherous ravine simply to rescue an injured penguin. During a brief stint in Capetown, he'd stood up to the school bully, two years older than himself and twice his size, and when their classmates had pulled them apart it hadn't been Jarrod who was the most relieved. Yet he knew that there were people in the world who could give him lessons in courage. Soldiers, firefighters, policemen, explorers...

What he hadn't expected was a lesson in courage from this slight, trembling girl!

His heart went out to her in admiration. He could see what a trial each day must have been for her. Constantly humiliated and bullied by the other girls in every way imaginable, just because she was small and shy, and couldn't fight, and couldn't help crying easily. Yet instead of just giving up, here she was facing her problem, trying to deal with it. Facing the embarrassment of having to admit to someone who was almost a stranger that she needed help, couldn't cope. Fighting took one kind of bravery, he knew. This took another kind, but was just as hard.

It occurred to him that he'd be proud to have a girl like this as his friend.

Seeing that she had tilted her head, he cupped his fingers under her chin and gently pointed her face back up to his. There was still the residue of tears in her large eyes, and her cheeks were puffy from crying. She was shaking, whether in fear or emotion he couldn't tell. When he slipped his hand protectively under her coat and blazer he found her school blouse had come untucked, and looking down he saw that the previously tightly pulled up socks had now slipped down, making her look even more vulnerable.

"It's OK, beautiful one," he smiled. "Every girl cries now and then," he touched her lips with his finger. Pushed a stray curl back up her forehead. Actions which, in the unspoken language of adolescents and adults everywhere says "I am looking after you. You are mine." He straightened her school tie, and then, before he even realized he was doing it, pushed her crumpled school blouse back into the waist of her skirt. And then, without even being conscious of it, he moved his face forward, his eyes closing...

And where that might have gone, who could tell. Save that at that very moment, he heard his voice called in a confident, female voice.

"So, what you doing out here then, Jar-Jar?" laughed Charlotte, a girl with whom Jarrod was on excellent terms - yet whom, he knew, was one of the leaders in the "Let's bully Ellie" club. With her were Leigh and Piper, also good friends of his, yet who both had total contempt for Ellie. His mind raced. Should he describe Ellie as his girl - for, after all, nothing had been said? Would that make things even worse for her, for he knew Piper had been chasing him for ages.

He decided that thinking had its limitations. Sometimes, just going with the flow worked better. He slipped his arm around Ellie, pulling her tiwards him possessively. If she chose to pull away, that was her choice.

"Getting some advice from my friend here," he grinned. "Thanks, Ell. Yeah, what you said makes sense. I'll try that."

He hoped she'd be quick enough to pick up on his deception, and why he was using it.