''You're a psycho.''

''You've said that already.''

''Well I'm just restating that fact so it will sink in. Did you really have to throw me over your shoulder?''

His eyes show no hint of remorse. If anything, I think he enjoyed carrying me like I'm a sack of beans. ''We need to talk.''

No, we don't.

The four walls of the bedroom seems so small now and I feel like an ant under his gaze. My back is planted on the locked door and a million questions are running through my mind. We're meant to be 'making out', hell, I'm pretty sure Mariah is convinced that we're doing just that.

''How are you doing?"' he asks.

''Why are you asking?''

''Believe it or not, I'm not the bad guy, Princess.''

''Says the guy who kidnapped me,'' I mumble. I know that all is forgiven and it's all water under the bridge, but certainly not forgotten. So far, in my whole seventeen years of existence, I've been in two hostage situations, and it's not exactly something you can say poof to and it's gone.

His eyes darken with a hint of…regret? I think it's regret. If it is, then now I feel bad. He already apologized and I said it was okay.

''I said I was sorry. You don't need to remind me about that night because Ryan still gives me shit about it.'' he snaps.

And here he goes being a dick again and it's driving me nuts.

''Why are you angry? The only one who gets to be irritated is me! You've had it out for me since 8th grade. All I do is defend myself.''

''You're one to talk. In case you haven't been told, you can be really insulting.''

I roll my eyes. Honestly, with the amount of times I roll my eyes, I'm surprised they haven't fallen out of their sockets. ''Really? Please refresh my memory on the times I insulted you.''

''You called me a dick.''

''I didn't lie. You are.''

"And an asshole.''

"I see no lies told."

"You paper taped my locker."

"You have no proof."

Back in 10th grade, when Jason stuffed smelly socks in my locker along with a note that said 'Puck You', I ceremoniously returned the favour by sealing his locker with duck tape with the help of Paris. I really can't remember how we were able to pull it off, but I remember going to the store and buying a bunch of duck tape. I almost cleared out the aisle because I wanted revenge.

Principal Grande's split ends nearly fell from its roots and Paris and I were both issued detention slips. Obviously we denied any involvement in the 'mishap' but he wasn't having it.

I'm starting to think Jason and I have stressed Grande out more than his actual kids or grandkids.

Anyway, we did it and I masterminded it but Jason has no proof, and I haven't admitted to anything, therefore his claim is unsubstantiated and is therefore useless in a court of law.

I'd make a bomb ass lawyer, just saying.

"You sprayed me with whip cream."

"The one time I get to retaliate?'' Okay, it's not the one time, but who's keeping score? We bicker like this all the time. "Get over it. You and Mariah decided to lock lips near my locker."

At this point, we're yelling and I wouldn't be surprised if the others on the otherside could hear our screaming match.

"Jealous?" he says smugly.

"Of your basketball groupie? Give me a fucking break."

He watches my expression from the opposite side of the room, his aqua blues scrutinizing my reaction. The deafening silence is unsettling.

Talk about being in the lion's den.

"Princess, if you want me all you need to do is say so." He makes slow strides towards me, like how a predator hunts his prey and my first instinct is to bolt but I don't move. Something or rather someone makes me rooted on the spot. "Because I know you want me. Your mouth can deny it all you want." His hands cage my small frame to the door, making my back enter into the ceramic more than is humanly possible. His thumb pads my face again, much like what he did back when we were in his car and I have the urge to lean into his touch but restrain myself.

Dont give in.

You have a boyfriend.

"Princess, your body wants me. And you can't deny that. Can't you feel it? The chemistry between us?"

I feel it. Fuck, I've felt it since 8th grade, but I can't given in. Not right now. The timing is a little off.

"With every insult you hurl and no matter how many times you call me a 'dick', I know you feel the pull. Don't deny it."

His body moves, closing the gap between us and I take in a huge breath. Heart palpating and pulses racing, his gaze falls to my lips. "We were sent here to make out, so why not?"

His lips go in for the kill, but I whisper. "We can't do this, Jason. It's not right. You're with Mariah."

"I don't care about Mariah."

"She cares about you, and from the looks of things, y'all are still sleeping together. Look me in the eyes and tell me you haven't slept with her in the last five days."

My accusation is met with silence and that alone speaks volumes. It fucking hurts. We're not together and it hurts. Mariah prancing the news around in the halls didn't faze me, but having it implied by Jason is leaving a hole in my chest.

"Yea, I thought so."

"Princess, I-"

"You don't owe me an explanation for anything that you do with your life. I mean it's your life, and you're Jason Blunt, star basketball player at Adelaide and most likely to go to an Ivy League college. We have like nine months till graduation and you'd forget all about my existence in the next three years. My opinion doesn't matter."

It really doesn't and he shouldn't care about what I think.

"It matters more than you know, Princess." He says that part almost painfully, and my urge to sob is looming.

''Why do you call me that?'' He doesn't take his eyes off me. ''Princess, I mean.''

I'm genuinely curious. I don't look like a princess, I don't act like one and I sure as hell wasn't birthed by a queen. This isn't some kind of fairytale, alternate universe, because if it was, all my wishes would have come true or would have been granted by that fairy godmother chick in the storybooks I used to read to Sophie as a kid.

''You really want to know the answer to that question?''

''If I didn't would I be asking?''

His lips curve into a smile, the defining line of his lips looking more gracious than I remember. The tension in the room is easing a bit and I'm glad I had a hand in that. It's like one minute we want to kill each other, and the next, we want to jump each other's bones.

Boyfriend, Melody.

I really need to curb this lust, infatuation or fantasy that I have for Jason because it's becoming a bit of a problem. For one thing, I have a boyfriend, who by the way I like very much, but we haven't communicated as much over the past few days.

Bob said he was going on a business trip abroad and said he'd contact me when he gets there. I didn't question him about it because he's a business owner and I'm not one to pry too much in other's affairs, even if he is my boyfriend, but it's been three days now and I haven't heard a peep.

I've left calls, voicemails and messages on his cell phone but so far, nothing. I'm concerned and considered filing a police report, but thought against it. I still haven't heard from the police on the arrest of Khalil. I got a call from a female police officer on Thursday and she reassured me that she's working on my case, and given that there was a witness to the crime (Jason), his ass is going to prison.

Also, how do I explain my affiliation with Bob to the police without raising suspicion? It's not like I can walk in and say, 'Hey, my older boyfriend hasn't returned my calls in days and I'm worried.'

That'll certainly put us both in hot water and create a scandal that none of us want.

''That's for me to know, and for you to never find out…Princess.''

Stop saying that, goddamit!

''Real mature, Jason.''

Our chests are still bound together by some sort of invisible string. "Jason, we can't."

"Why not?"

"I have a boyfriend."

Who are you trying to convince? Jason or yourself?

He leans into my ear and his pink lips brush my earlobe. "I know, but don't think for one second that I'd stop trying. You're mine, Melody Jones."

Did he just say he knows?