Love Me, Love Me Not.

Hiyas. This is my latest fic, inspired by…I don't know, the rain, maybe? I hope it isn't too cliché or anything, I really enjoyed writing this and hope to continue it, that is, if you review and tell me if you enjoyed it and if I should continue. So without further ado, may I introduce you to…(okay that was lame and totally didn't work XD) Enjoy!

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"I got tired of waiting, wondering if you were ever coming around…"

Picture this. A sixteen year old girl, dressed in a baby-pink cocktail dress embroidered with black, sitting on her bed singing to Taylor Swift. Seems normal enough, right? You'd think so, but what if I told you that this girl was actually in the middle of deciding what socks she would wear for school the following morning, and scrawling it down into a notepad?

Confused? See, my life consists of one great big To-Do list, aka 'Ruler of Sierra Perry's Dull and Quite Insignificant Life'. It also goes by such names as 'GOD', 'Egbert', and 'The Big One'. I pretty much live by it, like it's some sort of religion. And I wouldn't say you were wrong if you suggested it was.

The whole thing started when I began high school. I was always a well-organised girl, but once I entered year 7, it all became a bit much. Mum suggested I write up a to-do list to keep track of everything I needed or wanted to do. Well, I did, but it got out of control; I couldn't trust myself to remember anything without writing it down. I've never forgiven her. Neither have my best friends, Ricki and Victoria. Whenever I mention The To-Do List, Ruler of the Universe, they groan like they've been given extra maths homework.

I'm assuming you're interested in reading my life story, then? In that case, I'll finish off with a few quick facts. Fact number one: Taylor Swift and Vanessa Carlton are my idols, as you could assume from the mass of their posters covering my bedroom wall. Fact number two: I plan to become an accomplished author by the age of twenty. This means just five years to go! Fact number three: I love to play piano. Fact number four: I'm currently devising an evil plan to remove Taylor Neil from the face of the earth. Fact number five: I'm frequently told that I have an accent and that I speak like a stuck-up posh royal. Fact number six: I'm debating whether or not to let Lucas Pierce know how I feel about him. Let's not get into that.

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"Would you…Spare me a glance…?" I chew on my bottom lip as I try to find the right chord for my song. The music room is so silent that it's intimidating. It's as if I'm in front of a huge audience and they're just waiting for me to play the next note. Of course, the only person I want to ever hear me play this song is Lucas. I'm writing it for him, after all. It's a cliché, isn't it? A musical girl dedicating a song to a musical boy. A very gorgeous, too-good-to-be-true musical boy, at that. Well, I'm sure he of all people would appreciate my gift, if it turns out decent and I don't scare him away. But I'm stressing that I won't get the song finished in time for his birthday, which is in exactly 6 days. I'm sure if it were the other way around; he would finish perfectly in no time.

Speaking of time, it's 5pm, and Mum said we're leaving for Apartus (only the best Greek-themed restaurant ever) at half-past. I grabbed my hairbrush from my dresser and dragged it down my long, wavy brown locks. People often tell me they envy my waves. I tell them I envy their straight hair. I often wish that I'd been born with Dad's silky black tresses instead of Mum's chocolate curls. Ironic, isn't it? Don't worry, Dad's bald now. Pff.

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I listen to the sound of garbage bins being rolled home, only they aren't garbage bins, they're thunder, and the sound of trickling pee isn't actually trickling pee, it's rain. Not your everyday depiction of a storm, I know, but then, I'm not your everyday portrayal of a girl. Don't get me wrong, however. I love a good storm. I love the way the glistening tree leaves rustle gracefully as the raindrops leave their resting place. I love the way the thunder rolls across the sky like a foreign accent; admirable yet alien. Yes, I speak of everything as if it were my lover. But that's just me. I write descriptions in my mind on the way to school; as if I were writing a story and I was the heroine on her way to the castle. I see the beauty (and the horror) in everything. Some people appreciate this, others don't.

I was glad when my train of thought was interrupted by the sound of the screen door opening, and Mum calling to Nate, "And don't let her near the c-h-o-c-o-l-a-t-e!". Poor stepdaddy, having to look after Liesey, the devil in disguise. Of course, in him doing so, I was relieved of having to have her sit next to me on Mum and I's night out. I was quite convinced that she was the worst four year old to ever walk the planet. I can't remember the number of times she's flushed my toothbrush down the toilet (though she doesn't dare touch anyone else's toothbrush…).

As Mum made her way to Beige (our nickname for the less-than-pretty commodore we have sitting out in the driveway- to scare robbers away, of course…), I glanced at house across the street. While we were new to this house, having only arrived last year (My Dad isn't the type of guy that likes to settle down. Go fig.), we had grown quite friendly with the Crowne's overhead. They were your typical Australian family, much to my demise. A mum, a dad, two kids and a dog. Everything I'd ever wanted, and everything I'd convinced myself I hated. How, then, did I become such good friends with them? Well, I admit, that last part was a white lie. While yes, my parents and year-older brother Jonno had become good friends with them, I did everything in my power to be a pessimistic bore whenever they visited. I suppose it was wrong of me- they were good people at heart. But I've always held a grudge against the stereotypical nuclear families of the world, no matter how great they are. I guess I'm jealous. I used to have that perfect life- a mum, a dad, two kids and a dog (or in my case, parrot). I had a house that was the envy of everyone at school. I guess I deserved to lose it all. Anyway, I'm getting carried away, as usual. To get to the point, the Crowne's moved out last week to some fancy-pants mansion of a home, and some new family moved in today. They didn't interest me at first, until I noticed that the young girl of about 6 or 7 had a parrot, and that it strangely resembled Ramey, my deceased.

"Sierra," Mum called, winding down the window. "Dream later, walk now."

I must have looked drugged as I looked over to her, wearing a distant expression on my face. Tucking back a wave behind my ear, I headed over to the car.

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I adore the setting of Apartus. It's perfectly Greek, with warm hanging lights and blue and white inspired decor. Of course, it's the number one rule when Mum and I eat out- always eat outside (and thankfully, the storm has stopped). It adds to the atmosphere- you've got the crisp, refreshing air of night, the thousands of dazzling diamonds in the sky, that low, indistinct chatter and the clink of glass on glass, and of course, the spectacular view of the city alight. Apartus is known for its spectacular views, as it's situated on top of a cliff face (dangerous, yes?).

I gaze at the sea of lights beyond my view in awe. It makes me realise just how great the world is, and how small and insignificant I am in comparison. Yet at the same time, it makes me realise that this is just one small corner of the world that I've yet to explore. Someday, I will know this world like the back of my hand…Someday…

"…Honey?"

I turn to face Mum, realising that I've been so caught up in myself that I didn't catch a word she said. Poor Mum. I think she's getting used to my zoning-out. Geez, I sound like an old person…

"Yeah, sorry? I was just thinking how pretty the view is!" I could feel my face light up as it always did when I mentioned something amazing.

Mum looked from me to the view beyond, a dreamy smile playing on her face. She can be so like me, sometimes. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" She laughed. "You'd think we'd get tired of it after all these years, wouldn't you!?"

I should explain. We moved houses, but we didn't move out of town, so to speak. No, I think I'd miss Dad too much if I did!

I opened my mouth to reply, but Mum beat me to it, so instead I jabbed my fork into my horiatiki (a fancy way of saying Greek salad) and took a careful nibble. It was the first time I'd tried this as an appetiser. "Now you just wait here for your moussaka while I go to the bathroom."

I nodded ruefully. "To the bathroom" was never simply a one minute task. Heaven only knows what she does in there…reapply her make-up?

She left and I continued to take down the mass of salad on my plate. It wasn't really a mass per such, but I wasn't a big salad fan, so even half a plate was considered 'too much' for me. I had to say, this wasn't a winner dish. Salad drenched in olive oil clearly isn't my type of food. But I was certainly looking forward to my moussaka.

As I was picturing the large stack of meat and eggplant, a random man slid with gentle ease into Mum's seat. My green eyes widened with nerves, which I quickly tossed away and replaced with suspicious consideration. The man was in his early twenties and was quite attractive, what with his sandy blonde hair and his perfectly formed jaw line. His eyes, however, brown with cunning, betrayed him.

The man smirked, an art of supposed grace and charm that succeeded to be effortless and without emotion. I didn't like his insincerity.

"Hey, pretty girl, you all alone?"

My heart began to race in terror. I'd only heard of encounters such as these in stories. Never had I imagined such a thing happening to me, and I hated it. What should I do? Run, scream, act cool? I went with the latter, pursing my lips in consideration and narrowing my eyes at him.

"We could have a good time..." He added, his wry grin revealing a long line of alcohol-tainted teeth.

"Yeah," I agreed, "With you on the ground and my foot on your face." I took a sip of my lemon water and savoured both my comment and the taste whilst studying his careless expression. I hoped I didn't appear as nervous as my heart was pounding.

He laughed, of course, interpreting my remark as a subtle flirt. I knew now, scarcely less than my first judgment, that this man was the type who refused to accept that a woman might not find him charming and handsome, and who might, in fact, prefer her own company to his less-than-noble own. Insults only heeded in building up his ego, simply due to the fact that he would not believe that a woman might mean them.

I, however, meant every last word down to the full stop.

'Come on Mum, how long does it take to piss into a bowl!?' All I wanted to do was to be rid of this loser, and Mum, my would-be saviour, didn't seem to want to live up to this role.

His next desperate lure found me resisting the urge to throw my beverage in the idiot's face. "You're a feisty one, miss. I like that."

I think I lost it then. I don't have a record for having an anger problem, but when your pet hate is thrown into your face and is clinging on for dear life with its sharp claws, it's hard not to react.

"Get over yourself! I'm not some dumb floozy that you can have your way with, so stop treating me like one! Go pester someone else and leave me alone!" I realised a moment too soon that I was only making his depiction of me all the more true. Maybe if I just acted like the shy, innocent 16 year old I was so used to being, he'd realise I'm not worth the trouble…Lately though, trying to keep up the facade has been getting tougher and tougher…

I heard a scowl and saw a flash of glass. Everything happened so suddenly. Frozen in fear, I witnessed the man fall back from his seat as a boy no older than myself kicked his chair to the floor. Mum's wine glass dropped to the floor and smashed with a satisfying clink as thousands of tiny pieces scattered the stone ground. I gaped in shock and began to tremble, all the while ordering myself to be calm and in control. I'd made a huge fool of myself.

And so I turned to the boy who had caused such a commotion.

"What the hell do you think you're doing!?" I yelled, standing up from my seat and glowering at the boy across from me. "I had it under control, and now look what you've done! Who do you think you are, getting into people's business like that…?"

My voice wavered as the situation became clear to my bewildered mind. The man, who had now jumped over the fence in an attempt to escape, had tried to have his way with me by means of force. This boy, however, had he felt the need to jump in and be the hero? Well, I have decided, I have no need for any boy to protect me. I can protect myself. I'm a strong woman, and I am my own hero.

The boy, his dark brown hair as ruffled as his clothes were, dealt me an icy glare of resentment. I suppose he had every right to, after endangering his own safety like that. I felt guilty. I felt ashamed of myself. This was not the first time I'd pushed away a potential friend. However, it's not like I'd ever see him again. So I would just toss my head and turn away, and I would move on like I always did, putting the past behind me.

Mum came running for me, and after that point, the rest of the night's proceedings were one giant blur.

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So, how was it? Leave me a well-loved review to let me know if I should continue! :D Thanks for reading!