Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or anything related to the movie Gossip...
Rating: PG
Author's Note: this is discusses the character from Gossip with an ORIGINAL character narrative.


I was in his class. I remember seeing him that first day of pop culture. Goodwin was the professor and this boy, this man, would have something to say about everything Goodwin said. Derrick Webb was his name and he had the most amazing blue eyes I have ever seen. Even his constantly dishevelled hair screamed sexiness. Anything looked good on him. I mean, I suppose anyONE would too.

I knew him, but I don't think he noticed me. I always tried to sit near him, so I was always a few seats or rows away, but I still don't think he ever noticed me.

God, how I wish he noticed me. What I wouldn't give to have his lips on mine, kissing me passionately. His body, pressed up against me and holding me close.

Oh, I knew about the gossip and scandal surrounding him. I mean, who didn't know? It was the biggest talk on campus for a long time after he came out with his confession that he had raped Naomi Preston in high school. Like before, he's shunned by others because of the lies and gossip he started. And yet, in some weird way, it doesn't seem to bother me.

In a way, you can say that I seem to be more attracted to him than I was before. I was never attracted to the "bad boy" type. Definitely not the "Derrick Webb" type. Dating quieter guys before, I guess this was my way of rebelling and trying something new.

It's been three weeks since he confessed. I haven't seen him around campus or in class since the day he stormed out. I feel the urge to find him and talk to him. Everyone knew he lived in the loft on the wealthier side of the campus area. "That rich kid" as he was known to some. I decided to stop by his place once my classes were done for the day.

It seemed like an eternity before my last class was done but the time finally came. I took a deep breath and walked to his place. I got to the building and realized I didn't know which floor he was on. The door had suddenly swung open and a girl I recognized from my class walked out. I remember her to be Derrick's roommate, Cathy Jones. She told me that his place was the top floor and I thanked her. I knew she was eyeing me curiously but I didn't care.

I bounded up the flights of stairs and stopped as I reached the brightly painted orange door. I knocked on the door and waited for him to answer. I then realized that I didn't even know what I was going to say to him once he opened the door.

After a few minutes, the door swung open and there he stood: Messy hair, sleepy blue eyes and nothing but boxers on. He looked at me, wondering who I was and what I was doing there. I apologized for waking him and he shook his head, mumbling that it was okay. He invited me in and poured a cup of coffee for both of us. We drank in silence and I realized I should explain what I was doing there. I decided that it would be best if I just told him that he still had a friend or something.

I turned to look at him and realized he was sitting right up against me, his face mere inches away from mine. I looked away, resisting temptation and somehow managed to tell him that I care about him, or something to that effect. At that point, I really didn't remember what I had said to him. I guess I must have said something meaningful because the next thing I knew, his lips were on mine. Just like how I imagined.