Title: Apparently Not
Couple: Nigel/Gianinne Heir Apparent
Rating: PG13
Summary: Nigel surprises Gianinne on Valentine's Day.

AN: Sorry to all of you who already read this on the LJ community Murking Fantasy. I know the email in your inbox was exciting, and alas there is no new update afterall. I also appologize to those of you, like me, who like Kenric more than you do Nigel. Some day I'll get around to finishing and posting the epic continuation of Heir Apparent that I started and stopped working on at some point last year.

"Oh, look at this guy," one of the girls in my homeroom class said with a hushed giggle as she pointed to her magazine. Surrounding her was a gaggle of equally insipid blondes and fashionistas, crowded to see the glossy paper of the magazine. I, personally, didn't know how they were able to see anything, as I assumed that their lip-gloss created some sort of back-feed which enhanced the glare of the paper. I started to block them out like I usually did after thinking up some witty and mental derogatory remark against them like I did every morning. It wasn't so much that I was bitter because they were prettier/more popular/wealthier/stupider/bitchier than I was, but because it seemed that no matter what I did, I was still the freak who got half of CPOC arrested for attempted murder and endangering lives. Yeah, I thought I rocked too, but these sheep had other ideas.

"What kind of name is Nigel?" One of them asked around her snapping gum. This is where they caught my attention again.

"What kind of name is Rasputin?" Another one responded.

"It says Rasmussem." The girl with the magazine pointed out. "You know, like the gaming company."

"So he's what? The heir?"

"No," the girl sitting down pointed to the article. "It says here he's the creator and CEO of the company."

"Wow, beauty and brains," someone giggled.

"Awww! He has a girlfriend."

Here I smiled, reminded of why I had a reason to be happy today. It was Valentines Day, and not only did I have a hot and brilliant boyfriend who I had secretly had a huge crush on since I met him three years ago, but I also had good reason to believe that he was making a special trip from college just to see me today. My heart soared with elation, and I wanted to go around grinning like a fool in love, because that's what I was.

"I thought this was top fifty bachelors…"

"They mean not married, stupid."

"Listen to this: 'Nigel, quoted saying he is currently dating a model, is a student at MIT.' A model…" the petite blond sighed dreamily.

A MODEL! My brain was having the exact opposite reaction, firing angry synapses that spoke of yet another person in my life betraying me. I wanted to kill those Barbie cut-outs for gossiping about my boyfriend, but more importantly, I wanted to kill Nigel for CHEATING on me with a MODEL. Without really thinking about the consequences, I grabbed my cell-phone from my book bag – the same cell phone which was not only banned from school but that my grandmother didn't even know I owned – and hit the first number on the speed-dial.

"Hello?" Nigel's voice answered, groggy and endearing. For some reason this put my ire up a notch. He was sleeping? How dare he sleep while I was in class, finding out he was cheating on me from the teen lemmings.

"A MODEL!" I screeched at him, all eyes in the room roving towards me, some of my fellow students jerking in shock as I startled them out of early-morning catnaps before the first bell.

"Listen, about that…"

"I don't want to hear your explanation! I… you… we're over!" I hung up, the cellphone clenched between my fingers. I was King, I grieved, and I did not condone disloyalty. It was tantamount to treason. Remembering the whole King always made me feel better, as though my decisions were law and therefore beyond reproach. This time, I remembered that the only reason I still thought of myself in that light was because it was a teasing endearment Nigel used for me. Tears welled up in my eyes, and for the first time I noticed that the entire class was staring at me.

"Are you making fun of us?" One of the blondes asked.


It was a crappy day. As I sat in my seat, post-heartbreak, I realized I had to continue on with an entire day of school, followed by a night of sitting alone in my room when I had fully expected a meal out. I even had a nice new silk shirt and some red underwear to celebrate the occasion. Sure, it was a bit ambitious of me, but I had never been one to just lie back and tak… that metaphor works just a bit too well. To make matters worse, someone had reported to my teacher that I had a cell-phone on me illegally. I told her that I had, indeed, been making fun of the blondes and that there was no real phone. Kind of like one of those 'ring, ring. Hello. Get a clue' type jokes. She checked my backpack anyway and I didn't blame her because the story sounded lame to my own ears. I was not exactly in the disposition to be clever.

The urge to cry didn't clear up over the day, and my eyes were as red-rimmed as the hearts, roses, and cards circulating the in the hallways between classes. Couples holding hands in the hallway made me want to puke more than usual, and I came perilously close to evoking my wrath on the Valentine's Day banner on the wall. The magazines of Nigel were multiplying, and by lunch time I had passed at least one girl who had him on prominent display in her locker. Somehow he had become the new hot-guy crush on campus on the exact same day the sight of his idiotic smiling face made me want to commit homicide. Justifiable? Apparently the jury would be the ones to decide that.

By lunch time, I was seriously considering skipping the afternoon. One of my teachers had already noticed my dispondent look and mistook it for the beginnings of the flu, so I knew that if I were to claim ill and leave, I would have faculty backing. I loathed, however, the idea of leaving because of heartbreak. That would put me on the same level as the popular blonds. I was stronger than that, I told myself, and hoped the peptalk worked

I sat alone in the food-court at the school, and chugged down a can of Pepsi. After sucking the last drop out of the rim of the can with an obnoxious slurp, I eyed the empty blue tin and considered buying another. I needed caffeine and I needed sugar, and I needed them now. It was as I was standing in front of the vending machine that I heard the shriek come from the parking-lot. For a second I thought someone had gotten run down in broad daylight and the sadistic post-break up part of me cheered. Then I saw the car.

My blood stilled, then rushed to a boil as I saw Nigel's BMW SUV edge into the parking lot. His parents believed that bigger was safer on the road, something stemming from a generation of minivan statistics, and though Nigel's heart had been set on a beemer, he thought it easier to placate them than to disagree. I wished I had a family concerned for my safety.

I turned away from the vending machine, leaving my newly purchased Pepsi behind as I scurried towards the door to the cafeteria. I could hear someone exclaim 'dude, free pop' as I made haste to get to the hallway. Once I was there, however, I didn't know whether to go confront my ex or run away from him. I was moving in the direction of the front door before I consciously knew my brain had made up its mind. Once I got there, I had a feeling I would betray myself in one of two ways. I was either going to start crying or beg him to take me back. Both options were so less than ideal that I froze, and in that second the door blew open, bringing a gust of snowy frigid air into the warm school as well as Nigel.

"Gianinne!" He exclaimed, sounding amazed that it hadn't been more difficult.

"Rat fink!" I snarled at him, pushing his shoulder with one of my balled fists. I considered slapping him next, but that was a bit melodramatic, even for me.

"Stop it," Nigel reproached.

"You cheated on me," I hissed at him. "With a model."

"Which upsets you more?" He was completely relaxed and blase about the whole thing, that infuriating smile on his lips. In that moment, he was Kenric at his worst, about to poison me with just a glance. "The cheating, or the model?"

"You're acting like my father, Kenric," I taunted him, knowing he would pick up on the double insult.

"Don't call me that," he said in a dead voice.

"Are you jealous," I asked. "You know I always did like him best. He had this sexual bad-boy air about him that you'll never understand."

"I CREATED him."

"Yes," I smiled cruelly. "But somewhere you went wrong. You see, Kenric's loyal to a fault. I thought that was one of those traits that actually translated from real life."

"Stop it," Nigel said, holding up a hand. He reached out and took my upper arm, steering me towards a bench in the hallway. I half-heartedly tried to wretch myself away from him, to no avail. That was probably because a part of me secretly wanted him to explain everything away. I was familiar with denying that hopeful side of me, as it was the same side that wished for my father's love. "I didn't cheat on you."

"I read the magazine."

Nigel tried to take my hand. This time, I did yank away from him. One of the blonds from that morning came in through the front door, took one look at him and quickly flipped through the magazine clutched against her chest. Once she found the right picture, she did a doubletake and scurried off, probably to lead the rest of the lemmings right to our position. "I would never cheat on you, or anyone for that matter."

I sighed. "You should go."


"I'm not conditioned to forgive."

He tilted my head up with his fingers. I looked him in the eye and didn't turn away. "I know," he whispered. "But if you would stop being so contrary and let me tell you what happened."

"So you can be a liar as well as a cheat?"

"You need to trust me!"

"Trust?" I laughed bitterly.

"I'm not your father," he responded in a low voice. "I told the reporter that the girl I was dating was really supportive of my busy schedule, and that she was modelling for a character in my next game. That's where the model came from. It's you."

Oh, my brain said, frozen between the wish to believe him and the inability to do so. Nigel made up my mind for me, leaning forward and brushing his lips against mine in a soft kiss. It was tender and hesitant, like our first kiss had been, and I recognised his uncertainty towards me.

"Ok," I told him, pulling away but keeping my hand on his chest. "I'll try to believe that."

I expected him to call me on my wording, and insist that he was telling the truth or that I do more than TRY to believe him. Instead he smiled ruefully, fingers brushing against my cheek. "Would chocolate help," he asked with a quirk of his lips, pulling a gold wrapped box out of his jacket pocket.

I smiled at the box, delighted for a moment at the Valentine's Day gift, and then I mourned for what the day could have been. If only I had been late to school this morning and hadn't heard about the magazine, or if I wasn't trained to believe the worst of people.

"It's a start," I told him, taking the chocolates delicately. I would treasure this, I promised myself, and try to put the horrible ordeal of the morning behind me - behind us. "Lets leave here," I proposed after a deep breath.

Nigel took my hand and lead me towards the front door. From behind me, I could hear one of the blonds shout "There he is. I told you!" Then the door closed behind me.


I know that some of you wanted to hear about Michel and Kerry's Spring Break. Don't worry, you'll get it during Spring Break. My "Spring Break" is next week, so I hope to have time to write. I'm going to re-read Heir Apparent then (since I'm going home Friday and it's there). I might come back and revise this when I'm done (especially since I'm less than pleased at some aspects). I wrote this on wordpad (which is completely without spell-check of any kind) because my beta version of microsoft word stopped uninstalling half-way through and I can't install anything else on my computer because of it.