A/N: Holy fuck, I suck at life for not updating this. I was going to update a bunch of stuff, but then I remembered that this only had one more chapter to go, so I was like "fuck it." Let's do the damn thing, then. Let's see if I can still channel my inner CM Punk (even though Mountain Dew is better than Pepsi and I don't really like Punk that much).

Damn her. When I requested that we talk, she smirked at me all adorable like. Gah, I hate it when girls do that! She stepped over to the door and closed it. My guess is that she would have locked it as well, but the doors didn't have locks on them.

…Or maybe I just wish she would lock the door.

Forcing my prepubescent fantasies out of my head, I—Wait, prepubescent? I'm twenty-nine years old! I'm pretty sure that I went through puberty a long time ago.

Anyways, where was I?

Oh, right. Alana. The hot chick I'm currently standing in a room with…alone.


"So, Punk, what do you want to talk about?"

Uh, what did I want to talk about?

Oh, right.

"Well, I was kind of thinking…"

"Really, you think?" she asked, arching an eyebrow at me. I'm glad she started to laugh. I thought she was serious. "Come on, man, I always thought that I was the brains of the operation."

"Do you always have to be so mean to me?" I whined, not unlike a six year old girl. Yeah, not even a boy; a girl. Wow, this was getting sad. I think all my tattoos are just covering my poor, pathetic, six year old girl soul.

"I'm mean to people that I like," she revealed. That almost made me feel better. Almost.

"What about Phyllis? You're mean to Phyllis. Do you mean to tell me that you like the fire-breathing receptionist?" How can anyone like her? She's old and ancient. Yes, I realize those two descriptive words mean almost the same thing, but you get my point. She's crude, lewd, and I certainly hope she's not tattooed.

I've been hanging out with Edge too much.

Alana cracked a small smile. "I have my exceptions. So what was it that you were saying?"

"Well, I was saying that…Wait, you like me?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Do you like me, like me? Or just like me. Like, 'hey, you're cool,' like me?" Wow, do I sound like a teenage girl or what?

"Does it matter? You wouldn't date me, anyways."

"What makes you say that?" I was seriously taken aback. Did she think I was crazy or absurd? Well, I am both of those things, but still.

"Hello? Do you see where I am? Do you know why I'm here? It's everything that you're against," she explained. "I thought you despised everything that has to do with drugs."

"I, too, have my exceptions, Alana," I said, giving her eyebrow arching a run for its money, except that I don't think I did it very well.

"But what if I don't get out of it? What if I can't be saved, Punk?"

"I am here, Alana. I can help you. I can get you out of this. Besides, opposites attract," I grinned, trying to seem as boyish as possible.

"You can?"

"Yeah. And I'll prove it to you."


Oh, I'm a sneaky one…

"Your lip ring is on the wrong side," I shrugged.

"What? What makes you say that? Punk, you're suck a j—"

She never got to finish. I never did find out if she was going to call me a jerk or a jackass, or some other obscene word that started with the letter 'J.' Instead of listening to her insult me more than she ever has, and may I say, she does it quite adorably, I just kissed her.

As I predicted, our opposing lip rings clashed together in a rather painful way.

"Ow…" she said after we broke apart.

I had to laugh at that one. "Told you."