I Don't Wanna

"I don't want to go in there." I whispered in confession to Taylor, my lips slightly parted open. It could've been my imagination, but I swear my breathe was shortened.

"You're kidding, right?" His blue eyes looked at me incredulously, before shifting them to the large, red-brick building that spread three stories above the set of stairs we stood upon, a few feet from the front glass doors.

"No," I shook my head back and forth, hugging my books to my chest.

"Don't be stupid, you have to."

"Do not." I chewed on my lower lip nervously, shifting my weight from one foot to the other.

"Hello? You can't just skip class today." He frowned.

"Hmm... Watch me."

"Oh, please. Like you could ever skip." He challenged me.

"It's theatre, not an actual class or anything." I emphasized. "And not too late for a little drop-and-add action, I'll add."

"You are so damn melodrama you should be in theatre." Taylor rolled his eyes. "Need I remind you again that this class counts for your fine arts core?

".." I hadn't been prepared for that argument, so the best I could come up with at the moment was, "So?"

"Oh, real intelligent one there Maggie."

"-- Excuse me." A 'gentleman,' and I use that word loosely, brushed between the two of us. His dark leather jacket brushed up against my forearm as he did so, causing my body to immediately stiffen.

Calm down, I thought, as the memory of Justin flashed in my head. Funny how the smallest of things trigger that fateful night back in my mind. My eyes trailed behind the half-shaved, half blue-haired individual, narrowed with thought as I watched him walk away from us and turn a corner.

"Maggie?" Taylor repeated.

"Huh?" I whipped my face around to look at him again.

"Everything ok?" He asked, a slight frown furrowing his brow.

"Y-yeah," I stuttered, placing my palm against my warm cheek.

"All right," he said slowly, as if he didn't believe me. With a shrug of his shoulders, a familiar grin reappeared.

"Good. For a second, I thought I had some competition there."

"Competition?" I looked in the direction of the guy, casting a sly grin of my own at Taylor. "Well.. he did have a nice ass."

"Ok, now I'm leaving." Taylor rolled his eyes in response.

"Sounds good to me. Where are we going?" I asked, hopefulness seeping into my voice.

"We're not going any where. You are going to theatre class, Maggie."

"God damnit." I muttered. Taylor laughed, shaking a finger at me.

"Thought you had me, huh?"

"Yeah.. Serves me right, I guess."

"On the contrary.. You'll always have me." Taylor smiled, reaching his arms around me and pulling me closer to him. I returned the smile faintly before lifting my lips to meet his in a tiny kiss.

"-- Excuse me, if you don't mind going to a hotel room somewhere, I'm trying to get to class now." A haughty voice broke us apart abruptly.

"I'm sorry," I immediately stepped away from Taylor and looked at the girl who'd interrupted our good-bye. Her green eyes blazed at me under an incredibly thick layer of purple eye shadow, strikingly bright by the paleness of her face. Soft black strands framed her porcelain-white face, adding to her intriguing look.

Maybe intriguing isn't the right word.. perhaps scary is more accurate.

"Whatever." She cast to me in a glum voice, brushing past us and through the building doors. Once inside, she maneuvered her way in the same direction as the guy had before her.

"Taylor.." I turned to him with wide eyes and a small pout playing on my lips. "I'm afraid of these people already."

"Don't be stupid. You're going to be really late now," he reminded me, checking his watch. "Besides, I'm starving and want to get something to eat."

"Pizza Planet?" I asked him with a grin.

"Of course. Now get to class."

"Ok," I heaved a deep sigh, straightened my light gray sweater, and reached for the door handle. As my fingers circled around its brass frame, I felt the warm feeling of Taylor's fingers over mine. Glancing up, I saw him smiling down at me. I returned the smile, squeezed his hand lightly, and departed myself. I could only guess what the rest of my class was like if two people already hated me.

"So to wrap things up, I don't believe in papers." A tall, wiry woman with small glasses perched on her nose emphasized as I slid into my classroom, a few minutes late. She stopped in her introductory speech, I assumed it was, to narrow her eyes at my tardiness and nod her head slightly in the direction of the only empty seat in the room: right next to the black-haired sweetheart I'd already met out in the hallway a few minutes ago.

"Well, look who decided to grace us with her presence." She whispered hoarsely to the girl next to her, who glanced over at me as I opened up my backpack. Boy, there's nothing like an incredibly loud zip sound from opening your backpack when the entire room is quiet to add a little embarrassment to your life. Or at least it was entirely quiet, until the two of them immediately started snickering.

"Alex?" Our professor, Dr. Allen I read from the chalkboard, peered over in our direction. "Is there something so amusing that you can share it with the rest of the class?"

"No, Dr. Allen." The girl, whose name was obviously Alex, replied with a sullen scowl.

"That's what I thought. So that's all for today everyone. See you Wednesday at this time." I stared at our professor with surprise.

That's it!? Glancing at the clock, I found it was only seven minutes past the hour.

Maybe this class won't be so bad after all.

"Umm.. Dr. Allen?" I zipped my backpack closed and threw it over my shoulders.

"Yes?" She turned around from erasing her name off the chalkboard to face me.

"I'm Maggie. Maggie Olsen." I introduced myself.

"Maggie.." She repeated quietly, checking over a class list on the table in front of her. "I don't see any Maggies on here. I have a Margaret though, is that you?"

"Yup." I replied cheerfully. "But no one other than my grandmother calls me that."

"Understandable." Dr. Allen looked up from her list to grin at me. "I always insisted on Maggie too. Margaret went out of style even when I was in college, shock of shocks."

"Really?" I asked with a smile. This class was definently looking up.

"Yes, and you would've known this had you been in class on time." She gave me a pointed look and passed a syllabus over to me. Taking it between my fingers, I gave her an apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry. It won't happen again." I promised.

"See that it doesn't." Dr. Allen smiled. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to take my son to the dentist. Don't tell the rest of the class, but that's the real reason we're out so early today. Won't happen much anymore, but that was the only time our dentist could see him."

"You have a son?" I asked her as we walked out of the classroom together.

"Mmm-hmm. Benjamin." She nodded, pride welling up in her eyes. Funny enough, it reminded me of the look Sarah got when she'd talk about Emily. Now there's a long story though. Not like I'd tell my professor about it, anyway.

"How old is he?"

"Six, going on two." I laughed at her comment.

"Ok, well have fun at the dentist today."

"If Ben avoids kicking the poor man again, we will, thanks." Dr. Allen stopped in front of an office door, unlocked it, and disappeared. I did the same, only exited out the doors I'd come in a few minutes ago. To my surprise, I found the two girls from class sitting on the stairs, sharing a cigarette. Nice of them to take up all the room on the stairs; there wasn't any way I could maneuver around them without a confrontation.

Lucky me, I thought and sighed.

"Excuse me," I spoke as politely as humanly possible, edging my way behind the girls. They turned around and narrowed their eyes when they recognized me, and moved a little to let me pass between them. As my knees brushed against their shoulders, one of them bumped me slightly, pitching me forward. As I stumbled over a step, grateful for the handrail on my left to steady myself, I heard the familiar sound of loud snickering behind me.

"What is your problem?" I asked quietly, turning around and facing the girls. Alex stood up and stepped toward me. I could smell the faint scent of cigarette smoke on her breathe, making me flash back to my nightmare for the second instant today. My body stiffened with fear for a slight moment, and I suppose she took it to mean I was afraid of her.

"You want to know what my problem is?" I wasn't sure if she was asking for a specific answer on that one, so I chose to keep my mouth shut.

"It's people who think they're better than everyone else. People who think they're perfect and act all buddy-buddy with professors. That's what my problem is." She practically spat the last sentence in my face.

"Does sound like a problem. Gee, sucks to be you." I retorted sarcastically, before turning around and walking away from her. Ok, so it wasn't the most intelligent of responses, but at least I could walk away with a little amount of dignity.

"Bitch." I heard her mutter after me. Pretending not to hear it, I made my way down the sidewalk and out to the parking lot I knew held my car. Hopefully held my car, that is. College or no college, ours wasn't located in the safest part of town, so to speak.

At least I'm making friends in theatre already. I thought to myself as I unlocked the door to my Civic. Glancing at my watch, I decided it would hurt to try catching Taylor at Pizza Palace.

A pep talk from him before work, not to mention a slice of pepperoni pizza, might just do the trick.

"Oh, sweetie it was awful." I said between bites of pizza. Unfortunately, it came out more like "Mmph, swffeete if auzz ohhfuh."

"What was that?" Taylor asked, laughing at my full mouth. "Can you spare one sentence to talk to me without your mouth full of food?"

"Very funny," I swallowed and pretended to glare at him. The two of us were sitting in a booth in Pizza Palace, bless my eighties-stricken boyfriend, Taylor's favorite place to hang out. I swear, I'm not able to sit in this place for more than twenty minutes, longer than that the loud music and bright neon lights start to make my brain cells implode. I couldn't understand how anyone could even stand to work here.

"I like to think so." Taylor continued our conversation. "So what were you trying to say?"

"Just that my first day in theatre was awful. They hate me already."

"They hate you, huh? Is this like some secret, underground cult of theatre freaks?" Taylor's eyes twinkled at me.

"You know, I'm so glad that one of us is amused about this. Here I am, complaining my little heart out to you, the least you could do is be supportive." I pretended to scold him.

"For cryin' out loud, what are you going to do- send me to be without dinner, Mags?" Taylor rolled his eyes. "No, even better, spank me?"

"No, you'd like that too much." I grinned and flicked a piece of cheese from my plate at him.

"Hey, no argument here." He grinned back, catching the cheese in his hand before it hit him in the cheek. Darn it.

"Taylor! That's so sick."

"No French kissing, no spanking... damn, aren't we allowed to have any fun in this relationship?" He pouted.

"Nope." I replied firmly. "Sorry."

"That's all right. I'll take my chances then." He leaned over the table and kissed me softly.

"Umm.. excuse me." Taylor and I broke apart at the sound of a tired voice above us. I turned and saw our waitress, an extremely tired and pale-looking teenager. Examining her closer, I found her auburn eyes staring blankly at our table, a slip of paper in her fingers.

"Here's your bill." She said flatly.

"Thanks." Taylor replied. I felt my cheeks blushing warmly at our public display of affection, something (big surprise) I'm not really into. Holding hands is one thing, kissing is another.

"What are you leaving for the tip?" I asked him as I fished around my pockets for some change.

"How about eat something?" He asked with a grin.

"She did look kinda thin.. hmm... " My voice trailed off.

"Now don't you get any ideas." He warned me. "You mentor enough high school students as is."

"I'm not a mentor." I corrected Taylor.

"Well, you might as well be." He replied. I looked at him, surprised with the small amount of irritation in his voice at that remark.

"What do you mean?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.

"I didn't mean anything negative by that.. It's just.." Taylor searched for the right word, his eyes scanning the ceiling. "Do you have to still go and talk about.. well, you know."

"The fact I was raped?" I asked harshly. He nodded.

"Well, in case you haven't noticed, Taylor," I said firmly, pushing my chair back and standing up. "If it weren't for that program I'd probably be going out of my mind by now. Getting raped isn't something a person gets over right away."

"Maggie," he said softly, taking my hand as I stepped past the table. "I didn't mean it like that. I had just hoped that you're past was.. well, over."

"Well, it should be." I said, looking him directly in the eyes. I could only hope that he couldn't see my thought in them:

Maybe it's not.

"Are you all ready?" Sarah asked, smiling.

"I think so. Just not used to living out of boxes yet." Smiling, Isaac's eyes scanned the room of their new apartment, over piles of packed boxes. There had to be at least twenty of them just in the kitchen with them.

"Where did we get all this junk anyway?" he asked.

"Relatives." Sarah immediately replied, turning her back to her new husband to open the refrigerator. The sight of its shelves, holding only a half-gallon of milk and a carton of eggs made her sigh. Pulling out two eggs, she shut the door and flipped on the switch on the stove.

"Don't tell me those are all wedding presents." Ike pointed to a stack of boxes underneath the table.

"Ok, I won't. Just don't open them then." Sarah laughed when Ike rolled his eyes. "Don't worry, eventually I'll find time to sort out all these boxes."

"Can't we just throw it all out?" He asked, sitting down.

"Not exactly." Pulling a pan out of a box on the counter, she set it on the stove and faced Ike again. "I think it's an unspoken act of kindness, to keep all wedding presents, crappy or otherwise."

"Darn," Isaac mumbled, closing his eyes. "I have no clue what we're going to do with three blenders though."

"Well, I think we can make some exceptions. Like that horrible painting your aunt bought us." Sliding into a seat next to him, Sarah wrinkled her nose at the work of abstraction currently stashed in the hall closet. Although most of their stuff laid cluttered across the floor, that was the one thing she didn't even want to look at, yet alone hang it up on any walls. She couldn't believe how much Isaac's aunt had paid for it, all for something that a three-year old could make vast improvements over it with a set of finger paints.

"I kind of like that one." He smiled at her. "I figured we could hang it in the bedroom."

"You're kidding me." Sarah stared at him with her eyes and mouth both wide open. For a few seconds, Ike stared back at her. Finally unable to hold in his laughter, he broke down, his eyes gleaming.

"Of course I am. That.. " He searched for the right word. ".. thing is so hideous."

"Don't scare me like that." Sarah swatted his shoulder before standing up and heading back to the stove. As she fingered the smooth texture of the eggs, cool against her warm fingertips, she sucked in her breathe in surprise as a pair of arms wrapped themselves around her waist, nearly dropping the eggs.

"Isaac!" She scolded. "Don't scare me like that either."

"Sorry." He grinned and hugged her closer to him.

"I almost dropped these." She turned and shook the eggs in his face. "Which reminds me, we don't have any food here yet either."

"Don't you have time to go to the store tonight?" He asked her.

"Hmm.. would that be after I work a ten hour shift today, or before I sit through three hours of Maggie's talk tonight?" She replied sarcastically.

"I still don't understand why you have to work. I make more than enough for us." Ike sighed.

"Ike, we've had this discussion before." Mild irritation slipped into Sarah's voice. "I like where I work."

"But some beat-up salon downtown-" he started when Sarah raised her hand, slamming one of the eggs on the side of the pan. The two of them watched for a few seconds as its hissing sound cut through the silence.

"I love it there." She said quietly.

"All right." He gave up on the argument for the second time. "I just want you to be happy."

"I am happy." She turned to him with a smile on her face.

"With work.. and with you." Lowering her voice, she stepped toward him, sliding her hand across his chest.

"I'll admit, cluttered apartments and busy schedules aside, I've never been happier myself." Ike's hands caressed over her shoulders lightly. "Especially last night."

"Hmm.." was all Sarah replied. "Not to kill the mood or anything, but don't you have to get to work now? The suit squad might come and hunt you down otherwise."

"Suit squad?" Ike laughed loudly at her reference to her coworkers.

"I'm afraid of those guys." She giggled.

"They're just accountants." He reminded her, shaking her shoulders lightly.

"Exactly."

"Well.." he thought for a moment, searching for a rebuttal. "You married one of them."

"Yes I did. And now I'm kicking him out. I need to get to work myself soon." She reminded him.

"All right." He held up his hands. "I know when I'm not welcome."

"Just get to work." Sarah pointed at the door.

"Thanks." Ike replied sarcastically. " 'Love you."

"I love you too." She smiled and kissed him lightly, smiling internally when he pulled her closer and deepened the kiss. But nonetheless, it needed to be broken, so she did just that.

"We don't want you showing up at work looking.. unprofessional, now would we?" She asked flirtatiously, shoving him toward the door.

"I'm a married guy now. They'd understand." He waved his hand behind on his way out. After shutting the door behind him, Sarah leaned against the window, watching his tall, lean frame step into his car. Her eyes shifted from his neat, crisp suit to the pink, waitress-like uniform that adorned her body. Although normally she loved her work uniform, it seemed out of place next to her husband's professional world. Picking up a foul scent in the air, she realized she'd forgotten her eggs, and turned from the door to see them burned to a crisp in the pan.

"Guess today I can just go without.. again." She sighed.

Eventually we'll get this right.