Falling in Reverse

CHAPTER 2

*

"What the f**k?" Wyatt repeated, his chocolate brown eyes still in shock from the epiphany that he just switched bodies with the girl... or guy in front of him?

Stacey gave him a dubious stare.

"This...this is not possible," she managed to gasp out. She quickly covered her mouth with her hands. The voice that came out of her mouth was definitely not hers. It was a nice she had to admit, but it was just way too weird to speak in a voice that did not belong to her.

"Well, believe it. This is basically a huge 'f**k you' kick in your science lover's balls right here," Wyatt told Stacey. Her own brown eyes stared up at her icily.

"How can you be so calm?" She shrieked in his voice. Her green eyes looked at him in panic.

"Okay, you have to stop looking like that. You're actually making my face look ugly," he flatly told her. She kicked him in the shin, and he scowled in pain. "You realize you are who is bruising yourself, right? You masochist!"

"I'm not making your face look ugly, it just always looks like that," she mercilessly insulted him. She ignored his last comment.

"Speak for yourself," he growled. He did not like the way his voice sounded so nonthreatening; it was way too high pitched. He couldn't stand it. "What the hell are we going to don't think I can stand this...this change. How did we switch in the first place?"

"Wow, for someone who is known for barely speaking, you sure do whine like a bitch."

"What?" He looked at her with a flabbergasted expression. He couldn't believe his ears first she had yelled at him for being too ambivalent about the whole situation, and now s yelling at him for being too emotional.

"Stop asking me 'what' 'what' 'what' all day! What are you, deaf? I told you that you complain like a b***h!" She snapped. "The worst part is that you probably heard me, so why do you keep asking me to repeat myself?"

"Wow, Kevin was totally right. It's always the ones who you would least expect to have the worst tempers ever."

"Of course, you would mention your gay lover into this."

"Wha—" he stopped himself just in time. He looked at her harshly instead, with his lips tightly closed shut. He decided it was time they switched the topic, or he might have gotten violent. With a girl no less. How uncool. "I bet that i***t teacher has something to do with this, remember how she changed the flour bags?"

Stacey slowly nodded her head.

"Yeah, at first I chose my own bag, but she stopped me and gave me the most threatening smile ever before handing me a different bag," she recalled.

"Then it's settled! We'll go talk to her right now," he decided. He took her by her wrists, which were considerably larger now. It was quite an awkward scene for Wyatt, as he drag his own body around.

Stacey mindlessly followed him, before she suddenly escaped his tight grip. He stared at her, and before he could ask what was wrong, she spoke first. "The teacher went home, I saw her leaving in her car eighth period."

"Then you mean we have to wait a whole day before we can switch back?" He complained. "Can't you think of anything, anything at all? Some clues from something she said?

Her emerald eyes shot him a look of annoyance, but she did as he ordered her to. After all, she was just as desperate as he was to switch back. Her mind was drawing a blank

She re-winded the brief conversations she had with the teacher. Ten minutes passed, and Wyatt was growing increasingly impatient, when he saw Stacey widen her eyes and gasp.

"What?" He inquired. "Did you think of something?"

She blushed, and her face turned a deep crimson shade. She cleared her throat, not sure how she was going to tell him without sounding infatuated with him in the least.

"I...I..." She stammered. She just couldn't do it. She couldn't tell him she might have found the cure, especially when the cure was...

"What? Just spit it out already."

"S-She well, uh," she stuttered. She took a deep breath, and bravely continued on. "Well, I asked her how that stupid flour baby project had anything to do with English class, a said it doesn't; apparently it has to do with socializing and creating better bonds...A-and then she whispered something about..."

"About?"

"About...kissing," she finally blurted out.

He raised his eyebrows at her, before he looked at her with his traditional crooked smile that somehow Stacey's face was able to pull off perfectly.

"Oh, I see what you're trying to do," he grinned at her. His cocky smile never once left his face. Stacey looked at him uncomfortably, as she shifted a few more feet away from him.

Truthfully, although it was her own face, she was frightened by the expressions that were painted on it at that moment.

"What are you talking about?" She didn't want him to actually reply; she was afraid to know his answer.

"You're just making up an excuse about what the teacher said so you could make out with me," he told her triumphantly. His smile widened at the look of horror on her face.

"What?"

"You heard me, and you know I'm right. I just knew I was too irresistible to not attract your attention. So, you were one of those girls— the ones that play hard to get, huh? To think I almost fell fo—OW!" He squeaked, his hands immediately rubbed the throbbing pain on his shin. He glared at her. "Have you not heard of using words? You violent little—"

He stopped his lecturing when it dawned him that she had already walked away from him, her hands angrily on her hips. He stared at her backside, which was technically his, a gagged at the way she was making him look. He rapidly ran up to her.

"Don't. Put. Your. Hands. On. Your. Hips. With. My. Body." He threateningly ordered her. He tightly grabbed her wrists. "You're making me look incredibly gay."

"And that is different from the normal how...?"

"I swear, if it doesn't work, I'm going to take it that my theory was right and you are obsessed with me."

"If what doesn't wo—"

She couldn't complete her sentence, as her mouth was blocked by his rather chapped lips. He had tiptoed on his feet and kissed her. It was the strangest feeling, kissing and be kissed by their own selves.

The kiss only lasted a few seconds, and they instantly detached from each other. Stacey looked at Wyatt, who looked at her back. Stacey felt her palms get sweaty, as she saw her give her a face of pure win and evil.

*

"I knew it!" He cried out into the darkness once again, as they walked down the dark street. The dim lampposts and the weak glow of the moon were their only sources of light.

"You were trying to seduce me by using the lamest excuse ever! A kiss being the cure my ass!"

"You say that one more time..." Stacey grunted through her clenched teeth.

"I bet you just wanted your first kiss to be with someone like me, and you saw this as the opportunity of a lifetime," he mocked.

"Like hell you were my first kiss!" She snickered in reply.

"Like hell I wasn't!" He snickered back.

"Oh, don't be delusional— you wouldn't be alive right now if you stole my first kiss," she informed him. She crammed her hands into the leather pockets. "But I wouldn't be surprise was your first kiss."

"M-my first kiss?" He stammered. A slight blush crawled up his face. "D-Don't be ridiculous. Besides, even if you were- which I assure you, you totally are NOT— it would only be all the girls I know are absolutely disgusting. Why would I want to kiss any of their revolting caked-with-lipgloss lips?"

It was a freezing winter night, and Stacey could feel wind seeping through Wyatt's thin leather jacket. She tried to keep her shivering body as warm as possible as she kept her hands inside her pockets the whole walk. After a huge argument an hour ago about who would go to who's house, Stacey gave up from exasperation. Now here she was, forced to go home to the detestable Wyatt Griffin.

"Ahem." Wyatt coughed, trying to break the thick layer of discomfort that had surrounded them. She had gone silent, and Wyatt who didn't know it was because she was too cold to start a conversation, decided he need to switch the subject. "Shouldn't you be calling your parents? Telling them that you won't be coming home tonight?"

"I live by myself," she monotonously told him. Her eyes dulled, and her face gave off a melancholy vibe. He looked up at her with curiosity brimmed eyes, but decided not to ask.

Why should he care about this loser anyways?

When they finally reached his home, Stacey gasped in shock. He did not live in a house- he lived in a freaking mansion. All the rumors and tales of his grandiose house were not exaggerated in the least. There was a huge black gate in the front, and she could see miles of breathtaking garden work. The garden was adorned with an excess of colorful and beautiful flowers, and the aroma was enticing. Stacey had better eyesight than an average person, and she quickly spotted a pool at the back of the large estate. There were statues all around, and there was a path studded in a famous rock design that lead to the mansion. Wyatt buzzed himself in, and Stacey weakly followed after him. Suddenly, he felt much more intimidating person.

The mansion itself was huge, and Stacey felt hopelessly small standing in front of it. Stacey was in awe that such an architect could come up with such captivating features and was admiring its magnificence, but Wyatt casually barged through the doors. A few maids came and greeted Stacey, before staring at Wyatt with a puzzled face.

"Young master Wyatt, what is that girl doing here?" An older woman in a formal suit asked Stacey, but her eyes flickered over to Wyatt.

"I live here," Wyatt irritably stated, before the voice that came out reminded him that he was not himself at the moment.

"She's a guest!" Stacey interrupted, shutting Wyatt up. "We have uh, a project to do together. She's going to spend the night here." Stacey laughed nervously.

The old woman arched her eyebrows at Wyatt, looking at him with a disapproving face. Wyatt felt anger bubbling inside of him— how dare a lowly maid look at him that way?

"If I may be so rude to ask, exactly what kind of project will you students be...performing?" She questioned their relationship with a voice coated in accusation.

"None of your business," Wyatt firmly stated. He looked up at the old maid with brown eyes.

"What a rude child!" The woman harshly whispered to no one in particular, before she rapidly retreated away. The look on the girl's face scared the poor elder—- it reminded her too much of the young master for some odd reason.

Stacey was about to scold Wyatt for being so rude, especially to a senior, but before she could say anything, he grabbed her wrist and led her upstairs to his room.

"Stop dawdling, and follow me."

*

"So, what exactly is the plan again? Run it through me again," Wyatt yawned. He slouched down further into his beanbag chair.

They were both inside Wyatt's room, which Stacey found to be shockingly likable. It was a music-oriented room and something about it made it warm and homey, despite the fact that it was bigger than her whole apartment. His room was a combination of formal suits, posters of famous musicians, and a huge bookshelf filled with thick music books. The furniture was accompanied by deep purple and red wallpapers. The piano in the corner practically screamed out 'Wyatt Griffin.'

"We arrive to school early and then talk to Miss Venide. We'll force her to revert us back to normal, no matter what the methods may be," the blonde boy told the uninterestedly girl in front of her. Her last words had a sharp spike of threat in them. "Then, we switch back and we pretend we don't know each other like before. We'll have nothing to do each other anymore! It's a happy ending!" Stacey eagerly told him her plans.

"And if Miss Venide isn't there early in the morning?" He curiously asked, sinking down even deeper into his beanbag chair.

"Then we have to make it by English class!" Her fire red eyes burned with passion. "We have to try our best to act like each other, okay?"

"Yeah, that's easy for you to say. All you have to do is ignore people all day..." He thought about it, and instantly looked up at her. He caught her eyes filled with hesitation, and

minty green eyes hardened. "I mean it. Ignore everyone. That's the only way no one would suspect anything— don't be out of character," he strictly told her. "Don't cramp my space, actually communicating with...them."

"Them?" She pondered out loud.

"I mean those annoying twerps who keep following me everywhere, telling me they love me." His face scrunched up, repulsed by the thought of his overly obsessive fans.

"Don't worry, I have terribly socializing skills anyways. I won't bother to talk to any of them...but..."

"But?"

"But...can't I just tell Sumire and Vinz about what happened? This situation?"

He stared at her with his eyes half closed, not even bothering to give her a proper answer. "Are you kidding me?"

"Well, why not?" She argued. "They're my best friends! They deserve to know!"

"Not going to happen." He firmly stated. He got up from the beanbag chair and moved to his bed, his eyes completely closed the minute he laid down.

"Ugh, fine!" She gave up. "But promise you won't say anything I wouldn't, or do anything weird to them during lunch! I can keep an eye on you during in all my other classes, Math is the one class where we're totally separated— don't do anything strange. I meant it," she warned.

"Yeah, yeah," he lazily replied. He covered his eyes with a pillow. Her words went in one ear and out the other.

"Wait, don't fall asleep yet!" She shouted, startling his drowsy state. "Where am I going to sleep?"

"The floor?"

"What?" Her eyes flashing in anger at his direction. That bastard! He forced her to come his house, completely starved her, and now he wasn't going to even offer her a comfort stay?

The floor? Ha, as if.

"Oh...okay..." Stacey started, her voice sorrowful in a noticeably artificial way. "I guess I'll sleep on the floor, no big deal. So, what if my back starts aching the next day? What if I catch a cold from sleeping on the rock-hard freezing floor? It's not my body after all. My body is kept safe and comfortable, all warm and cozy in that wonderful bed you have over there."

Stacey smiled when Wyatt shot up at her logical statement. He snarled, and didn't even bother to reply back. Instead, he just grabbed her wrists— for the millionth time that day it with his half-opened eyes and pulled her close to him in his bed. Stacey flushed red and felt hot, and she was about to punch his face in for trying such a bold move on her, when dawned her that he had already fallen asleep. She sighed, knowing she lost completely and slowly drifted off to sleep, wrapped around his arms in warmth.