I tossed and turned, trying feverishly to fall asleep. I had lain awake in my old room since midnight, and had yet to fall into slumber. Finally, I gave up and, seeing no other alternative, turned on my bedside lamp and pulled out Beastly by Alex Flinn from the nightstand.



I had barely started the first sentence when my eyes slid shut.



"Go away!" I shouted, curling up into a ball and shutting my eyes tightly. The mulch under the big yellow slide poked at me, making me uncomfortable, but I didn't care. I hid my face in my hands, thinking that, perhaps, if I couldn't see them, they wouldn't be able to see me.



"You can't tell us what to do, Ugly. You're stuck with us. Forever." Mean laughter echoed all around me as the taunts and jeers kept on coming. Only a few children were actually bullying me, but out of fear, the others did nothing to stop it.



"What kind of face is that? A pig's?" One girl guffawed, pointing at me and scrunching up her perfect nose. "No, wait, even a pig would be ashamed to have a face like that." Her mean jab brought tears pricking at my eyes, and another round of laughter from the kids surrounding us.



"Stop it..." I whimpered, trying my best to stay brave and remember what my mother had told me. "I'm not ugly."



"You wish you weren't ugly, cheese-face," the little girl spat, taking a handful of my hair in her hands and tugging it. "You'll never be pretty. You'll always be ugly." She hissed, giving my hair another rough yank.



"Yeah, cheese-face, you'll always be ugly." A few surrounding children echoed.



Tears began to slide down my face, but, instead of taking pity on me, it only egged the girl on more. "Ugh. A crying pig, how disgusting." She let go of my hair and shoved me so that I fell on my side in the dark red mulch. I made no move to get up, but remained there, crying silently until she flounced off towards the swing set, her perfect, curly brown hair bouncing along her shoulders.



"I'm not ugly..." I whispered quietly to myself between hiccups, "I'm not ugly..."



"You'll always be ugly... You'll never be pretty..." Their rude voices swirled around and around in my head, until I couldn't take it any longer. I squeezed my eyes shut tight and screamed, trying desperately to drown out the laughter.



I woke, as I always did, with my heart pounding erratically in my chest. My breathing was shallow, and my mouth dry. Briefly, I wondered if I had actually screamed aloud and if my mother had heard it from her room across the hall.



My mind was put to rest, though, when I heard a very loud snore. Yep, she was still asleep.



I debated for a moment whether or not I should try to fall asleep again, but the prospect of having to face those atrocious memories again made my stomach turn. Instead of drifting back to sleep, I threw the covers off of myself, slipped my feet into my fluffy, blue slippers and headed towards the kitchen for a midnight snack.



Flicking the light switch on, I moved towards the refrigerator and got out the milk then moved to the pantry and cupboards for cereal and a bowl. Unfortunately, the only kind of cereal my mom had on hand was the weird, goat-feed resembling, fiber-rich kind. I groaned and put everything but the milk back, and instead got a glass and some chocolate syrup. If I couldn't have cereal I would settle for a glass of chocolate milk.



As I blew bubbles into the glass, I felt like I was five years old again. Care-free and happy, like I was before--Hurriedly, I moved my mind to another topic from that dreaded one. No need to dwell on the unhappy past.



Almost too quickly, I finished my beverage and was forced to find something else to occupy my sleep-deprived thoughts. I considered, for a moment, calling Gavin, but then decided that it was probably too early to call anyone. But, then again... it was Gavin. If nothing else, I could irritate the living daylights out of him.



I grinned, and grabbed the phone from its charger on the black granite counter-top and dialled in the number that I knew by heart. It rang only twice before he answered.



"This had better be good." He didn't even bother to say hello.



"Well, it's good to talk to you too," I teased, hoisting myself up onto the counter-top so that I could dangle my feet in the air.



"Aislyn? Why are you--What time is--Why the heck are you calling at three in the morning?!" He shouted into the phone.



"Why the heck are you shouting at three in the morning?" I asked, wincing as his voice caused my ears to ring.



"What kind of person calls their best friend at three in the freaking morning?" Gavin complained, "I thought you loved me."



"I do love you!" I chirped happily. "And that's why we're going to breakfast."



"Now?"



"No, in three days; of course now, you idiot." I rolled my eyes, and leapt off of the counter. In truth, I hadn't planned on going to breakfast with him, but at least it gave me something to do.



"Nowhere is going to be open," he pointed out, being logical.



"Denny's is." I countered, flipping the light switch in my room and digging around in my drawers for something to wear.



He huffed on the other end of the line childishly, "Fine, I'll meet you at Denny's."



Without waiting to say goodbye, I pushed the button that disconnected the line and pulled out a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. It really didn't matter what I wore anyways, it wouldn't change my physical appearance.



As soon as I was dressed, I ran a brush through my thin, blond hair and brushed my teeth before bounding out the door and towards the Denny's on Beach Street. It was about an hour's walk from my house to the Denny's, so I called up a cab. It may have been late, but there was a 24 hour taxi service. I waited a few moments outside before the bright yellow car arrived and I hopped in.



I didn't talk to the taxi driver the entire ride there, and he didn't speak to me. The only contact that we had during the car-drive was the exchange of money from my hand to his. He thanked me, and sped away.



Bright, orange and yellow lights spilled from the Denny's sign overhead. I pulled the door open and stepped inside to see Gavin already seated at a small booth in the far right of the diner. Only one other person was sitting at a table besides him. A man--or at least, I assumed it was a man--sat alone on the other side of the dining room, body covered in a tan trench coat and face shadowed by a large hat. For a moment I imagined that he was a spy, and Gavin and I would witness some kind of secret exchange when his informant came, but I quickly pushed all childish imaginings aside and walked over to sit with Gavin.



"So nice of you to stop by," Gavin grumbled. His black hair was rumpled in the back, sticking up at all kinds of odd angles, and if the bags under his usually happy brown eyes were any indication, he hadn't slept much before coming here to meet me. He hadn't even changed out of his baggy, plaid pajama pants and plain white t-shirt that he slept in.



"I couldn't leave my best friend hanging, now could I?" I grinned and slid into the booth across from him.



"You couldn't just let him sleep either," he complained, mock-glaring at me. Sure, he was upset, but he wasn't mad. He moaned again and let his head slump down onto the table.



"Can I get you guys something to drink?" An elderly woman, with grey hair that curled up about her ears came to a stop in front of our table.



"Your most caffeinated drink for him, and some hot-cocoa for me." I replied, smiling.



She smiled kindly back, and for a moment I felt okay about myself. She wasn't judging me by my looks. "I'll be right back with your drinks."



"I... need... bacon." Gavin mumbled, his voice muffled by the table.



"Well then, get bacon." I laughed, flicking the top of his head. "It's on me."



"It had better be," he said, "Waking me up at three in the freaking morning just to eat breakfast with you... What are we? Fourteen again?"



I smiled at the memory of us sneaking out at night on my fourteenth birthday. He had turned fourteen the day before, and I had insisted that we do something big for 'one of the biggest birthdays of our lives'. He had suggested a party, I had other plans.



"You know you liked going to that park." I scoffed, pushing my pale-blond hair behind my ear. I wrinkled my nose when I noticed Gavin looking at me. "What? Is there something on my face?"



He answered my question by rolling his eyes, "The park was fun, it was what happened afterwards that wasn't the most pleasant experience of my life."



"So Harriett stole your first kiss, big deal." I mimicked his eye-rolling and leaned back in the booth, "It's just a kiss. You're acting like a girl."



"Am not." He pouted, crossing his tanned arms across his chest. I swear, sometimes he didn't even act nineteen; sometimes he seemed like a 13-year-old girl in a man's body.



"Yes, you are, now turn that frown upside-down with this coffee," the elderly woman, whose name tag red 'Claire', declared, sweeping in with our drinks on a small tray. She set the steaming mugs in front of us carefully, then whipped out a pad of paper and pen, "Do you know what you're going to eat?"



"Bacon." Gavin answered immediately after he sipped his coffee. The caffeine hit his system and he perked up a bit. "Lots and lots of bacon."



Wrinkles erupted around the corners of Claire's bright blue eyes as she smiled, "Now here's a man who knows what he wants. You hold onto him, missy. He's a keeper." She winked at me, and I resisted the urge to laugh.



"Gavin is like my older brother, actually," I managed through my fight not to giggle. "But I'll be sure to pass on your advice to his future girlfriend."



"You do that," she said, "Now, what would you like to eat, young lady?"



"I'll just take the classic Grand Slam," I replied, folding my menu up and handing it to her, "You can give Gavin here my bacon."



She laughed as she took our menus into her wrinkled hands, "Just the entire Grand Slam." She shook her head good-naturedly and slipped the pad and pen back into her apron's front pocket. "I'll be sure to do that."



"Thank you," Gavin said as she walked away, then turned back to me. "You're such an amazing best friend, giving me your bacon."



"Eh, you owe me one." I winked at him and laughed at his annoyed expression as he took another large gulp from his coffee.



"You are so buying this meal," he retorted, settling the side of his face into the palm of his hand. "Because I don't have any money on me."



"Nice," I flicked his forehead. "I was paying for it anyways, remember? We talked about this five minutes ago."



"I feel like I woke up five minutes ago," he grumbled.



I shook my head at him and turned to look around the dining room again. It was still empty except for us and the trench-coat man. He had acquired a newspaper and was scanning the headlines. Finding that boring, I moved my gaze all around the room. Yep, still boring.



"Nothing interesting happens around here," I sighed, facing Gavin again.



"Lots of interesting things happen here; but not at four in the freaking morning."



I was going to reply, when my phone buzzed in my pocket. Frowning, I pulled it out, "Who's calling me at four A.M?" I wondered aloud. I hit the 'accept' button and put the phone to my ear, "Hello?"



"Aislyn!" My mom's voice bubbled from the other end. "Where in the world are you? Why aren't you in bed? Are you with Gavin? Please tell me you're with Gavin! You’re not alone, are you? Oh my, I hope you’re not alone!" She paused. "I've got the most fantastic news!" Huzzah for mother-mood-swings.



"At," I glanced at my watch, "4:13?"



"Oh, time doesn't matter, dear, now are you ready to hear what I called you to tell you?"



"Yeah, sure..." I muttered, I was a little apprehensive about this 'most fantastic news'.



"I... have landed you a modeling job!"



"You what?" I gasped in disbelief, my hands flying to my face.



Gavin looked at me in confusion, "What's going on?" he mouthed.



Frowning, I ignored his silent question, "Wait, you did what, Mom?"



"I landed you a modeling job, today at 8 o'clock! Isn't this fantastic?" Even though I couldn't see her, I imagined that she was bouncing up and down, her blonde hair in multi-colored curlers and a funny green paste coating her face.



"Er, yeah, Ma, totally awesome."



Gavin snickered and mimicked 'Draco Malfoy' from 'A Very Potter Musical'.



"Is that it?" I sighed, sinking down into the cushions of the booth.



"Nope! You're grounded."



"Great, thanks, Mom."



"Anytime," and with that, the line went dead.

Gavin and I ate quickly—he practically inhaled his bacon—before Gavin offered to drive me home. I accepted gratefully, and was home before 5:30.



As soon as I walked through the door, my body realized that I hadn’t slept at all. My eyelids quickly grew heavy and I swayed where I stood. I debated whether or not I should take a nap before going to Mom’s modeling agency, but decided that if I did go to sleep I would never wake up in time to get there by 8:00. The prospect of having to go through the day on zero hours of asleep was not appealing.



So, instead of going to sleep, I brewed myself a very large pot of coffee. Yes, not just a cup of coffee, but an entire pot. I was going to need it if I wanted to survive the day. I drank a mug before hopping in the shower, then another after I had gotten dressed. The caffeine made me feel awake, and made me look a bit more so as well, not that looking awake meant beauty. But then, who needed beauty nowadays when there was makeup? I wondered if I needed to do my own makeup before going to the modeling agency, but decided against it; they would probably just take it off and do it for me anyways.



I started to pour myself another mug of coffee after I had checked Facebook and read statuses aimlessly for an hour--my eyelids were starting to droop again, but I didn’t drink it in time, my head slumped down and hit the table and I was down for the count.



--



“Aislyn, if you can hear me, pick up the phone right now!”



My eyes shot open, and my head lifted off of the table momentarily.



“Aislyn Marie Palmin, get your butt to my office right this minute!” My mom’s voice rose in pitch and only then did I realize that I had fallen asleep. I looked around wildly for the time, then gave a little scream when I saw that I was already an hour late. Jumping out of my chair, I grabbed my keys and ran out the door, my hand waving frantically above my head as soon as I exited my neighborhood.



“Taxi!” I shouted, still waving my hand. A small, yellow car stopped in front of me, and I hopped in, saying “Palmin Modeling Agency” breathlessly, before slumping back against the seats, thinking that I really needed a car of my own.



I arrived at the modeling agency at an hour and half later than I should have, and practically ran on and off of the elevator. Gladys, the blonde receptionist, recognized me and didn’t protest when I ran right past her and into my mother’s office.



“Aislyn!” She cried, throwing her manicured hands up in an exasperated gesture, “There you are! Come along, dear, we haven’t any time to waste, we need to get you into Photography immediately!” She didn’t even give me a chance to say ‘hello’ before she was pushing me out of her office and back into the elevator. If I had been Gladys watching what was happening, I would have been laughing.



Throwing a backwards glance over my shoulder, I looked to see if Gladys was doing what I would have been. She was.



I resisted the urge to frown and stick my tongue out at her like I would have done if I was twelve, and allowed my mother to lead me into the elevator. Her long fingers fluttered all over my clothes, hastily straightening my shirt, and adjusting the collar on my button-up shirt. She licked her thumb and was about to wipe off some smudge on my face when I backed away and wiped it off myself. Mom looked up at my hair, and a deep crease appeared between her brows.



“We need to do something about that,” she declared, before raking her fingers through the tangles with surprising force.



“OW!” I protested.



The elevator doors slid open and I hurried out gratefully, if I had stayed one more moment in there, she would have murdered me by brushing my hair.



My mom took the lead and started walking in front of me, her eccentrically purple heels clicking with every rapid step. At the end of a long, white marble hallway, a door stood ajar, and purple and blue lights filtered through the small crack between the door and its frame. Some odd, foreign music was playing, the lyrics unintelligible.



“Okay, now go in there and make them see the wonderful girl you are.” My mom commanded as she adjusted my shirt again and patted my shoulder.



With a slight bitter taste in my mouth, I noticed that she didn’t say “the beautiful girl you are,” but I ignored it and steeled my nerves. Step by step I moved closer to the door, the music getting louder with every step.



Finally, I reached the door and pushed it open. The music was deafening. The room was completely black and blue and purple strobe lights flashed in such a way that couldn’t even be called rhythm. On a starry backdrop, a rail-thin girl struck a pose in some designer’s latest line of clothing. Both young men and women milled around the room, the girls impossibly thin, the boys impossibly attractive, all of them sending me annoyed glances. A few girl turned to each other and began whispering; I paid them no attention, I had already heard it all. A man with a scarf on—it was impossible to tell the color with the lights flashing as they were—seemed to be in charge, so I walked over to him and tapped him lightly on the shoulder.



“Excuse me?”



He turned to look at me, and his eyes widened.



“Oh my sweet pineapples, you must Aislyn Palmin!” He squealed like a little school girl as he put his hands on my shoulders and looked me up and down. “My name is Pierre, Pierre Darling, it’s beautiful to meet you.” He took one of my hands and shook it up and down vigorously. ”Just look at you! You’re absolutely perfect!”



I took a step back in surprise, letting go of his hand simultaneously. “I-I am?”



“Oh, absolutely!” He gushed, “I’m going to have Linc—Linc! Get your attractive butt over here!—I’m going to have Linc show you what to put on and then to the dressing rooms, you get dressed, then come right back out here, you understand? Linc! Hurry up!” I wondered who Linc was, but quickly decided he was probably Pierre’s assistant or some such person.



I didn’t have to wait long to find out who Linc was.



“You called?” Someone asked from behind me in a bored voice.



I froze at the sound of it. It was deep, masculine and British accented, it also sounded like it came from high above me. Suddenly, I felt very intimidated and tiny.



“Yes, take Ms. Palmin here to the clothes rack and get her outfit 27; then take her to the dressing rooms.”



The man behind me sighed heavily, “Alright, come along, Ms. Palmin, let us be off to the clothes rack.” I felt a large, warm hand descend onto my shoulder, and I resisted the urge to squeal in terror.



Instead of squealing, I turned around slowly to face the man with his hand on my shoulder. However, a behemoth of a man did not await me—but that’s not to say that he wasn’t still large.



He towered above me, standing at what I assumed to be at least 6’ 4’’ though he couldn’t have been more than two years older than myself, and his chest, which was at my eye level, was large and broad. His shoulders were wide as well, and again I felt absolutely terrified. I was frozen on the spot; I wouldn’t have been able to move if I wanted to.



“Go on, darling,” Pierre encouraged, nudging me a bit in the small of my back, “Linc doesn’t bite… hard.”



“Hehe,” I laughed nervously, taking one tentative step towards where Linc was extending his arm and then another.



“That’s it!” The man behind me teased happily, “One foot in front of the other.”



“Shut up,” I growled, even though he couldn’t hear me. “I know how to walk.”



Linc didn’t say a word to me as we walked towards the clothing rack, and I didn’t say anything to him. I may not have known him very well, but the silence, despite the music pounding around us, was awkward.



“Here is the clothes rack,” he said emotionlessly in that British accent, “and this is outfit 27.” He thrust clothes into my arms and started to walk away again. “Come along, let’s get the over with.”



I assumed because he had to shout to be heard over the music that I had been meant to hear the last part. I frowned, but followed him.



He led me to a small hallway, far away from the people and blasting music. Both my ears and I gave a sigh of relief as soon as the volume lessened a decibel.



“Go in there and change, I’ll be outside to lead you back.” Again, Linc’s voice was monotone, his accent only adding the slightest bit of inflection.



Nodding, I moved past him and into one of the small, curtained off rooms. I disposed of my previous clothes, and only then did I look at what I had been handed to wear.



It. Was. Hideous.



The shirt was an olive green color and large, orange shapes littered the torso while the long, bell-shaped sleeves were blank. Paired with them was a pair of bright pink leggings, triangles cut out along the sides from the knees down.



Grimacing, I pulled the outfit on and grudgingly exited the dressing room. Linc was leaning back against the wall. When he saw me, his eyes widened and I could have sworn a smirk flashed across his face before it again became blank and expressionless.



“Let’s go, then.” He said, gesturing for me to follow him. I left my clothes in the dressing room and followed him back into the dark room.



I began to make my way back to Pierre, when a few female models nearby caught sight of me and began to laugh. I grit my teeth and tried to ignore them, but when they started to make fun of me, many of my bad memories began to flood my mind.



“Who let the clown in?” One girl asked as she looked me up and down, sneering.



“Looks like the ugly bus missed a person,” another said.



As calm as I tried to remain, I couldn’t help the twisting feeling in the pit of my stomach. I recognized it immediately for what it was: fear. With renewed vigor, I walked towards Pierre much more quickly than I had been before. When he caught sight of me, he gasped and covered his mouth with his hand.



“Aislyn, love, what on earth are you wearing?” He moved around me quickly in a circle, looking me up and down in horror. “Who gave you that… that horrendous thing to wear?”



“He--he said it was outfit 27…” I stuttered, trying to comprehend what he had just said.



Linc had given me the wrong thing? What was wrong with him? I didn’t even know him!



“Honey, outfit 27 is most definitely not that thing you’re wearing. I didn’t even design that monstrosity. I would be ashamed if I had.”



Hot tears sprang to my eyes and I fought them back, not wanting to show how upset I was. “W-will you show me the real outfit 27 then?” I asked.



Pierre’s expression softened and he placed a consoling hand on my arm, “Of course, darling.” He led me to the clothes rack and pulled out a beautiful violet, halter-neck dress. “This is outfit 27.”



“And you’re not worthy of wearing it.” A female model sneered from behind me. “What the heck kind of person would let a thing like you wear such a beautiful dress?” I whirled around to see a girl with an uncanny resemblance to the curly-haired girl on the playground those many years ago. “Stay in that ugly outfit you’re in now,” she smiled sweetly. “It suits you.”



As strong as I tried to be, I crumbled. Before they could see my tears, I ran from the room, not once looking back.

If you have ever felt worthless, hated, and ugly then you know what I was going through while I hid in the curtained off dressing rooms, tears streaming down my face. My pitiful attempts to quiet my sobs only made them come out like a strangled hiccup. I may not have had many in my life, but this certainly was not an attractive moment for me.



When I heard shoes clacking against the pure, white tile, I panicked. I scurried over to a small, cream colored bench that hung on the side of the thick, dressing room wall. I set myself on it as silently as I could, and pulled my knees up to my chest so that whoever walked by wouldn’t be able to see my legs. In order to silence myself, I regulated my breathing; taking air in deeply and letting it out very slowly.



The footsteps moved past, and I let out a sigh of relief; but I was relieved too soon. The breath came out as a ragged hiccup, and the clacking sound of the shoes on tile stopped ten feet away. My heart-rate increased at the thought of being discovered in this embarrassing situation, so I curled into an even tighter ball.



Big mistake.



The bench creaked underneath me, and if my hiccup hadn’t alerted whoever was in the room to where I was, then the loud squeak definitely had.



Slowly, but surely, the footsteps made their way back towards my booth. They seemed to stop every three steps, so I assumed that the person was checking each and every stall.



I saw no other option than to be discovered, and the very thought made my stomach twist in outrage. I may have run away, fighting tears, but my pride wouldn’t let me give in to be found looking like a small child whose toy had been taken away by a bully. Summoning the last of my dignity, and holding onto whatever scraps of self-esteem I had left, I sat straight up and raked my fingers through my hair quickly, wiped my face of my tears, and did my best to make myself look at least a bit more presentable.



The feet stopped in front of my room. I could see the person’s shoes peeping out from below the curtains. Men’s shoes. He seemed to be hesitating, like he knew I was in here and was not very keen about finding me. I heard him take a deep breath, and a hand reached into the curtains and pushed them back.



Linc stepped into the small room as soon as he saw me, his face as blank as a sheet of paper. That made me angry; how dare he not care about what he had done? How dare he humiliate me like that and then waltz into here showing absolutely no sign of emotion? I wanted to stand up and push him out of my way and make a dramatic, almost theatrical exit.



I stood to do just that—and managed to trip over myself and slam right into him. He grunted, but didn’t fall down. Long, strong fingers wrapped themselves around my arms and set me upright. My face burned from the intensity of the blush that was spreading itself across my face, and I quickly realized that whatever dignity and pride I had left had just been scattered in the wind.



Grimacing, I pulled myself out of his grasp and tried to move past him, only to notice that his large frame was completely blocking the exit.



“Move,” I growled, glaring up into surprisingly intense green eyes.



If I had been in a cheesy romance novel, I would have gotten caught in the beautiful emerald green and my anger would have dissolved. For a moment, I was captivated by the intense grassy color, but my anger did not dissolve. Instead, the beauty of his eyes only made my fury that much more intense. It made me mad that a man was more beautiful than I was.



“Move,” I demanded again, prepared to shove him out of my way if I needed to.



He didn’t say a word, but inclined his head slightly and moved aside, his hands gesturing towards the outside. “Of course, your majesty,” he mocked in that infuriatingly beautiful British accent. Even his voice was more beautiful than mine! I was halfway out of the hall of small changing rooms when he added something on, “Just know that I will never try to apologize to you again.”



I hesitated for a moment; did I want him to apologize? I turned back to look at him, one eyebrow arched. “Apologize?”



Linc moved out of the dressing room, the red, velvet curtains brushing his dark brown hair back momentarily before it settled perfectly back into place. “Obviously,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Why on earth would I have followed you in here otherwise?”



I had no answer for him; I didn’t even know that he had followed me in here.



“You followed me?” I snorted, “What the heck are you? A stalker?” Definitely not one of my best come-backs, but under the circumstances, I thought it was pretty good.



“Would you like an apology or not, Ms. Palmin?” He sighed, words rolling smoothly off his tongue and sounding sweeter than honey. I wondered how many times he had practiced it on other people to make it sound so sickeningly perfect.



“That really depends; will it be sincere?”



“The sincerest.” He assured, dipping his head again.



Liar, ran through my head.



“I’m not completely devoid of gentlemanly tendencies, you know,” Linc commented casually; leaning back against a wall, arms crossed over his chest. “It’s not just my accent you American women find charming.”



I frowned at his arrogance, “Who would ever find you charming?” I sneered; I may not have known him any longer than an hour but he already seemed to found all the wrong buttons to push on me. He irritated me to an extent which I couldn’t believe.



“Shall I list them alphabetically or in order of attractiveness?” He smirked, “If it is to be the latter, then you are definitely at the top of the list.” Linc made a great show of looking me up and down, and I would have been flattered if I hadn’t known it was an outright lie.



“Stop lying through your teeth and just get the dang apology over with already.” I groaned, pinching the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger and closing my eyes. I was worn out from arguing with him and my crying bout and I still had to report back to Pierre for the real outfit 27 photo-shoot.



When I reopened my eyes, Linc was surprisingly close. He was standing about a foot away from me, and yet, I could still feel the heat radiating off of him and could smell his scent. “Ms. Palmin,” he began, softly at first, but as he continued his voice rose in volume, “you have my very deepest and most sincere apologies. Could you ever find it in your being to forgive me?” Okay, so maybe I could understand why others could find him charming. “If your heart is as beautiful as your exterior, the forgiveness that I seek should not be hard to find.” And his ‘charming’ status has been replaced by ‘liar’ again.



“I’ll think about it,” I replied, a little too haughtily than necessary, and moved back into the dark room with pounding music.



As I walked away I could have sworn I heard him laughing.



~~



“Aislyn! Darling! There you are!” Pierre shouted over the blaring music, “Come along, get yourself onto the backdrop.” He pushed me onto a plain, black backdrop, and as I stumbled snapped a picture. “Gorgeous, love, gorgeous. Act natural, don’t seem stiff! We want to capture your natural beauty, love, not the stiff, posing you! Just act like I’m not even here!”



Yeah, right. I thought, Kinda hard to ignore you when your camera’s flash is blinding me every five seconds.



Pierre snapped what seemed like another thousand pictures before letting camera settle against his chest, the thick, black plastic contraption hanging from his neck by a strap. I thought we were finished and made to evacuate the backdrop so that the next model could come on; but Pierre frowned and put me back to where I was. “You stay there, I’m not finished with you yet.” He looked back over his shoulder and beckoned to someone who I couldn’t see because of the blinding lights surrounding me. “Linc, get yourself over here!”



Oh. Crap.



Reassuring myself that Linc was just Pierre’s assistant, I tried to calm myself down. There was no way he was a model… There was just no way.



“Put your arms around Aislyn.” Pierre commanded, waving the tall brunette over to me.



He must have been just as enthusiastic about this arrangement as I was, because as he walked over to me to put his arms around my shoulders, his face was twisted up into a very unattractive grimace. His long arms wrapped around my waist, and I had to restrain myself from squirming out of his grasp.



No one had ever done something like that before, and his touch felt foreign and uncomfortable. I wanted to run away from him, rid my skin of the sensation of his touch. He must have noticed my discomfort because he frowned down at me, “Don’t think this is a rose-garden for me either, Ms. Palmin.”



“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I muttered, grudgingly following Pierre’s shouted order to wrap my arms around Linc’s neck like we were dancing. I did it stiffly and probably looked more like a mannequin that an actual person.



“No, no, no, no, loosen up, Aislyn! Loosen up!” Pierre practically screeched, arms flailing above his head like the inflatable men in front of car dealerships.



“Yes, Ms. Palmin, loosen up; this is like hugging a wooden board.” Linc teased, one corner of his mouth lifting in a half-smile.



“Better than hugging a jellyfish.” I retorted, though I did let myself relax just a bit; just enough to look a little less like a plastic person and a little more like a living, breathing human being. I wasn’t sure if it worked well.



“Touché,” Linc chuckled, pulling me a bit closer to himself according to Pierre’s loud instruction.



I squirmed a little bit again, and my face must have been one of pure revulsion because Pierre came running over, “Aislyn, darling, you’re supposed to look in love. In love, Aislyn. Not like you’re constipated.”



Linc laughed loudly at Pierre’s imagery, and, for the second time that day, my cheeks were on fire. “S-sorry,” I said, looking down, my thin, blond hair hiding my face from view.



“That’s perfect!” Pierre shrieked. “Hold that, right there!” He ran back to where he had been standing before and snapped a series of photos, the flash not blinding me this time through my curtain of hair. “Such innocence! It’s beautiful!”



Pierre had us pose in multiple other ways: me sitting, and Linc towering behind me; Linc holding me in his arms as I pretended to laugh at his antics. I don’t think neither Linc nor I were very happy about the arrangement, but we continued on like we didn’t mind it.



The level of insincerity in the room was sickening.



When we were finally done, I couldn’t have been more relieved. Pierre shooed me away, and Linc hurried away out of sight. I let out a sigh as soon as I was out of the dress and safely back in the elevator going to my mother’s office. Pierre had asked me to come back again tomorrow to model another few outfits; I had told him that I would think about it.



I had promised myself that I would never go back after that horrific experience, but a feeling deep in the base of my gut let me know that I most definitely was going back.

“He did what?” Gavin asked, his jaw setting and eyes going hard. I was telling him about Linc’s little prank and he wasn’t taking it very well. “What’s this guy’s name again? I need to find him and punch his pretty little face in.”



“Don’t do that!” I protested, stopping dead in my tracks on the sidewalk. Gavin stopped a few steps away and turned to look at me, his dark eyebrows furrowed together.



“Why the heck not?” He demanded, fists clenching at his sides.



I looked over to my right, where a multitude of cars were going down the crookedest street. “Well, he apologized. That’s got to count for something, right?” I wasn’t sure if I was convincing him of that or myself. “Look, the guy was probably just having a bad day.” My arms moved up and down as I shrugged, and Gavin’s frown fell from his face.



“If he ever does something like that again, I want you to tell me so that I can beat the snot out of him.” He looked me in the eye and stuck his fist out, his pinky extended. “Promise?”



I giggled at the puerility of his ‘pinky-promise’ but looped my pinky around his and shook anyways. “Promise,” a smile spread across Gavin’s face, lighting all of his features up. “So where are we going anyways?” I asked, as we resumed our walking down the steep, San Francisco street.



“I want you to meet someone.” He said, but didn’t explain further.



We walked in silence until we reached a little café about a block down from the Denny’s we had eaten at just that morning. It was a cute little eatery, with a sea-foam green striped sun-shade that hung over the door and huge glass windows that took up most of the wall that faced the street. A young woman who seemed to be in her very early twenties was the only diner.



We stopped in front of the large window, and Gavin peeked into the window nervously at the young woman.



“Who is she?” I asked, “You’re not stalking her, are you?”



“What? “ Gavin cried, “Of course I’m not stalking her! Are you crazy?” He sighed and rolled his eyes at my question. “That’s Adriana, we’re dating.”



My eyebrows shot up, “And I’m here…why?” I didn’t want to be dragged on one of their dates. Talk about being a third wheel…



“You’re going to help me break up with her.” He stated calmly and casually.



If my eyebrows went any higher they would indistinguishable from the rest of my hair, “Break up with her? Why? She looks nice.”



“Yeah. Exactly. She’s a little too nice. She’s constantly asking if she can come over and do my laundry and clean my apartment… I’m going to go crazy if I stay in the relationship any longer.”



“Who the heck asks their boyfriend if they can do his laundry?” I asked, wrinkling my nose. “That just seems weird.”



“Yeah, it is.” He agreed, glancing back at the girl inside. “So will you help me?”



“I don’t know…” I didn’t particularly like the idea of helping Gavin break up with his girlfriend. “What do you want me to do, exactly?”



“You don’t have to act like my girlfriend or anything… just… Well… you’re a girl. So you’ll be able to tell me if she’s about to rip my face off and feed it to her cat or something, won’t you?”



“Er… I don’t know where the heck you got that from, but sure, maybe.” I conceded, nodding my head.



“Then that’s all I want you to do.” He explained, putting his hands on my shoulders . “You game?”



I smiled wryly. “I’m game.”



He nodded and we moved towards the door. He pulled it open and we stepped into the air-conditioned interior.



As soon as she caught sight of Gavin, the girl near the window brightened noticeably. I cringed inwardly at what we were about to do. Gavin walked over to her and she eagerly scooted over on her booth so that he could sit next to her. He sat on the other side.



“Adriana, this is Aislyn. Aislyn, Adriana.” She looked at me for a moment but did nothing but look genuinely confused as to why I was there. Something told me that she wouldn’t be very happy when she found out.



“Nice to meet you,” I murmured, taking a seat next to Gavin.



She just nodded again.



Gavin set his hands on the table, fingers locked together. He looked directly at Adriana and spoke quickly and clearly, “This isn’t working out.”



Adriana leaned back in her seat, her blond eyebrows furrowing together. “What do you mean, it isn’t working out?”



“I mean…”



“Does this have something to do with the ugly witch sitting next to you?” She sneered, not taking into consideration that I was not three feet away from her and could hear every word.



Beside me, Gavin’s fingers separated and curled into a fist, the muscles in his forearm tensing visibly. “This has nothing to do with Aislyn, leave her out of it.”



“Are you seriously dumping me for that revolting thing?” She continued on. Her words hurt, and for the second time in less than four hours I felt my self-esteem withering away. “You’re dumber than I thought you were.”



“Insult me all you want, but stop making comments about Aislyn!” Gavin growled. “This has nothing to do with her or any other girl. It’s about you and me.”



“Yeah right.” She scoffed. “What boy in their right mind would leave me?” She tossed perfect, blond ringlets over shoulder and I was reminded of the classic queen bee in high-school; the kind that’s talked about in teenager’s novels. I almost grinned at the comparison. “What the heck are you smiling for, troll?” She scorned, “Finally figure out the second letter of the alphabet?”



Gavin bolted to his feet beside me and moved a bit closer to me, “Leave her out of this!” He shouted into her face. “I’m breaking up with you, you brainless toad. Now get it through your thick skull and shut the crapafrat up!”



Adriana moved back, looking stunned.



“Gavin,” I murmured, tugging on his sleeve.



“Hm?” He grunted, still glaring at Adriana.



“I’m going to, er, go to the bathroom.”



He nodded briefly and I stood and left the two of them alone. I didn’t want to be there when Adriana blew up in his face.



My day had been unreal thus far. From modeling a gorgeous dress to helping my best friend break up with his girlfriend…I just couldn’t wrap my head completely around it. Everyone was acting like they were characters in some lame teen-fiction book.



From inside the bathroom, I could hear Adriana and Gavin shouting at each other. The walls muffled the words, making it impossible to make out what they were saying, but they certainly had volume. When they had quieted down a little bit, I decided that it would be safe to come out. I opened the door cautiously, poking my head out first to see if the coast was clear.



Gavin sat alone at the table, his dark head in his hands. Adriana was nowhere to be seen, so I assumed that she had left. I walked cautiously over to Gavin and sat opposite him.



“Hey,” I said, “Everything alright?”



His brown eyes met mine, “I’m so sorry about that,” he said quietly.



I waved my hand, as if dismissing the subject. “It’s fine.” He knew it wasn’t fine.



“No. It’s not ‘fine’. My ex—who hadn’t known you for five minutes, might I add—just blew up in your face. That’s not ‘fine’.”



“Calm down, Gavin,” I soothed, surprised that she had gotten him so riled up. “You and I both know that I’ve heard worse.”



His head dropped back into his arms, “That doesn’t make it okay.”



I nodded, conceding the point, “No, but I’m nineteen. I can handle myself. You didn’t need to get so worked up.”



“I was only defending you,” he mumbled. “I thought girls liked chivalry.”



I laughed, “Yeah, they do. But I’m not a girl, remember? I’m a troll.”



Gavin snorted, “Not funny, Ais.”



“It was a little funny, and you know it.” I stated firmly, taking a piece of hair from over my shoulder and playing with it. “What are you going to do now that that’s over with?”



He sighed and lifted his head, propping it up with one of his hands. “I really don’t know, actually. Stupid relationships… Why do they never work out for me?”



He was right. Relationships never worked for him. In the ninth grade he had asked out a sophomore. He had taken her to homecoming where he all he did was talk to me and she dumped her punch on his head. In our junior year, he had taken a girl named Cindy Poule to the prom. She had abandoned him before the night was up.



“I don’t know, Gav.” I mimicked his posture and plopped my face into one of my hands.



“What kind of girl wouldn’t want to date this beautiful specimen of a man?” He complained, “I’m a stud-muffin.”



“Don’t be vain, stud-muffin. It doesn’t suit you.” I teased, poking his arm.



“It’s not vanity if it’s true.”



“And this is vanity.”



“Ouch, Ais, that hurts,” he declared, placing his left hand on his chest over his heart. “You owe me a birthday present and now you’re insulting me. What kind of best-friend are you?”



“The kind that will never get you a birthday present if you don’t buy her a smoothie.” I grinned, spying a little mini-menu near the salt-and-pepper shakers.



Gavin rolled his eyes, “I owe you nothing. If anything you owe me. I woke up and drove to Denny’s at three in the morning just to see you.”



“Aw, I love you too, Gav!” I cooed. Quickly, I grabbed the mini-menu and shoved it into his face. “Now buy me a smoothie.”



“Fine, fine, I’ll buy you a smoothie.” He groaned, grabbing the menu and putting it back on the table. “What kind do you want?”



“Banana-strawberry!” I replied gleefully.



He stood and started walking over to the counter where you were supposed to order.



“You’re the best!” I shouted at his back.



“Yeah, yeah…” he returned, waving his hand.



I smiled and let my head fall onto the table, my eyes closed. It was only about three in the afternoon and it had already been a ridiculously long day. I wasn’t sure if I would be able to last any longer.



I heard Gavin sit back down and say, “A waiter will come and give us our smoothies when they’re done” and nodded my head wearily.



“Your insane sleeping habits finally catching up to you?” Gavin asked, a smirk apparent in his voice.



“Shut up,” I grumbled. “I’ll have you know that my sleeping habits are perfectly sane, and they will thank you not to insult them like that.”



“They might not be insane but with the way you’re talking about them, you have yet to convince me that you are not.”



I wanted to lift my head up so that I would have better aim when I smacked his arm, but I was too tired to do so. “It’s not nice to hit a girl when she’s down.” I settled for reminding him.



“And it’s not nice to say that I’m not a sexy beast of a stud-muffin.” He said smugly.



“But you’re not a sexy beast of a stud-muffin… You’re… You’re Adonis reincarnated.”



“That’s more like it.” Gavin said. I imagined that his head had just increased about ten hat sizes. “Go on.”



“Male models all over the world wish that they had your looks, and girls cry at night knowing that they can’t have you.” I almost laughed saying that. The only girl that had ever cried over Gavin was his little sister when she thought he was deathly ill. All he had done was sneeze.



“You embarrass me.” He said, though the tone of his voice suggested otherwise.



I lifted my head and leaned back in my seat, just getting warmed up. “Robert Pattinson’s got nothing on you.”



“Darn right he doesn’t.” Gavin laughed. We both knew that I thought Robert Pattinson wasn’t very attractive.



“Edward, no matter how much he sparkles, can’t get Bella to come back to him because she’s too busy drooling over you.”



“Edward is a glittering fairy princess.” He stated firmly, nodding his head to let me know to continue.



“When you walk down the street, paparazzi think you’re famous because someone with your level of attractiveness couldn’t possibly be an innocent civilian.”



“True.” Gavin started to stroke an imaginary beard as he listened to my mocking praise.



“And Linc couldn’t hold a candle to you,” I finished, feeling proud of myself for thinking up such amazing compliments. I could be quite the sweet-talker if I wanted to.



“I have no idea who Linc is, but I’ll take it. Ooh! And here are the smoothies!”



A young red-headed woman set our smoothies in front of us then walked away before we could even thank her. Shrugging, I grabbed my straw and took it out of its paper wrapper. I blew the paper at Gavin and missed; the scrap of paper landed in his smoothie.



“Thanks for that,” he scoffed, picking the paper out of his smoothie with his nose wrinkled.



“Quite welcome.” I took a sip out of my smoothie and melted.



“Don’t go all jelly-Aislyn on me now,” Gavin teased, poking me in the leg with his shoe. “Can’t have the screaming masses of girls thinking you’re my girlfriend and wanting you dead.”



“Oh no,” I rolled my eyes, “Can’t have that. How horrible would that be? They just received news that you’re available; we can’t have them thinking that you cheated on your girlfriend with me.”



He grunted but said nothing. He was too busy slurping his drink.



“So who is this Linc dude anyways?” Gavin asked, as soon as he paused gulping down his smoothie to talk to me.



“Just one of the guys that I met while modeling for Pierre,” I said casually.



“He attractive?”



“He’s the most attractive guy I know besides you,” winking, I took another sip of my banana-strawberry masterpiece.



His nose wrinkled, “In all seriousness, Ais, is he ‘hot’?”



“Why? You interested?”



Gavin’s face scrunched up into a very unattractive grimace, “No, of course not. It’s just a question.”



I looked at him, and took a taste of my drink again. “If you’re so curious, come see for yourself. I’m supposed to be going back tomorrow. You can meet him then.”



“For reals?” He asked, excited.



“For reals.”



Suddenly, the prospect of going back didn’t seem so bad.

“Get out of my way, pig-face.”That same brunette girl with the perfect ringlets, Michelle, sneered, pushing me roughly out of her way as I walked down the hallway towards my class. I didn't fight back, I just let myself stumble. I had long ago learned that fighting back only brought on more trouble. It was better to be submissive. The taunting didn't last quite as long that way.





“Why do you let her push you around like that?” The voice startled me and I looked up, momentarily stunned.





A boy stood in front of me. His skin was lightly tanned and his deep, ebony hair was cut in a messy, boyish fashion. What struck me the most was his warm, open brown eyes. They just stared straight at me with a sweet innocence.





“Why do you let her push you around like that?” The boy repeated, his dark brows furrowing over his beautiful eyes.





I shrugged and said nothing, then kept walking down the hallway, my books clutched tightly to my chest.





I had expected never to see the boy again, but my expectations were met. At lunch that day, he sat at my usually empty table and ate his lunch in silence with me. He was in two of my classes, and sat next to me in both of them, saying nothing the entire class period.





At the end of the day, Michelle caught up to me and shoved me out of her way again. Again, I did nothing. The brown-eyed boy did, however.





“Don't do that!” He shouted, taking me by my shoulders and pushing me behind him. He was puffing his scrawny little chest out, and his small hands were clenched into fists at his sides. “Leave her alone!”





Michelle took a step back, clearly surprised that a small boy like the one in front of me had the audacity to stand up to her. She quickly regained her composure, though, and turned her attention to the brave boy protecting me.“Lookee here, pig-face has gotten herself a boyfriend.” She laughed meanly, but no one laughed along with her, something that fazed her a bit. “What's your name, Squirt?”





The boy ignored her, but stayed where he was.





“Move out of the way, Tiny.”Michelle growled, poking him in his thin chest.





“Make me.” He hissed back with just as much venom.





Michelle, in the end, didn't make him move, but gave in. Shrugging, she moved away, and walked down the steps.





“Thank you,” I whispered from behind him, and he turned to look at me, a huge smile lighting up his face.





“You're welcome,” he hugged me quickly, then pulled back, blushing, and scampered away.





“Wait!” I called after him.





He stopped for a moment and looked back at me. “What?”





“What's your name?”





The boy grinned at me and made quite a show of bowing gallantly. “Sir Gavin Vice at your service, madam.”





When I woke up, I was still smiling from dreaming about the day Gavin and I had first met.





From that day onward, we were the best of friends. He was only one day older than me, a fact that he never failed to rub in my face, so we celebrated every year after that together. Most of the friends that came to the parties were his, but through him I made friends with a delightful girl known as Cherie. She had beautiful skin the color of chocolate, and deep black hair that hung down to her shoulders in tight, black curls.





The three of us were inseparable, until Cherie died. She had been walking home from one of our birthday parties when a drunk driver hit her. She was only ten when it happened. I blamed myself for her death.





“Good morning, sleepy head,” my mom greeted as I walked into the kitchen to eat some breakfast. She was sitting in the breakfast nook, a cup of coffee in her hands and a sketch-pad in front of her with an unfinished design sitting on it.



“Morning, Mom,” I replied, pulling out a bowl and some cereal. I had gone shopping the day before for suitable young-adult food; I had refused to eat the odd, health food that my mom’s pantry and refrigerator were stocked with.



“What are your plans for the day, dear?” She asked, setting down her mug, and tucking a blond curl behind her ear.



“I really don’t know, did you have something in mind?” Apprehensively, I set my bowl down on the table across from her, and retrieved a spoon from a nearby drawer.



“Well, I thought today would be the perfect day for us to catch up a little bit, you know, have some mother-daughter bonding time.”



“Er, sounds good.” I agreed, shoving a spoonful of Cinnamon Toast Crunch into my mouth. “What exactly did you want to do?”



A mischievous smile played about the corners of her lips as she said, “Shopping!”



--



We had only been through one store and I had already tried on at least seven different outfits. As soon as we entered a store, my mother rushed straight for the clothing racks and pulled article after article of clothing out. She then paired them with different things, shoved them into my arms, and shooed me off to the dressing rooms to try them all on. By the time I had gone through the ones she had given me at first, she had an entirely new pile for me.



“I like that one,” she declared, her finger tapping her pursed lips thoughtfully. “Blue is definitely your color.”



My mouth twisted a bit as I smoothed out the ruffles that decorated the front of the dress. “I also look like a very odd bird.”



“You don’t look like a bird!” She protested, throwing her hands up into the air dramatically as she rolled her eyes. “But if you really insist, I’ll find something different.”



I nodded once and disappeared back into the dressing room to change back into my t-shirt and jeans. Grabbing all the clothes and putting them back on their hangers took much longer than expected. I had hoped that I would have been able to escape before my mom came back with a whole different wave of outfits, but it wasn’t meant to be. I had just exited the small room when she came back in.



“I’ll trade you,” she said sweetly, taking the hangers from my arms and setting the fresh outfits into them.



Groaning, I returned to the dressing room. I pulled the first piece of clothing off of the hanger and pulled it on. It was a dress, knee-length and strapless, whose shady, black color contrasted sharply with my skin-tone.



I stepped out of the room and instead of meeting only my mother’s blue eyes, a second pair awaited me. Vivid, feeling-less, green eyes.



I almost bolted back into the dressing room, but restrained myself, instead averting my gaze from Linc to look directly at my mother.



“You look absolutely stunning!” She gushed, running over to me in her sparkling ballet flats. “Twirl for a moment.”



I obliged and the skirt flared out.



“Oh, it’s absolutely perfect! Just magnificent!” Mom clapped her hands together repeatedly as she continued to stare at me with a child’s enthusiasm. “You’re going to look so beautiful!”



Surprised by that last bit of information, I asked her to elaborate, “What do you mean? Am I going somewhere?”



Mother looked back at Linc, a confused expression plastered across her face, “Did you not tell her?”



Linc’s handsome face remained emotionless as he shook his head ‘no’.



“Well of all the—“ She cut herself off and turned back to me, “Pierre is hosting a party tonight. And you’re wearing that dress.”



“And Linc was supposed to tell me this, because…?”



Finally, the young man stepped forward, “Because, Ms. Palmin, I am to be your escort.”



“M-my escort?” I stuttered, suddenly feeling rather weak in the knees.



He inclined his dark head slightly to the side, “Of sorts, I am to make sure you don’t do anything idiotic.”



I frowned, “I’m not going to do anything idiotic!”



“Pierre and your mother seem to think otherwise.” He replied smoothly.



“My mother?” I turned to look at the woman in question with accusing eyes. “I will not do anything idiotic!”



“Not on purpose, of course. But, dear, you do sometimes act a bit…rough around the edges.”



“What’s that supposed to mean?” I demanded in disbelief. My own mother thought I would do something to embarrass myself.



“Do you remember that one time at Cherie’s ninth birthday party?” My mother asked serenely, “You thought that you were supposed to pin the tail on the actual donkey.”



“M-mom!” I protested, my cheeks flaring red. “That was ten years ago!”



“You can never be too careful,” she returned, shrugging. “If it makes you feel any better, I have invited Gavin to come along.”



“Well, can he be my escort?” I pleaded, ready to fall onto my knees and beg if I needed to.



“Don’t be absurd, Lyn, darling!” She laughed, “Gavin is just as bad as you are! Linc here is to keep both of you ruffians in check.”



“Good to know that you trust me…” I grumbled, arms falling limply at my sides as I walked back into the dressing room to change into the next dress.



“Don’t bother trying on the next ones!” My mother called to me, “Just keep that black one and hand the others back out to me.”



Sighing, I pulled the dresses off of the small hook I had hung them on and tossed their skirts over the door to my mother. I then shimmied out of the black dress and redressed into my usual outfit.



When I reemerged, my mother was nowhere to be found, but Linc remained.



“Why are you here?” I groaned, settling the dress’ hanger onto my forearm.



“It’s lovely to see you too, Ms. Palmin,” Linc grunted in a teasing way, his British accent making my name sound much more dignified than I was used to hearing. “But if you must know, I am here to assist your mother.”



“My mother requires your assistance?” I asked, blinking.



“No…” He answered slowly, “But that is what she hired me for.”



“She hired a male model to be her assistant?”



“More or less.”



“Interesting,” I deadpanned.



“Quite.” He replied stiffly.



“I have cupcakes!” My mother sang from outside the dressing rooms. How she managed to find cupcakes in a clothing store, I will never know, but her outburst earned her a smile from both Linc and I.



“Cupcakes?” He asked, a small smile lifting one corner of his mouth.



I shrugged, “I have no idea.”



We left the dressing rooms, me a little less uneasy about Linc, and he with a uncharacteristic smile plastered across his face.

As soon as we ran into my mother, she shoved a cupcake into Linc’s face—frosting and all, grabbed the black dress from my arms, then shooed us out the door so that we could get to the agency for that day’s photo shoot. Linc wasn’t very happy about the frosting on his face and didn’t try to hide that fact as we exited the store and made our way to his car.

Once we started driving, he steadied the steering wheel with one hand, and used the other to wipe the sugary goodness off of his face, and I whipped out my phone to call Gavin.

“You have reached a stud-muffin,” he greeted after three rings.

“Hey, stud-muffin,” Linc’s eyebrows shot up at that, “you still coming to the agency today?”

On the other end of the line, I heard Gavin groan and I imagined that he had just run a hand down his face. “That was today… crud.”

I laughed, “I’m going to assume from the ‘crud’ that you’re not coming.”

“I’m really sorry, Ais.” He said, his voice full of remorse, “Rain check?”

“It’s cool, you’ll just owe me big time.”

“Slave for life?”

“You know it!”

We both started laughing, “I’ll talk to you later, Ais,” Gavin said between chuckles.

“See ya,” I punched the ‘end call’ button, and put my phone back in my pocket.

Linc looked at me sideways, his mouth twisted into a confused pout, “Stud-muffin?” His accent paired with the utter bewilderment in his voice made the term sound even more comical when he said it than it had to begin with.

“Stud-muffin.” I reiterated, nodding my head in affirmation.

“What on earth is a stud-muffin?” He asked, turning to fix his eyes back on the road.

I began to tap my chin with my forefinger as I tried to find the best way to describe it to him, “A stud-muffin is… uh…” I racked my brain for any British slang I could possibly use as an equivalent but came up completely blank. “A stud-muffin is a very attractive guy.”

“Uh huh…” One of Linc’s eyebrows remained higher than the other, but he didn’t say anything else.

An awkward silence descended on us, only broken by the steady blowing of the air-conditioner. It was set on its coldest temperature and highest blow-rate. As you can imagine, it was getting colder in the car by the second.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Linc clench his jaw, almost as if he were steeling himself against the cold. Smirking a bit to myself, I thought Wimp, just as a shiver tore down my spine. His usually straight mouth twisted into a smirk of its own and I frowned. Wrapping my forearms around myself, I attempted to keep as much body heat as I could. If he wasn’t going to lower the amount of air flowing out of the vents then neither would I. Beside me, Linc pulled his elbows in closer to himself and it looked like he started to regulate his breathing.

I refused to reach out and turn the one little dial; I wouldn’t lose this silent competition… I wouldn’t.

--

Five minutes later we arrived at the agency and climbed out of the car. I had successfully refrained from raising the temperature and I was actually rather proud of myself. Linc hadn’t given in either, and he seemed a bit proud as well. Freezing, granted, stiff as well, but proud.

We smiled a bit at each other as we walked into the building, knowing that the only reason one had been stubborn was because of the other.

Once we reached the dark room, Pierre hurried over to us. When he took our cold state in, his thin, perfectly groomed eyebrows shot up into his hairline.

“The two of you look like you just got in from wrestling polar bears in the Arctic,” he rattled off quickly, while sorting through a rack of clothes for us to model. “What on earth were you two doing?”

Both Linc and I opened our mouths to speak, but Pierre cut us off, “Oh, nevermind, it doesn’t really matter anyways. Put these on, then come back here, quickly! Quickly!” With those last words he turned on his heel and ran off somewhere else, arms flailing over his head while he screeched orders to random people in the room.

I bustled off towards the women’s dressing rooms, and Linc disappeared into an identical hall where I assumed the men’s changing stalls were located. I changed outfit in record time, throwing on the loose-fitting shirt and constricting pants in record time, then hastened back out to find Pierre.

He was standing in front of a zany backdrop, jumping about like a madman flashing pictures every few seconds. In front of him, a scarily thin young woman posed. She was tall and thin as a rail, I was certain that if I could have seen her torso I would have been able to count each and every rib. I grimaced at the thought and ran my hand over my own not-so-perfect torso. I wasn’t fat, but I wasn’t exactly thin—according to modeling standards anyways. The young woman in front of me portrayed the perfect specimen of beauty and I wondered why on earthy Pierre would want to hire me at all when he could have another sickly thin woman modeling his clothes.

Just as I finished thinking those things, Pierre ushered the thin woman off of the backdrop and shoved me roughly on to it. He snapped a picture of me stumbling, then began hopping around me like a bird on drugs, taking pictures in rapid succession as I struggled to keep up with him.

“Linc!” He crowed finally, gesturing at the tall, handsome Brit. “Get on there!” I made to move off of the background to make room for the man, but Pierre pushed me back in place, “Ah, ah, ah, I’m not done with you yet, missy. You stay right where you are.” Placing his soft, white hands on my shoulders, he pushed me down so that I fell onto my hind end on the ground with a soft thud. He then moved on to position Linc the way he wanted him.

More blinding flashes of light ensued.

Several pictures later, Linc and I were still on the backdrop, but now posed in the most bizarre positions imaginable. Link stood behind me, balancing on one foot as his arms stretched out on either side of him, almost as if he were pirouetting. I was posed like a yoga enthusiast, balancing on only one hand and one foot, the others raised up towards the sky. Linc’s knee was resting on the small of my back, pushing me ever so slightly forwards so that I can to concentrate extra-hard to make sure that I didn’t fall over flat on my face.

“Linc, don’t look so grumpy, you look fantastic!” Pierre shouted over the music thumping around us.

“Yeah, Linc. Don’t you feel pretty?” My little jab at his ballerina-like pose only made the crease between his eyes grow deeper and he scowled down at me darkly.

“Tread carefully, Ms. Palmin, I may just lose my balance and fall atop you.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” I frowned back, but I didn’t make another ballerina comment.

“Behave, children!” Pierre laughed from where he was, still skipping around, camera in hand.

There was a brief increase in pressure against my lower back and I was suddenly tipping forwards. My reflexes kicked in just in time for me not to land flat on my face; that’s not to say it wasn’t painful, of course.

I rolled over onto my back to glare up at the young, British man who was smiling smugly down at me, “You are such a dweeb sometimes.”

In return to my comment, he put his extended leg down on the ground and reached one hand down to me to help me up. I grasped onto his arm and he pulled me roughly back onto my feet and into his chest.

“I prefer the term ‘stud-muffin’.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Pretty please?”

“No.”

“Oh, come on, Gav! It’s just a party!” I pleaded, hanging onto the boy’s arm and begging him with my best puppy-eyes.

“Do that puppy-face for as long as you want, Aislyn, I’m not going to that stupid party.” Gavin wrenched his arm out of my grasp and walked into his apartment’s small kitchen and pulled the refrigerator open.

“But why not?” I whined, following him into the tiny room and perching myself atop one of his counter-tops.

“Shall I list the reasons alphabetically or in order of importance?” He turned to fix his brown-eyed gaze at me from over the refrigerator door and I took that as the perfect opportunity to pout at him.

“It’s not going to be that bad.” I said, swinging my legs so that my heels beat against his cabinets in a steady rhythm, “Besides, you owe me one for ditching me yesterday.”

Gavin’s nose wrinkled as he pulled out some orange juice as I reminded him of that small fact. “And you’re having me pay up on a party for models?”

“Well, yeah.” I leapt off of the counter-top and grabbed two glasses, one for him and one for myself, and set them down on the spot I had just vacated. “I mean, if you don’t come, I’ll be stuck at a party with a bunch of stuck up, snooty people and you’ll be sitting here in your apartment watching mindless T.V. shows or playing video games.”

“Sounds awesome, right? Much better than going to some party with a bunch of models.” His face scrunched up at the last word and I almost chuckled at his expression.

“There’s going to be fo-od!” I bribed in a sing-song voice.

After taking a sip of his OJ, he looked at me over condescendingly, “Did you just try to bribe me with food?”

“Why yes, yes I did.” I confirmed, sitting up a little a straighter from my position leaning against his kitchen sink. “Did it work?”

Gavin snorted, “No. Food isn’t the most important part of my life.”

I rolled my eyes in disbelief, “And Lily Palmin isn’t my mother.”

He shook his head and sighed through his nose, “How long do I have to stay?”

I perked up and scooted closer to him, “You mean you’re going?”

“I guess,” he admitted grudgingly.

“Yay!” I squealed as I launched myself at him, wrapping my arms around his middle and hugging him tightly to myself. “You’re the best, Gav!”

“I know I am,” he chuckled, hugging me back.

~~

“Why the heck did I let you drag me here?” Gavin complained into my ear. We had only been at Pierre’s party for ten minutes and already he wanted to leave.

“Because you love me,” I said smugly, pushing him lightly with my side.

He grumbled, and groaned as he adjusted his tie for the seventeenth time in the few minutes we had been here. Girls walking by us would shoot him appreciative glances, but he was too busy being uncomfortable to notice. One girl in particular kept looking at Gavin from across the room until she seemed to finally get enough courage to come over to where we stood.

She flounced over to us, her pixie-cut light brown hair staying perfectly positioned across her forehead. Her lacy, black dress had a tulle skirt that fluffed out about mid-thigh and a small, red bow was positioned delicately just a bit away from her bangs.

As soon as she reached us, she extended her hand towards Gavin, “Hi, I’m Callie Strumm, wonderful to meet you.”

Gavin looked bewildered but reached his hand out to shake hers, “Gavin Vice, it’s nice to meet you too.”

As soon as he finished saying those words, the young woman fixed her golden-brown gaze on me, a sweet smile flittering across her features. “You must be Aislyn Palmin! Pierre’s newest addition to the family.”

“That’s me,” I replied, embarrassed and a little bit shocked that word of my arrival had spread so quickly.

“Eeee! It’s so great to meet you in person!” She reached out her thin arms to warp them around my neck and I almost took a step back in surprise. “Pierre has told me so much about you!”

“Uh… great?”

She pulled back, laughing, “I’m sorry, I’m a hug person.” She explained.

Gavin looked me sideways and rolled his eyes in an exaggerated motion.

“Now look here, Mr. Gavin Vice, I don’t care if you think I’m crazy, but if you think I am, you better say it to my face.” Callie said, emphasizing every other word with a poke to his chest.

He took a step back, raising his hands in a defensive motion. “Okay, okay.”

“Good!” The eccentric young woman smiled brightly one last time before skipping away in her ridiculous heels.

“Well, that was… different.” I said, giggling a little bit.

“Yeah, that’s a nice way of putting it,” Gavin scoffed, digging his hands deep into his pockets. “Come on, let’s go get something to drink.”

He grabbed my upper arm and dragged me off to a fluorescent white bar. Colorful bottles lined shelves behind the bar and a single young man sat there. He was none other than Linc.

“I thought you were supposed to be keeping me out of trouble,” I commented casually, taking a seat next to Linc.

He looked up, a grumpy expression across his face. “Go ‘way.” He mumbled, a drink clutched tightly in one of his hands.

“Are you—Are you drunk?” I asked, bewildered.

“No, I’m not drunk!” He snapped nastily, pulling his drink closer to himself, “…working on it though.”

“This is the famous Linc?” Gavin whispered in my ear.

I elbowed my best friend in the stomach, hissing, “Be nice.”

“Who’s this?” Linc sneered, waving his free hand at Gavin.

“Oh, uh, Linc, Gavin, Gavin, Linc. Gavin is my best friend, and Gavin, I work with Linc.”

Gavin reached one hand out to shake Linc’s, but all the latter did was glare down at the proffered hand. “Shove off,” he muttered, shaking his head and taking a large swig of his drink.

Gavin followed the order willingly enough, and sauntered away to go socialize with my mom. I, on the other hand, remained where I was.

“What the heck was that for?” I demanded, staring at Linc in disbelief.

“Just leave me be, Ms. Palmin,” he sighed, his head lolling forward as if he had just fallen unconscious. “Let me destroy my life on my own.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Leave me alone!” Linc snarled finally, standing to his feet and slamming a fist down on the table.

Everyone within a ten foot radius paused what they were doing to see what was going on.

“Leave me alone…” He repeated, though this time it came out as more of a whimper.

“I’m not going anywhere.” I replied softly, settling down into my chair and asking the bartender for a water.

“And why not?”

“Because I’m not going to abandon a friend in need.”

He looked up at me in bewilderment, “Friends?”

I smiled slightly and took a sip of my drink, “Friends.”

"You're the most bizarre girl I have ever met, do you know that?" Linc asked conversationally as he took another swig from his shot glass, emptying it in one go. "When I'm drunk, most people run away from me, but you..." he waved his arm in a large sweeping motion, "you just won't leave me alone no matter how much I beg you to."

He slammed the small glass down on the brightly-lit white bar-top and waved at the bartender for another. "You..." Linc wagged his finger at me with a shrewd smile twisting his lips, "You like me."

I groaned and ran a hand down my face exasperatedly, "How many of those have you had?" I had already counted four since I had sat down next to him, and with every shot, his words blurred together more.

Instead of answering me, Linc continued on this little tangent, "You think that I am a stud muffin." He declared loudly, gaining the attention of Callie who was standing a few feet away. She glanced over at us, spotted me and waved her hand wildly over her head a gigantic grin glued onto her face. "You think..." Another gulp, another shot. "That I am a sexy beast of a man." He smirked at his own drunkenly slurred words, and poked me in the arm forcefully, "Don't you? That's why you won't leave me 'lone. You think I'll confess my undying love for you while I'm drunk." He pulled back suddenly, his chin sinking into his neck so that it seemed like he had two chins instead of one, "Well let me tell you, missy..." He thumped his chest forcefully with a fist, "This guy, don't love no one."

"This guy doesn't have very good grammar either, apparently," Callie chirped happily, taking a seat on Linc's other side.

At the sound of her voice, Linc's eyes widened and he swiveled around in his chair to throw his arms around her in a sloppy hug, "Calphurnia!" He crowed delightedly, burying his face into her thin neck. "I haven't seen you in forever!" He began to sob against her, the sheer force of them shaking both of them.

Callie's nose wrinkled and she pushed the drunken, weeping Brit away from her with one index finger, "How much have you had to drink, Linc?" She asked, looking him in the eyes.

"Juss two 'r three..." He assured her, patting her hand against his chest, "Don' worry abou' it."

Rolling her eyes, the small woman shifted her weight so that she was looking past him at me, "Aislyn, how many did he have?" Her whiskey-colored eyes were so intense that I immediately felt compelled to tell her anything and everything she could ever want to know.

"I counted four, and he was already drinking by the time I got here." I replied promptly, feeling as if I had just tattled on a sibling to our mother.

"Four?" She snorted and turned back to Linc. "You've only had four shots and you're already this drunk?" She smirked and pinched his cheeks, moving his head back and forth. "You are such a light-weight."

"Am not!" Linc complained indignantly. He shoved Callie away from him and turned in his chair so that he was facing me again. "Tell her I'm not a light-weight." He whined, pointing a shaking finger at her. "I'm a hun'red and," he frowned and started to count on his fingers. He reached a certain number and his face brightened noticeably. "Eighty! I'm a hun'red and eighty pounds." He smiled, proud of his counting skills and placed his hands on either side of his waist and swiveled again to face Callie, "I'm not a light weight. I'm fat!"

"Yeah, real fat..." Callie scoffed, turning in her own chair to set her elbows on the bar.

"Ms. Palmin thinks I'm fat, don't you, Ms. Palmin?" Linc turned to look at me with pleading eyes. The brilliant green orbs started to water and I started to wonder just how drunk he really was.

"You're the fattest person I have ever met." I said, trying to placate him.

"Ha! You hear that, Calphurnia? Ms. Palmin says I'm the fattest person she has ever met!" He stuck his tongue out at Callie's back and laughed hysterically.

"Well..." I started, inching out of my seat, "This has been," I paused, searching for the right word. "Interesting. But I need to get going." I was almost all the way out of my seat by the time I finished saying that, but Linc's long fingers wrapped around my wrist and held me in place.

"You're leaving me?" Suddenly, his eyes started to water again and I was reminded of a five year old who had just been told that their dog had just died. "But... But..." his face started to crumple painfully as he prepared to cry, "You said that you weren't going to leave me! You said we were friends!" Tears started to pour down his face in such huge amounts that it was a wonder he still had more to shed. "You said that you wouldn't leave me," he whimpered. "Don't leave me."

I shot a panicked glance at Callie, but she looked just as bewildered as I probably did. Mouthing 'What do I do?' to her, I searched for any signs of help that she might offer, but she did nothing but gape at Linc, wide-eyed.

As I realized that there was nothing I could do but comply, I settled back into the uncomfortable plastic chair with a sigh, "Alright, I'll stay."

Instead of the delighted outburst I had been expecting, like the one he had given when he saw Callie, he just let go of my wrist and drew his arm back slowly, eyes fixed on me carefully, probably searching for any sign that I could be lying. When he was satisfied that I was telling the truth, he let his hand fall back onto the bar, and closed his eyes wearily, "Thank you." And with that, his dark head slumped down and hit the back of his hand.

"What was that about?" Callie demanded, sliding closer to me, interest apparent on her face.

"I was about to ask you the exact same thing," I admitted. "I have absolutely no idea."

"I've never seen him so worked up..." she murmured thoughtfully, chewing on her full bottom lip. "It's just not like him at all." She mulled over her thoughts for a few minutes before completely abandoning the subject, "So! How are you liking working for Pierre so far?"

"It's okay, I guess," shrugging, I leant on the bar. "I just never imagined that I would ever have a job like this."

"I had guessed," Callie replied, looking at me appraisingly. For a moment I was afraid that a nasty comment was going to slip from between her lips, but instead she let out a very surprising observation. "You walk differently from the other girls."

"I do what?" Confused, I gestured for her to elaborate.

"You walk differently than the rest of the girls... you're more... slouched. Almost defensive." Her head tilted to the right, causing her bangs to fall into her eyes, "Like you're a caged animal."

I laughed tensely, is that really how I walked? "A caged animal?"

"Yeah. The rest of the people around here are more like peacocks, strutting around and showing off their feathers, but you... There's something different about you." She tapped her chin thoughtfully with her index finger, "You don't think you deserve this, do you?"

Her guess was totally random, but almost dead on. I blinked, surprised that she had surmised that just from the way I walked, "How on earth did you know that?" I demanded, leaning a little closer to her.

"Because you walk like a person who has absolutely zero self-confidence." Callie leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms across her chest at the same time. "So who was it? Ex-boyfriend? Parents? Peers? A total dweeb who wouldn't know his brain from a booger?"

"Pardon?"

She sighed and rolled her eyes. "Who told you that you weren't good enough?"

My eyebrows knitted together as I frowned, and one of Callie's thin eyebrows shot up at that, "So I'm right." A small smile lifted one corner of her mouth, "You don't really need to tell me." She said, shrugging as she slipped off of her chair and back onto the ground, her ridiculous heels clacking as they hit the tile. Smiling, she moved past me, "But they were wrong."

I sat there, stunned for a few moments, and when I turned to ask Callie what exactly she meant by that, she had already disappeared into the crowd. Sighing, I turned back to Linc's sleeping form and prepared myself to stay where I was until he woke up.

~~

In the back seat of Gavin's car, my mom snored much more loudly than was safe for unprotected ears and I chuckled at the sound of it. If she were to have a noise competition with an army of brass instruments, she would still win. Well, maybe that's a bit of an exaggeration, but you get the idea.

It was half past eleven, and we had just left Pierre's party. As soon as her body hit the plush, leather seating, my mom was out like a light, her head lolling back and arms flung about.

The interior of the car, only lit by the soft, blue lights on the dashboard, was completely silent except for the occasional sound from my mother. Gavin and I rode in comfortable silence side by side.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" I asked, trying to make conversation.

"It really wasn't." He conceded, nodding his head briefly. "Though your friend's little drunken outbursts were probably the highlight of the night."

"You heard that?" I groaned, sinking back against the seat and covering my face with my hands, embarrassed. How many people had heard him say that I thought he was a stud muffin?

"I think most of the people within a hundred foot radius heard that," Gavin laughed, shaking his head. "That guy is too loud for his own good."

I face-palmed myself as I realized I was so tired I was voicing my thoughts. I really needed some sleep.

"That Callie girl seems nice enough," I commented, and Gavin merely chuckled.

"If you call 'nice enough' giving two guys black eyes and stepping on another's foot with too much force than necessary, then yes, I guess she is 'nice enough'."

"She gave two guys black eyes? What for?"

"One of them looked down her dress, and the other dissed Linc." Gavin's dark eyebrows knitted together, and his lips pulled together thoughtfully. "She's really close to Linc isn't she?"

"I suppose," shrugging, I shook my head. "I really wouldn't know. You saw, we just met tonight."

We lapsed into silence and I nearly dozed off until Gavin broke the silence again.

"So why did you stay with Linc even though he was asleep?"

I chewed on the inside of my cheek for a moment before answering, "He asked me to."

The corners of Gavin's mouth turned downwards as he turned to look at me, "He asked you to sit at a bar while he slept?"

"Well, no... not exactly. He just asked me to stay with him." I scratched the top of my head, "So, I did."

"Let me get this straight. I guy--who you met three days ago--asks you to stay with him while he's drunk... and you just... did?"

"Sounds about right, yeah."

Gavin chuckled, shaking his head. "You're absolutely absurd, Ais."

"That's why you love me," I murmured sleepily, eyes drifting shut.

He laughed softly again, "One of the many reasons, I suppose."

"I love you, Gav..." I mumbled, slowly slipping out of consciousness.

"Love you too, Ais. Goodnight." I felt his large hand ruffle my hair fondly, and I sighed contentedly at the contact.

"G'night."

It was a Saturday night, so I, of course, was doing what most people my age would be doing: playing Twister with my best friend and an oddly charismatic twenty year old.

Callie had claimed spinner-duty, leaving Gavin and I to stretch and bend like rubber dolls.

The white sheet with the different colored dots in front of me was probably much more daunting than it should have been. Come on, Aislyn. I scolded myself. Little kids can do this, so why can’t you?

“Right foot blue,” called out Callie’s taunting voice. She had long since abandoned spinning it and had taken to just calling out whatever caught her fancy. Unfortunately for us, the players, that usually meant getting twisted into pretzels.

Gavin and I groaned simultaneously as we realized that only three blues were left unoccupied. All of them were an arm’s length away. I stretched my leg out while trying to keep my balance on only three limbs. Gavin did the same.

It was a mad race for the closest blue and I was determined to win.

But determination does not always mean one will win. Sometimes… craftiness will win.

Gavin shoved my leg roughly away from the colored circle, upsetting my perfect balance. I wobbled slightly, then crashed onto the floor with an ‘Oomph!’.

Gavin, being the complete gentleman that he is, leapt to his feet and began his victory dance
that consisted of what would be impressive dance moves if he wasn’t such a terrible dancer. Honestly, he was worse than my mom… and my mom had absolutely zero rhythm.

“Thanks so much for the hand up,” I remarked sarcastically as I stood to my feet, rubbing my sore rear. “You’re such a great friend.”

“I know I am!” He laughed, throwing his long arms around me in a tight embrace.

“Okay, guys, I hate to break up the love fest, but if the grumbling noises my stomach is making are any indication, it’s food time.” Callie slipped off of the stool she had been sitting on and started to pad towards her kitchen. “Let’s go, party people.”

Callie had invited Gavin and I over to hang out to “make up for the sucky time ya’ll had at Pierre’s”. She felt bad that I had spent almost my entire night next to an unconscious, drunk Linc, and that she had stepped on Gavin’s foot with her spiky heels.

In the kitchen, she had a gigantic bowl of tortilla chips and a crock-pot full of melting cheese. Gavin spotted this and made a bee-line straight for the paper plates, then piled it high with the food. I just grabbed a handful of chips and leaned against the counter, watching the other two stuff their faces.

Over the din of those two eating, I distinctly heard the ring of the doorbell. I looked over at Callie, but she was busy trying to shove a carrot stick into Gavin’s mouth because he had dripped cheese into her hair. Instead of waiting for her to go get the door, I decided to open it.

I walked out of the kitchen and over to the front door, then opened it a smidge.

Linc stood there.

“Are you going to make me stand out here like a imbecile or do I actually get to come in?” He grumbled, and lifted a basket full of something so that I could see, “I bear food.”

“Let him in!” Callie called from the kitchen, and I obliged.

As he stepped in, Linc looked genuinely surprised to see me. “What on earth are you doing here, Ms. Palmin?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” I countered, annoyed by his bitter tone.

“I was under the impression that Callie and I were going to hang out tonight with a few of her friends,” he replied, his lips set into a thin, straight line, expression unreadable.

When he woke up from his drunken sleep, he didn’t remember a thing that had happened over the course of Pierre’s party, only adding to Callie’s assertion that he was a light-weight. He didn’t remember my declaration of us being friends, nor his begging me to stay with him. If anything, he seemed to begin to dislike me after that night.

Before, we had been… neutral, I suppose. I respected him, he respected me, simple. But that night, he woke up angry—furious even. When he saw me sitting next to him, his rage seemed to intensify. He cursed and swore, picking up his emptied shot-glass and smashing it to the ground.

I blamed this little fit on the alcohol and didn’t think much of it until two days later when I returned to Pierre’s for a prepping for a runway show. He had refused to speak to me, and when he looked my way, a scowl would find its way onto his face.

His apathetic attitude tonight was a definite improvement.

I didn’t respond to that little jab, but turned away from him and walked back into the kitchen.

He followed along behind me silently, placed his basket of whatever on the counter-top, and embraced Callie swiftly, all before moving to lean back against one of her many cabinets.

Gavin raised an eyebrow at his appearance, and the tiniest expression of disgust flitted across his face before he resumed eating. I wasn’t the only one who caught the micro-expression. Callie examined Gavin’s face then smirked a little bit.

“Who wants to play another game?” She asked slyly, clapping her palms then rubbing them together vigorously.

I shrugged, “I’m up for it.”

Linc inclined his head slightly, and Gavin let out a muffled ‘sure’.

“Everyone sit.” She commanded, shooing us over to a small table that stood in front of a trio of windows. We all obliged, and once we were all comfortable, she continued. “Now… who here knows how to play ‘Truth or Dare’?”

A collective groan ran around the table as Gavin and I looked at each other knowingly and Linc ran a long hand down his face, shaking his head.

“What are we, Calphurnia? Twelve?” He asked, his head not pausing in its back and forth motion.

“Oh, come on!” She pouted, arms crossed stubbornly over her chest. “Just a couple of rounds.”

“No.” Linc said smoothly as he rolled one of his shoulders, wincing as if it caused him pain.

Again, Callie noticed the little expression, but this time, instead of a smirk appearing, worry etched itself into her brow and twisted her lips downwards. Her hand started to move forward a little bit towards Linc, but she restrained herself and forced a smile onto her face.

“Don’t be such a spoil sport, Linc. It’s good to be a little immature sometimes.” She countered, waving her hand in a dismissive manner.

Linc looked at her, and she looked at him. They had a stare-down for a few moments, before Linc finally gave in.

Sighing, he threw his hands up in the air and rolled his eyes dramatically, “What am I to do with you, Calphurnia? I can’t seem to tell you ‘no’.”

“I love you too!” She chirped, poking his arm lightly. “Now! Let us begin…” Callie looked around the room, probably doing her best to look evil. “Gavin.” She swiveled her head around so that she was fully facing him. “Truth… or dare?”

“Dare.” He declared readily, thumping his chest forcefully with one of his fists. “Bring it.”

Callie’s light brown eyes darted rapidly between Gavin and I before she smiled in a truly evil way. “I dare you to kiss Aislyn.”

“What? Ew! No! We’re best friends, he can’t do that!” I protested, my face flaming. In an attempt to lessen the awkwardness of the situation, I scooted a little further away from Gavin.

Gavin’s face was a brilliant shade of scarlet, “I can’t do that, we’re best friends. Truth. I want to switch to truth.” Slowly, the red color faded from view as he began to relax, and I hoped that my own blush had disappeared as well.

“Fine,” Callie smirked again, “Did you want to kiss her?”

“Of course not.” He said calmly, though the red of his ears let slip the fact that his heart was racing.

“Alrighty then,” she shrugged her small shoulders, “your turn.”

Gavin immediately leapt at his chance to either learn something embarrassing about me, or make me do something embarrassing, “Aislyn, truth or dare?”

I smiled, “Truth.”

I could practically see the little kid in him jump for joy. “Why are you insecure?” He had asked this question, every single time I chose ‘truth’ and every time I managed to find a way to wriggle out of it. It was an uncomfortable subject for me, but the boy had absolutely no scruples.

“All girls are insecure,” I said carefully.

The question had seemed to catch the attention of both Callie and Linc and their eyes had turned towards me expectantly; perhaps hoping for a good story.

“My turn.” I said firmly, “Linc, truth or dare?”

He chose dare, and I dared him to lick the refrigerator. He did so, with a grimace, and then dared Callie to eat an entire egg raw. She frowned and complained the whole time. She said that it felt like, “a long, slithery booger sliding down my throat.”

The game lasted much longer than intended, and by the time we finished, Linc had drank an entire plastic cup full of melted cheese, had his eyebrows plucked, and admitted that when he was little he was deathly afraid of strawberries.

“They look like a face with backwards pimples!” He explained hurriedly, a shiver running down his spine.

The three of us just laughed at his silly fear.

To placate him, Callie patted his hand soothingly, “I used to be afraid of clowns.” She admitted, shrugging. “Darn things are freaky.”

Gavin nodded his head vigorously in agreement. From when he was nine until he was about thirteen he had been deathly afraid of clowns. I think it had something to do with a clown being at our party the day Cherie died.

“What about you, Aislyn? What was your biggest fear when you were a kid?” Callie asked, turning to me with a smile on her face as she popped a chip into her mouth.

My mouth went a little bit dry at the thought of my biggest fear. It wasn’t a what; it was a who.

“Michelle Hope Michaels.” I replied, a bitter taste in my mouth.

Both Callie and Linc just looked at me with confused expressions, Gavin, on the other hand, had his fists clenched tightly on the table, the tendons in his wrist straining visibly under his skin. “Michelle.” He nearly growled, nostrils flaring slightly as a disgusted face wormed it’s way into his features.

“Uh, this probably isn’t any of my business, but who is Michelle?” Linc asked, looking bewildered between Gavin and I.

“She’s the—“

“She was just a bully at my school,” I quickly cut Gavin off. “I was her favorite person to pick on. She scared me to death until Gavin came along.” I smiled a little bit at my best friend, hoping to calm him down with my words.

He did relax a little bit, though a trace of his previous loathing lingered still.

“You were bullied as a child?” Linc questioned, sounding absolutely shocked. I nodded mutely, not wanting him to continue the subject. “But why? Why did they—“

“Linc, darling, you really need to learn when to shut your trap.” Callie interjected, seeing that I didn’t want to talk about it.

“Well, yes, but—“

“Shut it, or I’ll do it for you,” she threatened, shaking a warning finger under his nose.

Linc glanced back at me, but refrained from pursuing the subject further.

“Well, if you guys are done with this game, I think it’s high time we did something a little more interesting.”

“Like what?”

“Have you ever played Clue®?”

47 minutes and about a million wrong guesses later, Callie reigned victorious over the Clue® game. She had guessed that it was Mrs. White in the Library with the poison, and she was, indeed, correct.

Gavin moaned and groaned about how he only had three of his little squares x’d out, but Callie just waved him off dismissively, citing the fact that he just sucked at the game. While Gavin conceded that he did, in fact, suck at the murder-mystery board game, he still demanded a rematch. Callie accepted the challenge, and I somehow found myself sitting on the back porch with Linc.

We sat together on a large bench, looking out across the view of the Golden Gate Bridge that Callie’s gargantuan house had.

“Calphurnia is really something, isn’t she?” Linc said, trying to make conversation.

I laughed hesitantly, wondering what the sudden show of kindness was. “Yeah, but she’s pretty cool.”

We lapsed reluctantly back into a silence that was only broken occasionally by the perpetual sound of traffic.

“I—“ he started, but cut himself off abruptly, and his mouth shut with an audible ‘click’ as his teeth snapped together.

I pretended like I hadn’t heard him; if he had had something important to say he would have had out with it.

“I’m going inside.” He announced, standing fluidly and offering his hand to me, “Are you coming?”

I shook my head, once again taken by surprise by the manner with which he treated me. It was odd, one second he ignored me and the next he was offering me his hand to help me up like a perfect gentleman would.

Shrugging, he turned away from me and made his way back into Callie’s house, but paused at the doorway.

“Ms. Palmin, I apologize for my actions these past few days. I assure you, it had nothing to do with you, merely… personal matters.”

Without further explanation, he stepped back inside, leaving me to mull over my own thoughts in the crisp, evening air.

“You are such a dweeb!” I laughed into my cell phone as I walked down the steep, San Francisco street. I was on my way to buy a car at a local dealership. I had finally caved when I realized that Gavin and my mom couldn’t drive me everywhere. It was impractical to buy a car here in ‘Frisco when I spent most of my time at school, but I figured that if I really had to, I could just drive over to the school instead of flying.

“I’m not a dweeb!” Gavin protested on the other end, laughing as well. “I’m the guy whom you owe a birthday present.” He still hadn’t let that gift thing go, and it was getting a little bit annoying.

“You know what? Fine. I’ll pick you up a gift on my way home from the car dealership.”

Gavin started to cheer on his side, and I smiled at his enthusiasm.

“I’ll call you when I’m on my way to your place, ‘kay?” I asked, spotting the small car lot and quickening my pace.

“Yeah, yeah that’s cool.” Gavin agreed.

“Great, see ya soon, Gav.”

“Later, Ais.”

I hit the ‘end call’ button just as I walked into the car lot.

Different types of cars were everywhere with stickers of their prices slapped onto their wind-shields. I honestly had no idea just what kind of car I was looking for, but I knew that I wanted it in blue. A blast of cool air met me as I walked into the huge, silver interior of the main building.

A short, pudgy man in an atrocious yellow suit waddled out of his office, and a smile lit his face when he saw me.

“You must be Aislyn Palmin!” He crowed, toddling towards me even faster now. For a moment I wondered how he knew who I was, but the silent question was soon answered. “I’d know that face anywhere. You look exactly like your old man.” Quickly, he grabbed my hand and shook it up and down furiously. “The name’s Pete Welling. It’s wonderful to meet Mike’s little girl in person, yes, yes it is!”

I was caught off guard by his use of my dad’s name, “I’m sorry,” I started, “you know my father?”

The stout man’s bellowing laugh ran all around the room, “Know your father? My dear, I’m as good as your uncle.”

“Is he… is he here?” Tentatively, I let the words slip past my lips and almost immediately the Pete’s face darkened.

“No… no he’s not here anymore. Hasn’t been around for quite a while now.” He looked at me curiously, tapping a large, sausage-like finger against his double chin. “Do you really not know, dear?”

I just looked at him in confusion, and the folds of his face softened.

“Mike died two years ago. Lung cancer.” He shook his head, sighing, “Poor fella couldn’t go fifteen minutes without a smoke; it killed him, it did.”

I hadn’t known my father, nonetheless, I felt a slight tugging at the very pit of my stomach. He was my father, the reason that I even existed, the reason that I was standing here in front of this pudgy man learning that he had died two years ago.

When I didn’t respond, the Welling put one of his large hands on my shoulder and patted it gently, “I’m terribly sorry, Aislyn.”

“H-how do you know my name?” I managed, through the lump in my throat.

A smile full of memories and pity filled Pete’s full face, “Mike wouldn’t stop talking about you. You were his pride and joy.”

Blinking out of surprise, I took a small step backwards. My mother had said that he had left because he hadn’t wanted me. If I was his “pride and joy” that explanation made zero sense. Had my mother lied? No… she wouldn’t do that. But this man had no reason to lie to me either.

Naturally, I felt obligated to believe my mom’s version of the tale, but the man in front of me’s words planted a tiny seed of doubt in my head.

“If you’d like, I’ll give you the address to the cemetery he’s buried at… you could… talk to him or something…” Pete trailed off awkwardly as he rubbed his thick neck with almost as thick fingers. “Well, I’m sure you didn’t come here to talk about your dead father, come on, let’s go take a look at some cars.” He began to waddle away from me on his chunky legs and I followed closely behind him.

We walked into a large show room where even more cars were located. These—unlike the ones outside—were shiny and polished and their prices lay on large, cardboard signs standing near the car itself.

“Now this beauty,” Pete said, running his chubby hand over the hood of a shining red jeep, “would be just right for a girl like you. Smart, sophisticated, but at the same time can take the tough stuff without a problem.”

I wrinkled my nose a bit, shaking my head, “No thanks, do have anything smaller?”

Although he already had furrows between his eyes, they became deeper as his eyebrows pulled together in thought, “Smaller, smaller.” He started to stroke his chins with his hand, before snapping his fingers and shuffling over to a Hyundai Sonata. “How about this baby? It’s got either a 200 horsepower engine or a 274 twin scroll turbo engine—depending on your preference—both with amazing gas mileage. All yours for just,” he stepped back to reveal the price tag. “19,657.” A brilliant smile lit up his heavy face.

I pursed my lips as I frowned down at the price in front of me. Having never gone car shopping before, I wasn’t sure what a good price for a car was. In front of me, Wellington waited patiently as I pondered. I glanced briefly at the watch on my wrist and grimaced at the time. I needed to get out of here quickly so that I could pick up a present for Gavin before meeting my mom for dinner at some fancy restaurant downtown. I still needed to shower and get ready for that.

Sighing, I waved my hand, “I’ll take it.”

The smile on Pete’s portly face widened considerably, “Brilliant, let’s go set the paperwork up.”

Twenty minutes later, one check, what felt like a billion signatures, and a single handshake later, the car was mine. As I drove off of the lot, I couldn’t help but feel a little bit proud of myself for buying a car all on my lonesome.

Quickly, I pulled into a supermarket’s parking lot and ran in, grabbed about five pounds of bacon, a tube of wrapping paper, and a jumbo-sized bag of Snicker’s Peanut-butter squared, then ran back out—after paying for it all, of course. I then sped home, messily wrapped Gavin’s late birthday present then leaped into the shower.

Once I emerged, I threw on a pair of sweats and a baggy shirt and started rooting through my closet. Mom had only told me that the place was nice. She didn’t specify how nice, just ‘nice’.

Rolling my eyes at my mother’s specificity, I finally decided on a simple blue dress and quickly put it on. I ran a brush quickly through my still-wet hair, then ran back out of the door, climbed into my car and drove to restaurant where I was supposed to meet her.

~~

I was completely underdressed.

Mom had said nice but she had never said ‘formal’.

Crystal chandeliers hung from brightly lit ceilings that towered over head to such heights that they made me dizzy. Silverware clinked against expensive china, and water and wine were sipped delicately from crystal stem-ware. Waiters ran around in sharp suits, bow ties neat and hair, sleek and shining, pulled back away from their faces. Ladies sat with their gentleman in dresses whose skirts swept the floor gracefully, hair piled onto their heads in elaborate displays of hair-workmanship, or cascading down their backs in perfect waves, ringlets, or pin straight. I felt like a crow among peacocks, a ring of iron surrounded by gold and silver crusted with sparkling jewels.

The amount of beauty in this room sent my self-esteem spiraling downwards. I wanted to curl into a ball and disappear.

At a table at the far left of the ornately decorated room, my mom sat alone, using one hand to flip aimlessly through a menu, her own hangings just as beautiful and elegant as all the other butterflies in the room. In her other hand she held a long-stemmed champagne glass, and was swirling the golden liquid around absent-mindedly.

I brushed my still-damp hair behind my ear and walked over to her. Once she caught sight of me, she set the glass down and patted the seat beside her enthusiastically.

“Lyn, dear, you made it right on time!” She grinned, clapping her hands together.

“Hey, Mom,” I murmured, pulling the chair back and sitting down carefully.

“You look beautiful,” she complimented me, and I smiled a little bit.

A waiter spotted the new occupant of my mom’s table and hustled over with a menu and a glass pitcher of water. She set the menu carefully down in front of me, poured water into the stem0ware in front of me, then hurried off again.

Taking a sip of my water, I opened the first flap of the menu, “So what’s up, ma? Why are we—“

“I’m terribly sorry I’m late, Lily, there were a few… unforeseen circumstances.”

My mother beamed up at Pierre, “Oh, it’s perfectly alright, Pierre, dear, Aislyn just got here as well.”

The designer sat down swiftly, and grinned brightly in my direction, “Aislyn, darling, it’s magnificent to see you!”

“Likewise,” I replied with a small smile.

“Lily, if you don’t mind my asking, why am I here?”

Mom laughed her delightfully infectious laugh and reached out to pat Pierre’s hand. “Oh no, no, I don’t mind at all. I asked you—both of you—to meet me here for dinner so that I could hire you, Pierre.”

Pierre’s blond eyebrows furrowed over his bright blue eyes in confusion, and I was certain that my own expression mirrored his. When neither of us responded, she went on.

“Pierre, I need you to teach Aislyn.”

Both Pierre and I blinked at her in confusion, “I’m sorry, but what am I going to be teaching her exactly?” Pierre asked, bewildered, eyes as wide as an owl’s.

“I want you to make her a beauty queen. I want her to have the poise, the grace, the confidence. You can teach her that, can you not?”

Pierre pursed his lips, and stared at me thoughtfully. “But she’s so… natural right now.”

“Mom, why are you doing this?” I demanded.

“You can’t see what I can, so this is the best way to show you.”

“By putting me through some beauty crash-course? Mom, that only works in movies and really cheesy, unrealistic, teen-fiction books.”

“So why not make it a reality?” She giggled, looking at me bemusedly. “Look, if you don’t see what I see in you by the end of the summer, I’ll…I’ll,” her face fell as she realized that she couldn’t bribe me into doing this.

“If you let me teach you, I won’t pose you with Linc ever again.”

My head swiveled around to look at Pierre in surprise. How had he known that I didn’t like being photographed with Linc?

“I notice things, Aislyn, love. I can see you two having your little lovers’ quarrels every time I put you two together.” Pierre’s thin lips were pressed together, as if he were suppressing a smile, and his head was settled comfortably in the palm of his hand.

“Th-They’re not ‘lovers’ quarrels’!” I sputtered, my neck and face flaming uncomfortably hot.

“Are you going to let me teach you, or not?” He smiled, one eyebrow quirking upwards mischievously.

I looked back over at my mom, who was beaming, hands clasped together delightedly. Sighing, I gave in. “Fine.”

Laughing just as brightly as my mom had, Pierre clapped his smooth hands together, “Wonderful! Tomorrow you begin learning to be beautiful.”

Gavin’s dark eyebrows were raised high, as I explained to him what was happening as we sat comfortably on his couch in his apartment.

“So let me get this straight… You are going to learn how to be ‘beautiful’,” he used air-quotes around the word beautiful, as if to emphasize how little he thought of the idea. “Over the course of the summer? What on earth are you, some kind of experiment? They shouldn’t try to change you like that.”

Wrinkling my nose in agreement, I sighed, “Well what am I supposed to do? Refuse?”

“Well, duh!” Gavin threw his hands up in the air in a dramatic, exasperated motion. “You’re fine the way you are, Ais. Don’t let anyone tell you different. Anyone who doesn’t think that you’re beautiful is blind.” He ducked his head quickly, eyes darting to the side and face flushing as he said those words, and I couldn’t help but smile.

“Thanks, Gav,” I mumbled abashedly, reaching out my arms to hug him tightly. He hugged me back, and we just stayed there for a moment, warm and comfortable.

“So!” He declared suddenly, moving back from me and settling back onto his couch comfortably. “About that movie…”

I laughed and pulled the DVD out of my purse; this boy honestly had the attention span of a goldfish. Gavin grabbed the small disc out of my hands and stared at it reverently; with his brown eyes wide and mouth hanging slightly agape he even resembled the small aquatic animal.

“How did you… It’s not supposed to… Aislyn, have I told you that ‘I love you’ recently?”

I just laughed and pushed him towards the DVD player, “Are you going to watch it or not?”

“What kind of a dumb question is that? Of course I’m going to watch it!” He leapt off of the couch and hustled over to the small silver box, pushed some buttons, then excitedly dumped the disc in. Once he had ascertained that the DVD was safely in place, he jumped back over to the couch and flicked the television on. “You’re the best, Ais.” He smiled as he sat back down next to me, arm lightly draping over the top of the couch almost around my shoulders.

I sent him a small smile, and rested my head comfortably against his shoulder just as the previews began to play. Just as I got really comfortable, however, there was a solid knock on Gavin’s apartment’s door.

Gavin looked down at me with pleading in his warm brown eyes. “Would you mind getting the door?”

I rolled my eyes at him, but got up and trudged over to the door. Without looking through the peep-hole to see who it was, I swung the door open, and was immediately blown sideways by an almost invisible force. I threw a panicked glance over my shoulder, wondering what on earth I had just set loose into Gavin’s apartment, but when I saw that it was only a pajama-clad Callie, I relaxed and shut the door.

“Aislyn! You’re here too!” Callie crowed delightedly, arms flailing wildly in the air as she ran back towards me to give me an impossibly tight hug.

“Callie… can’t… breathe.” I wheezed, but my lack of air just made the tiny—but strong—young woman laugh brightly.

“Silly, I can breathe. You, on the other hand…” She smirked playfully at me, light-brown eyes dancing with mischief. Satisfied that she had successfully knocked the wind out of me with her tight embrace, she skipped over to Gavin, who accepted her hug with a little more apprehension than necessary.

She had to chase him to give him one.

Once she had triumphed in her endeavor to hug Gavin, she flopped down onto the couch, barely winded, and snuggled deeply into the cushions. “What are we watching?” Callie asked excitedly, feet at one end of the couch, and arms at the other.

“The Eagle,” Gavin replied excitedly, hands clasped together like an excited child’s. He perched himself carefully on the armrest near Callie’s feet, and he seemed comfortable enough where he was, though he did watch her feet carefully to make sure that she wouldn’t kick him when he was least expecting it.

“Ooooh, I love this movie!” Callie nearly shouted, bouncing up so that she was in an upright sitting position. “I saw it at the premiere. Best. Movie. Ever.”

“Okay, Ms. I’ve-Seen-It-Already, no ruining for me.” Gavin warned, shaking a finger at the small woman mock-threateningly. “And no stupid commentary either.”

By this time, I had sat down in the large, squishy recliner and lifted the lever that brought the foot-rest out. The menu was playing on screen, and Gavin eagerly pressed the ‘play’ button on the remote. The screen went black for a moment, before the movie began to play.

~~

I think Callie made it through about five minutes of the movie before she decided that it needed commentary. Just as the main character rose from his bed to look over the sharpened tree-trunks that served as a wall, she bit her lip and shouted, “There’s people out there!” at the top of her lungs. Gavin wasn’t very happy with her, and decided that she needed to be silenced.

Two minutes later, he was cowering under her glares, as she stared at him from above the gag he had tied around her mouth. She couldn’t remove it, because her hands were tied securely behind her back as well.

“Ihifoogivin,” she mumbled through the cloth restricting her mouth from moving. There was no telling for sure what exactly she was saying, but the intensity of her glare, and the sour expression on her face left no doubt that it wasn’t something about rainbows and butterflies.

“Shh…” Gavin shushed, waving his hand at Callie’s face, eyes still glued to the screen where a fantastic battle was taking place.

Swords clashed against spears as Romans battled barbarians, leather armor versus bare skin; empire versus village.

I giggled at their antics, before glancing at my watch, grimacing at the time. “Hey, guys, I’ve got to go.”

“Mmhm,” my best friend murmured, eyes growing ever wider as a person was run through on screen.

“Biayin,” Callie responded brightly through the gag, waving at me happily before returning to her grumpy state of glowering at Gavin.

I quickly exited Gavin’s apartment, taking my car keys out of my pocket as I pushed the button to the elevator. As soon as the little button was lit, I took a step back and waited for the elevator to reach the floor I was on, from one of the higher floors.

The doors dinged open, and I had to force my mouth not to drop open in shock.

Linc stood there in the elevator, looking just as surprised to see me as I was to see him.

“M-Ms. Palmin, exactly what are you doing here?” Linc asked, emerald green eyes wide as he took my presence in this apartment complex in.

“I could ask you the same thing,” I countered, just as the metal elevator doors began to close.

I stepped forward, arm half-heartedly extended to stop their journey together. I never really intended to make them re-open, but Linc evidently did.

When the doors were only inches apart, his long fingers appeared in the crack, and forced the doors back open. “I live here.” He explained shortly, moving his shoulders up and down. “I do believe it’s your turn to explain.”

“Gavin lives here.” I mimicked his shrugging motion, and attempted a nonchalant entrance onto the elevator. I think my shaking hands gave me away.

Linc’s piercing eyes stayed on me as I stepped on, dark-brown eyebrows so high up on his forehead that they nearly blended with his hairline.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I grumbled, pulling my blonde hair over my shoulder to shield my face from view.

“I was merely observing,” Linc said, in a semi-apologetic tone, his hands rose briefly in a gesture of apology or surrender. When I didn’t respond, he sighed and let his hands fall limply at his sides as he leaned back against the reflective metal interior of the small up-and-down moving vehicle. “If your boyfriend lives here, why are you leaving?” He asked, probably trying to make conversation.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” I responded quickly, correcting the mistake that many people made, “And I’m leaving because I have… something I need to do.” Pausing briefly, I pursed my lips, “Why are you leaving if you live here?”

He looked at me, mouth twisting into a wry smirk, “I have…something I need to do,” he mocked, still not smiling completely.

“Mm…” I murmured, rocking back on my heels as we waited for the elevator to reach the ground floor.

Finally, a little bell went off somewhere, and the doors skimmed lightly open. Linc extended his arm towards the door in what would normally be considered a chivalrous act, “Ladies first.” His voice, full of sarcasm, drastically offset the gentlemanly deed.

With a stiff nod in his general direction, I moved quickly off of the elevator and out the apartment complex’s door, making a bee-line for where my Sonata was parked.

As soon as I reached the vehicle, I clambered in and pushed the keys into the ignition, started the car, then began to drive towards Pierre’s house. This evening was to be my first lesson on ‘being beautiful’, and he wanted me there at 5:45 on the dot.

The drive from Gavin’s apartment to Pierre’s house was a short one, only about fifteen minutes had elapsed before I pulled into the designer’s large driveway. To my surprise, another car was parked in the driveway.

Pushing the thought out of my mind, I marched quickly up to the huge glass door and rapped on the frame several times with my knuckles.

Pierre threw open the door, a huge smile plastered across his face, “Aislyn, darling, we’re so happy you could make it!”

“Yes,” a softly accented voice said from behind him. My eyes darted over Pierre’s shoulder to see a very smug Linc leaning luxuriously back on the golden walls. “So very happy you could make it.”

I had to remind myself that staring with jaw hanging slack was definitely not good before I stepped over the threshold into Pierre’s extravagant home.

A crystal chandelier hung in the entryway, the heavy glass falling from the silver frame like teardrops frozen in the air. Thick, lush carpet covered the floor in the living room, and marble tile sat comfortably in the kitchen. In this particular room, however, the floor was hardwood, and the rich brown wood extended all throughout the house.

“Well, are you just going to stand there drooling over our attractive British friend, or are we going to get this party started?” Pierre teased, walking past me and into the carpeted living room.

Pierre’s words made me blush, but it made Linc’s smirk be replaced by a deep frown. His thick eyebrows furrowed over his beautifully green eyes, and his mouth turned down at the corners rather abruptly. I wondered why he had reacted like that; most guys would have had their ego boosted—though having a girl like me ‘drooling over’ them probably isn’t on their list of top five things to accomplish in life. My face matched his frown as we followed Pierre silently through the doorway.

“What made you guys so grumpy all of a sudden?” Pierre questioned from his seated position on a cushiony chair on the far side of the room. I opened my mouth to tell him ‘nothing’ but he quickly cut me off with a short wave of his hand, “Unimportant. Today… you will be learning about flirting.”

“Flirting? How does flirting have anything to do wi—“

“Confidence is key in this exercise, and confidence is beautiful.” He cut me off. Sighing, he sank back further into his seat, “I really don’t think you need to learn to be ‘beautiful’, Aislyn. You’re just lacking one key component: confidence.”

“I’m confident…” I mumbled, though in truth I had almost zero confidence.

“That’s why you’re currently looking down and to the side with your hair hiding your face, am I right?” Pierre’s observation skills need to go die a horrible death.

Beside me, Linc’s smug smile was slowly returning to his face as he listened to Pierre and I’s exchange. Finally, once Pierre and I had quieted down, he decided that then was the time to join in the conversation.

“Pierre is right, Ms. Palmin. You are lacking in the confidence department. Now please, stop protesting and let us help you.”

One of the fashion designer’s blond eyebrows quirked upwards at the same time one corner of his mouth did. “It’s settled then, now stand up and flirt with Linc.”

“That’s why you wanted me here?” Linc raged, jumping to his feet with his fists clenched at his sides.

“Naturally,” Pierre replied, still seated comfortably in his arm-chair. “You didn’t think that I would have her flirt with me did you?” He stole a quick glance at me and reached a hand out, “No offense meant to you, of course.”

“Of course.” My voice was much calmer than I actually felt inside. When I heard that I was supposed to flirt with Linc my stomach twisted inside of me, and my ribcage felt like it was starting to constrict around my lungs, making it hard to breathe.

“Well before she tries flirting, don’t you think you should explain what it is and how to do it?” Linc’s tone had taken on a little more desperate ring, and I stifled a giggle. Was he that afraid to be flirted with?

“Well, I suppose I could.” Pierre wrinkled his nose and twined his fingers together as he thought. “Flirting is… subtly letting someone know that you’re interested in them.”

“And you want me to do that to Linc?” I gasped in disbelief, my ears suddenly feeling very, very warm.

“Naturally.” He replied, one corner of his mouth lifting in a half-smile. “Now, the key to flirting is—“

“But I’m not interested in him.” I protested, cutting him off rudely with my panic-filled screeches.

“This isn’t the preferred method of learning for me either, Ms. Palmin, so please, let the man continue so that we can get this over with.” The condescending sound of his voice was only heightened by his British accent.

“Thank you, Linc. Now, as I was saying, the key to flirting is subtlety. You don’t want to be obvious, but at the same time, you want the person you are flirting with to get the hint.”

I wrinkled my nose at Pierre’s words. “So I’m supposed to let them know I’m flirting without letting them know I’m flirting?” Sounds nearly impossible.

“Now you’re getting it!” The blond man clapped his hands together excitedly, then stood and practically skipped over to me. “Now, I’m going to tell you to do something to flirt with Linc, and I want you to do it to the best of your ability, alright?”

I tentatively nodded my head, “Alright?”

“Great!” He plopped himself down beside me on the couch and leaned over and whispered his directions in my ear.

The corners of my mouth pulled down as I listened to him, but I stood and walked over to Linc anyways. Flicking hair over my shoulder as Pierre had instructed, I took a piece on the other side and started twirling it around my finger, fluttering my eyelashes like a mad-woman.

After about two seconds of that, I stopped and let my head hang in shame, “Please tell me that was how not to flirt.” I groaned, feeling like a complete idiot.

“Very good,” Pierre congratulated, “Now, I want you to do what I told you next.”

My frown grew even deeper at the thought of what I had to do, “Do I really have to?”

“Yes.”

I set my jaw stubbornly and glared up at Linc who was smirking at my previous head-ache inducing fail at flirting. “You have to, Ms. Palmin,” he simpered, one eyebrow arched. “I’m waiting.”

“Linc…” I murmured, looking up at him again and biting my bottom lip for good measure, “don’t make me do this, please.”

His face remained expressionless and I doubled my attempts at pleading with him.

“Please, Linc. Don’t make me do this…” I looked down and let my hair fall around my face.

There was a moment of silence.

“Don’t make her do this, Pierre.” Linc finally sighed, flopping back down into his seat tiredly.

“Congratulations, Aislyn,” Pierre grinned, “You just successfully flirted.”

The Brit’s mouth hung open as I happily sat back down on the couch. “She didn’t flirt. She specifically asked not to flirt.”

“Ah, but you see, that’s where you’re wrong, sir Linc,” Pierre looked like he was an overly excited little girl. “Subtlety is the key.” He winked at the both of us and tapped the side of his nose with his index finger.

Linc returned to his usually grumpy state.

~~

“No.” The wooden ruler descended sharply on the back of my hand as I reached for one of the many chocolate chip cookies that lay on the plate in front of me. They were fresh out of the oven, and the smell was completely and utterly tantalizing. I needed one of those cookies.

I reached my hand out again towards the warm cookies, and again the ruler slapped my hand.

“Ow!” I protested, snapping my hand back and rubbing the back of it gingerly. “That hurt, dude.”

“Precisely.” Though the rest of his face was blank, Linc’s green eyes danced with a type of sadistic delight.

“You’re a jerk, you know that?”

“Well that’s hardly any way to be talking to the man that’s apologized to you twice, now isn’t it, Ms. Palmin?” A tiny smirk erupted across his face and I fought the urge to whack it off with a sharp back-hand.

“You owed me an apology the first time,” I sniffed, peeking at the cookies out of the corners of my eyes. “You publically humiliated me.”

Linc nodded in agreement, “Well yes, I did do that, but it’s really nothing personal. Just a little something every new model has to go through when they come to work for Pierre.”

“Says who?” I challenged, sitting up a little straighter on the bar stool I was sitting on.

“Says me.” He countered, picking up one of the cookies and taking a large bite out of it. “Oh, this cookie is delicious.”

“Stop rubbing it in,” growling, I slouched back down and leaned my elbows against the fluorescent white bar-top.

Sitting here reminded me of the night Linc got drunk and how I stayed with him. A grimace worked its way onto my face as a part of me thought that I shouldn’t have stayed; that I should have just left him there to sob his drunken eyes out.

But the other part of me, the nicer, less terrible, part of me argued that if I hadn’t been there what would he have done? Gotten drunk then stumbled out to be run over by a car? Or worse, drive away himself and run over someone? No, it was a good thing I stayed and monitored what he had to drink.

“What are you thinking about?” Linc murmured, looking at me with his head tilted slightly to the left, making his dark hair swing to one side freely.

“I was thinking about how much I want a cookie.” I lied in a grumbling voice. How embarrassing would it be if I actually admitted that I was thinking about him?

“Well you can’t have one. Specific orders from Pierre.”

“Pierre doesn’t need to know that I ate a cookie…” I coaxed, only letting myself hope the slightest bit that he would take me seriously and give me one of the chocolate filled delights.

“Nope. Not happening.” The tall man crossed his arms firmly over his chest and stood over the plate of cookies like a body-guard.

“You’re not a very nice guy.” I pouted, mimicking his arms’ position.

He grinned and leaned over the bar, “Now you’re beginning to understand. Congratulations, here’s a cookie.”

He picked up one of the coveted cookies and tossed it at me. I snatched it greedily out of the air and took a bite.

“Enjoy it while you can, Ms. Palmin,” Linc laughed as he exited the room. “It will be one of the last cookies you will ever eat.”

After I had—secretly—consumed my cookie, Pierre called us back into the living room to try the flirting thing again. The five times he had me try again however, were much less successful. Pierre kept finding flaws in my “technique”. Honestly, who has a technique with flirting?

“You’re trying too hard, Aislyn, dear. It’s making you too obvious. Subtlety, remember? Subtlety!”

“He already knows I’m supposed to be flirting with him!” I complained, waving my hand lazily at Linc at the word ‘him’.

“ ‘He’ has a name,” Linc cut in, “And I agree, what is the point in flirting if I already know she holds no feelings for me and that she’s supposed to be flirting with me?”

I crossed my arms over my chest as I smiled smugly at Pierre, “Ha. See? Linc agrees with me.”

“And that’s why she needs… ‘field training’.”

“I what?” I whirled around to stare at Linc, disbelief etched clearly onto my face.

“You need to go flirt with someone who doesn’t know that you hold no attraction for him, and doesn’t know that you’re supposed to be flirting with him for some idiotic lesson.” The Brit’s broad shoulders moved up and down as he shrugged, “Just an idea.”

The look on Pierre’s face told me that he was seriously considering Linc’s idea. “Linc does have a point…” he murmured, rubbing a thoughtful hand across his clean-shaven chin. “Linc. Take Aislyn out to flirt with the masses.” He waved his hand at us dismissively, practically shooing us out of his home.

“B-but, Pierre—“ I started to try to dissuade him from this madness, but he would hear none of it.

“Go and show off the skills that you have amassed in the short time you have studied under me, grasshopper,” folding his hands together, Pierre bowed at me mockingly before turning sharply on his heel and disappearing somewhere into his large house.

I whirled around to glare at the tall man behind me, “Do you see what you’ve done?” I demanded in an exasperated tone, “Now he’ll want me to call him ‘sensei’.”

“Just be thankful he didn’t call you ‘padawan’.” Linc smirked, and I felt the urge to wipe that smug little smile right off of his face with a well placed right hook; it was difficult, but I managed to keep my fists at my sides.

“Whatever, let’s just get this stupid thing over with.” I mimicked Pierre’s exit, frowning as I practically stomped outside to my car.

“Someone needs to learn to lighten up,” Linc noted amusedly, standing next to his own car and looking at me.

I ignored him and started to clamber into my vehicle when his long, slim fingers wrapped around my upper arm and restrained me from doing so, “And just what do you think you’re doing?” He asked, in that same teasing tone.

“Driving, duh.” I tried to wrench my arm out of his grasp, but he held it firmly in his grasp—gently, but inescapable.

“How am I to know that you’re not just going to drive home? No, you’re riding with me.” With the same gentle pressure he was using to hold me in place, he began to drag me over to his car.

“Let me go!” I nearly shouted, struggling pointlessly to get out of his strong grip.

“Nope!” Linc replied cheerily, still tugging me along as smoothly as if I hadn’t been struggling at all. For a brief, embarrassing moment, I wondered how strong he was, and how much he could bench-press if he could tow me along without a problem, but I quickly pushed all such thoughts away and focused on escaping from him.

With a shove from Linc, I landed with a thump on his passenger side seat, and, before I could react, the door was slammed shut in my face and locked for good measure. I tried to unlock it and open the door, but it wouldn’t work.

“It’s no use trying to escape,” he said with a bored voice, “Child locks work just as well on unruly nineteen year olds as they do on small children.” An impish smile flashed across his face and I wondered what he would look like if he actually smiled.

“I really, really dislike you,” I retorted, crossing my arms childishly over my chest and glaring out the window with enough venom to kill a fully grown man.

“Good.” All teasing in his voice was gone now, and he sounded perfectly serious.

The minutes passed by in absolute silence. Unlike the last time I rode in his car, Linc adjusted the temperature to one that was comfortable, something I was very much grateful for. My simple shorts and t-shirt would not have done much to protect me from the wintry temperatures that we had endured in our tenacity the last time.

“Where are we going?” I asked finally, breaking the uncomfortably awkward silence.

“Somewhere,” he answered tensely. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that his hands were tight on the steering wheel and his mouth was pulled down into a taut frown.

For a second I debated with myself over whether or not I should ask him if everything was okay, but the unhappy part of me won over the concerned part, and I remained silent.

When we pulled into the parking lot of Heaven’s Dog, a Chinese restaurant in the Frisco area, I was beyond surprised.

“What are we doing here?” I asked, as Linc exited the car. I didn’t try to get out of the car, he still hadn’t disengaged the child lock.

“Getting you to flirt.” His response was just as terse as it had been before, and again I wanted to ask him what was wrong.

“What’s to stop me from running away now that I’m free?” I challenged, raising one of my brows and placing my hands on my hips.

“Me, obviously.” A half-hearted half-smile flitted onto his face and settled comfortably onto his lips. He looked nice when he smiled—even if it wasn’t a genuine one.

“Like you could stop me,” I scoffed, remaining where I was.

“Care to test it out?” Linc used his hands to indicate that I was free to run.

I glanced at my flip-flop clad feet then over at his own sneaker covered ones. “I think I’ll pass on that one, thanks.”

“Then let us continue.” He used his heel to spin him around and started walking with long strides towards the restaurant entrance. I had to trot a bit to catch up, but I managed fairly well.

The entry-way of the restaurant was curved, and led into a large room where a long bar occupied an entire wall. On the opposite side of the room, tables for up to four were arranged neatly into a long row, and a booth stretched all the way across the wall for extra seating.

“A table for two,” Linc requested quietly, and the maitre de gathered up some menus and seated us.

As soon as we were, relatively, alone, Linc leaned over the table and whispered, “Flirt.”

I grimaced and looked around, “With who?”

“Whom,” he corrected casually, “And with the waiter.”

“What waiter? There’s no—“

“Hello, my name is Thomas, and I’ll be your server this evening.” A young man—no older than twenty-two—stood next to us. He was one of the few employees at Heaven’s Dog that wasn’t Asian. His bright red hair was slicked back neatly and freckles were sprayed across his face, like someone had taken a fault tanning gun and used it on his face. “Can I start you guys off with a drink?”

I turned to Linc, but he deferred to me with a wave of his hand. Fighting a grimace, I faced Thomas again, “I’ll just have water, thank you, Thomas.”

The waiter nodded politely, jotted it down on his little note-pad then turned to Linc.

“The same.”

“Okay, great, I’ll have those waters right out for you.” With a departing smile, the red-head disappeared into the double kitchen doors.

“You really aren’t the best at flirting, are you, Ms. Palmin?” Linc had opened a paper package of chopsticks, and was pulling them out. “Honestly, are you even trying?”

“Of course I’m not trying.” I frowned, “I don’t want to flirt with the waiter.”

“You have no choice in the matter.” Linc’s tone left no room for negotiation.

“It’s a free country.”

“Pierre’s orders.”

“I don’t have to flirt with him.”

“Yes, actually, you do.”

“No, actually, I don’t. And you can’t make me.” I probably shouldn’t have tested him like that, but I really didn’t want to have ‘field training’.

“I beg to differ, Ms. Palmin.” He didn’t elaborate, but he didn’t need to. If he could convince Pierre to go with this ridiculous ‘flirting with the masses’ scheme, there was no telling what else that devious, British mind of his could come up with next.

“I really, really don’t like you.” I said, for the second time that night.

“I can live with that.”

“In fact, I hate you.”

“The more you hate me, the better.”

“Go die in a hole, Linc.”

“After you, Ms. Palmin.” No matter what I threw at him, he came up with a retort as fast as lighting. Darn his wit and seemingly high level of intelligence.

Before I could come up with a comeback that would leave the infuriating Brit in the dust, Thomas came back, waters in hand, and set them down in front of us, “Have you guys decided what you want to eat?”

Across from me, Linc coughed meaningfully, I glared at him before turning to Thomas cheerfully, “Can we have a few more minutes, please?”

“Absolutely.” With a small smile that revealed straight, white teeth, the ginger departed once more.

“Pierre was right,” Linc sighed with mock sadness, “your flirting skills truly do need work.”

I ignored him and flipped through the menu in front of me, even though I already knew what I was going to get.

When Thomas returned a few minutes later, we ordered our food, and I still had yet to flirt with him. When he came back twenty minutes after that with our food, I continued to refuse to flirt with him. By the time we left Heaven’s Dog, I had successfully defied Pierre and walked out of the Chinese restaurant with my head held high.

When Linc dropped me off at Pierre’s so that I could drive myself home, he didn’t leave without a parting shot.

“You may not have flirted with Thomas, Ms. Palmin, but you most certainly flirted with me.” With a tip of his head, and a mocking bow, he climbed back into his car and left, leaving me standing in Pierre’s driveway blushing up a storm.

“What’s wrong?” I asked a very disgusted-looking Gavin who was staring—or perhaps glaring—at me as I observed one of the several outfits that Pierre had sent home with me after our second lesson: fashion.

“What are you wearing?” As he asked the question, he moved from his leaning position against my door frame and walked in to sit on my bed.

“Something Pierre gave me; why? Do you not like it?” I twirled in front of my full-length mirror. Honestly, I liked it. I thought the deep blue complimented my lighter hair nicely.

“No, it’s not that…” Gavin’s face contradicted his words.

“Then what’s up?” I sat down next to him on the full-sized bed and started to fiddle with a loose, violet thread.

“You just look… girly.” His nose wrinkled at the word and I laughed.

“Idiot, I am a girl.” Playfully smacking him upside the head I turned over so that I was lying down on my stomach, my head near the foot of the bed.

“No, no, no… I mean… You just,” he frowned and scratched the back of his head with the hand he wasn’t using to prop himself up, “You don’t look like you.”

“Of course I look like me,” I smiled.

“No, you don’t. You look… fake.”

“Fake in what way?” I pushed myself up so that I was sitting up for the most part.

“Superficial. Phony. Shallow. Artificial. The list is endless.” He ticked off each word on his fingers.

“Gee, thanks, I feel so loved now.” I let my head fall back down onto the bird-printed comforter with a sigh and a roll of my eyes.

“You’re still the most fantabulous best friend ever, Ais, don’t get me wrong—you got me The Eagle for my birthday, you were a little late, yeah, but it was still the most epic nineteenth birthday present ever.” He winked cheekily at me as he grinned, “I can’t wait to see what you get me next year.”

“You are such a kid,” I still wanted him to elaborate on the whole ‘superficial’ thing, but laughed instead and ruffled the soft hair on the top of Gavin’s head.

“But you still love me,” he grinned and hopped off of my bed. “Come on, your mom is making pie, and we are the official taste testers.” With a grin whose size could rival that of a T-rex’s, he took me by the hand and towed me into the kitchen where my mom was setting out cork hot-pads on the butcher block in the center of the kitchen.

“Don’t tell me you both came down here just to try the pie…” my mom fought to keep a straight face, but a grin found its way onto her red lips and her blue eyes crinkled at the sides.

“Of course not, Mrs. P!” My best friend smiled winningly and spread his hands wide. “I came down here so that I could bask in your timeless beauty.”

“Suck up,” my mom and I coughed at the same time.

Gavin grimaced, “No double-teaming; it’s not fair.”

Mom and I looked at each-other knowingly before turning back to Gavin, “Life’s not fair.”

The young man’s tanned face twisted up and he plopped himself tiredly on a stool on one side of the butcher block, his hands propping his head up. “Why can I never win?”

“Because you’re nowhere near as awesome as we are,” I laughed, sitting down on the stool beside him and settling my head down on his shoulder.

He sighed heavily and tilted his own head so that it was resting against mine, “Why do I put up with you, Ais?”

“Because you wouldn’t be complete without me. I’m…I’m like the yin to your yang; the soda to your pop; the in to your Gav; I’m your second half, love.”

My mom looked over at the two of us, a tiny smile lifting the corners of her lips. “You two would make the cutest couple ever.”

Face flaming, I jerked away from Gavin. “Mom!”

“What?” She laughed, and started pulling on oven mitts.

“You—You can’t just say things like that!”

“Why not? It’s true.” Shrugging, she turned away from Gavin and I and pulled her pie from the oven. “Besides, it’s bound to happen anyways.”

I had no retort for that, and it seemed that neither did Gavin. He remained silent throughout the whole exchange. That was either from embarrassment, or he was too busy drooling over the pie fresh from the oven. One glance at his face, and the answer was clear: he was definitely too busy drooling.

“Shut your mouth, you’re going to catch flies.” Using my index finger, I pushed Gavin’s jaw closed, and he blinked rapidly at my mother in a pathetic attempt to bat his thick, black eyelashes.

“Mrs. P, can I have some of that delicious looking pie?”

“Absolutely—if you want to burn your mouth. It just got out of the oven, young master Vice; you can wait a few more minutes can’t you?” Pulling off one of the oven mitts, my mom tapped the very top of the pie crust quickly, making a little dimple in the peak.

“I suppose I can…” Intertwining his fingers and setting his forehead down on the resulting knot of fingers, Gavin gave a little sigh.

A comfortable, homey silence settled over the golden-yellow kitchen as my mom busied herself pulling out plates and forks for the freshly baked pie and Gavin slowly dozed off while waiting for his cut of the pie. Taking Gavin’s lead, I set my own head down on the backs of my hands settled on the cool, granite countertops and soon felt myself drifting off.

~~

“Where are we going?” I groped blindly in front of myself, trying my best not to run into anything. A blindfold was over my eyes, and Gavin was expecting me to just follow the sound of his voice.

“If I told you, I would have to kill you,” Gavin said seriously from somewhere to my right.

“Gav!” Like the klutz I was, I banged my knee against something hard. “Ow! Gavin Caleb Vice come help me find my way.”

“Alright, alright, don’t get your blindfold in a twist; I’m a-comin’, I’m a comin’.” His large, warm hands settled on my shoulders from behind and he began steering me around.

Although I had someone guiding me, I still somehow managed to hit my shins and stub my toes. “You’re the worst guide in the history of forever. If you were a seeing-eye dog, the blind person you were supposed to be guiding would trade you for anything else.”

“Really feeling the love here, Ais,” Gavin grumbled, still pushing me along gently.

Finally, we stopped somewhere, and my best friend’s hands reached up to untie the bandana that was preventing me from seeing. The fabric fell away from my eyes and it took me a moment to adjust to the sudden brightness.

When they finally did adjust, my eyes were met with the sight of an empty storage room in Palmin Modeling Agency with a picnic table squarely set in the middle. On the top of the table was a plain blue table cloth and bowls and spoons sat atop that. A simple cooler stood nearby.

“Do you like it?” Gavin moved in front of me, a wide grin spread across his entire face.

“Ice cream?”

“But of course.”

“Then of course I like it!” I ran past him and plopped myself down on one side of the wooden table. “What’s this about, exactly?”

“Well, you’ve been spending a lot of time with Pierre and… Linc, and we haven’t had—this is about to sound so chick-like, so forgive me—‘best-friend time’, so I thought this was the best way to earn back some of my bestest bud status.”

“Well, you never lost any ‘bestest bud status’ but the gesture is appreciated nonetheless.” After he sat down next to me I threw my arms around him in a tight embrace.

Gav pulled the bowls on the table closer to us, then reached over and pulled ice cream from the cooler before setting it down on the picnic table in front of us. “You ready for this?”

I quirked an eyebrow at him, “Do I look ready?”

“Let’s do this.”

Days spent with one’s best friend are undoubtedly one of the best kinds of days there are.

“No, no, no, no, no! Aislyn, dearest, the flowers go in the powder blue vase, not the royal blue one!” Pierre ran over to me quickly, clucking like a mother hen, and grabbed the flowers quickly out of my arms, setting them in the correct vase. “Honestly? What would people think if they saw the flowers in a blue that totally clashed with the rest of the color-scheme?”

Callie popped her head around the corner, “Pierre, Linc just broke something; you might want to go check it out.”

As he departed, Pierre’s thin arms were waving wildly over his head as he screeched something about ‘stupid, unreliable male model and his inherent ability to muck everything up’.

“Thanks for that,” I sighed, slumping down against a nearby wall.

Pierre had called Callie, Linc and I to help him set up for some kind of charity ball he was hosting the next day. He was selling dances with his models to the wealthier people in the ‘Frisco area and he was going to donate all of the money to the Action Against Hunger charity. It was a fantastic idea, but it meant that the four of us had been cleaning for at least three hours now and with each passing minute Pierre got more and more stressed.

“Not a problem.” Callie grinned and sat down exhaustedly on the couch, her eyes closing and a contented smile flitting across her face as she put her feet up for the first time in several hours. “Warn me when you hear the raving lunatic, will you?”

I smiled at her accurate description of Pierre’s current state, “Sure thing.”

Just then, Linc walked in, dark hair mussed and green eyes wide, “Why did you set that—that thing on me, Calphurnia?” He ran his fingers through his hair, making it stick up at odd angles, and threw a glance over his shoulder. “If I didn’t know any better I would say that you didn’t love me anymore.” A wry smile crept over his lips and settled there comfortably.

“Aw, come on, Linc-y, you know I love you loads.” Callie’s light brown eyes shot open and she winked at the tall young man in front of us.

“Why I put up with you is beyond me.” Linc’s tone was teasing as he gave Callie a genuine smile.

I was right. He did look rather nice when he smiled. At the sight of his grin I almost imagined that if we could actually get along I might, maybe, like him. Quickly, I pushed all such thoughts out of my mind and focused on the problem at hand: making sure Pierre doesn’t catch us taking a break. That crazy, blond designer would go nuts if he saw us dilly-dallying around his living room.

“Why do I not hear cleaning?” Pierre’s voice carried through the house to meet our ears.

I clattered forward and picked up a random piece of fluff off the floor and rushed to throw it in a giant trash bag—one of many lying around the house.

“Wow, Ais, that was so useful.” Neither Callie nor Linc had moved from where they had been.

“Aren’t you guys worried about Pierre at all?”

Callie snorted, “Are you kidding? If Pierre was a… a Death Eater or something, he would be lamest Death Eater in the history of forever. He’d be just about as harmful as Draco trying to kill Dumbledore: a nice thought, but totally not possible. The man is a butterfly.”

“A butterfly that is very, very mad right now, Ms. Strumm, and I would thank you if you wouldn’t compare me to one of the lamest evil characters in literary history.” Pierre swept into the room dramatically and put his hands on his hips.

“You’re obviously forgetting about James from Twilight. He barely lasted five seconds; at least Draco managed to survive through every book.”

“James sparkled. No man that sparkles can be considered a villain.” Pierre winked a baby-blue eye at us and grabbed the trash-bag in the corner. Thrusting it forcefully into Linc’s unsuspecting arms, he grinned even wider than before. “Make yourself useful and take this out for me.”

Mumbling and grumbling the whole way out, the young man exited the room while Callie, Pierre and I watched. From her position on the couch, Callie started to snicker, covering her mouth with one of her small hands. At the sound, Pierre turned around, blue eyes flashing dangerously. “Calphurnia Marie Strumm, make yourself useful and clean the basement bathroom.”

The order must have had more meaning to her than it did to me because her face wrinkled in disgust, “The basement bathroom? But that bathroom is—“

“Revolting. Yes. I suggest you hop to it.” Pierre waved his hands in a shooing motion at the tiny model until she finally left. Then, with a sigh, he turned to me, “Aislyn, if you would kindly come with me…” He turned swiftly and started to walk out of the room.

I hesitantly followed him; what if he gave me a task like Callie’s? Would I have to clean the garage with a toothbrush?

Pierre walked leisurely through the hallways of his huge house, whistling as he went. He turned several times, and by the time we reached the room he wanted to be in, I was positive that I would never find my way out of his home ever again. We had arrived in a kitchen, with purple walls. China plates hung on the walls in artsy positions and stainless steel appliances were neatly organized along the walls and counters. Waving one hand, the designer motioned for me to sit at a small table in one corner of his kitchen.

“Uh, what’s up?”

Pierre settled in his seat opposite me and laced his fingers together on the table-top. “Aislyn, you know how tomorrow night I will be auctioning off dances with my models, yes?”

“Yeah…” At the very least, I wasn’t going to clean something disgusting with only a toothbrush. “You… you don’t want me to… You’re not going to…”

“No, I’m not going to auction your dances off… this time. I will be holding another charity gala in August, and I fully expect you to dance with many a young man to raise money.” The blond designer smirked and, before I could cut in, continued. “But, I was wondering…” He bit his lip and danced his fingers across the wooden top of the table.

“Yes?”

“Could you, perhaps, get your friend—that Gavin lad—to auction off a few dances?” His words came out in a giant rush, like he was in a hurry to get his request over-with.

The thought of Gavin dancing with a bunch of beautiful, rich women made me laugh—the boy would be in heaven. “I’ll see what I can do, Pierre.”

“Oh, goodie!” Pierre clapped his hands together excitedly. “The women will just eat. Him. Up.” One blond eyebrow shot up at my stifled giggle—if Gavin could hear that he would probably auction off his dances in a heartbeat. “If I gambled I would bet he and Linc will be the most popular young men on the dance-floor.”

I smiled and nodded my head, “I’m sure they will be.”

As I looked at myself in my mother’s full length mirror, I turned sideways and frowned. My shape had never been perfect, and the form-fitting dress my mother had loaned me only accentuated that imperfection. At a size seven, I wasn’t exactly the thinnest of all young women my age. I didn’t like to wear two piece swim-suits because I felt like I was too fat for them. I rarely wore skinny jeans, for fear that my legs would appear too thick in them, and form-fitting shirts were a no-no. This dress I was wearing was entirely uncharacteristic for me, but I had nothing else to wear.

With a sigh, I turned away from my reflection and slipped my feet into uncomfortably high heels before exiting my room and clacking my way to the front door. Linc stood ready by the door, dark hair smoothed back nicely with only a single stray strand falling in front of his face. He was wearing one of Pierre’s designs: a simple black shirt, no special decorations, and plain ebony slacks. The only pop of color he was wearing was a purple silk tie.

“All dressed up and ready to go, I see.” Linc’s intensely green eyes looked me up and down appraisingly and I struggled against the urge to squirm under his gaze. His voice was monotone—as it almost always was.

“You seem so enthusiastic about this.” I laughed a little bit and moved a little bit to the right, so that I wasn’t fully in his line of view.

“Oh yes, being sold off to women has me absolutely chuffed to bits.” The male model rolled his eyes just as my mother walked into the foyer.

“Lyn, dearest, you look beautiful!” She swept into the room elegantly despite her ridiculously high heels, and placed her hands on my shoulders. “This dress is absolutely perfect for you!”

My face colored and I looked down at my toes, “Thanks, Mom.”

“And Linc, you look quite dashing. A design of Pierre’s, no?”

A small smile flitted across the Brit’s face, “Indeed it is, ma’am; and may I just say you look just ravishing tonight?”

My mom giggled girlishly and waved her designer clutch at Linc, “Oh, stop with the flattery, Linc, or I may just try to steal you away from Calphurnia.” Linc laughed in time with my mother as I stood there, feeling awkward and out of place in my own home.

After a few moments more, I could no longer take it and coughed awkwardly. Both of them stopped in their mirthful actions and looked at me, questioning me with their facial expressions. “Er, uh, we need to go, or we’ll be late.”

With a small frown, Linc glanced down at his watch, “Where on earth is Calphurnia?” He muttered, shifting his weight backwards so that he could peer out of the window. “She should have been here by now.”

As if on cue, the door was flung open and a very winded looking Callie flew into the room, short hair messy and skirt slightly ruffled. “I’m here! I’m here!” She cried, “Don’t worry, I made it!” Callie stopped short, arms outstretched so that she could her balance and Linc shook his head bemusedly at her entrance.

“There you are, Callie!” My mom smiled, and moved towards the door, “Now we can go.”

“But I just got here, Lily…” The girl complained, slouching in her impossibly tight dress; just looking at Callie and her thinness made my self-esteem take a hard blow. I felt so huge standing next to her; I felt like a blimp.

Both Callie and my mother exited out the door, and Linc was holding it open like a perfect gentleman, but I stayed where I was, arms wrapped around my torso.

“Is everything alright, Ms. Palmin?” He asked, mouth turned down slightly at the corners and eyebrows beginning to pull down.

“Yes, I’m fine.” I lied, but I stayed put, thinking about all the terrible times I had been called fat and ugly. It sent horrible feelings running around in my stomach, it made me want to curl up in a ball and hide. It made me want to put on sweats and a baggy sweat-shirt to hide my body’s shape.

With that same mildly concerned look, Linc closed the door slowly and took a single step towards me. “Ms. Palmin, tell the truth, are you alright?”

I forced a smile onto my face, “Of course I am, why wouldn’t I be?” I moved to go past him and out the door, but he stepped into my path and barred the way.

“Aislyn, you’re lying.” Linc’s use of my first name surprised me. He had never done so before, and I found it odd that he chose now as the time to use it. “Now tell me, is everything okay?”

I bit my lip and looked down; I really didn’t want to just spill everything to a man I had only known for a few weeks. In that one moment, however, Linc had taken two long strides towards me, placed one large hand on my shoulder and used the other to force me to look him in the eye. “Aislyn Palmin, you are a terrible liar, and I am not going to let you leave this room until you tell me what is wrong.” As if to prove his point, Linc poked his head out the door and shouted to my mom to leave without us. She must have obliged, because when he turned to face me again his features were smug for a split second. “Now, tell me.”

Moving away from him, I shook my head, the memories still spinning around in my mind.

Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t notice you, lard.

Fatty, fatty two-by-four, can’t get through the classroom door!

Honestly, Aislyn, how on earth did you get so… big?

So what are you, a size 45?

I fought the urge to scream as the taunting voice filled my mind, they were all I knew in those few minutes. They were my world, swallowing me whole as I futilely tried to escape.

The next thing I was aware of was strong arms wrapped around me. The sudden, warm contact jolted me away from the memories and made me aware that tears had begun to stream down my face. Linc stood in front of me, arms wrapped around me so that I was pulled gently into his chest. I didn’t know how long I had been standing there in his arms without realizing it, but the front of his crisp, black shirt was already soaked.

“I-I’m so sorry,” I stammered as I pulled away from him in panic. Wiping the tears away from my eyes with the back of my hand, I tried to regain my composure. “I didn’t mean to—“

“Ms. Palmin, to repay me for spoiling my shirt, you will tell me what is wrong.” Linc’s tone was playfully serious as he tried to lighten the mood.

“I…I just…” I sighed and wrapped my arms around my torso again. “I don’t feel beautiful enough.” My confession was whispered, and directed towards the floor but he somehow still managed to hear it.

“Ms. Palmin, where on earth did you ever get that idea?”

My head jerked up in surprise as he said that, “What?”

He smiled gently as he placed one hand on my shoulder in a brotherly manner and peered sincerely into my plain brown eyes with his brilliant emerald ones. “Aislyn, whoever told you that you weren’t pretty enough was dead wrong.” Linc sounded uncertain about what he was saying, but sincere. “You are a beautiful young woman, and if Pierre was auctioning off your dances tonight the men would line up for miles just to have a chance to dance with you.”

I laughed a little bit at his exaggeration, but it came out as a sort of half-hiccup. “You don’t need to—“

“Lie? But I’m not. Can’t you see it, Ms. Palmin? You have beauty, charm, charisma; the only thing you’re lacking is self-esteem.”

Another hiccup and a smile, “Tear-ruined make-up and all?”

Linc grinned at my attempt at lightening the mood, “Tear-ruined make-up and all.”



////

Tu es belle, ma chère, tant à l'intérieur et l'extérieur.

Pierre’s charity gala went well. All in all, he had raised well over $100,000 for the Action Against Hunger charity foundation. It seemed like everybody had had a good time, though Gavin may have been an exception. Most of the women he danced with were older, and wanted to ‘eat him up, he was just so cute’.

The day after the gala, I decided that I needed to meet my father, I called up Pete and asked him for the address of the cemetery he was buried at. I called up Gavin and asked him to come with me; I really didn’t want to go there alone.

Five minutes later, Gavin arrived at my doorstep, a bouquet of lilies in his hand. His hair was combed nicely, and he was wearing a polo—something completely uncharacteristic of him. When I asked him about it, he merely shrugged and said, “I figured I should dress nicely if I were going to meet your dad for the first time. I want to make a good impression, you know?” I smiled a little bit and followed him to his car, not really knowing what to expect.

Was there an etiquette to meeting ones deceased parent? Did I have to bring flowers?

The drive to the cemetery was short, and I couldn’t help my stomach twisting as I exited the car’s interior. The sky overhead was blue with only a few clouds marring its perfection. It seemed as if Gavin and I were the only ones in the area.

We walked through row after row of gravestones, looking for the one marked Michael Winchester. It took a few minutes, but we finally found him near the middle of the burial grounds. As soon as we reached it, Gavin placed his bouquet of lilies down next to the headstone and stepped back, hands shoved deeply into his pockets. We stood there in silence for a few minutes, and it was hard not to feel awkward.

Finally, I guess Gavin couldn’t take the awkward silence anymore because he stepped forward again, “Uh, hello, er, sir…” He coughed and cleared his throat, then rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “My name is Gavin Aaron Vice, and I’m your daughters best friend.” Gavin looked back at me doubtfully, but I motioned for him to go on; I would talk to my dad after him.

“I, uh, I’ve been looking out for Aislyn for you,” he smiled a little bit and sighed through his nose. “She’s… you’d be proud of her, sir.” With those words, Gavin’s hands returned to his pockets and he stepped back.

I ran one hand through my hair, from the roots to the tips, then stepped forward myself. Butterflies assaulted the walls of my stomach for some unknown reason, and my mouth was dry when I opened it to speak.

“H-hi, Dad.” My bottom lip slipped between my teeth as I looked back at Gavin for reassurance. He nodded at me, and mimicked my ‘go on’ gesture. “We’ve never met before, but, uh, according to Pete you knew about me.” I choked a little bit on a laugh, “He actually said that I was your pride and joy. Oh, crap! I’m being rude, I forgot to introduce myself.”

From behind me, Gavin snorted, “He knows who you are, Ais.”

“Uh, yeah, right, um… Mom got me a modeling job; I’ve been working with this British guy, Linc Kingsman; you’ve probably never heard of him. He’s kind of annoying sometimes. He comes off as really aloof when you first meet him, but…” I trailed off and my thoughts wandered to the night before, “but once you get to know him he’s really not that bad.”

“Why thank you, Ms. Palmin, I appreciate that.” I whirled around, eyes wide to face a very solemn-looking Linc. His hair was slicked back, as it had been the previous night, and in his hands was a small bouquet of white roses. At the sight of the Brit, the knots in my stomach that had been unraveling tightened once more.

“Linc! Uh, hi… What are you doing here?”

“You’re not the only one with dead relatives, Ms. Palmin. Mine just so happens to lie next to yours.” With one hand, he gestured to the headstone to the right of my father’s; it read: Maria Kingsman: Beloved wife and mother 1965-2009. “Who might this be?”

“Oh! Uh, Linc, Dad. Dad, Linc.” When I realized that I had just introduced a headstone to a living person, I blushed.

Linc, on the other hand, seemed perfectly at-ease with what I had just done, and dipped his head respectfully towards my father’s headstone. “You have a wonderful daughter, Mr. Winchester. You were lucky to have her.” He nodded once again, then stepped carefully around Gavin and placed his bouquet of roses on Maria’s grave. As he did so, he crouched down near the gravestone and murmured a few words, soft and low. I wasn’t able to make out what exactly he was saying, but once he had finished, he stood carefully and mimicked Gavin’s posture.

A few moments of silence passed as the three of us merely stood there. It was Linc who finally broke the quiet with an awkward cough, “Maria”—the word stumbled off of his tongue, as if he was uncomfortable with referring to the woman by her first name—“Was my mother. I think the both of you would have liked her.”

Again, we lapsed into silence.

“What was she like?” I murmured, eyes fixed on the simple grey stone that decorated her final resting place.

I heard Linc inhale and exhale heavily and I allowed myself to look back up at him.

“Caring, strong, venerable, delightful, amazing, beautiful—the list could very well be endless.” A facial expression I couldn’t identify surfaced on his face. A small smile was curving his lips upwards, and his eyes seemed far off, as if all they could see were his memories. “Her cooking was to die for,” he laughed a little bit, “but she couldn’t bake for the life of her. Once she tried to make cookies… the result was a batch of chocolate-chip charcoal.”

Gavin and I laughed softly along with him until his eyes regained focus. The queer facial expression, however, remained in place. He seemed serene, at peace. “And your father?” He waved his hand towards my dad’s grave. “What was he like?”

“I-I never really met him,” I stammered. “All I ever knew of him was his name.”

Linc’s calm expression faded away to be replaced with an apologetic one, “I’m terribly sorry, Ms. Palmin. To never know one’s father is an awful thing indeed.” Though his tone seemed sincere enough his face said differently. I wondered why his lip curled slightly at the mention of fathers.

“Mm…” I mumbled; in truth, I had never really considered never knowing my father an ‘awful thing’. I had never known him, thus I had never missed him. At times, I’ll admit, I wondered what it would be like to have a father, but I had larger worries.

“It’s been delightful indeed, but I must be off.” Linc’s face regained its emotionless quality as he turned slowly on his shoe’s heel and strode back off in the direction he had come.

“It was nice meeting you, Dad.” I whispered hesitantly, before moving back and setting of with Gavin back to the car.

After our depressing trip to the cemetery, Gavin decided that we shouldn’t go directly home and detoured to a Starbucks.

The coffee shop was all the way in San Jose.

Most of the hour long drive was spent in a comfortable, companionable silence that was only broken occasionally by the odd, short-lived conversation. Neither of us found the silence awkward; we had known each other much too long for that.

Sometime between the cemetery and Starbucks, I fell asleep, my forehead pressed against the pane of glass in the window.

There he was: Charles Michael Trevor Clintlock Jr.—better known as Charlie, the star soccer-player of Lowell High.

It was the last class of the day, and Charlie had already changed out of his regular school clothes into the red and white vertically striped uniform of the Lowell Cardinals. His dusty-blond head remained focused intently on the teacher as she lectured on the differences between Eukaryotes and Prokaryotes. In addition to being one of the best athletes of the high-school, Charlie was also one of its top scoring students.

This exceptional combination of both brain and brawn was the bane of most teenage boys at Lowell. With his killer looks, he could steal away the heart of any girl he wished. Girls swooned at the very sight of him, and boys hated him for it.

Or at least, that was the theory.

In truth, Charles Clintlock Jr. was a complete dunderhead when it came to women and wouldn’t know a flirting female if she walked up to him and slapped him in the face with a raw slab of meat.

Maybe that’s why I found him so inexplicably alluring.

I had nursed a small attraction to the boy since the seventh grade, and there I was, two years later, ogling at the back of his attractive blond head when I should have been listening to a biology lecture.

“Stop drooling over the soccer-player and pay attention to Mrs. Liffrig,” Gavin hissed into my ear and successfully dragging me, kicking and screaming, out of my silly, early-adolescent day dreams that nearly resembled that teen-sensation: Twilight.

“I’m not drooling over him,” I whispered back, my cheeks flaming a cheery red color as I retrained my focus to the teacher.

“Whatever you say, Ais…” My best friend shook his dark head and resumed doodling on a scrap of notebook paper—obviously, he was a marvelous student.

I managed to keep my attention on the teacher for a few more minutes, but I found my gaze wandering back to the back of Charlie’s blond head every so often.

Groaning, I flicked my eyes to the piece of paper in front of me. In an attempt to stop myself from this madness, I began to doodle random swirling patterns in the upper right hand corner of the lined paper. In this manner, I managed to distract myself from the unfairly attractive human-being two rows ahead of me for a good ten minutes. When I realized that the endeavor was practically hopeless, I resigned myself to my fate, and continued to stare.

Slowly, the blond-headed modern-day Adonis turned his head, a slight frown twisting his lips. His brilliant, blue eyes captured mine and I couldn’t help but blush.

Charlie’s light eyebrows furrowed and he lifted his hand in a small motion of salutation. The red color of my face saturated even further as I returned the gesture. With the frown still on his face, he turned back to face the teacher.

As soon as the bell rang, the classroom erupted with the inane buzzing of constant teenage chatter as all the students rushed to gather up their bags and head home. It had been a long day—or perhaps it just felt much too long—and everyone was eager to return home where they could plug themselves into their favorite after-school pastimes.

Charlie, on the other hand, packed up slowly and steadily, as if he were in no rush. He wouldn’t be home for another two hours; he still had soccer practice. As if mimicking his movements, I abstained from my usual rush and grabbed my books at the same pace he was. Gavin noticed what I was doing, rolled his eyes, and shot out of there like a rocket.

I honestly didn’t know why I did what I did next, but I know that I instantly regretted it.

Instead of going to my locker, like I should I have done, I stupidly followed Clintlock to the other side of the school. We had only gotten half-way there when he turned back to me with a frown.

Most of the student body had disappeared for the day. There were a few stragglers—athletes and kids waiting for their parents to pick them up mostly, but in that one hallway there was only one other person besides Charlie and I.

The boy’s light eyebrows were knitted together over those baby-blue eyes, and his lips were turned down at the corners in a, still unfairly attractive, frown.

“Are you following me, Aislyn?”

I managed to choke a laugh out, “Me? Follow you? That’s…” I trailed off at the disbelieving look he was giving me. “Preposterous.”

“Why are you—“ his blue eyes cleared and his eyebrows unfurrowed. “Oh.”

“’Oh’? What’s that supposed to mean?” My stomach twisted into uncomfortable knots as I feared that he had figured out my small attraction to him.

“You like me.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement of fact.

I opened my mouth to speak, but no sound came out. I couldn’t deny it. I couldn’t defend myself.

Sighing through his nose, Charlie rubbed his temples with his forefingers, “Look, Aislyn, you’re a nice enough girl and stuff. You’re smart and all, but…” he frowned after he saw the small quivering of my lower lip. I hadn’t failed to notice that he only mentioned my academic attributes and not my physical. “Is everything alright?”

Gavin shook me awake roughly before the memory had time to play through completely. The rest of it was nothing but embarrassment anyways. His girlfriend—also a soccer player—skipped up to him and planted a kiss on his left cheek. She was pretty, gorgeous even. I could clearly see why he would never be interested in a girl like me. Why would he when he had a girl like that.

I completed the school year at Lowell, but the next school year I transferred to Mannfield prep and had attended the out-of-state school for the next few years of high-school and had also applied to another out-of-state school for college.

The coffee shop was busy. Groups of customers were sitting outside enjoying their caffeinated drinks, while others, that I could clearly see through the giant windows, stood in line waiting to receive theirs.

“Let’s get some caffeine in our systems,” my best friend grinned, throwing his door open and stepping out into the dry California air.

I followed suit and we stepped into the small Starbucks together, the smell of coffee beans and chocolate assaulting our noses immediately. I stared up at the large sign on the wall behind the counter as I tried to decide what I wanted to drink. Usually, I wasn’t much of a coffee drinker but the memory of that fateful day had left me feeling drained even though I had just taken a nap in the car. Eventually I just decided on a cup of hot cocoa; chocolate was supposed to be good for you anyways.

“What are you getting?” Gavin murmured, leaning his head over so that the side of his face was barely brushing the top of my head.

“Hot chocolate,” I replied, “You?”

“The manliest man drink a man can get.” He thumped his chest forcefully with a fist, “a vanilla frappucino.”

“Ooh…” I widened my eyes mockingly, “That’s so manly.”

“Isn’t it?” He smiled, obviously proud of himself, and puffed his chest out like a male bird. “I’m so virile, Youtube sensations are jealous.”

I giggled at his stupid play on words in spite of myself, and immediately began to feel better. Ah, the perks of having a giant teddy-bear of a man as your best friend…

Gavin and I stood in front of Callie’s front door, brightly wrapped presents in hand. Because his hands were full, Gav used his forehead to knock on the door’s dark wooden frame.

“Honestly?” I laughed, and he just grinned down at me as the door swung open almost immediately.

“Aislyn, Gavin, you’re here! Fantabulous! Come in, come in!” Callie shooed us indoors, her pixie-hair spiked all around her head in a delightfully spunky fashion. A lacy skirt wrapped around her legs, and a bright red cardigan rested gracefully over a simple white collared shirt.

Once we had stepped into her large foyer, we placed the colorful gifts on a nearby table.

“Thank you so much for coming early, you two. I wouldn’t be able to set up all on my lonesome.”

“It’s no problem, Cal,” Gav smiled widely and walked straight into the kitchen, “We’re happy to help.”

I smiled, and nodded in agreement before following Gavin into the kitchen. A wide array of food covered the countertops, and two cutting boards with scarily large knives rested in the center of it all.

“Okay, I need one of you to help me out with cutting these vegetables,” she swept her arms around the room, “And the other to start blowing up balloons and putting them in the dining room. Who wants which job?”

Without a word, Gavin stepped forward and grasped the handle of one the large knives. Its edge was serrated, and I definitely did not have a good feeling about letting my oaf of a best friend handle it.

“Gav, are you sure you want to—“

“Oh, come on, Aislyn… let me live a little will ya?” One big brown eye winked at me playfully before he snatched up a carrot and started chopping away.

“O..kay.” Grimacing as I left the room and headed towards the dining room, I thought of the many ways that Gavin could potentially injure himself and Callie. Quickly, I shook the thoughts away—he was nineteen, he should be able to handle a knife by now… I hoped.

I had only blown up three of hundreds of balloons when the doorbell rang. Almost immediately, Callie flitted out of the kitchen, knife still in hand, and threw open the door to reveal a very familiar dark-haired, green-eyed Englishman.

“Happy Birthday, Calphurnia,” he smiled, before swooping down quickly and kissing her quickly on the cheek.

I turned away, blushing because I had obviously just witnessed a private moment between lovers.

“Thanks, you big lump,” Callie giggled before her expression turned serious and she shoved him towards where I was seated. “Now help Aislyn blow up the balloons.”

“It’s nice to see you too,” Linc grumbled, though his voice still held a teasing note.

Callie didn’t deign to reply to him, but ran back into the kitchen as quickly as she could.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Palmin,” Linc greeted. A small smile playing around the corners of his lips changed his usually rigid exterior into a more calm and relaxed profile. He looked nice.

“Hey,” I murmured, before putting another balloon to my lips and puffing my cheeks out like a chipmunk’s to fill the small rubber thing with air.

Linc picked up a balloon of his own, then mimicked my actions. The sight of him with his face completely filled with air was so comical that I couldn’t help but laugh, the balloon I had been previously blowing up falling from my lips.

One of the Brit’s dark eyebrows lifted, “I wouldn’t laugh, Ms. Palmin. You’re not the only one who looks absurd blowing up balloons.”

Before I could help myself, a rosy blush bloomed up my neck and across my face until it colored my ears to their very tips, “Shut up…”

“Now, now… Where’s the fun in that?” One corner of his lips moved higher than the other to form a arrogant smirk.

“Silence is golden,” I pointed out, a smile dancing across my own face in an involuntary response to his teasing.

“But duct tape is silver.”

Before I could stop it, a giggle tumbled out from between my lips and assaulted his ears. A small, genuine smile lit up his face at the sound, and, like I was every time he smiled, I was hit by how well a smile fit onto his features. Then, with one final, playful quirk of his eyebrows, Linc resumed his duty of blowing up the colorful balloons.

Linc and I went about our job in silence; we merely listened to Callie and Gavin bickering loudly in the kitchen about the proper way to slice a bell pepper. Callie asserted that one had to cut around the stem to remove it, while Gavin preferred the much simpler approach of just chopping the entire top off.

Using one hand to finish tying up the open end of the balloon, I grabbed a piece of tape off of its dispenser and taped it to the seat next to me, as Callie had instructed. In the short time that Linc and I had been working, most of the chairs had already been covered with the colorful orbs and the only ones that remained were the two that we were sitting in.

“I must say, I agree with your young male friend.” The sound of Linc’s voice surprised me after so many minutes of silence, and I was so startled that I dropped the balloon I had been holding.

Both Linc and I reached down to retrieve it, and, just as his fingers closed around the rubber, mine reached it.

In that one moment in which our hands touched, my stomach clenched tightly, and my eyes shot up to meet his. His own face mirrored mine: slightly surprised, with eyes wide. My heart rate increased exponentially—it nearly felt like it was going to hammer itself straight of my chest. For the few brief seconds that we remained there, staring at each other like star-struck teenagers, I almost felt like… maybe, he could possibly like someone like me.

“I’m terribly sorry,” he mumbled, turning his face quickly away from me and snatching his hand back. “I, uh, need to help Calphurnia with something.”

With a final constriction of my stomach, I was pulled roughly back into reality. Of course he could never like me, he was with Callie. Why would I even dream of him liking me anyways? I was absolutely nothing compared to my newest best friend.

She was beautiful, thin, athletic, fun… Comparing myself to her would be like comparing an evil step-sister from Cinderella to the enchanted princess herself.

Linc disappeared into the kitchen to help his beloved Calphurnia chop mushrooms, or bell peppers. Whichever.

With a sigh, I reached down and retrieved the stupid balloon that had started the entire thing. With my other hand, I brushed the portion of my hand that he had touched lightly. The gesture sickened me; why was I getting so worked up about a hand-brush? He loved Callie, I knew that. I couldn’t just wish her away and have him all to myself. Even with her out of the picture there was no guarantee that he would like me instead. Why was I even thinking these absurd things, anyways? It’s not as if I actually had—

I swallowed forcefully, realizing for perhaps the first time that I did in fact harbor feelings for Linc.

No, I said resolutely in my head, pushing any further thought of such things away, he loves Callie. Besides, it would be better to kill this stupid attraction before it becomes something more.

With a sigh, I resumed my inflating of balloons, but not before the one thought that could have been my down fall entered my mind:

Too late.