I don't remember when they came, just that I was hot.

Rather, we were hot. Claude covered me, his skin coating each and every one of my orifices like he was a layer of moist air. His mouth was everywhere-- discovering each freckle and scar and fading stretch mark as if they were a new, undiscovered constellation in the sky wandering before his innocent eyes. He murmured sweet nothings, switching in and out of French, mumbling my name as if it were his favorite line of poetry. He was hot like a day at the beach. The time was moving like a day at the beach, a hazy afternoon that seemed to fly by, as everything blurred together in some rhythmic motion of Claude and hot.

And then we heard the crunch of ice cracking.

Instantly, we pulled apart. Our heavy breaths mingled in the air, as, for whatever reason, I tugged our fort (it had collapsed a long time ago) upwards to cover my chest. As if Claude hadn't already seen (among other things) my breasts. I felt Claude's hand, fingers splayed out like a star, pressed against my lower back. The air against my skin felt cold.

"What is it?" I asked Claude, even though I figured he probably had no idea.

But he wasn't looking at me as a smile coated his face, his lips swollen and red from kissing. "Safety."

I followed the direction of his eyes. Claude stared out of the back most window, where the snow quickly disappeared. Two figures, heavily bundled-up, swept it back ferociously, snow dusting their shoulders as lightly as feathers. As hope. One of them waved at us, and I knew he wasn't just a figment of my imagination . . . My imagination would not imagine something so good happening.

It was going to be okay. Everything was going to be okay.

Yet, for some reason, those words didn't seem to mean anything. It was like when you say a word, any random word, over and over again and the world just seems to melt into this random string of vowels and constants and space. Suddenly, there was so much space between Claude and I, like two parentheses with nothing to say in between. And I felt cold. I had never been so cold.

Claude started laughing next to me, pulling me in for a hug. His chuckles tangled in my hair as he combed it back, searching for my expression. His eyes were blue like shots of lightning. "Nous sommes en sécurité. Bea, nous allons être d'accord."

I rolled my eyes at him, barely hearing or seeing or feeling him. "For the last time, Claude, I don't speak European."

I expected some witty retort, but Claude continued to laugh. He pressed a soft kiss to my collarbone, his lips ghosting against my skin like it was the future. Like it was more. Claude's words tattooed themselves to my body, each syllable like another mark stretching across my torso. "Nous sommes ensemble, Bea. Je ne vais pas lâcher. Pas toi."

"You know, just because you kissed me doesn't mean I'm suddenly fluent in French," I teased him, weakly smiling at him. It felt like a lie.

His hands found my hips. "Bea-"

Tap. Tap.

We both looked up. It was the people at the window, making a sweeping motion at us with their hands.

"We need to move aside," Claude explained, quickly decoding their hand motions. "They probably need to break the window to get us out."

"My insurance provider is just going to love me this year," I mumbled, rising from my seat. I grabbed a pair of jeans and a shirt from our fort pile with me as I climbed over into the passenger drive seat. Just because Claude got to see me in my bra and underwear, didn't mean everyone else got to.

"But I liked the giraffes," Claude pouted, his words surprising me as I slipped on my jeans and he similarly tossed on a sweatshirt. I hadn't expected him to remain so . . . Forward. Claude wasn't a forward sort of guy.

"Yeah, well maybe the giraffes didn't like you," I retorted, trying to match his easygoing nature. What happened to the brooding Claude who needed to kiss me, like I was the oxygen to his flame?

"Please, Stevie and I were really getting places before those guys came."

My cheeks heated up. I had known Claude to be fairly witty, but now he was acting so . . . confident. So goofy and silly, like this sort of language came as second nature to him. Was this what he was always like? "Are you flirting with me?"

"Thanks for noticing," he muttered, dryly. "And here I thought I was doing a pretty good job."

His words were steaming.

But before I could respond, the crash accompanying the shattering of the window filled the car, like a thousand women screaming at the same time. Thankfully, none of the glass travelled past the back of the car, so neither Claude or I had been hit. Nonetheless, we slipped on shoes before we left our fortress to avoid stepping on any glass. It was colder outside the car.

I wondered if the world was always this cold.

*

Although it was already pretty late in the day, time flashed by like a picture being taken when no one was ready for it. Our rescuers, who were from the towing company I had called earlier, drove us into the nearest town. I spent the majority of the ride talking to the car rental company who, unsurprisingly, were kind of upset about what happened to their car. Once we arrived in town, we took the rental car to the nearest automotive shop. After getting a report on the damage, I spent hours on and off the phone with both the car rental company and my insurance company to cover the damage. Claude helped, since technically it was him who had caused the accident. It was quite the way to spend the afternoon.

When I finally finished, the sun had already settled, the sky stained black without the aspiring pin-pricks of stars decorating the vastness. Although, it was winter. The sun did go down early. Claude, who had left to book us a motel room for the night, returned to pick me up in a car he had rented in town. We ventured back to the motel, to a dusty motel room with two beds (which were thankfully rectangular, Cloud Nine).

"Merry Christmas," I muttered, dryly.

Claude blushed, sitting down on one of the beds, causing it to moan under his weight. "I know it's much, but it's the best I could get-"

"Claude, it's fine," I reassured him, sitting down next to him. Our hips were touching, but I had never felt more distant from him. "You know, I thought you had figured out by now that I'm fluent in sarcasm."

He glanced up at me. "It's crazy how much I know about you. I've only known you for, what, three days?"

"It feels like forever," I replied.

"It has been forever," he agreed.

And now he was looking at me with those blue eyes. His mouth was slightly open, pink lips capturing a circle of black which slunk back into his throat like a piece of the universe. A string of an endless place, gravity stretching it apart as gravity made us fall together-

I blinked. "Uh, I need to shower. Do you mind?"

He turned away from me now, quickly. Claude's cheeks were replaced by tomatoes, his eyes locked on his knees. "Of cour-course not. You, um, do wha-what you ne-need to do."

As I arose from my spot, wandering to the too brightly lit bathroom, I wondered what happened to the man I spent the morning with. The one who kissed me as if the world relied on it. The one who spoke with easy charm like it was his native tongue, like he liked to lick fire and race its flames along the spines of his lovers. And yet here I was, cold. Here I was, in this bathroom with white surfaces which just illuminated their messes. I turned on the shower, hearing the hiss of hot water slapping the tub, and stripped down my clothes and . . . I locked the door. Claude and I were two parenthesis, a wide blank space between us, locked away from one another by the weight of the words left unsaid.

When I finally emerged from the shower, redressed, Claude was sitting with his back against me, talking on the phone. "Sure, Mom, maybe there is a chance I can make it to the party tomorrow night. But, honestly, don't hold your breath. I'm not going to risk getting into another crash."

Rubbing the water out of my hair with a towel, I sat directly across him on the opposite bed. He glanced up at me, throwing me a casual, yet shy, smile. Claude's socked foot reached over, nudging my toes. His foot was warm and, suddenly, I didn't remember why I had felt so uncertain about everything just moments before.

Then he rolled his eyes. "No, Mom, I'm not going to start driving now so I can make it to the party. I'll see you guys when I see you. It's not like I don't already live in New York City already. No . . . No, Mom. You know what? I got to go. Love you, too."

Claude hung up the phone.

"You okay?" I asked him, hesitantly.

"I'm fine," he assured me. "She can just be exhausting."

"Your mom?"

"Yeah. She can be very high-maintenance. But that doesn't matter," he insisted. He brushed his toes higher up my leg, gently tickling my jean-clad leg. "It's Christmas tonight. And the motel doesn't have a food menu, so I thought maybe . . ."

His eyes were locked on his foot, watching it stroke up and down my leg, as he trailed off.

I couldn't help but smirk. "Are you trying to ask me out on a date?"

Claude blushed. "I-I m-mean, only i-if y-you wa-want."

And here was the moment, the perfect one. Where I could simply, point-blank tell him the truth: that guys like him didn't get with girls like me. Prince Charming never kissed the Wicked Witch. But he was looking at me with those eyes, like no one has ever looked at me before. Like he was enchanted by me.

Now I let my foot subtract the distance between us, my toes running over his knee. "You know, I don't bite. At least, not if you don't want me to. So . . . you don't have to be shy about asking me out."

He gulped, but a smile teased the corners of his mouth. "Bea, will you go out with me?"

"Sure," I told him. "But first . . ."

"First what?" He questioned.

"You have to go shower," I informed him. "No offense, but your sweat doesn't smell all that good."

Claude chuckled as he rose to his feet, stepping over towards the bathroom. "I'm not sure if you remember this morning, Bea, but I wasn't the only one who was sweating."

And then he closed the bathroom door behind him.

Honestly, when did he abruptly get all of the confidence?

I shook my head as I heard the shower turn on, heard his muffled footsteps as he climbed into the shower. I wondered what he would look like in there. His wet hair curling around his ears, steam rising, water dripping down his chin and throat and chest and . . . I wondered if he kept the door locked, like I did.

I turned away from the door. I couldn't. Rather, I shouldn't. Or maybe it was just that I wouldn't. It didn't matter. What did matter was that I needed to distract myself, I needed to find something to occupy myself. There was a reason why there were doors between us now, and I needed to respect it if there was a lock or not.

I looked at the phone.

Aiko was probably worried sick.

I remembered that I was supposed to be angry at her, but honestly I couldn't even remember what for. It was probably something stupid. And before I knew it, I was dialing her number and holding the phone to my ear, as the create breathed in and out in my ear.

Then it was just Aiko's breathing that filled my ear. "Bea! Oh, goodness. I've been so worried. Where are you? Are you okay? Did y-"

"Aiko, calm down, calm down," I insisted, interrupting her. "I'm okay, really, I am."

"Then why didn't you call or even text me or something?" She demanded. "When you didn't show up, Bea, after that stupid fight we had, I thought . . . oh, Bea, I thought . . ."

"I wouldn't do that to you," I murmured.

"I know you wouldn't do that to me, Bea, but I'm not sure about you," she replied.

I gulped. "I'm sorry for scaring you."

"I should be the one apologizing. I overstepped-"

"Oh, stop, Aiko. I don't even remember what we were fighting over," I insisted. "I'm sorry. I should've called you as soon as I got cell service back-"

"Cell service back? You lost connection when you were driving? And here I was thinking that you were ignoring all of calls," Aiko remarked.

"Well, uh, about that . . . I was kind of, sort of in a bit of a car accident," I mumbled.

As I expected, she exploded. "What? In a car accident? Are you hurt? Where are you right now? Are you at the hospital? Did that . . . guy you were with get injured? What happened? Are you okay?"

"Aiko, Aiko, calm down. I'm fine," I reassured her.

"You can't just drop a bombshell on me like that and not expect me to ask lots of questions," she retorted. "What happened, Bea?"

So I told her everything, because she was Aiko and I always told her the truth. I told her about arguing with her and arguing with Claude. I told her about how we danced and how we took care of me when I was sick. I told her how we slept together on the couch and he didn't even try to touch my butt and how we talked for hours as we drove. And then I told her about the crash, about thinking we were going to die after being stranded for sixteen hours, and the kiss. The fire. The supernova.

I don't know what I expected her to say, but I certainly know that what she did wasn't what I did:

"Someone is whipped."

"Gross, Aiko," I responded.

"Sorry, not sorry," she giggled. Aiko didn't giggle. "I can't wait to tell Paul about this, he's going to think this is so cute. Who would've known that our little Bea was capable of falling in lov-"

"I'm not falling in love," I hissed, quietly, glancing over my shoulder. I still heard the shower running, however. "Claude is just . . . a guy."

"Please, I can hear your tone, Bea. You're gushing about him in that sort of way you would have generally gotten disgusted about," Aiko remarked.

"I'm not gushing."

"It's not an insult," Aiko insisted. "In fact, it's . . . refreshing. And he sounds like a good guy, which is awesome because I don't know if you could tell, but I couldn't have handled Julian for that much longer."

I couldn't help but laugh. "That's interesting. I thought you wanted me to marry Julian and you know I wouldn't want to let you down."

"Don't even joke about it," Aiko growled.

"Whatever you say, Mrs. Hasimoto," I retorted, snickering.

"Mrs. Hasimoto? Man, you haven't called me that in a long time," she mused.

"Well, I've been out of high school for like six years now," I reasoned.

"And we've been friends for eight years."

"Uh, sorry to be the one to tell you this, but you and I certainly weren't friends during those first two years," I teased.

She chuckled. "Okay, sure, maybe we were nemesis'. But I don't regret anything that happened, Bea."

I felt a smile tug across my lips. "Me, too. Aiko?"

"Yeah?"

"I mean, this might be the fact that I just survived a car crash and being stranded for sixteen hours in a blizzard speaking, but . . ." I paused. "Your support has meant everything to me."

She was quiet for a moment, before she responded in a soft voice. "I love you, too, Bea."

I could have almost smiled- Aiko was always there for me, there to figure out what I was trying to say for me.

However, before I could respond, she continued, "Bea, you know that Paul and I consider you part of our family, right? I know that . . . Well, that this can all be really hard for you to talk about, so you don't have to say anything. But for Paul and I, you have always been like a daughter to us."

Like a daughter to us. I hadn't been someone's daughter in a very long time. Those words rang in my ears for a moment, maybe two, maybe long enough so I felt like the world was drowning. My vision blurred, the unmistakable sight of tears flooding my eyes. It started to clog my throat and I couldn't breathe.

"Now, I know this sentimental talk is probably killing you," Aiko added. "So let's talk about something else: when are you getting here? Tomorrow?"

I blinked away the tears, and Aiko and I continued talking. We discussed my continued travel plans, which I guessed since Claude and I hadn't talked about it yet ourselves, and then about everything that had happened already. Paul and Aiko had two children, twin toddlers. It was always weird to me that Aiko and Paul were suddenly also a mom and a dad, while they also were . . . whatever they were to me. I always had a hard time talking about the twins, even if they were the most adorable creatures in this galaxy.

"Bea?"

I glanced up. It was Claude, walking into the room from the bathroom. Wet tendrils curled around his forehead, his skin glistening in the sort of way it only can after being drenched. Claude had put his glasses back, changing into a nice sweater with a white button up shirt underneath, along with a new pair of jeans. Fuck. Who knew that this nerdy boy could look so . . . hot?

I raised a finger up to him, urging him to give me a moment. "Sorry, Aiko, I have to go. Claude and I are going to grab some Christmas dinner."

"Oooh, romantic," she squealed.

I hoped that he couldn't see me blush. Or worse: hear Aiko. "Goodbye, Aiko. Say Merry Christmas to Paul and the girls for me."

"Say hello to Claude fo-"

I hung up on her. I didn't feel that bad about it.

"Who was that?" Claude asked.

"Aiko," I told him, my eyes wandering over his body. I couldn't help it, I was distracted looking at . . . well, him. "You look really good."

"Thanks," he replied. He smiled at me. "You always look-"

"No, Claude, don't say it. I know I look beautiful, even if I'm in my sweatpants or these dirty ass jeans," I retorted. "But there's no way we're going out with you looking better than me. Give me a moment to get changed, alright?"

Claude's grin grew. "Only if that means I get to see those cute giraffe undies you're wearing."

"Wow. Someone certainly has grown cocky," I acknowledged. "And, yes, that was supposed to be a sexual pun."

His grin faded away. "A sexual pun? How is that . . . oh."

And that's how I knew that somewhat smug, cocky persona he put on was just a front-- and although it was a little sexy, the real Claude lingered beneath the surface. The Claude that overanalyzed everything and blushed for goodness' sake and was terribly shy. And they were both a part of who he was, so I had to be careful with him.

Regardless, though, when Claude blushed, I knew I had won. "And this is why I'll be changing the bathroom. Give me a moment."

Since I hadn't packed too much clothes with me (sorry, Aiko, Paul, and twins, but I didn't necessarily feel the need to dress up for you), I chose to wear a casual but flattering white dress with a knitted gray cardigan. Since my hair was still wet from showering, and I wasn't about to risk the ancient contraption that was supposed to be a hair dryer, I braided my soaking hair out of my face and down my back. Glancing over my reflection, over my dark eyes and olive-toned skin and the curve of my neck down into my dress, I knew I looked good, even without any makeup on. I would fuck me, even. I sure as hell knew Claude would . . . at least consider trying.

Anyways, I stepped out of the bathroom to join Claude, who was sitting on the side of the bed.

Immediately, upon seeing me, he grinned sheepishly. "Okay, so I guess I have to admit it: you clean up better than me."

I laughed. "Well, I'm not going to argue that."

I approached him, stepping right in from of him. His finger stretched forward, the tips skimming over my skin, which was covered by the thin fabric of my tights. I felt the heat of his touch seep through the measly fabric and I couldn't help but wonder what his skin would feel like right against mine. Well, I did already know that, considering this morning . . . These were dangerous thoughts.

"Twirl for me," he mumbled.

"Twirl?" I repeated.

He nodded, biting his lower lip. And there was something about seeing that line of pearly white dig into the soft, pink flesh that made me do it. Made me spin in a small circle, the skirt of my dress dancing around me, all while his fingers lingered on my thighs.

And when I turned to face him once more, he smiled, but in that slow and sheepish way that made me feel dizzy. "Perfect. Like a princess."

"Please. If anything, I'm a queen," I insisted, but my tone remained as soft as his touch.

"So should I be calling you Elizabeth or Victoria?" He teased.

"Well, you certainly can't call me Nala."

Claude laughed, before rising. We were standing in each other's bubble-- the shimmering surface has rose around us, blurring the world and reality and the shit show so all we had to focus on was each other. He had such a gorgeous smile. "Hungry?"

"Is that even a question?" I retorted.

And we were off.

*

We found ourselves at a small, late night diner. The lights inside were as bright as the snow drift we had crashed into earlier (it wasn't too soon to joke about it, right?), which, if anything, illuminated Claude's light skin even further. I swore, that boy had sharper angles on his face than a geometry class. The restaurant in itself, however, had the sort of décor that would have possibly been popular during the seventies at a ski resort.

They weren't serving any wine or beer-- and, to be honest, I probably shouldn't have been drinking anything after my adventures with alcohol over the last few days. But we drank hot cups of coffee, black, which tasted like late nights in college spent cramming for tests or essays due in a couple hours. And pancakes. Lots of pancakes. Claude and I each had a stack of the fluffiest ones you could imagine because, well, pancakes. Reason enough.

But there was still something so remarkable about the night, even without the food (and, trust me, usually food is the only remarkable thing about an evening). Because as Claude bumped his toes against mine and harmonized to my badly sung Christmas carols and mumbled compliments between red cheeks, there was something about him that felt so . . . real. Real like nothing ever had before that moment. It felt like, for the first time, I was finally beginning to see with some clarity. And I was seeing that Claude Martin wasn't my type, and yet I had never met anyone more attractive to me in my life.

After dinner, we took our time strolling back to the motel, hand in hand. The snowflakes swirled throughout the air, brushing our giggling, cold faces. Yet despite that fact that it was the dead of winter, I had never felt so hot in my life.

And we returned to the motel. Both of us were completely sober, but I felt as buzzed as if I had taken a couple swigs of something strong. We collapsed onto the bed, side by side, our hips bumping. He was laughing at something I said and I couldn't help but think that Claude's laugh was like a song. A good song. Hell, my favorite song.

"Claude," I mumbled.

His blue eyes met mine. "Yeah?"

I hesitated, but only for a moment. "Can I ask you something crazy?"

He considered this. "Even crazier than the time you picked up that ever so handsome gentleman you had a crush on at the airport, and agreed to drive him twelve hours to New York?"

I raised my eyebrows at him. "I wouldn't say most of those things are true, but I'm willing to humor you if it'll appease you. But, still, this may be crazier than any of that other shit."

"Is that so?" Claude mused. "Well, I'm excited to at least be surprised. And humored."

So I leaned in and kissed him.

This kiss was so much different. When we last kissed, it felt like we were standing before the end of the world and the mere possibility of death sparked a fire inside us that could only be quenched by one another (as cheesy as that sounded, and inevitably was). This kiss was about exploring the truth of this planet we lived on. And as my fingers brushed over each crook and cranny and crevice there was to find along his body, I felt like I was Columbus discovering a new world

And as we pulled a part, his lashes brushing against my cheeks, I felt like I knew him. Really knew him. Like I had seen inside the most fragmented pieces of his soul, had seen the cracks and tears, yet could still see the beautiful vision that sat before me with hazy blue eyes. I knew that he was insecure and a know-it-all and rude at times and cocky, but he was shy and thoughtful and so, so sweet. And I knew he deserved more than me, better than me.

I hated him for it.

*

Hey Reader!

Notice: sorry it has taken me a while to get this update out. October, November and December are some of the busiest months of the year for me, so that's why I haven't had time to work. However, I am working on this for NaNoWriMo, but with only a goal for 10k words, since j am so busy. I also tried to take some advice I got from a lovely fan (@strawberrypants) in this chapter about Claude, but I don't know if this turned out too well.

Love,

Your Favorite Liar <3