Scott's POV:
I jump as the bell rings, blinking away my thoughts as everyone bolts for the door. I sigh heavily and throw my stuff in my bag. Oh, what the heck. Why not? I think, and I take everything out and pack it more neatly. I amble my way to the door, taking my time weaving between the desks, waving to the teacher. I hope against hope that I've wasted enough time that she won't be passing at the same time I leave.
No such luck. Like clockwork, Jean comes around the corner, Taryn and Sandy trailing behind her. She brushes her red hair absentmindedly behind her ear and leans into the other two girls, saying something to them. Whatever it is, Sandy's high-pitched giggle echoes down the corridor, sealing the options of the topic, if not the details.
I duck out of the doorway and insert myself into the flow of traffic in the hallway, keeping my head as low as I can without being conspicuous. If I had been hoping to hide among the other students, it failed miserably. My height and shades guarantee that I can be found in pretty much any crowd.
"Scott!" I turn, planting a grin on my face and trying hard not to blush. I guess I can't put it off any longer. She runs up, her face slightly pink, but her breathing smooth, thanks to hours of intensive training.
"Hey Jean." I say, in an attempt at nonchalance. "What's up?" I put one hand in my pocket, trying to hide the tension. Kurt, the little trickster, winks and mouths something at me as he passes behind Jean. After a moment, I interpret it.
"No time like the present." I'll get him back for that one day. Vaguely, I hear Jean talking and I realize that she's asked me a question.
"I'm sorry, I missed that. What?" I say, shaking my head to clear it. Jean raises an eyebrow and folds her arms, looking me straight in the face and smirking.
"What's got you so nervous?" She queries devilishly. "You look like the time I stepped on Kurt's tail in stilettos. He didn't come near me for a week!" I quickly decide that blunt honesty is the best policy… but not until I have something to give her.
"Nothing. Just thinking." I reply brightly, putting my arm around her shoulders. A plan formulates as we head to my locker. I get my stuff for the weekend and slam the door. Pulling my keys out of my pocket, I grin at her.
"Drive you home?" She looks mock-thoughtful for a moment, then nods.
"I suppose I can go for a ride in your beautiful car, Summers." Then, with a mischievous glint in her eyes, she pushes me, none too gently, into the wall of lockers. She sprints for the door, pulling off her heels as she goes, dodging the few people left in the hall.
"Race you!" She yells over her shoulder. Shaking my head, I follow more slowly, yelling back.
"Yeah, but you can't leave without me because I've got the-"She interrupts with a laugh and stops at the door, holding something shiny in her hand.
"Ah ah ah!" She calls saucily, shaking her finger. "You should know that I never push you without a reason; this time…" I stand gaping; my plan to finally help me ask her the question I'd been throwing around in my head for weeks was crumbling in front of me. It's true, she always does have a reason: payback, covering me, pickpocketing me…
"Jean!" I whine. "Give me back my keys; it's my baby and I have a surprise for you so can I please drive?" She prances back to me, jingling the keys as she comes.
"Do you want them, Summers?" She asks, raising her eyebrow.
"Yes, I want my keys." I say, exasperated.
"How bad do you want your keys?" The look on her face and my complete inability to snatch the keys from her hands, despite several lunges for them, are quickly dropping my macho reputation points.
"Very badly, Red. So unless you want me to pull out my secret weapon then I would suggest handing them over." I have no idea what exactly my 'secret weapon' is, but it sounds cool and Jean knows that I have several things I could, but never would, use against her.
"Fine, but you're no fun." She mutters, dropping them into my hand. I grin and nudge her gently.
"But the race is still on right?" I ask, making my best puppy dog face.
"You bet your shiny, red convertible!" She cries, thrusting me out of the way and bolting for the door. Laughing, I follow, beating her by a very small margin and collapsing on the hood, panting.
"You've gotten faster!" I gasp. "I can barely beat you."
"Nope." She replies, barely even breathing harder. "You've just gotten slower." We both throw back our heads and laugh, and I can't help but notice the way the sun sets her hair on fire. Oh Jean. I think, watching her light up with happiness. You just don't know how beautiful you are, do you? One day I'll show you. But for now, just keep on shining for me.
Jean's POV
Scott doesn't take me straight home, which is mildly surprising, though not fully unexpected. We stop first at the music store, where I know a new selection of my favorite band has just come in. And I've been bugging Scott to bring me all week… and now, after refusing to go with me, he has brought me here. Something is up. What's he planning? I think, looking over at him as he watches me sift through the large array of genres and albums. And what was up with him calling me Red? He never does that. My thoughts are interrupted.
"Jean, pick six CD's and I will buy them for you, no questions asked. Only condition: You have to let me keep them till tomorrow." This intrigues me. He's not one for elaborate set-ups, but this sounds interesting.
"Deal." I say, pulling out an album I was missing from Creed, two classical collections, two from Daughtry, and one from Hoobastank. There is only one song I want from the last one, but who knows? Maybe another will stand out to me. We check out and he refuses to even let me pay tax. Then he takes me to my favorite Chinese place and again pays. I wonder about all this. Finally, as the sun is just going down, we stop at the office supply store and he buys, of all things, a pad of colorful sticky notes.
"What's that for?" I ask, curious. He puts on a mysterious smile and refuses to say more than an eternally annoying 'You'll see.'
As we park the car back at the Xavier Mansion, he politely opens the door for me and hands me out, like a movie star or a princess. We walk inside, waving to the Professor and Beast playing chess in the living room and Logan watching the news in the family room. We split at the top of the stairs, I to my room and he to his.
"Goodnight." He says, bowing ridiculously and grinning.
"Goodnight." I reply, barely holding back a laugh. He passes me and I walk down the hall toward my room, when suddenly, an arm flies out of a doorway and pulls me in, no through, the partially open door. I'm about to throw whoever this is out a window with my telekinesis, but an excited, and familiar, squeal fills the room. The door slams and the light flicks on, revealing a rumpled and annoyed Rogue sitting up and rubbing her eyes in bed and an overly-excited and pink-pajama-d Kitty.
"Oh. My. Gosh. Tell me everything! I totally saw you guys leaving and you were, like, so cute together! Why didn't you tell me you were, like, a thing?" She gushes.
"What?" I protest. She has got to be kidding. Kitty laughs, her loud voice angering Rogue even more.
"You keep telling yourself that." She giggles, looking positively ecstatic. With a growl, and obviously trying to suppress a tirade, Rogue interjects.
"Go back to bed. It's late and I've got a physics test Monday. Oh, and if I have to get you to go to sleep myself, you won't be phasing through anything for a while." And with that, the Southern girl flops down on the mattress and turns over. I look back at Kitty, who has decided that a silent course of celebration might be prudent.
"We are not a thing, we're just friends. Now will you please go to bed and let me go to mine? I've got a test too." I stand and walk to the door, flicking out the light.
"Night Rogue." I call softly. A disgruntled humph comes from the pile of blankets and I leave, wondering what had brought on such a silly idea.
Scott and I together? I mean, we're like siblings, we know everything about each other, but did I really like him like that? Are a few warm feelings when he puts his arm around my shoulders or compliments me enough? Does me liking his laugh or the way his voice makes me feel secure or knowing that he will protect me with his life and feeling safe because of it count as 'liking him'? I mean, he's attractive and all (no scratch that, downright hot), and he always gets super jealous of other guys around me, but does that qualify as being 'a thing'?
I shake my head. It's too much to think about. Sighing, I shut the door and walk to my room, turning on a small lamp and flopping into bed, kicking off my shoes and bringing the covers up to my chin. I won't think about Scott and I, it's time for bed.
"Scott and I." I whisper, groggily. It sounds good. I yawn and turn over, falling asleep with an image of a boy with red sunglasses and soft brown hair dancing across my vision.