Heyy,

I feel so guilty! So neglectful! But then I realize that the world doesn't revolve around me and my time spent writing (or lack thereof). I really want to do a total re-haul of Perfection but I'm not sure how to do it. In the mean time, I'll do a few one-shots to keep me busy. Reviews are love

Hugs & Misses,

Aly

Disclaimer: Ha. As if.

Claire cupped the dainty martini glass and wondered what she was doing there. The rooftop garden was packed with passionate and intoxicated lovers. Downstairs was a tangled mess of NYC's most envied socialites, grinding to the thumping bass line will downing and spilling enough alcohol to set the club ablaze should a stray cigarette be carelessly tossed away. With unsteady fingers, she clumsily popped the latch of a small golden lock open, steadying herself by clutching the rough brick wall with a manicured free hand. A picture of Cam, ex-lover and ass clown extraordinaire, lazily grinned. Why did she cling to the past? Why did she insist upon re-opening unhealed wounds? Why did she still want him?

"Stop sulking, you stupid bitch," slurred Alicia, bumping into Claire and spilling Gray Goose onto both of their sparkling cocktail dresses. Alicia had managed to rip her own gown in two various places and burn the floral appliqués at the bust line. "You don't get a pair of limited edition Loubitons by just staring at the window display. You march into the store and snatch them up before anyone else has even thought to try them on."

Laughing at her own advice, the drunk diva stumbled off, allowing three equally inebriated ne'er-do-wells to escort her to the ladies room.

Claire rolled her eyes and was glad that Alicia was staying at the Four Seasons. Better the hotel's presidential suite be splattered with the heiress's vomit and vodka that Claire's own penthouse. However, she decided that Alicia was right. If Cam wanted another girl, than so be it. Hell, if he wanted a guy, who was she to judge? Claire stomped down the dimly lit steps from the roof to the ground floor. Upon seeing Massie expertly handling three European models, their jealous dates, and everyone standing/dancing in a ten-foot radius, Claire decided to leave on her own.

When she reached the outside curb, she hailed a taxi only to realize that she left her wallet, ID, and cell phone at the penthouse.

"Damn," she hissed, spinning away from the vehicle and walking pack towards the club. Realizing that there was nothing in there that held her interest, she instead started off towards Times Square.

"Hey, hot stuff! Pretty girls shouldn't be out alone so late at night!" cried an overweight nobody surrounded with his equally LBR buddies lounging outside of a deserted pub.

Claire ignored the catcalls and proceeded toward her destination. The bright lights always soothed her nerves. The constant energy of the place made her feel like she could go anywhere and do anything if she found the right door.

"Hey!" A male voiced called. Quick-footsteps followed, catching up to where Claire was standing.

"Stay back, perv! I have mace!"

"Hold up, you dropped something on the roof."

Slowing edging around, Claire found herself face-to-face with a long ago acquaintance.

"Josh? Did you stalk me all the way here?"

"If that's what you wanna call it, then yeah," he replied with a sheepish grin, reaching up to scratch his mussed hair.

After an awkward pause, Claire said, "Waddya want?"

"Um, you kinda, like, forgot this," he stuttered, holding out the locket.

"Oh, that." Claire took the necklace and fingered the filigree chain.

"Have a good time tonight?"

"Not really," she shrugged. "Massie just needed an escort."

"Same old, huh?"

"Yeah, but you gotta love her."

"So, um, you're alone? I mean, without him?"

"Yeah. He's an ass clown."

"I thought you were a sucker for the sappy stuff?" He grinned and gently bumped her shoulder. Claire hadn't realized they had started walking or how they were almost touching as they did so.

"Not when he's using the same moves one everyone. One time, he left his jacket and when I went to dry clean it for him, I found a list in the pocket that detailed every relationship he'd every been in. Evidently, he's been using the candy-under-the-seat (A/N Remember the second book? Or was it the third? Idk.) trick for the past 6 years."

"Sounds like a pedophile."

"Exactly."

"You can do better than him."

"I guess."

"No, really. You're the perfect girl, Claire. Sweet, funny, pretty…" Josh trailed off, his gaze turning glassy while his ears turned red.

Claire threw him a sideways look. "Fat lot all that's done me. A couple of one-night-stands and a cheating loser."

"Maybe you just gotta meet the right guy."

"Maybe… I've already met him."

The couple stopped under a streetlamp. Josh's brow crumpled with confusion. "Who?"

"Harvard must have had a quota to fill when they let you in," Claire grinned as she placed both hands of either side of his face and kissed him deeply. Josh wound his fingers in her long, golden hair. In the space of a minute, a lifetime passed. When they came up for air, Josh admitted, "I've been waiting since the 7th grade for that."

"Was it worth it?" Claire playfully asked, still pressed up against him.

He remained silent, blushing furiously.

"Now you can play the gentleman and walk me home." At this, Claire grinned devilishly. "Or, you take me to your place."

Josh simply leaned down and kissed her again.