A/N : Title from Coldplay's song, 'Sparks', from their album 'Parachutes'. This is the first of several small fics from this alternate universe. They may not all be connected or they may complement one another. I haven't written them all yet so I don't know but they will all be in this 'story'. So enjoy!
He thought she would smell different if she was not his anymore. And to a certain extent she did. When she would pass him at parties, she smelled of alcohol, more so now than when she was with him. She had always drank but now it was different, worse.
But when they were alone, which did not happen often, she would smell the same. She used the same perfume he had given her their first year together. Her hair would blow in the breeze and he could tell she used the same shampoo, peach. He had realized how ridiculous he had been to think she would change that much. People do not alter their bathing techniques when they are no longer with a certain person.
He was almost comforted that she smelled the same. Like a part of her still belonged to him. But she did not. And they were different people. He often wondered how they got here but he did not have to ponder too long before the memories rushed back.
It started with her 'comforting' an ex-boyfriend. She assured him that she was just being there for her friend but his jealousy had pushed her away. And now, years apart, they were such different people than they used to be.
He did not think they had one thing in common any more. (Not that they did to begin with anyway.) They had lost every thing that once brought them together.
He became greedy while she became cold-hearted. (Which ironically would have made them a perfect fit.) He had come to grips with the fact that they would never be 'them' again and just took comfort in the fact that she smelled the same.
One night, a night neither of them thought would ever exist again, he discovered that she had the same gorgeous blue eyes. He had not seen them for so long; usually her eyes were filled with anger and disdain when she looked at him. But now they danced.
He learned that she smiled the same when she would smile, really smile. Not the half smile she gave her new guy. The smile she reserved for him alone. When he would say something witty or something stupid and her smile would reach her eyes and then her eyes would smile too. That smile. It was the same.
He was amazed by the tension that surrounded them. How suddenly it could flow between them and quickly engulf the whole room setting it on fire.
He marveled at the feeling of her lips against his. They were the same soft simple amazing lips. Her lips could be relenting and aggressive at the same time. They meshed so perfectly with his.
Her tongue pushing against his lips begging for entrance was the same. It was teasing yet urgent and within seconds, he let her in and massaged hers with his.
She tasted amazing. His heart skipped a beat when he tasted no hint of alcohol. She was sober. He was sober. And they were kissing. His hand was in her hair, feeling that same silk he had so many times before. His other was on the small of her back, feeling her toned muscles, then it was on her hip, pulling her closer.
They dared not part, not even to breathe. This felt too good, familiar yet amazing.
She needed to breathe or she would die. Her hands cascaded up his abs toward his strong chest, which caused him to pull away. It had always been their sign to stop when he felt her hands on his chest like that. Their foreheads rested against each other as they both panted, eyes closed, enjoying the moment they both knew would not last forever.
She looked back up into his eyes. They were the blue she loved, the blue that had once loved her back. She noticed his lips, full and knowledgeable of every part of her. She could not help but run her hands through his dark hair, remembering all the nights of entwining her fingers through them while he did things she dared not speak of in public. She smiled at the thought and shivered at the feeling of his hands, both on her hips now. Those hands which knew exactly were to hold and touch her. The strong arms that used to hold her through the night, protecting her.
Her eyes filled with tears as she remembered. Remembered why this was forbidden, why they could not be together.
He was Sandy Cohen, mayor of Newport.
And she was Kirsten Cooper, Ice Queen and ruler of the Newport Group.