Janna was used to being alone.

Most people stayed away from her because of her extensive knowledge of witchcraft or because she was a skilled pickpocket. Nobody appreciated talent these days.

She hadn't imagined that she'd be third-wheeling on not only her best friend's but also her brother's dates to the winter formal. Invited by both (out of pity), abandoned by both. So the story went, apparently.

"Please!" a shrill, girly voice yelled, and the gym doors were thrown open, the plastic grass on the football field melting under the exiting boy's fiery footsteps. He took a seat next to Janna on the turf, and she adjusted a thin shoulder strap on her black dress. She knew that it wouldn't be enough, she knew she'd be freezing, but Jackie had insisted that it looked pretty and that maybe, just maybe, a boy might talk to Janna tonight of his own accord (not because she took his keys or his wallet). Now it honestly seemed like she'd dressed up for no reason. She'd stuck a pencil dangerously close to her eyes for nothing.

And so described her life, at this point.

Janna raised a hand halfheartedly. "Sup." she managed to say, and the horned boy beside her sighed. She'd seen him a few times before, knowing he was Star Butterfly's ex or something, but she completely spaced on his name.

"Tom." he said, sticking out a hand. Janna pounded her fist against it.

"Janna." she replied. "Nice fangs."

Tom let out a small laugh. "Nice dress."

Janna sat in silence for a minute, trying to think of what she should say. God, it had been so long she'd spoken to a boy without her parole officer standing behind her. How did this work again?

"So did you get ditched too?" she asked. Wow. She didn't think she could mess up small talk but here she was, drowning in a pool she'd filled herself.

"I may have accidentally crashed a date." Tom replied. "Why are you out here? You're kind of pretty. You should be inside with someone."

Janna felt her cheeks heat up. "Nobody asked me." she replied. "It's not like I would have accepted the offers anyways."

She watched as Tom cringed. "Nobody?" he asked. Janna nodded.

"They all think I'm a witch or something. The truth is, I just read a lot of books and spend a lot of time in detention."

"I'm sorry." Tom said, putting his hand down on the turf and accidentally touching hers. They both yanked their hands away quickly.

"Dude, most high school boys are morons anyways. I'm better off alone." Janna replied.

"You have pretty eyes." Tom said abruptly. Janna raised an eyebrow.

"They're brown." she replied.

"Well, under the field light...they're a really pretty brown, uh, in this light." Tom tried, and then groaned. "You know, you could just accept the compliment."

Janna shrugged. "Where's the fun in that?"

"You're impossible." Tom sighed. "Is that why you're out on the football field instead of inside dancing? Even if you did come alone."

Janna shook her head. "I don't dance. I can't dance, to be honest."

"I can teach you." Tom offered, and Janna rolled her eyes.

"I doubt it." she replied, and yet she let him pull her to her feet, bodies dangerously close, and he put an arm on the small of her back. Suddenly she felt warm, not just because his hand was fairly hot, and felt a surge of heat through her spine when his breath brushed across the bottoms of her bangs.

"One." he said, gently nudging her foot with his and pushing it back.

"Two."

He took her other hand in his, squeezing it lightly. He stepped back, and she stood in place.

"You're supposed to move." he said, and Janna raised an eyebrow.

"What if I don't want to?" she retorted, and watched gleefully as Tom let out an exasperated sigh.

"Hannah, if you're not going to let me help you-"

"Janna." she interrupted, stepping forward to get in his face. Her height wasn't exactly helping her to look threatening but she knew she could stare him down if she had to.

"I know." Tom replied. Janna looked up, the top of her beloved hat brushing against his chin.

"What?" she asked, and Tom pointed to her feet.

"You moved, didn't you?" he smirked. "Don't take it personally, sweetheart."

"You are such an arrogant prick." Janna hissed. She could feel the scent of rotting flesh and that over-commercialized body spray fill her nostrils, and wasn't sure which scent was worse.

"And you're a little girl with a big mouth." Tom replied, watching as she balled up her fists. Her face was close enough to his that he could see the gold flecks in her brown eyes, accentuated by the messily drawn black pigment on her waterline and eyelid.

"Listen, you pompous son of a-" she started, and was cut off by Tom tilting her chin up slightly and pressing his lips up to hers. The gesture was immediately reciprocated, the kiss intensifying by the second. Tom slid his hand down from her head to her back, and Janna bit his bottom lip aggressively. Tom could taste steak on her lips, medium rare if he had to make a guess. It was intoxicating.

"W...oah. I...I hate...you so...much." Janna mumbled after a minute or so, pushing against his chest. She noticed how the light of the flickering lamppost slid across his face gently, and she scorned herself for finding it attractive.

"You're beautiful." Tom replied, brushing a piece of hair away from her face. She'd never admit it but it gave her chills hearing those words escape his lips.

"Shut up." Janna replied. She wasn't sure what else to say, but she wasn't exactly the romantic type. Her lips were still tingling, and her mind refused to let go of the fact that she'd just made out with an attractive demon who thought she was pretty. And this time it wasn't just a weird dream.

Somehow, Tom pulled a flaming rose out of nowhere, presenting it to her smoothly.

"Come on!" he sighed. "It wasn't supposed to be on fire, I guess I'm nervous."

Janna let herself smile. "I like the fire." she replied, taking it from his hands. That wasn't a lie. She really did like the fire, and not just because she was sort of a pyromaniac. It was a gesture that was exclusively theirs, like when Marco Diaz would tuck a flower behind his girlfriend's ear, pressing a kiss up to the heart on her cheek if only to see it glow.

Little did she know that Tom had lit the flower on fire purposefully. It was symbolic, he'd thought, of both her fiery passion and how beautiful he thought she was. He wouldn't tell her that for years, not up until a certain proposal.

Flaming roses. Janna hated to say that she loved it.