one-shot. for lisa. as always, disclaimed.

'cause i'm just a mess of a dreamer with the nerve to adore you

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"Want one?"

I glance down at the packet of Cadburys Snow Bites in Olivia's red-glove-encased hand and shake my head, my eyes drifting back to the snow-littered square. People walked in and out of the cluster of small shops and patisseries that encircled it, a few children played near the rugged stone fountain, their smiles glittering brightly like the shards of ice dangling off the cracks set in the carved edges.

"Where is he?" She demands, fiddling with the strings on her washed-out gray WBA hoodie, the exact same hue as the skyway above our heads.

"Why, did you miss me?" His familiar voice drawls, interlaced with his usual mirth, as he wraps his arms around us from behind. I shiver against his cold touch on the bare skin on my waist, where my sweater had ridden up during the bus ride from the Academy.

Liv pushes him away, throwing him a disgusted look. "Back off, you. I have a boyfriend." His chest rumbles with laughter, and Olivia rolls her pretty blue eyes.

"So, where's Starbucks?" He asks, pulling off a black woolen hat to reveal his disheveled dark brown hair sticking up in every direction, which he promptly reaches up to muss.

I shrug, and Olivia's green eyes smolder jadedly as she smirks.

"I'll get a penguin to show us. Hey, you, nun!" She yells at one of the nearby black-and-white-clad sisters from the neighbouring abbey who were clustered around the fountain. The nun shoots her a disapproving glare before waddling in for a group picture.

"Nice." Kemp says approvingly, and then winces in pain as Olivia punches him in the shoulder. I spot the familiar white, black and green logo plastered on a large sign on a street adjacent to the square, and nudge Olivia.

"Come on, guys." I say, pulling at the end of my sweater. One of the good things about the Westchester Boarding Academy was that unlike at my old school in Cali, you didn't have to walk three miles to get some good eggnog.

Olivia reties her scarf around her neck, her eyes flitting to Kemp disdainfully as she asks, "What time did the Bird Lady say we have to get back to prison?"

She pushes the door open without waiting for my answer, and a wonderful wave of newly-brewed coffee-smell and nutmeg came rushing out, reminding me immediately of Christmas.

"Four, I think?"The shop door swings shut behind us with a melodic ding!, and we make our way through the semi-crowded coffee shop towards the corner where Josh is slumped on a couch next to the radiator, a mug of coffee in one hand and his iPhone in the other.

Olivia slides onto the couch next to him, and I sink into a worn-looking leather chair, bringing a knee up to my chest.

"Hey, Josh."

Out of the corner of my eyes, I spot Alicia Rivera and her cronies sitting at a booth next to the window, all four of them sipping at their fat-free lattes, crowded around their alpha and fawning over something on her Blackberry.

Josh looks up from the screen, the beginnings of a smile curving his lips, and he stuffs the phone into his jacket pocket, standing up to bump fists with Kemp.

"Hey, man." He says, his expression suddenly compassionate. "I'm sorry about Dylan."

Olivia looks up from the tattered plastic-coated menu she's sifting through, startled. "She broke up with you?"

Kemp shrugs, a half-smile forming on his lips, but it's strained and I can tell he's more upset about this than he's showing. Josh gives him a sympathetic nudge, muttering something about how he'll find another hot chick at the party on Friday (because despite his player appearance, Kemp was just a huge teddy bear and he really had liked Dylan) and Olivia's jaw drops open.

"Oh, gosh, Joshua William Hotz has a heart! This I have to have evidence of."

Before he can react, she reaches into her coat pocket and pulls out a camera, her finger on the shutter and the brilliant flash blinding all three of us. She grins triumphantly as Josh scowls at her across the table, his dark eyes tinged with annoyance.

"That better not end up of Facebook" He warns, but Olivia just smiles, shaking her head like he was a lost cause.

Kemp snorts and I trace the patterns on the rings of the oak of the table with my fingertip. Olivia pokes Josh in the ribs, and he yelps. "So, did you order?"

He shoots her a glare, edging away from her. "Of course I did. A coffee and three non-alcoholic eggnogs, right?"

Kemp's amused expressions morphs into devastation. "Non-alcoholic? What the hell were you thinking, man?"

One of the waitresses overhears his outbursts and gives him a long, hard look, and he scowls downwards, eyes trained on his lap. The door swings open again, sending a chilly breeze drifting through, and a few stray carolers walk by, their melodious voices echoing through the coffee shop. Josh reaches into his pocket to pull out a packet of Starburst Twisted Chews, tossing one towards me. My hand reaches forward, my fingers curling around the piece of candy mid-air.

"Oh, I almost forgot" Kemp says, his glove-clad fingers delving into the abyss of his bag and pulling out a stuffed toy penguin, complete with a pair of red earmuffs on its head and miniature argyle scarf wrapped around its neck, which he promptly pushes towards me. "Merry late Christmas."

I pick it up, twirling it around in my hands, the synthetic fur soft like velvet under my fingers as my lips lift into a grin. "Thanks."

Olivia looks up from where she was using a tube of white-out to decorate her black Converse, her eyes narrowing into a glare. "Hey, what about me?

Josh's expression turns wary, because he knows from experience that an angry Olivia is not one you should look forward to encountering, but Kemp just grins at her, oblivious.

"Um, Liv? Have you heard of this place called reality? It's where no one likes you." He says, a smirk creeping into his voice.

Olivia's face hardens, and her expression turns murderous. Sighing, I stand up and wander over to the counter to ask when our order would be ready, not wanting to be a part of their argument.

I look over at Alicia's table to see her rolling her eyes, the dim light catching on the sparks of gold glitter embellishing her large almond orbs, contrasting nicely with her flawlessly tanned skin. She bends down and whispers something into Skye Hamilton's ear, and her lips curl into a malevolent smirk as the blonde flounces up from her seat, picking up the designer handbag that had been dangling on the edge of her chair, and starts making her way towards our table.

I slide back into my seat, the sound of the heels of Skye's fur-lined boots clicking against the floor right behind me.

Olivia is saying something to Josh, and he flips her off before sprawling back in his seat and pulling his beanie down to cover his chocolate brown eyes, framed by a set of dark long lashes any girl would kill for. Liv rolls her eyes then stops, her eyebrows merging as she notices Skye standing behind Kemp's chair.

"Slut." Olivia disguises her remark with a subtle cough, and I pick up my mug, bringing it to my lips, taking a sip of the deliciously warm concoction.

I hesitate when Skye's expression falters as her eyes land on Josh's arm around Liv's shoulders, and her lips curl to the side, her robin-egg blue eyes glaring at Olivia unhappily.

What really stopped me in my tracks was the emotion in those stormy blue eyes – sadness. Sure, she was still trying to maintain that mask of hauteur, that characteristic Skye smirk she'd always worn, but her feelings were showing through it. There was no doubt about it. She was miserable.

Almost the same second I look up at Skye, she looks away again, staring at the blurred landscape blurring past outside the window – but I'd seen it. I'd seen her vulnerable side, and I felt a sliver of pity for Skye, despite all the shit she and her friends put people through.

When she looks back at us, the sheet of ice that makes up her almost-perfect composure is firmly in place, and she reaches into her purse to pull out four elaborately decorated envelopes.

"You're all invited to the Rivera's New Year's party on the 31st." She recites, somewhat primly, the smile on her face all but screaming fake. "It starts at 9 p.m. sharp, and the dress code is formal—" She shoots a glance at Olivia's ski jacket, mismatching socks and ripped jeans, the corner of her lips curling into a sneer.

Skye rambles on about details and parking valet for a good three minutes before flouncing back to her table, after managing to smile sweetly at Josh and cast Olivia another murderous glance in the same second.

"Well, that was fun." Kemp deadpans when she's out of earshot, and I sigh. He drains his mug, slamming it down onto the table so loud that the waitress shot him a contemptuous glower. "Demon lady." He mutters. Then he brightens up. "Anyone up for another round?"

Liv raises an eyebrow. "Non-alcoholic?"

He sulks dejectedly. "Y'all need to learn to live a little. Especially you, cupcake—" He says, jabbing a finger at me. "You're such an eraser poo. You rub out all the fun from everyone." He slurs a little manically. Olivia raises an eyebrow at me, a smirk tugging at her lips. She turns to Josh.

"Joshie, dear, are you sure you ordered non-alcoholic?" Josh looks up from the game he's playing on his iPhone, that one where you have to shoot at zombies with a machine gun, which I am apparently terrible at.

"No, dear, but I think he slipped something out of his little flask of his when we weren't looking."

I roll my eyes as Kemp pokes me again, muttering "Kris is an eraser poo", then slumps back in his seat, grinning.

"Gee, thanks."

.

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I step out of Starbucks, my cheeks flushing against the cold as a gust of wind hits me square in the face, and I pull my sweater closer to my skinny frame.

Olivia had gone off to meet up with her boyfriend, Danny Robbins, and Kemp and Josh had ditched me for some soccer meeting down at the park, so I had a couple of hours to walk around the snowbound town by myself.

As I walk past a small privately-owned bookshop, stopping for a second to glance at the Christmas-theme decorated shop window, I see something glinting on the snow-covered ground—a silver penny someone had dropped. I bend down to pick it up, flipping it over in my hand as the pale sunlight catches on its reflection, and straighten back up, only to have my breath knocked out of me as someone barrels into me from the left.

I stagger against the brick wall, coated with a shimmering layer of thin ice, my hands pressing against it to soften the impact.

"Aw, shit." Someone mutters, and then the sound of boots clomping on the snow claims my attention. "Aw, hell." Suddenly a pair of hands are on my arms and I'm being pulled up.

"Are you okay?"

Ignoring the faint ringing in my ears and the shallow scrapes on my palms from the uneven ice that were beginning to throb, I look up to find a dark-haired boy's face inches from mine, his warm breath lingering on my face.

Recognition flickers through me, and the name Cam Fisher pushes its way to the front of my jumbled thoughts.

Startled, I take a step back, my heart hammering against my ribcage, tripping over a rock and stumbling against him. He catches my wrists and pulls me towards him, my hands pressing against his chest, my face nestling into the warmth of his sweater.

I nod numbly, pulling in a shallow breath. "Yeah, I'm fine." I say, answering his question, but my voice is muffled against him. I inhale, my breath catching in my throat-he smells like cinnamon and aftershave tinged with the musky aroma of pinecones.

I pull back a little to look at him. He's slightly breathless, dressed in a fern-green sweater pulled on hastily over some light-wash jeans, a pair of black Nike sneakers on his feet, and a shock of tousled black hair is falling into his mismatching blue-green eyes, the ends curling slightly as the wind flitted past him.

He must have realized I was staring because his eyes flickered onto mine and his lips quirk into a smile. I tear my gaze away and embarrassment pulsates through me as he released my wrists.

I take a step back, my eyes flickering to the ground, looking everywhere but at him, and I feel my cheeks catching fire. His green-and-blue gaze rakes over me, which only made it worse, and I shuffle uncomfortably, leaning onto my left foot, the tip of my boot digging into the snow.

My embarrassment fades when I notice the assortment of shopping bags he's holding, two of which I can distinguish as being from American Eagle and Victoria's Secret. I quirk an eyebrow at him, a smile tugging at my lips, and he runs a hand through his hair awkwardly.

"Yeah, um, my sister's in town, and, uh, she—" He breaks off, stuffing his hands into the back pockets of his jeans awkwardly. There's a faint trace of an English accent laced into his voice, and I find myself smiling. Gazing at his lips, I found myself wondering what it would be like to trace my finger over them. My cheeks start to colour again as I catch up with the direction my thoughts are going.

A muscle in his cheek moves, and the clandestine depths of his blue-green eyes sparkle with amusement as he catches me staring again.

"Are you going to Alicia's party, then?"

"Um, yeah." I mumble, averting my gaze. "You?"

He squints slightly against the sunlight that was slipping through the monotonous greyness of the clouds, and smiles. "Yeah." Then his eyes light up and then he's pulling me gently towards a flock of shops on the left side of the square.

"Hey!" Fear slams through me as it hits me that I barely know the guy, and he might be part of some gang, or even a rapist. I gulp. "Where are we going?"

"Well," He says, propelling me onto one of the small streets adjacent to the square, "Since I almost killed you, I figure I should buy a present to make up for it, right?"

Surprise trickles into every muscle of my body, and I flush. "You did not."

He ignores me and his lips curve upwards into a smile again—my heart falters.

"You didn't!" I insist as he pulls me into a stuffy antique shop, a warm rush of air hitting me in the face as he drags me through the door.

"Consider it a Christmas present, okay? What about this?" The saleslady, an old woman with a silvery pashmina tied around her neck, glowers at Cam as he picks up a ceramic statuette of a pair of Siamese twins.

I flush again. Stupid obnoxious ridiculously good-looking Cam Fisher.

"Seriously, Cam,"—he shoots me a surprised look—"This isn't necessary. And, uh, I have somewhere to be." I lie.

His lips pull into a grin. "Fine."

He picks up something else and hands it to the saleslady, whose face turns friendly as she realizes he's actually going to buy something, and she presses some numbers into the cashier, before the machine groans and spand spits out a receipt. The lady hands him a plastic bag and waves goodbye, and we step outside the warmth of the shop.

Suddenly, my confusion flares up into anger, and despite the pterodactyls stampeding around in my stomach, I turn to ask Cam what the hell is wrong with him, buying presents for strangers.

He smiles, sadness tingeing his eyes. "Oh, you're not a stranger to me." he says, reaching to brush a snowflake off the tip of my nose. I shiver against the warmth of his fingers on my skin. "I have what, four classes with you? And I'm pretty sure we've talked a couple of times, too."

And then I realize he's right; I just never noticed him, because being best friends with Derrick Harrington, charming, gorgeous, popular, soccer-star Derrick, boyfriend to the the daughter of early-morning-show star Merri-Lee Marvil, no one did notice Cam. And then I felt a pang of guilt for being such an idiot.

Before I can say anything, he pulls out a small red box from the bag and drops it in my hand.

I hesitate, and I can feel his eyes scrutinizing me, my heart hammering against my ribcage as I lift the lid up.

A gasp hitches in my throat. Inside there's a small circle-shaped sliver of metal adorned with a miniature crystal reindeer, splaying shimmery silhouettes in every direction as it reflects the pale morning sun. Cam smiles at my reaction, then reaches towards me to fasten it around my wrist.

His warm touch against my wrist sends slivers of electricity up my limbs, but I don't move.

"Cam, it's…beautiful," I say, twirling my hand around to admire the rays catching along the glittering surface. "But I can't take it. I don't have anything to give you—"

He cuts me off by pressing his lips against mine.

He tastes like peppermint and fireworks; it is without a doubt the best kiss I've ever had, and when he pulls away, there's a tingling feeling of loss leaving my lips raw.

He grins, his mismatched eyes sparkling. "I've been wanting to that for a while." He admits sheepishly. "So now we're even."

Then he leans closer, the feel of his warm breath on my neck condemning shivers down my spine, and I tremble as he whispers,

"Merry Christmas, Kristen."

.

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although this will never compare to leesh's, i hope you enjoyed it, lisa—despite it being rushed and uninspired and shit and the ending being aasfgsfagjhdgshs amounts of blah & everything. but i did try to make it cheerful, so, happy belated birthday!

like it, hate it, concrit it, let me know—review?