always

…

And the tears come streaming down your face

When you lose something you can't replace

When you love someone but it goes to waste

Could it be worse?

…

(august)

She sucked in a deep breath and held it in; memorizing his signature scent of Drakkar Noir, because to her, he smelled like heaven.

His body was so close to hers that she could feel his body moving with each breath he took. She liked to synchronize their breaths because then it felt like they were breathing the same air, at the same time. And that way, they would both have a little piece of each other inside of them to keep until they exhaled.

A secret smile lit up her face.

"What?" He asked with a chuckle as he spotted her smiling.

She shook her blonde head. "Nothing. I'm just happy."

He raised an eyebrow. "Really? Sitting here, doing nothing, makes you happy?"

"No." She grabbed her can of Arnold Palmer and took a small swig. "Sitting here with you makes me happy."

There was a silence and she was afraid she had said something wrong.

But suddenly, his warm hand covered her small one and he sighed. "Being with you makes me happy. We're best friends till the end, right?"

She turned to look at him, her sapphire eyes meeting his warm-brown ones. One look between them and it was as if the world turned upside down. Her heart stopped beating. Her breathing grew shallow. His enticing cologne swirled around her. She squeezed his hand quickly.

"Always," she whispered.

(october)

Claire spotted him in the hall, fresh from the locker room shower, and she could almost smell his cologne.

Unable to stop the goofy grin from spreading across her flushed cheeks, she walked towards him and tapped him on the shoulder.

When Derrick turned around, a crooked smile instantly lit up his handsome face. "What's up?"

"You're still taking me to the disco, right?" She chewed her lip gently.

The smile fell from his face, just like that.

Something about his body language was off. He suddenly couldn't look her in the eyes. He shifted his weight from his right foot to his left foot nervously.

"I don't know."

Her heart dropped, but she tried not to show it. "Oh. Okay." Subject change. "Who do you want to take then?"

"I was thinking maybe Massie…"

Without hearing the rest of his sentence, Claire spun around on her battered white Keds and ran down the hall.

She never hated anyone. Ever. But at that moment, deep down in the bottom of her kind, loving heart, she knew there was a little room for hate of Massie Block, her (ex) best friend.

…

The gym was crowded. Too crowded.

It caused her to suffocate even more in her skin tight, silver tube-top and golden booty shorts. Her hair was getting stringy and sticky from the heat of the dancing bodies clinging to the air.

The music was so loud she could hear it pounding through her head.

The strobe lights rhythmically flashed different colors, but it only made her feel dizzy and sick. The whole dance reminded her of some lame-ass party teachers tried to organize to involve their students in school activities and show them how "fun" and "cool" high school can be. But as expected, a few sluts will get knocked up by their boyfriends and this high school will continue to lose its popularity (not that it had any in the first place).

While everyone else was having a good time, she was sitting at one of the snack tables, sipping some unknown drink from the punchbowl.

Her head hurt. Her feet hurt. Her heart hurt.

"Kuh-laire," a tipsy Dylan burped into blonde girl's ear. It smelled like fruit punch and vodka.

Claire swatted Dylan's face away and angrily whispered, "What?"

Dylan grabbed her hand. "Come join us on the dance floor. It's so fun, but it will be ever more fun with you."

Quickly, Claire shook her head.

"Fine," Dylan frowned. "Every party needs a pooper."

The red-headed girl left in a huff and Claire couldn't help but feel a little bit lonely.

And to make matters worse, out of the corner of her eye, she saw him dancing closely to her whore of a best friend. Her heart clenched in pain as she watched them.

The amber-haired girl was grinding against his body; her shorts had ridden up so high, they could be mistaken for underwear.

They were both laughing and whispering things into each other's ears. It took every ounce of Claire's self control to try not to throw up the ice cream bar she ate earlier for self-assurance that the dance was going fine. But how could she do that when the dance was turning into a disaster?

Forcing herself to turn away, hot tears rolled down her face slowly. She couldn't look at them. They were so happy. And right now, Claire would give the whole world to be in Massie's place.

But it was always Massie first. Massie was better than Claire. Everyone liked Massie more than Claire. Always.

So, amidst the loud booming of a pop song, the constant flashing of the strobe lights, and the drunken bodies dancing in close proximity, there was a pale-haired girl, sitting all alone in the corner, crying.

(march)

Claire was still not over him.

He and Massie had been dating for about six months now.

She didn't want to admit it, but she knew he had replaced her with someone better.

And now, every time she passed him in the halls, she couldn't even bring herself to look at him. No smiles were shared, no greetings were exchanged

Sometimes she saw him biking down the street, to go to her house of course. He never came over on the weekends either. They never laughed and told each other stories about their weeks anymore.

(may)

It was almost the junior prom.

Deep down inside, Claire knew he was going to take Massie. Everyone always chose Massie over her, but Claire never thought the day would come when her best friend turned into one of those people.

But then again, she thought he was a lot of things (nice, funny, smart, handsome, her best friend)

Now she was just going to have to find some desperate guy to go with. (but she hated to admit that she was pretty desperate herself)

…

He was pounding on her door. She knew it.

She didn't want to answer him so she covered her ears with her pillow and fell back into a dreamless sleep.

All Claire could do was hope that her parents didn't question her about it in the morning.

…

His note read "I miss you."

Claire hated sitting by him in history class, and now, all she wanted to do was scream. Was he trying to kill her?

Quickly, she wrote down her response and waited until there was ten seconds left of class to give it to him.

The look on his face was priceless. Claire watched as he flushed with embarrassment and shoved the note in his backpack. But before he could say anything, the bell rang.

With a satisfied smirk, Claire sauntered out of the class room, leaving the note that read "fuck you" sitting like a dead weight in the bottom of his backpack.

He deserved to feel her hatred with him wherever he went

(night before prom)

Seeing her cerulean prom dress hanging on the back of her door filled her with mixed emotions.

She was excited to wear it tomorrow, but it also reminded her that she had no date to take her. Claire was going to the most important dance of the year all alone because the boy she loved has ripped her heart out of her chest and stomped on it with his soccer cleats.

And it all appeared to be a fucked up cliché to her.

It seemed that in every story, it was girl falls in love with best friend, best friend falls for another girl, leaving girl best friend heart broken, then best friends are no longer best friends, and sooner or later, they're no longer even friends.

Claire didn't want her life to be just another tragedy waiting to be written.

She was going to go to prom happy. She was going to go through prom happy. She was going to leave prom happy.

But it's not easy to be happy when you're not exactly anywhere near happy.

…

He pounded on her door again. But this time she opened it, not caring if she was a little exposed in her tank top and pajama shorts.

His eyes were bloodshot and his hands were shaking as he sat down on her couch. She handed him a glass of water before sitting across from him.

"I broke up with Massie."

Claire felt a boulder lodge in her throat. She choked out a cough and wrung her hands uneasily.

"I'm sorry if this is awkward for you."

"It has been awkward for me for the past eight months," Claire replied flatly.

He ran a hand through his unruly brown hair. She tried not to sigh as the lamp shined down upon his perfect head, splashing gold reflects throughout his hair.

"I feel like such a douche."

Claire watched him fidget around nervously before responding. "You should."

"I'm really sorry for what I did. I don't want us to be like this anymore. We're barely more than strangers now. I really want our relationship to go back to what it used to be."

Sudden tears filled Claire's eyes as she remembered the good times she had with him in the past. And right now, sitting across from him in her living room at one in the morning only made the memories hurt even more. Because right now, seeing the way they are, it seemed that their friendship was beyond repair.

"What did it used to be?" Claire asked softly, her voice cracking with emotion. She watched as tears slid down him cheeks.

He sighed. "We used to be best friends."

"I don't think we can ever be that close again after what you've done." The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them.

"I know." He looked down. "But we can at least try, can't we?"

Claire paused.

"Why are you doing this to me?" She asked.

He gasped in surprised. "Claire…"

"Stop," she interrupted. "You knew that I loved you, didn't you? So you just had to break it off between us. And it hurts me to say that I still love you. But I don't want to, I just can't help myself. You're everything that's bad for me, but I still love you!"

Suddenly, his soft lips came crashing down onto hers. Claire screamed behind his lips and tried to push him off, but her body wouldn't let her. His lips were meant to kiss hers. They were two puzzle pieces that fit together perfectly; that fit only with each other.

So she let him kiss her. And she kissed him back.

(prom night)

They were dancing slowly to one of her favorite songs.

She was dressed in a beautiful blue dress the color of the ocean when the sun is hitting it just right. Her cobalt eyes were lively and bright with excitement. Her hair fell in waves of gold down her small back.

She was dancing closely to him and he could feel her pale, satiny skin under his hands. She smelled like summer and dancing and happiness, and he loved as much as he loved the girl he was dancing with.

He had never laid eyes on a girl more beautiful.

…

He was wearing a black tuxedo with a blue pocket square that matched her dress perfectly.

His perfect lips were curled into a soft smile as she watched him close his eyes with content. She leaned her head into the crook of his neck, allowing his Drakkar Noir to surround her. A small sigh escaped her lips and he wrapped his arms around her tighter.

The jealous amber-eyes of a bitch were watching them enviously from the corner. It seemed as if she and the blue-eyed beauty had switched places.

But Claire didn't notice anything; the eyes staring at them, the whispering behind hands, the song changing from slow to fast.

Because when you love someone you're meant to be with, it's hard to notice anyone else.

And in Claire's heart, she knew that she'll love Derrick Harrington always.

(happily ever after)

…

This story is dedicated to dear Haritha (Cela Fille) for starting my obsession with Clairington after I read some of her stories. I want to thank you so much for reviewing my stories, darling! I hope this one is up to par, but of course it can't compare to any of yours.

Sorry this is so bad. I wanted to get this out quickly for you so it might not be the best story you've ever read, but I hope you still like it.

- Much love, Katie.