Cameron was relieved that when he finally got dressed and headed into the living room Kirsten didn't mention the monstrosity on his chest. In fact, based on her mannerisms alone, he would have thought she'd already forgotten about it. That caused a weird feeling, like he was being pulled in two different directions. One was glad that she didn't think enough of it to dwell on it and the other was hurt that she didn't care.

He shook his head and plastered on a grin that mimicked hers. It felt uncomfortable and stiff. He wondered briefly if hers was forced, too.

A few hours later, Camille declared that she was exhausted. Linus jumped at the opportunity to drive her home, though the brunette protested that she couldn't abandon her roommate. Cameron cursed internally when Kirsten told them to go ahead, that she'd be fine.

He took a few paces away from her, wanting to put as much space between them as possible before the front door slammed shut.

Cameron wouldn't change anything about Kirsten, given the chance. Even her temporal dysplasia was a part of who she was. Right now, however, he wished she could just be like every other girl and move on or ignore him.

He kept his back to her, not prepared to look into her face when she asked for an explanation.

"I have one, too." she murmured.

He was even less prepared for that. He couldn't manage words but turned to look at her, jolting slightly when she was much closer than he expected. Her hair was out of its ponytail, as well. Damn, this girl could be as silent as a fricking mouse.

She was giving him that look again, like he was the most interesting thing in the universe. It was just residual emotion, of course. This was nothing more than Robbie's curiosity taking over her brain.

Kirsten dropped her eyes to his left hand and took it in her own. Cameron felt like a hundred volts of energy just coursed through his body. Speechless, he stared as she brought his hand up to the side of her head.

"My mom and I were in a car crash. She died. I was eight." she said without any suffering in her voice.

Her hair was silky beneath his fingers and he almost smiled. She placed her hand flat atop his and moved it back slightly until he felt the raised flesh. A scar.

He forced his expression to remain stagnant. He hadn't even meant for her to see his mark and she still hadn't gawked at him. He'd show the same respect to her.

Bewilderment filled him, at first, merely because of the length of the scar. Then a raw red anger. She was just a little girl. She shouldn't have had to endure that. Then again, he hadn't been much older.

"Do you think I'm weak?" she gripped his hand tighter.

Her question made him blink.

"What?" he said in awe, "No, of course not."

"Do you think I'm ugly?"

That was laughable.

"God, no. Kirsten, what are- "

"Do you feel any differently about me than you did before?" her eyes were wide and searching his.

"No." he said after a moment, "No, I don't."

If anything, he only wanted to protect her more. A faint smile crept across her face as she placed her other hand flat against his chest, in the center of his own scar. He held his breath. She must have been able to feel his heart pounding like a war drum.

"Good." she beamed, "That's how I feel about you."

Then she gave him the biggest surprise of the night- possibly his life. Her fingers dug into the fabric of his shirt, pulling his lips to meet hers.

His whole system shut down. Logic? Out the window. Little voice in his head? Speechless. Odd sensation growing in the base of his stomach? Oh damn.

Just as he regained enough brain function to kiss her back, she pulled away.

"Good night, Girlfriend." she smirked and released his shirt.

She turned and began walking away from him. Just before she got out of arms reach, he grabbed her wrist and yanked her back into his arms.

"Oh no you don't, Stretch." he smiled before reconnecting their lips.