Author's Note: Sorry for taking so long with updates, guys! I've been trying with great difficulty to get it where I want it to go. Thanks for sticking around.
All my love, Paige.
Flashback
"Oh my God, will you at least put a shirt on?" she laughs, watching as he walks into her room. He smiles warmly at her, just the tiniest hint of sarcasm showing through.
"We both know you like me better shirtless."
Her smile is wide, eyes bright as she stares up at him. "Yes, but you can't just walk in here half naked. People will talk."
"As if they don't already!" He sits on her bed, flipping through one of the numerous Shakespeare scripts scattered across the comforter.
"You have to help me decide which one I want to audition for."
He groans. "Whichever one I can avoid reading now, and sit in the front row cheering for you later."
She throws one of the three others on her desk at him. "I'm thinking Twelfth Night."
He nods.
"Should we tell them?" he asks suddenly.
She shrugs. "If we must. I feel like it would be better for us to wait."
He smiles and agrees with her.
"I love you," he says, just so she knows. He stretches out across her just-barely-too-short-for-him bed glances back at her. "Say it back!"
If someone had told her a year ago that he'd be in her room, begging her to say something as serious as 'I love you too' she'd have called them crazy.
"I'm not saying anything," she smiled teasingly.
"Say it or I'm putting peanut butter on everything you care about."
"Now that could be fun," she jokes, eyeing him.
"Just say it back. Please?"
And he looks so completely serious that it unnerves her a bit.
"Why do you want to know so badly?"
"Because I've admitted it!"
"I've said it before too," she laughs, at this point, just teasing him out of revenge.
He sits up and looks her over, grabbing a handful of her scripts. "I'll burn them," he offers, smiling.
"No! I need those," she hollers, and he smiles again.
"Say it."
"I love you, you arrogant fool."
He stands and pulls her to him in the center of the room, hands folding themselves around her waist.
"I love you, you traitorous witch." He kisses her forehead. "Making me beg. Who do you think you are?"
"'Traitorous? Big words for so early in the morning."
"I prefer to think of it as late at night, if you don't mind."
They kiss, and it's nothing short of wonderful. There are promises and love and comfort in it, and they know nothing would compare to it.
"Go to bed," she says, kissing him once more and sending him off.
"Night, babe," he says, smiling genuinely.
"Night, Derek."