Lauren could barely hear her own shrill scream above the squealing of her futile brakes as they tried to stop her car from spinning. But the black night outside that was speckled with fast white snow continued to whirl outside her window dizzyingly and she was pressed against the side with the force from the movement. Her small foot stomping on the brake pedal did nothing but make her tires screech against the ice beneath them. Her white knuckles clutched the steering wheel and held it straight, but it was of no use. Her heart had leapt to her throat and she felt like she was about to vomit it out, but for the sheen of memories that suddenly encased her.

They were brief flashes, brief and blurred. A sweaty, screaming woman who she recognized as her mother; the burns from the carpet as she learned to crawl; her first steps, potty training, her first words. The only thing that added to the terror of the memories she couldn't remember was the fact that she realized her life was flashing before her eyes - because it was about to end.

"So what's up with you guys?" Darren asked casually, sipping his sparkling apple juice. He still had to drive tonight - as did Dylan, which was why he had water - and he couldn't indulge in the alcohol that Brian, Joey, Walker, and A.J. were downing. "Any new tour ideas?"

"Nah," said Walker, shaking his head. "Just the basic 'let's sit around and let the fans beg' act."

"We don't let them beg," said A.J., rolling his eyes.

Both Joey and Brian laughed. "Please," Joey scoffed. "We don't make them beg, but we letthem beg. They're awesome, but beg-ey."

"What about you?" inquired Brian.

Darren shrugged. "Y'know," he said. "Same old, same old. A song or two, Glee, the works."

"Oooh, a song," said A.J., wagging his eyebrows up and down. "Tell me all about it."

Darren shrugged again. "Nothing special." He'd hoped this wouldn't come up. He glanced at his phone; Lauren hadn't texted back yet.

Brian and Dylan sang, "Ooo-OOOO-oooh," and Brian winked at Darren. "Who's it for?" he asked.

Darren fought back the heat that threatened to rise to his cheeks. "Nobody, it's just a random song."

"Well, what kind of song?" A.J. demanded. "A looooooooove song?"

"No," he insisted, but they all tittered around him.

Just having her arms around his neck felt so natural. Just having his hands on her waist felt so right. But she could only hope that the confused and reluctant look on his face really was his amazing acting ability; because her eagerness and earnestness was blowing holes in her own facade. And then, her cue. And despite the lights, the other actors, the lines they'd had to say - despite the fact that she could easily see the camera about to record them and the sign that said 'Little White Lie' - she leaned in for their (unfortunately scripted) kiss.

She'd never imagined kissing him would feel so good. His lips on hers were blissful and let her, for the first time, taste a restless sort of peace, a calmed but rippled ocean surface. The sparks that shot from his lips to hers and then up and down her body were dulled by the overwhelming sense of correctness that came with his lips touching hers. This amazing sensation she was feeling wasn't scripted, not at all, and it was all she could do not to tangle her fingers in his hair.

She felt wonderful. But, despite her state of joy and satiated ecstasy, there was a part of her that didn't understand. Why Darren? He was like her older brother, her best friend. So why did kissing him, holding him feel so good?

Lauren felt dizzier and more confused than ever; why had that memory, amongst all the other brief and blurry ones, stood out and been so clear? But she barely had a second to think before the next slide in the show was forced in front of her.

Darren glanced down at his phone. Still, she hadn't responded. Maybe she'd fallen asleep. But then A.J. repeated the question he'd just asked and Darren looked up. "What?" he asked.

"Do. You. Guys. Want. To. Play. Guess. The. Noun?" he said, enunciated each word carefully, as it to suggest he was an idiot; if it hadn't been A.J. and if he hadn't been smiling, he'd have been offended. There were nods of agreement around the table at the game they all loved, and Dylan began splitting them into teams.

Lauren was as still as a statue, completely stone, even her face made of rock. She was concrete, immovable, immobile. Her eyes were locked on Jaime and Darren in the middle of the stage, dancing too close for her comfort, though she knew they were acting. And though she could hear the lines, she couldn't focus on them or have them register; she was waiting for the kiss.

And then Jaime went in.

The only sign on Lauren's neutral face to indicate any emotion was the slight darkening of her eyes and the dulling of any and all color in her face. Her fists, that she'd already clenched, nearly poked through her costume robes. She remembered kissing the lips that were kissing Jaime's. She wondered if he thought her the better kisser, or herself. Or if he could only think about her. She wondered bitterly if Jaime felt as wonderful in his arms as she had.

And then they pulled apart, an Darren stated his next lines perfectly; if it had been more than a stage kiss, he probably would have kissed longer and forgotten his lines right afterward. Like he had with Little White Lie. Though they'd cut out his line after all, deciding just the kiss was good enough, the idea that her kiss was superior to both Elona and Jaime's felt good. She felt better and she smiled as the scene continued; and then her face was wooden again as Devin laid her head on his shoulder. She was being irrational, and she knew it - but why Darren? Why was it that he made her so jealous?

Lauren's own shrieks pierced the air around her, but they couldn't hold a candle to the sharpness of these memories. Why were the ones with Darren so vivid? They couldn't be that important. And then the next flash interrupted her once more.

"A person," said Dylan.

"Joey," guessed A.J.

"A.J.," guessed Joey.

"An actress," Dylan specified.

"Meryl Streep," guessed Darren.

"Angelina Jolie," guessed Brian.

"A beautiful actress," Dylan specified once more, smirking with his imminent victory.

Darren, trying desperately to guess what Dylan was thinking of, could only blurt out "LAUREN!" at the mention of a beautiful actress, and then shy away as all the eyes turned to him.

"So, what was it like, kissing Joey?" asked the timid fan, who was holding out her piece of paper for Jaime's autograph.

Jaime smiled at the fan. "He's a good enough kisser, but it was just a stage-kiss. No passion."

"What about Darren?" Meredith asked kiddingly from right next to Jaime, causing Lauren to look up.

"The same, just a stage-kiss," Jaime answered, smiling at the fan as she finished writing her name.

"But, come on," Meredith argued, "He's so hot."

"Hey!" Lauren said, smiling and joking, "That's my boyfriend you're talking about!"

That memory was simply painful. The kidding about Jaime kissing Darren - while it had been reassuring to know it had been nothing but a stagekiss - had made her retaliate; she was lucky she'd managed to make herself kid about it, as she had for years at that point, instead of snap at them to stop. But then she was pushed further into hazy SpaceTour memories and couldn't think back.

But, wait - something weird was going on. Everything was just flickering by much to quickly now; she couldn't make out individual dialogue anymore, it was all just a jumbled mess as the slideshow sped up.

And then there was an image of her crying on her bed, holding the phone to her ear as Darren told her he missed her as much as she missed him. She was clutching the stuffed rabbit he'd given her so long ago, clutching it like a lifeline, and the LWL kiss kept replaying on her computer that was on her bed, to the side. "No, you don't," she told him, smiling a watery smile through the tears that were streaming down her cheeks.

She jolted to a stop.

She shut her eyes immediately, not wanting to see the damage she was sure was coming. She didn't want to see her death come, she didn't want to see the big dark cloak that was coming to snatch her up. But, to her immense surprise and relief, nothing came. No pain, no death. Just her, sitting in her still car, in the middle of the street. She opened her eyes and saw to the left, just a couple inches away, the large patch of ice she'd spun out on. And, on the mostly-salted roads, her brakes had finally worked once she'd actually spun off of the ice.

She took a deep, shaky breath. She wasn't dead.

But she did know what she had to do.

Without another word, she drove her way around the ice, not wanting another near-death experience - and began the drive to Darren's apartment.

Darren grinned at Joey as he made his usual pointless flirting with the Katie, the hotel manager in the lobby, and pressed the button that would take him up to their apartment. The doors slid closed on the image of his slightly-drunk friend being shut down once more by the pretty girl and he felt his stomach drop to his feet as the elevator started.

He leaned against the walls of the elevator, closing his eyes for a wonderful couple seconds, just resting. But the ding of the elevator was bound to come at some point, and not a moment after he'd begun to doze off did it tear him from his peace and show him the hallway.

He sighed, rather tired, and stepped out of the elevator, and turned to the right, intending to make his way to their apartment and crash on the couch - but he saw something - no, someone - who woke him right up.

"Lauren?" he asked, not at all sure if he was seeing things or if she was really there.

"Darren."

His name was whispered and he had the time to blink twice as she sprinted toward him and then threw herself at him - literally. Her arms were flung around his neck and she rested her chin on his shoulder, hugging him as tightly as possible, and hoping he understood the unspoken words.

Hugging her like this… no, her hugging him like this, it was like he'd dreamed. Sure they'd hugged, and teased, and joked, but actually embracing her like she was the lifeline he needed to stop drowning - this was what he'd hoped for. And he hugged her right back, squeezed her as hard as he could to him, pulling her so close he was almost afraid he was hurting her; but the embrace was warm and tender, though passionate, and her small frame was lifted off the ground. There was so much more in this hug than there ever had been before; it was more intimate than any kiss.

"I wrote you a song," he whispered softly into her ear, and he swung her legs around so he was carrying her bridal-style towards his apartment, just so he could show her what he was very proud of - the music and lyrics he'd written with her in mind.

"A song?" she asked softly, resting her head on his shoulder adorably.

"A song," he assured and repeated her. He fumbled with his keys at the door, but when it was open, he rushed to the piano, glad he'd left it set up before they'd gone out. He set her on her feet and petted her hair once, unable to resist doing so. "Listen," he instructed with a goofy smile on his face. "It's about when we met."

He stepped behind the piano and sat down on the stool, and then positioned his fingers, took a deep breath, and began.

"Hey, / Hey, you. / Can you see me, / across the room? / Caught your eye, / don't be shy, / I don't know why / but I feel like I can fly!"

She clapped her hands excitedly, smiling broadly.

"Maybe it's your brown eyes / that are staring down mine. / Why can I not think straight? / Maybe it's your hair / or the fact that you don't care / if you get home late."

She jumped up and down excitedly, her hands clasped tightly, her eyes fixed on Darren's beautiful face.

"So baby walk - this - WAY! / We can talk all night: / What do you start, / what do you stop, / what do you like? / So walk towards me baby, / I need to see / if your name is as nice as your face. / So walk this way!"

Lauren couldn't take it anymore. This was the most passionate she'd ever seen this man, and she'd known him, a very passionate person, for over three years. His eyes were sparkling and his lips were smiling and every ounce of energy he was putting into the notes seemed jubilant and perfect. The song was already describing how they met flawlessly - she didn't need to hear any more. She grabbed both sides of his face from over the piano and brought his lips to hers.

He immediately abandoned the keyboard and grabbed her head, too, holding her gently, tenderly, caressing her hair and cheeks as he kissed her. This time, they weren't acting. This time, he didn't have to force himself to seem reluctant. This time, it was all true, real and one-hundred-percent ecstatic.