AN: Sorry, it's been a while so i wrote a longer chapter, hope it's worth the wait.

ENJOY~

P.S. Thanks so much to everyone who comments, your support really mean a lot to me and keeps me writing. :) Critics are also very welcome.

-HTW

WESCHESTER, NEW YORK

SUNDANCE SPA & NAIL SALON

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 20TH

2:45 P.M.

After another busy weekend with the girls, Massie was grateful to have a full day dedicated to relaxation with Claire.

"What color should I get?" Massie offered to Claire, although she rarely ever agreed with her friend's Florida-infected style.

"Lime green," Claire suggest, pulling a heart shaped bottle off the shelves and bringing it to eye level for examination.

"Gross," A giggle escaped Massie's pursed lips, "That's like painting slimy goo all over your nails." She extended her own long fingers out and frowned at the chipping purple paint.

"Okay, what were you thinking?"

"A red French mani—in honor of the holidays." She reached up and presented a scarlet bottle of M.A.C. nail polish.

"Ew, that'll make your fingers look like candy canes," Claire giggled, sticking out her tongue.

"Sexy candy canes," Massie joked, a mischievous grin crawled across her gloss-smeared lips, "so what color are you doing?"

"I'll go with a green, kinda like this one," ever since Claire was diagnosed with the horrid habit of nail chewing, Massie had demanded she get acrylic nails to keep her from biting anymore. 'It's unappealing and Cam will get totally turned off' Massie had declared. Claire chuckled at her naïve younger self for taking every sentence Massie had said as verses from the Holy Bible.

"No!" Massie exclaimed, "You color your nails like snot and you're out of the PC," Massie laughed but her expression was of complete seriousness. Of course the queen bee couldn't have her reputation downgraded by Claire's disgusting sense of color.

"Fine," She dipped her head down and reluctantly pulled out a thin, white, O.P.I. tube. Sure the color was completely unoriginal but Massie wouldn't have anything to say about it.

"Let's go," Massie singsonged while intertwining arms with her best friend.

As the two pretty girls marched toward the front counter in complete diva manner, Claire's out-of-date Motorola Razr hummed a loud buzz. She quickly dug her hand into her Old Navy's jacket and swiped out her phone, carefully tilting the screen away from Massie's view.

"Massie Block," Massie reported her name to the register lady as Claire's fingers dashed across her keyboard; she had learned to text surprisingly quickly and Massie was quite proud of her thought-to-be-hopeless pupil.

"Appointment for two at two-thirty?" The bleached violet-red head was a walking advertisement for Hot Topic. She sported a dark decorated tee over a black tutu and cut up fishnets.

Massie nodded, afraid the girl might lash out at her for no apparent reason if she said too much.

"Go on in," Linda, as her nametag displayed, responded blandly in a monotone, pointing to the thin velvet curtain beside her.

Massie smiled awkwardly as she and Claire shuffled into what Massie liked to refer to as, "Heaven."

"Ahhhhh," Claire exclaimed as if singing praise to the long hall of private saunas leading to a ginoromous main room of SPA treatments and mani-pedis. Massie laughed as they strode down the narrow mahogany carpeted corridor.

"I'm so excited for this," Claire squealed, gripping Massie's petite hand tightly.

Why?" Massie questioned suspiciously.

"These pink nails are getting very, very boring," Claire responded almost instantly, raising her ten fingers to the blinding light illuminating from the rows of high ceiling bulbs.

Massie narrowed her amber eyes, knitting her brows tightly together.

"Com'on!" Claire bounced on her Juicy flats as she nearly dragged Massie to two neighboring open stations.

"Helloooo ladies," a cute woman in her early twenties skidded over. Massie scanned the worker and quickly fell envy to the woman's size zero model body that her own personal trainer was pushing her towards.

"I'm Lizzy," She offered, wiggling her thin golden plated nametag around for extra emphasis, "And this is Barbra."

A much more voluminous woman bordering her forties stood beside Lizzy. She gave a short wave with her chubby fingers as she took a seat on the lime green cushioned stool next to Claire.

"Vat vill oo be having today?" Barbra, who Massie had originally classified as Italian with her tied up brown waves, milky olive competition, and gorgeous chocolate lashes, slipped out a surprisingly thick Brazilian accent.

"White acrylic please," Claire's grin nearly wiped out the rest of her face.

"Oookay," Barbra returned a toothy smile as she opened the pullout drawer containing all the necessary manicure tools.

"W-wait!" Claire stiffened, "I want a foot massage first," she aimed a finger at her feet, "I definitely chose the wrong day to show off my shoes: it's freeeezing outside."

"Oookay," Barbra repeated but this time her expression wasn't too pleased, it was obvious to Claire that anything relating to feet weren't exactly the brightest parts of Barbra's day.

"Why'd you wear those shoes anyways?" Lizzy had already started on her right hand and Massie was now flipping through the newest issue of Us Weekly with her left.

"I don't know," Claire shrugged, "but aren't they cute?" She gushed as she slid the soft pink ballet flats off her feet.

"Sure," pictures of Angelina on the red carpet, Katie playing with Suri, and Megan on a morning jog flew past Massie's consciousness. For the past few days all Massie could think about was when Derrington was going to ask her to Winter Formal and she knew firmly well the answer was somewhere in his clunky Sidekick. Yet every time she tried to sneak a peek either her mother was calling her to dinner or her own phone was flooding in new messages. She looked over at her Chanel Coco Cocoon tote and felt the heat emitting from where Derrington's phone was safely tucked away. She began to reach for her bag when Claire's loud burst of giggles caught her attention.

Usually her alpha instincts would resist from asking, as to show no interest, but Claire was acting extra strange today. "Who are you texting?" Ugh, she hated sounding nosy.

"You'll see…" Claire sang as she lightly set her pink phone on the night-stand styled table between the girls.

"Kuh-lair!" Massie demanded. She absolutely despised when people kept anything from her: anything.

"Right now," Claire's sparkling blue eyes stared straight ahead; her lips drew up in a delighted smile and...she winked. But to who?

"Helloooo laaaaadies," Derrington approached, looking strangely alone with only Cam, who was wiggling his fingers at Claire, following behind him.

Lizzy let out an astonished/annoyed sigh as Massie abruptly pulled her hand away, hopefully the red line she had carefully finished wouldn't smear. Massie was thankful times one hundred that she hadn't asked for a mud mask to go along with her treatment, "What's going on?" She swiftly exchanged glances between Claire and the boys—she wasn't exactly angry, just…confused.

"Claire?" She turned to her uncomfortably calm friend for an answer, her tone demanding as usual.

"Just watch," Claire mouthed quietly, pointing her undone finger at Derrington who had now settled himself in front of her, gathering all eyes in the room on them.

"Block," Derrington blew another strand of blond curl out of his eyes and grinned. Big.

Massie studied him as he fiddled with something behind his back. "Here," he slowly reached his hands out to her. "Awww! It's cold!" He blurted out when Massie didn't receive it immediately, "Hurry, get me a napkin or something."

Cam reached into his jean pockets and pulled out a napkin. Massie squinted to see drops of water dripping out of Derrington's ruff hands.

"What…is that?" She muttered quietly as Derrington slid whatever it was from his hand onto the cloth. He looked up into her eyes, sea blue and sparkling amber meeting in sync. Massie could see her own perfect reflection in his dazzling eyes and she couldn't help but smile.

Derrington gently set the cloth in Massie's hand. To her surprise it was a cube of ice. Locked in the ice was a piece of paper. On the paper, in messy signature Derrington handwriting, were six words: Don't leave me in the cold.

"Block, will you go to Formal with me?"