Disclaimer: I own nothing related to any Disney universe including, but not limited to, characters, names of places, lyrics, dialogue, or any other piece of product. Disney retains all the rights to their universes. I am making no money or receiving any kind of compensation, material or non-material, for this fiction. It's all for fun. Please don't sue me. I do claim the writing, the idea behind this particular narrative, and any peripheral characters or locations created to augment Disney's work.

A/N: This thing is taking on a life of its own.

He dropped a note on her desk as he walked to his seat. He didn't look at her. He just let it fall on top of the open pages of her notebook and it sat there like a loaded gun, but she didn't look at it. She slammed her notebook shut, securing the scrap of folded paper between the lined pages, and tried to forget that it was there. She failed. She couldn't forget, even if she wanted to. Even if it was best for both of them if she just ignored it.

What happened between them over the last several days was a fluke. Even if it had happened twice, it was still a fluke. It had to be a fluke. It just had to be. It made things too complicated if it wasn't.

Mrs. Brownstone wrote a rectangular coordinate equation on the blackboard, and Julie knew she should write it down too, but she couldn't. That would mean opening her notebook and chancing a glimpse at the forbidden note stuck there. That was not something she could do.

She twitched her fingers over the pages of her textbook instead, trying to focus, but Scooter was two seats to her left and one seat back and it was all she could do to not turn and see if he was having as much trouble focusing as she was. She fiddled with her pencil, scratching the lead dull on the corner of her desk, and was completely unprepared for the question that came her way.

"... Miss. Gaffney?" It was Mrs. Brownstone, glaring down her bespectacled nose at her, but Julie hadn't heard anything beside her name.

Julie's mind went blank with panic. Why on this day, of all days, was she being called on? She was a good student. She studied and worked and tried until her eyeballs felt like they might fall out of her head from exhaustion. She was normally prepared for questions, but today she was anything but.

"I'm sorry?" Julie said, scrambling, and she heard the whole class shift at her discrepancy.

"You know how I feel about repeating myself, Miss. Gaffney." Mrs. Brownstone adjusted her glasses and Julie felt ill.

She knew exactly how Mrs. Brownstone felt about repeating herself and so did the rest of the class. It was not good. Julie felt heat rise to her cheeks. The embarrassment of being caught unprepared left her tongue tied.

"Please identify the radius of the circle." Mrs. Brownstone said, and Julie's eyes went to the series of chalk marks across the board behind her teacher.

The numbers and letters swam. The concept and execution escaped her as she felt bile rise in her throat. She didn't know what to do, at least not without her notes. The same notes that were now sandwiching a missive which she was loathe to read, but she to look at her notes. She had to at least try to figure out this equation.

"It's uh – just let me..." She flipped open forbidden pages to the place she had scribbled down the information she needed and found the folded piece of paper there in incriminating clarity. "I - I just..."

She attempted to read her notes, to find meaning in the annotations, but it was useless. All she could see was the contraband correspondence with a large printed J on top in dark blue ink. This was bad.

"Is it… seven?" Julie felt the air suck out of the room and Mrs. Brownstone sniffed.

It wasn't seven.

"Miss. Gaffney, please prepare problems fourteen through thirty in chapter four in addition to the homework already assigned for class tomorrow."

"Yes ma'am."

Julie felt like her face was on fire. Her cheeks and ears burned with embarrassment and anger. This was all Scooter's fault. If he could just leave her alone like he should have, none of this would have happened, but no. He had to go and drop a note on her desk, and try to talk to her after class, and kiss her without warning after the showdown. What was his problem?

She wanted to wad up the note, turn around, and chuck it at him. She wanted to stand up in the middle of class and read it to the whole class just to embarrass him. She wanted to make a scene and throw it away in the trashcan by the door just so he knew that she hadn't read it and didn't care, but she couldn't do any of those things. This note had already gotten her in enough trouble. She didn't need it to give her any more.

Ignoring it just gave her two extra hours of homework tonight and she couldn't have it spoil anything else. Maybe if she read it, she would be able to focus. She could see what he had to say and just dismiss it because she would have the power then.

That is why she opened it.

She undid the tight creases, trying not to draw attention while Mrs. Brownstone wrote on the blackboard, and spread the scrap flat on top of her notes. Her heart hammered in her ears. She just knew Scooter was watching her, probably gloating, but this whole thing was his fault, so he didn't get to judge.

She didn't look right away. She tried to convince herself not to give Scooter the satisfaction, but her head was pounding and it was only third period. She needed this feeling to go away or else she would explode before lunch. So she glanced down, keeping her head up so Scooter couldn't tell if she was reading or not, gazing down the length of her nose.

There is concise capital letters she read:

WE NEED TO TALK.
LIBRARY. TONIGHT. 8.
PLEASE?

It wasn't signed. It could have been from anyone, but it wasn't. It was from him and it was to her and this just kept getting more and more complicated.

Reading that note didn't make anything better.

She rushed out of pre-calculus the second the bell rang and dropped the note in the trash on her way out, but it haunted her. What exactly was she supposed to do? Meet with him and talk about how kissing him was ruining her life? Ignore the note and run the risk of something like this happening again? Both options sucked.

She barely ate at lunch. Goldberg made jokes about last night's scrimmage and how it was no wonder that she couldn't stop any goals since she didn't eat. Averman joined in with the jabs. Adam was appropriately concerned. She made excuses. She'd had a big breakfast. She wasn't that hungry. She ate a snack between periods. Just not that her stomach was tied in knows because she had no idea what to do about Scooter.

She'd floated through the rest of her academic day, paying attention just enough to not be caught off guard like she had by Mrs. Brownstone, but by no means at the level of focus she needed to be. Coach Orion ran skating drills at practice that night, for which she was relieved because she could just skate. The feel of her blades against the ice was soothing, numbing. It was familiar and simple and for the first time that day she almost felt normal, but then practice was over and she was numb for a different reason.

What was she supposed to do?

She had a boyfriend. They'd been dating three months, a record for her, and she didn't want to mess this up. Adam was kind and thoughtful and he knew what it was like to be on the outside of the core Duck alliance. They'd kept their relationship quiet, out of the prying eyes of their teammates, not wanting drama with Adam playing varsity, but they were close to taking their relationship public. The timing felt right. They'd settled into a routine, they were on the same team again and that team was The Ducks. Their friends should know that they were happy.

But then she started kissing Scooter.

She started kissing Scooter and it had to stop. Now.

That is why she packed up her homework and went to the campus library that night. This was it. This was the end. She needed to get her life back together before this situation got any more insane.

She got to the library at seven forty eight, found a table back behind the social sciences section, and tried to keep busy. She had plenty to do, but found it hard to focus. At every noise her head popped up to see if it was him, but it wasn't. At eight o' two though, it was him.

He wasn't wearing his trademark varsity jacket and he had on a Pittsburg Penguin ball-cap. He looked different, like he was trying not to be seen or recognized, but Julie would know him anywhere. She couldn't take her eyes off of him. Her mouth went dry when his gaze met hers and she couldn't remember what part of her thought this had been a good idea.

He didn't come over to her at her table. Instead he ducked into an aisle of books a few feet away and jerked his head for her to follow. On gelatin legs, she did.

He stood in the middle of the row, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans, and he rocked back and forth onto his toes. He fidgeted with his cap as she approached, pulling it off of his head, forking his fingers through his hair, shoving the cap back down over his eyes. He looked as nervous as she felt, but somehow that wasn't comforting. She needed him to have a plan, a way to make this crazy situation manageable, but he didn't look like he did. Butterflies the size of pterodactyls slammed around in her stomach as she came and stood in front of him.

"Hey." He whispered, a grin pulling at one corner of his mouth.

"Hey." She whispered back, but didn't smile. She felt way too nauseous to smile.

"Sorry about getting you in trouble in class – I just – we need to talk." He glanced down to both ends of the row. No one was there.

"Yeah. We do." She agreed, but neither of them said anything.

What was there to say?

I'm sorry I kissed you and then ran away?

I'm sorry I did it twice?

I'm sorry I'm already dating someone else?

None of those options were appealing. So she waited for him to start, to launch into the impossible dialogue she didn't want to have, but he didn't. He stayed quiet, and that is why at eight o' five she found herself with her back pressed against volumes containing the general statistics of Asia and with Scooter's tongue in her mouth.

Julie didn't know who moved first for sure, but she would always claim it was Scooter.

It took only a few moments without words before the syllables of kisses replaced the silence, and Julie felt like she could breathe for the first time in days. He pulled his cap off his head as he stepped into her body and cupped her face in his hands. His mouth was insistent, firm against hers, and she leaned into him. Her hands gripped the collar of his shirt to steady herself against him, and he pressed her back against the bookshelf.

She rose up on her toes, hands sliding behind his neck and into his hair, as his traveled down the sides of her body before gripping her hips. He was a wall, rock hard and unyielding, and she bowed her body against his. He made her feel small, but not fragile. He didn't touch her like she was a doll he might break. He touched her like he wanted to leave a mark and part of her wanted him to.

She bit him, drawing his lip between hers and grabbing it with her teeth, and he hissed. His hands clenched on her hips and pulled her harder up against his body. She wanted… did it ever matter what? It was all just too much to process. She wasn't this kind of girl, but Scooter made her wish she was.

He pulled back with a gasp, breath unsteady against her cheek, and she couldn't move if she tried. His eyes, wide and stupefied, held her steady more than his grip because she felt exactly what his expression told her. This wasn't a fluke. This wasn't something that would go away if they ignored it. This wasn't something she could stop, even if she wanted to, and she didn't want to. She needed him to stop it for them. She needed him to be strong and think clearly and do the right thing. That is why she had to tell him the truth.

"I have a boyfriend." She whispered the phrase rushing in her mind, and the look on his face told her he hadn't been expecting that.

This was about to get even more complicated that she could imagine.