Rose gave the two of them a lift home, dropping Allison off first despite the fact it probably would have been better to drop John off first, given that he lived closer to the cinema. As they pulled up outside his house, they could both hear his father shouting. Broken beer bottles lay discarded in the wasteland of a garden. John clenched his fists and stared through the front window.

"Is it that bad, Bee?"

"He nodded sharply."

"It's gonna be a good three hours until he passes out. Until then, I guess I m the punch bag."

"Do you not wanna go in?" He shook his head, still staring determinedly out of the windscreen.

"Then don't go in."

"I can't sleep on the streets."

"I don't mean ever. I mean until it s going to be okay for you to go in without being beaten to a pulp." The concern in her voice was evident and John was amazed for a moment that someone other than Ally could sound worried about him.

"What else am I gonna do?"

"Come back to mine,"

At her suggestion, he finally looked at her, eyes wide, eyebrows raised.

"Oh, not like that Bee! You have a one track mind! Just come back to mine. We can just like listen to music for a couple of hours."

"Your... your parents won't mind?"

She shook her head and began to drive back to hers.

Bender hesitated as Rose pushed open her door.

"Bee, they're not gonna bite. I promise. They only bite on Sundays."

They both smiled.

"Hey Mom, hey Daddy." Rose waved and grinned into a lounge that Bender thought could probably fit his entire house in.

"Hey Treasure." Her mom stood up to give her a hug. "I plated up dinner in case you're hungry."

"I'm fine. Mom this is b...John. He's in my English class at Shermer."

Rose's mom smiled warmly at him,

"Hi, Mrs Dubois." Bender smiled somewhat nervously.

"Call me Irene." At this moment, Rose s father unfolded himself from the couch. At six foot, he seemed daunting, and his salt and pepper hair and straight back spoke of military training to John.

"And call me Mac, please." He offered his hand to John, who shook it, "Good handshake, firm grip." Rose rolled her eyes.

"We're just gonna listen to some music in my room if that's okay."

"Sure thing sweetie. I'll bring up hot chocolate and cookies for you."

"Thanks Mom,"

Rose led the way up two flights of stairs.

"I've got the whole third floor, it's kinda my studio as well as my room," she explained almost apologetically to John as she pushed open the door at the top of the stairs. As they walked in, John in a stunned silence, Rose tidied things that were already fine. Everything was perfectly neat and straight. All ornaments were in symmetrical pairs, the duvet on the king sized double bed was made with military precision. About half of the studio had been taken up to be her bedroom, and Rose led them over to the other half, which seemed to double up as a lounge and studio in one.

"You can sit down," she smiled as she flicked on a CD and thanked God that she'd been listening to Guns and Roses that morning, not the Pussycat Dolls which was her normal getting ready music. John ignored her offer and instead wandered over the one wall that was covered with sketches that Rose had done. He spent a couple of minutes surveying them in silence then wandered to the huge floor to ceiling windows that took over one wall. In front of them was Rose's desk, set up with an A2 piece of paper that she was obviously working on. In front of the windows, lined up on the desk in a haphazard manner that contradicted the precision of the other half of the room, was an assortment of shells, skulls and pebbles. John glanced at the paper and then did a double take.

"It's my project for art class."

The paper stood portrait, and showed a girl at an angle, stood in front of a mirror. She was a princess, in a full ball gown, with a tiara and long white gloves. Then in the mirror, her reflection. But it wasn t her, it wasn't a princess. The girl in the mirror had scars on her wrists, black make up, wore a tiny skirt and her hair was artfully mussed up. She had a bottle in one hand and a cigarette in the other. The girl in the mirror was a criminal. But what got John, what made him turn and stare at Rose, was that they were both her. Subtle differences. The princess hair was longer, in ringlets. The criminals lips were slightly fuller. But it was her. Right down to the freckle slightly to one side on the tip of her nose.

When he turned, Rose was sat on a couch on the other side of the room, smoking.

"You want one, Bee?"

He nodded and sat next to her. They remained in silence for a while, listening to Guns and Roses and smoking. Irene interrupted the silence with the promised hot chocolate and chocolate chip cookies, which tasted like a little bit of heaven. When they'd finished their hot chocolates and cigarettes they remained silent. Looking at each other. The intensity of earlier was gone. Without speaking Rose nudged his fingers with hers. They locked hands and he stroked the inside of her palm with his thumb. Her face broke into a grin and his mirrored hers. She blushed. He reached for her other hand with his, and caught her wrist. Again those bumps. He lifted her wrist up to his face and saw them for the first time. Hundreds of scars, all the same length, exactly one inch long, working their way up her arm in military straight lines. Without breaking eye contact he gently lifted them up and kissed his way along several of them.

"Bee..." He took her wrist away from his mouth, questioning her with his eyes. "Show me yours, I'll show you mine."

Bender rolled up a shirt sleeve and pointed to a long, jagged scar.

"Broken bottle, because I came in twenty minutes late after school."

Rose took her hand from Johns and pointed at her scars.

"Razor blade. Every time I'm not good enough."

John pulled her into a hug.

"You are good enough, Princess." He muttered into her hair. She pulled back to ask him what he'd said, but was distracted by how close he was to her. She found that she couldn t look him directly in the eye, so looked down. But that meant she was looking at his lips so her eyes darted between the two, trying to ignore that sickly feeling in her stomach. Damned butterflies.

"What?" oops. She didn t realise she d said that out loud.

"I've got butterflies. That's all."

"Butterflies?" His disbelief was evident in his voice. "Rose Dubois, princess, soon to be girlfriend of Scott the quarterback has butterflies over John Bender, criminal?"

"Nope." Seeing John s confusion she grinned. "Rose Dubois, princess and criminal, has butterflies over John Bender, criminal and hottest guy at Shermer."

"No Scott?"

"No Scott."

"And why would that be Princess?" He smirked. "Got a better offer?"

"Well, I haven't had an offer, and I don t expect one. But I think if I dated Scott I d have to stop myself kissing you. And that, Bee, would be a drag."

John smiled, but it quickly disappeared as he felt the intensity of earlier begin to make another appearance. He could remember full well how she d tasted that night. Strawberries and honey. A seductively sweet combination, totally at odds with her seductively not sweet personality. He wondered what she'd taste of now. Cigarettes and chocolate? He stared at her bottom lip as she bit it, perfectly aware of how much it made him want to kiss her. His erection poked at the denim of his jeans.

Unlike last time, it was definitely John who made the first move this time. Not a lunge, but not tentative, just dangerously slowly, he tilted his head to one side, their noses brushing. His arm, already around her waist from hugging her, tensed slightly to pull her closer to him. Then slowly and oh so softly, he pressed his lips to hers.

Rose collapsed into the kiss, pulling him as close to her as she could. He smelt of cigarettes and peppermint.

The kiss was everything that the last one wasn t. It wasn t so... rushed. Neither Rose nor John felt it necessary to be rid of the clothes. And yet, it was infinitely better for it. Not gentle, neither of them could stand gentle, but tantalising with the promise of what would happen after.

A while later, they sat silently again. Rose was curled into John, his arms encircling her.

"So, Princess. Three public schools huh?"

"Yup," she giggled. "Three wonderfully elitist private schools that couldn't handle little old me."

"What the hell did you do girl?"

"School 1: Found growing dope in my dorm room. Given warning and the found off my face stoned on the roof. Asked to leave. School 2: Found in the locker room going down on a female prefect. Given warning and then someone snitched that I'd been letting some of the boys from the partner school into our dorm. Asked to leave. School 3: Held heavy metal vomit party in hall halfway through my second semester. Given warning. Slept with good looking phys. Ed. Teacher to boost grade. Told to leave."

"Wow..."