CHAPTER EIGHT

It's A Surprise

So now I say the things I want to say
Sometimes it's better letting go this way
I'll always know
Down in my soul
We really had so far to go
I've given all I had to give
And now it's time for me to live
And I won't look back
And I won't regret

Though hurts like hell

Letting Go – Sozzi

Lauren

I gaped at them, and then I started screaming. "I'M NOT SWAPPING, I PAID FOR HALF OF THAT ROOM, AND I –" Well, it wasn't really about the money. At all.

"Do you really want to sleep – or should I say, try to sleep – in the same room as those two? Think about all the –" Dean started, but I held my hand up.

"Fine." I am obviously second best to the guy with the penis, so I'll just go and pack my things, and move in with Dean – oh my god, move in with Dean…I hate you Sharika.

I left the room, fuming, and strode to number 15. Letting myself into the bedroom, I avoided the two beds that had been pushed together with great care, and made my way over to my suitcase.

Now I could finally get out of my 'Got Milk?' shirt and into something passably normal. I grabbed some jeans and an off-the-shoulder black top (and a bra and underwear), and walked into the bathroom. I took off my clothes, and slipped into the shower, hopeful that this time I wouldn't be interrupted.

Ten minutes later I hopped out, and put my chosen clothes on, picking up the others and stuffing them into my suitcase when I went back into the bedroom. I turned around, and shrieked.

"Sharika!" I said finally, after my heart rate had calmed down. "What are you doing here?"

"Um, leaving Sam's bag and helping you with yours?"

"Oh." I nodded, smiled a little fragilely (hoping she wouldn't notice), and turned away, packing my stuff into my cases. It wasn't that I was that pissed at her, I was just a little nostalgic, considering the fact that we hadn't been away from each other for two straight months, and before that we'd lived in the same house while going to university, and before that we'd gone to the same high school. Now she was moving in with her fiancé, and I just felt a little pushed aside. Little being, you know, a huge understatement. She's known him for how many days now, and me for how many years? And yet, it was still super easy for her to replace me as soon as he came along.

I didn't even have Joyee and Fiona to lean on. I felt like everyone was just slipping away from me, but I guess that's what happens as you grow older. I couldn't blame Shar for falling in love.

I wouldn't.

I smiled at her, more naturally, as we lugged my bags to Dean's – my room. Living with Dean. In the same bedroom.

Yeah, that was going to be fun.

"I'm so happy for you," I said, and hugged her, just outside the room. "Really."

"I thought you were pissed at me?"

"Was."

"I just want to thank you. You've been there for me since year nine, when we were fourteen. Things have changed so much since then, hasn't it? And even though I love Sam and am looking forward to spending my life with him, I'll always miss the way we used to be. We've had so much fun, laughter and even hard times through all these years. So thank you for always being there for me." She said, looking totally serious.

"Aww," I cooed sarcastically. She would never know how my heart had leapt painfully in my chest when she said that, how she'd affected me with her words. It hurts, so badly to see her leaving me, even if it's not really leaving, just moving on, upwards, to a more fulfilled life. It always hurts to let go of those you love – and seeing as how my hugest fear was people not needing me anymore…well. "Awww. Awwwwww."

"Lauren, I was being serious!!!" She exclaimed, looking offended.

"I love you too Sharika, now lets go inside," I said as I opened the door and walked in.

∞∞

Sharika

Note to self, stop making stupid cheesy speeches outside of motel room doorways! I sighed. Honestly, first the whole 'don't call me, I'll call you' thing with Sam and now this with Lauren. There was something about this door that made me spew out the lamest cheesiest lines ever, other then that 'Don't be shy baby. You know you want to,' line Dean sprouted that night. That was honestly the most ridiculous line I've ever heard.

I walked in behind Lauren, who was already unpacking in her room. I watched her with melancholy eyes; she'd never really know how much I'd miss her.

I shifted my gaze from Lauren to my future husband. Husband…it sounds so grown-up. When I was in high school I used to have conversations about 'future husbands' with my friends. Lauren said she's always seen me with a smart, tall, thoughtful, sexy man. There was more she said that he had to be, but most of it's not fit for polite company. I always used to retort to her comments or just plain ignore them, thinking to myself that no man like that would ever actually like me, let alone love me.

But now, as I looked over Sam's profile, he was hunched over the counter talking to Dean, I realized that she was right. Sam was all those things, especially tall. But he was so much more; he was sweet, intelligent, caring, kind, funny-

"AWW!" Lauren yelled from her room. "AWW…ummm…AWW! Don't be so sappy! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO HER WINCHESTER?!"

"ME?!" Dean called out in surprise. "What did I do to her?"

"Not you Blondie!" Lauren clarified. "The other one! You know, Yeti Boy-aah!"

One of her shirts blew up in her face, courtesy of me and one of my many powers. I loved my powers.

"Not happy Jan!" Lauren said, as she tossed her previously wearable shirt over her shoulder.

I sat down on the chair, waiting for Lauren to complete unpacking – wait, why was she unpacking now?

"LAUREN! Why are you unpacking when we are meant to go shopping?" I asked, in disbelief that I hadn't realized this before.

"Meh, okay," she replied, throwing her suitcase in the air causing all her clothes to fall out of it and scatter all over the floor.

"Glad I'm not living with her anymore," I muttered under my breath.

"THAT'S NOT WHAT YOU SAID TWO MINUTES AGO!" Lauren yelled as she ran by us, almost as if she was racing us to the car. At the doorway she stopped, looked back at the three of us and smiled so sweetly, that you had to excuse her eccentricities. It was Lauren. You can't really expect her to be any other way.

Dean shrugged to us, smiling, then grabbed his denim jacket and followed, leaving the door open.

"Shall we?" Sam asked me, offering his arm to me.

I took it, and leaned against his body. "I can't believe that I'm turning into one of those annoyingly lovey dovey couples you see on TV; what have you done to me Winchester?" I repeated what Lauren had said mere moments ago.

"The same thing you have done to me Mesba," Sam retorted playfully.

We walked towards the car park in front of the motel; hand in hand, (remembering to lock the motel door) in comfortable silence. We stopped in front of the car Lauren and I owned. It was a navy blue Holden Monaro VT, the newest version. I didn't know much about cars and neither did Lauren, but from the research we did it was a safe, yet fast car. We had won it at a fair when Lauren guessed the weight of the car itself. I bought the ticket so therefore we both owned it, fifty-fifty.

"Whoa, how'd you get this? Last time I checked this cost about ninety two thousand dollars," Dean asked, walking around and admiring the car.

"We won it," I replied simply.

"I won it," Lauren chorused behind me.

I pulled out the keys and pressed the button on the key chain. The car flashed twice before unlocking the doors, I opened the driver's seat side door and slid inside. After a sudden shout of "Shotgun" Lauren took the passenger seat while Dean and Sam had no other choice but to sit in the back.

I put the keys in the ignition hole and turned them, the engine roared to life.

"Which shop are we going to?" Lauren asked, turning on the radio.

"Annie's Dress's," I replied, as I checked the mirror to make sure that the path behind us was clear.

"It's too quiet," Lauren decided, five minutes down the road. She turned on the radio; the old familiar tunes of Cartoon Hero's by Aqua filled the car. "AH!" she screamed in horror. "CARTOON HEROES!!"

I don't know why, but Lauren detested this song.

"Change it to the CD," I requested her as I reared out of the parking spot and drove out onto the road. I drove down the street at the exact speed limit – which is more than can be said of Lauren's driving. It was like she was still a seventeen year old who had just received her P's. She either drove under the speed limit by fifteen kilometers or over it by the same amount. And she was always nervous.

"Is it the one with the A.R.Rhaman songs?" Lauren wanted to know.

"Yeah," I replied, concentrating on the road.

"Who is Air Rhaman?" Dean asked. "Never heard of him."

"Aah Are Rha-man!" Lauren enunciated slowly for him. She pressed a few buttons before a woman's voice come from the speakers.

"Jinke Sar Ho Ishq Ki Chaaon" the melodious voice sung.

"What the hell type of music is this?" Dean asked. Sam cuffed him on the head. "I mean to say," he started again, smiling civilly, "What language is it?"

"Hindi," I answered, turning right at the corner. "And it's like, one of the most famous songs out there."

"Chaiyya, Chaiyya," Lauren sang along with the CD.

"And don't diss it, or you'll have hordes of his fans after your blood." And I was completely serious about it. A.R.Rhaman was one of the most prestigious singers of all time. Everyone loved his songs and he even traveled world wide. I attended one of his concerts when I was fourteen.

"Dean's just uncomfortable outside his world of mullet rock, that's all," Sam tried to defend Dean's actions, as if he was a small child.

"It could be worse you know," I told Dean. "I only know three Hindi songs, the rest are English. I don't even know any Bangla songs, except for that February one, but I only know two words from it, one of them being February. I'm such a travesty to my own culture." And that was true. I hardly knew how to speak my own language. I could only count to five in Bangla! All my uncles and Aunts made fun of the way I spoke, which was a combination of Bangla and English.

Neither Dean nor Sam responded. At a loss of what to say I guess.

"If You Could Only See is number four, I think," I informed Lauren as Chaiyya Chaiyya finished. She nodded and changed the track number to four.

"If you could only see the way she loves me, maybe you would understand, why I feel this way about our love, and what I must do…" Lauren sang along to the radio.

She was in perfect harmony with the artist, Tonic, and I didn't mind. I was used to it. Besides, she'd introduced me to Tonic in the first place, and these days it was one of my favorite songs. I glanced in my rearview mirror at the guys – they didn't know it. But then, what can you expect of Dean – who Sam says only listens to 'the classic mullet rock of the eighties', and Sam, who I saw as more of a modern rock type. This song was alternative rock, so I hadn't expected them to know it – yet. Sam would learn.

"If you could only see how blue her eyes can be when she says…when she says she loves me…"

When that song was finished we rode the rest of the way in comparative silence except for the continuous songs playing from the CD and Lauren's singing, only broken a few times by Lauren or Dean asking if we were there yet, and then squabbling with each other, taking turns in saying 'if we were there, we would have stopped Dean/Lauren!'. They reminded me of little kids so much sometimes…well actually often.

The car halted to a stop as I reversed parked right in front of the store. Got lucky, I thought to myself.

We all got out, and I pressed on the button on the keychain again, to lock the doors.

I looked at Lauren. "Ready?" I asked.

I usually do ask her, I have a particular taste when it comes to clothes, and it usually takes me awhile to find something I like. Not that long, but still quite a bit. That's why I like to go shopping with my parents, they don't complain. And I have an unlimited amount of money to use.

"Ready," she replied.

∞∞

Lauren

"Well you've got your reasons, and you've got your lies…and you've got your manipulations… they cut me down to size. Sayin' you love but you don't. You give your love but you won't…" I sang softly to myself as I looked over the dresses. I love Tonic.

I glanced over my shoulder where Dean was being harassed by the shop lady – either trying to sell him a tux, or herself.

I snickered to myself into the dresses at that thought. Sorry, but yes. Hem. I wonder how he's going to get out of that fix. Oh well, not my problem.

I was looking over a safe, purple concoction of silk and lace, when a hand slipped around my waist, and pulled me into a hard side. I looked up in surprise at Dean, who gave me a sensitive and (totally fake) loving smile. "I told the lady you were having a little trouble choosing a dress, my love," he said to me, while the shop lady – Rhonda – gave me a poisonous look. My love?!?!

I coughed, "Actually –"

"Your boyfriend said you go for more of an adventurous look," Rhonda said, her voice high and nasally. She was a plump woman, around middle age I guessed. Brown hair piled atop her head, and two inch high heels made her look even taller than she was – and made me feel like an oompa-loompa. "Annie's caters to every taste, so I suggest –"

She reached behind me into the racks, while I gave Dean a poisonous look of my own. "Why don't you let her pick on someone her own size?" I hissed at him. He simply grinned, and tightened his hold on my waist when I tried to move away.

"This," Rhonda stated with a flourish, and she held out a tiny, emerald green dress. There was no way I'd be able to squeeze myself into that by the looks of it, and Rhonda knew it.

"It looks perfect to me," Dean said; perfectly oblivious to the power struggle between the shop woman and I. "Try it on, honey."

HONEY?!

Well, I couldn't back down now; look at Rhonda's smug face!!

"Right," I said, with a simpering smile. I reached out for the dress, and it was passed over with a minimum of fuss. I actually liked the colour and cut of the dress, except for the fact that if I could ever get it over my hips (unlikely), it would come half-way down my thighs – if that. And the bust – I'm not even going to start.

I looked around for Sharika and Sam as I headed for the change-rooms; they were looking at an ivory dress in the other side of the shop. I notice Sharika isn't being picked on by the shop lady from hell.

I guess being couple-y is good for something.

I sighed to myself as I stripped off in the cubicle. Being couple-y is good for lots of things. If I was being truthful I could admit I was a little jealous of Shar. She was so safe and sure of Sam's love for her; the last time I'd been in a relationship was about three months before the demon kidnapped Joyee and Fiona – and that hadn't ended so well. He was pressuring me to go all the way, I wasn't ready… long story short, I found him banging my Drama teacher on one of the desks in her classroom.

So, I'm a little cynical about guys and their interest in me these days.

I pulled the dress off its hanger and unzipped the side. "Here goes nothing," I whispered to myself, and stepped into it. Dean's paying for it if it rips, I thought to myself, eyes squeezed tightly shut, and stomach pulled in as I tugged the dress upwards.

Tug, tug, tug…tug, tug…

And it kept going.

I stared down in surprise as it slipped into place over my breasts. In a kind of trance, I pushed my arms under the straps, and shifted it a little, so it fit properly and was slipped into the right position. I pulled the zipper, waiting for it to stop or something, but it kept going, all the way to the top.

I leant against the change-room wall for a second. Oookay… I guess all the kick-boxing I've been doing has helped with more than my high-kicks.

Unfortunately, there was no mirror in the cubicle, so I didn't even get to see how ridiculous I looked before the others did. The dress did end half way up my thighs, just as I'd hypothesized, and the under-wire built into the bust made my – um, appendages – look bigger than they ever did in my poor 'Got Milk?' t-shirt – a feat I'd thought impossible. The way the dress was cut made sure I couldn't wear a bra, and I'd have to wear a g-string or backless underwear if I didn't want panty-lines. That's if I bought this dress, which I doubted. I mean, I probably looked like a pig squeezed into a green silk glove, it was so snug. Maybe I could pretend it didn't fit or –

"Lauren? Are you done? Dean said you were trying on a dress. You have to show me!" Sharika's voice sounded from outside the door. Damn.

"Well-" I started, trying to think of an excuse. But one didn't come to mind.

"Come out, Sam's choosing a dress for me," she laughed. "It's a good way to see how his taste runs in relation to clothes for women. I have to see if he's chosen something – you know – or not, so hurry." I heard her footsteps leave.

Taking a deep breath, I undid the locks on the door and stepped out.

I walked back into the shop. Sharika and Dean were on the other side of the shop, laughing at Sam, who was holding up square-necked chartreuse gown, and blushing. Rhonda stood to the side with a condescending smile. She was the first to see me.

Her mouth dropped.

Oh god, I look that bad…?

This was no time to chicken out. I mean, I couldn't leave without them noticing now, and it was better to look the lion straight in the eye, rather than him having a clear view of your rump. Your huge, green colored rump…

I bit my lip, and then cleared my throat.

Dean looked up. I lifted one shoulder, and gave him an unsure smile. Kind of like I was saying 'so what do you think – honey'. Why did I even care what he thought? I mean, it was his fault if I looked –

"Whoa, baby," he said softly. I swallowed as he looked me over. Suddenly I was very aware of everything, the way the material shifted on my skin, the tiles beneath my bare feet, the way my heart was pounding in my chest.

OHhhhh…

"Lauren?" Sharika asked, her voice all weird. Even Sam was staring at me.

"That's it, I'm taking it off!" I decided, and turned to hurry back into the change rooms, but before I was even halfway there Dean grabbed me.

"You're not going anywhere," he said, his face totally serious. "Come and see how you look."

"But –" and then I was thrust in front of a mirror.

My God.

Now I know why they were staring.

My skank outfit from last night hadn't left much to the imagination; it was almost juvenile in the way it had showed everything off, like it was shouting 'screw me, I've got boobs!!' There was nothing juvenile about this dress.

It was subtle, the way it made use of my body, clinging here, flowing a little there; it made men wish they knew what was beneath the dress, rather than them being able to deduce exactly what I'd look like in bed without taking my clothes off. If that makes sense.

Dean's hands were on my shoulders, and I looked into his eyes in the mirror. Don't feel like that… I thought, my insides going all mushy as empathy hit me and he didn't break eye contact. It makes me feel like that…

I wished everyone gone. I wanted – I needed –

"We're buying this dress," Dean said, his voice leaving no room for excuse.

If I was any other person, that is.

"Don't you –"

"Not a word."

"But –"

He placed his hand over my mouth and nodded my head for me. Mimicking my voice he said, "Yes Dean, I totally and completely agree. I'll go take it off now while you pay for it." He let go of my mouth and pushed me towards the change-rooms.

"But –"

And he whacked me on the butt. I glared at him from over my shoulder, and strode towards the cubicles. Just because I'm wearing a skirt, does not mean men may touch my ass!! First that bearded biker last night, and then Dean today –

Okay, it's totally different. I don't know the biker…

I sighed as I took the dress off. And now I'd have to pay Dean back, there was no way I'd be able to afford this dress by myself. I didn't like being beholden to anyone. This dress wasn't even my choice! I mean, I didn't even get to try anything else on, or look properly…

Ok, this dress made me look super-hot, model material almost. But –

ARRGH!! Stop rationalizing!! It's Shar's thing, not yours. You're not even doing it properly, jumping from one thing to the next…

I shook my head, and put my normal clothes back on. I didn't even try to put the dress back on the hanger – I was as hopeless at that as I was at cooking in a pan.

I'm hopeless at weird things. I mean, I can fold clothes, and iron them, and wash them perfectly. I can't hang them up or put them on the line though. And I can cook anything I like in an oven, or a pot, or a microwave. But show me a pan, and I get everything burnt, or tasting so strange you can barely swallow a crumb of it. And – I don't do cutlery. Anything except eat with it. I have no idea why – I just have this thing against washing it, setting it on tables, putting it away…I'm just weird I guess.

I left the change room again, the dress folded neatly over my arm. It was of a slinky, soft material, not scratchy at all. It was perfect.

UGH!! SAP!!!

I gave myself a mental slap, and smiled at Rhonda as she checked the price tag. I even smiled at Dean, though a little more shyly, and he bent down and nuzzled my ear – playing it up for Rhonda. "If every man isn't jealous of me tonight, then I'm no judge of beauty."

"Who says I'm going with you?" I asked just to be contrary; though I didn't really have anyone else I could go with.

"I say."

I rolled my eyes, so overbearing. And yet so…man whore-ish. He's such a man whore. Which is why he's saying these things, they're made to get chicks hot. I'm not going to fall for it.

Sharika appeared next to my shoulder. "I didn't see anything I liked, and we have to get your shoes, etcetera, so once Dean's done paying we are –"

"Vamoose!" I interrupted. She gave me a look. "Sorry, I just really wanted to say that."

"Have a nice day!" Rhonda said, lacking the usual luster of a shop person that's just made a commission. I suppose I'd feel the same way if men like Dean came into my shop, and happened to be 'taken'.

∞∞

Dean

If anyone had told me I could be turned on that fast, on a shopping trip, before this morning, I'd have laughed myself sick.

But now I knew better.

I still had trouble breathing, ten minutes after Lauren had gotten out of that dress, and tight jeans probably hadn't been the best option that morning. Except for the fact that, hey, they hadn't been tight until now. I hoped I was hiding most of my reaction from her empath powers, but how would I know unless she said something?

That was the problem with being the only one in the group without 'powers'. Everyone knew something more than I did, in one way or another. It got to me sometimes; I wasn't jealous, just cautious. Plus, they only added to the amounts of danger Sammy got himself into. With two more of these demon magnets hanging around, we'll never have any free time.

I hadn't let go of Lauren's waist since we'd left the dress store – and I still didn't have a reason. Sure, I'd told her it was because we couldn't take the time for every guy to flirt with her and still buy Sharika a dress, but of course, that wasn't it. Though as it was, stationed by her side I was noticing all the looks she got from guys.

And it was making me hold her even closer.

"What is it?" Lauren asked me, and I looked down at her. "You feel really agitated, but I'm confused as to the why. Wanna enlighten me? I mean, seeing as how it's my body you're mauling."

"It's nothing, just thinking about tonight." What part of tonight, you don't need to know. "I'm gonna go grab a coffee. Sammy! Break!" Sam looked up in relief. Shopping for dresses – even with the love of his life – wasn't his thing either. "Want anything?" I asked, letting her go.

"An Irish Cream Latte," she grinned. "Sorry to be fancy – it's my favorite flavor."

"Got it." It was no more fancy than what Sam preferred.

We left the girls, and headed to the Starbucks across the street.

"So, how was your first outing with your fiancé?" I asked, as I waited in the queue with Sam. "Tiring?"

"That, and I wanted to choke every guy looking at her. I never thought I'd feel so possessive. I mean, I've never actually felt this possessive. It's weird."

"Yeah, you're telling me," I muttered. I smiled extra flirtatiously at the woman I gave our orders to, and heard Sammy sigh next to me, as I made idle chit chat and innuendo. "Thanks," I said, as she passed the drinks over.

"Anytime," she said, and simpered. Simpered. Lauren never did, unless it was a joke –

I shook my head clear and sat at one of the tables, Sam dropping into the chair across from me.

"Face it," he said suddenly. "You like her."

"Tara?" I asked in exaggerated surprise (the coffee woman's name). "I only just met her."

"Its interesting the way you two look at each other, only when the other isn't looking. I mean, you'll look at her, then you'll look away. And when you look away, she'll check you out. It's just an interesting observation, you know, in an observationally interesting way."

Where the hell did he come up with his speeches?

"There are more important things to talk about then coffee house women, as nice as they may seem. Such as –"

"Why can't you admit it?" Sam burst out, exasperated.

"Such as," I repeated, deciding to ignore him. I stood up, grabbing Lauren's drink, and Sam followed, picking up Sharika's. "The blue man. Did you and Sharika figure anything out about him, or were you too busy?"

"No, we did our part. What about you? Did you guys think of anything?"

"Nope. We were playing Scrabble."

Sam laughed as we crossed the road. "You? Scrabble?"

"Yes." I walked to the door of the shop we'd left the girls in, but before we got there they came out, Sharika with an extra bag.

"You're done?" Sam asked, going straight up to her, and swapping the bag for the cup. She nodded, and took a grateful sip.

"Thanks, yes, and don't peek!" She didn't even have to look at him to know that he was opening the bag. "It's a surprise."

"Here," I said, offering Lauren the coffee. "Irish Cream Latte, your favorite."

She smiled, and took the Styrofoam cup. "Thanks." She looked down at herself for a second. "Am I meant to offer you my waist back, or what?"

I grinned and shook my head. "That's okay, now Sharika has her dress you can flirt with as many guys as you like."

I'll control my urge to choke them.

∞∞

Sharika

I found the perfect dress, I love it. Although my savings did take a one hundred and thirty four dollar hit I still felt happy. (Not to worry though, I've had this savings account since I was fourteen and had made quite a lot of money in my many jobs in England.) It was a strapless black dress which started to slant down, half-way my upper thigh, it stopped at my knee. It was made to bunch up at my right hip in the shape of a small flower. I hope Sam likes it.

I just don't know why but Clause always put me in dresses, pants and skirts that always ended just above my knees, always leaving my calves visible to the public. He didn't come into contact with me personally; he had his people tell me.

He did the same thing to one other person, Ashley. Oh god how I hated Ashley! She was she one and only person whom I've ever hated. Normally I harbor no feelings to any person that I did not get along with. I didn't hate them but I didn't like them either. I 'nothinged' them, if that makes sense. But Ashley, she was a totally different story.

I had no idea what she had against me. She was against me from the start. She's just a spiteful bitch I guess. Once she set my room on fire. Luckily it was contained quickly, but it had eaten up my wardrobe. All my clothes were lost in that fire, it could have been worse, much, much worse. My roommate could have been taking her afternoon nap during the fire. I thank god that she was out that day.

I had nothing to wear but my school uniform until I bought more clothes, but I was NOT going to do that. I marched over to her dorm room and packed up her clothes and left, (luckily we were the same size). Her roommate didn't even look surprised. She simply pointed to which cupboard Ashley owned and then went back to reading her magazine.

She destroyed my clothes and therefore it was perfectly alright for me to take her clothes as compensation. I know that you're thinking, that she should have been charged with arson, but the police had no evidence that the fire was intentional. They assumed it was an electrical short. I knew better. She did try to fight for her clothes back but soon lost interest. I had led her on to the idea that I was holding proof that she started that fire, but truthfully I didn't. She didn't need to know that.

I got back at though, with help from David and a few other select friends. We pulled a series of pranks on her until she was pushed past her breaking point. She freaked out and confessed to cheating on her long time boyfriend with many, many, many other boys in public. Since her boyfriend at the time was not a bad guy (no idea how they had gotten together) everyone turned against her and aligned with Charlie.

There was this time where I had to make a video because of her. She blackmailed me into making that video for her, well actually she blackmailed my friend. Janice had a tough time when she was about twelve, she did a lot of things she wasn't proud of and was currently moving on from it. We were all proud of how she had turned her life around. We supported her and helped her through her darkest times.

Well, Ashley got a hold of said past through her list of 'contacts'. She said if I didn't do that video she would post the information she had all over the Dome, school and the internet. Janice would be humiliated and ostracized from the community. When she had moved from America to England she got a clean slate to work with. She was free from the ties that bound her. She was happy. I wasn't going to let Ashley ruin it for her. She made me a deal, she'd give me the information she had in exchange for my co-operation for the video. Ashley may be a lot of things, but a foul player she was not, honor meant a lot to her. Ironic isn't it?

She forced me to create a dance to Hips Don't Lie, by Shakira. David (I told him the compromising situation I was in and he decided to help me out) sang the guys part and one of Ashley's friends sang Shakira's part. I had to belly dance in it wearing a…an original outfit. Well my dance was a mixture of middle-eastern belly dancing and Indian moves. After it was made she entered it into a contest and won five hundred dollars. This video was what had me make my mark in the Dome. They hung the outfit I wore in the video in the head office of the Dome. Do they still even have it? I did make Dome history with the way I danced in that video…

I wonder if she'll be here tonight, I doubt it. She'll probably working in a business firm now. She'd make a hell of a business woman, emphasis on the hell.

I think Lisa and Patricia might be there, I'm not exactly ecstatic about seeing the pair of them. Two bumbling chippers who had nothing more interesting to talk about then frivolous gossip (I had kept in contact with the friends who I had at the Dome. None of them were coming.) But Lisa and Patricia were probably the nicest people.

I know a few girls would still work for him, some part time the others full. Clause was one of those people who were constantly up to date with the latest news in the model world so he could bring in who ever he needed for his fashion shows. It worked for him. He was extremely successful in his field.

"You're done?" Sam asked me. I looked up and saw him walk towards me. I smiled mentally, a warm sensation sweeping through my body. This happened every time I saw him. He took my bag (what a gentleman!) and handed me my hot chocolate. I took a sip.

"Thanks, yes, and don't peek!" I knew that he would take out the dress without even looking at him. I wanted him to be surprised by how the dress looked on me. "It's a surprise."

I looked up at him, smiling. He had such beautiful blue green eyes. And perfect brown hair. I hope that when we have children they get his height, eyes and hair, a mixture of our skin colors (our kids will have that perfect tan skin everyone is always after) and whatever gene I inherited that caused me to have hardly any pimples my whole life. (I rarely got a pimple.)

I would work on cases at home in the study and he would be at the office, coming home at five. Or he'd be at home and I'd be in the office. We'd alternate which days we stay home depending on our schedules.

Our children (I want at least three) will be playing in the yard or in their room's reading a book, playing with their toys or doing homework.

Dinner would be cooked by six and the whole family would sit at the dinner table discussing the day's events.

"That's okay, now Sharika has her dress you can flirt with as many guys as you like."

Dean's words broke me out of my utopia like trance.

∞∞

Sam

"It's a surprise."

Sharika looked up at me smiling. Suddenly her eyes glazed over and I could tell she was no longer in the present.

She looked so cute, standing there, a small smile delicately placed upon her lips.

My eyes drifted away from my day dreaming fiancé to the bag in my hand. What's in the bag? Why doesn't she want me to look in the bag? Why can't I see it? What does this bag contain? Why is it being kept a secret? It can't just contain a dress or otherwise she would have let me see it. Wouldn't she? Does whatever the bag is holding concern me? It has to have concerned me or otherwise she would have let me see it. Why would she buy something from a dress store for me? Unless she didn't buy it from this dress store but another store. This mall was full of clothing stores though. Clothing and lingerie –

Maybe that's why she was being secretive; she didn't want me to pull out her special lingerie in front of Dean. Not that I blame her. What type of lingerie could she have gotten? Lace, satin, or silk? What ever it was I couldn't wait to see.

We all walked over to a table in front of Starbucks and sat down.

Sharika, with her hair messed up, wearing the special lingerie, grinning that grin she only has for me as she leaned against the doorway. That image took my breath away.

"Oh, I need to buy a g-string," Lauren paused. "Or a backless underwear." She took a sip of her coffee. "And shoes."

The tantalizing image of my future wife suddenly shifted, and Lauren's head appeared on her body. Lauren did her big smile and waved manically and then the visual popped out of my head, leaving the lingerie at the doorway.

"You don't already own some, I'm disappointed in you," Dean said, as he stared at Lauren's face, which was completely at ease.

"Lauren!" Shar exclaimed. "How can you blurt things like that out in public!?"

"It's a perfectly natural thing to talk about at the table," Lauren replied. She batted her eyelashes at Dean. "Right honey?"

Lauren…batting her eyelashes at Dean? Did I miss something here? I looked across the table and noticed a similar expression on Sharika's face. At least I wasn't alone.

"At my table at least babe," Dean answered.

Lauren laughed joyfully. "Oh Dean, why don't I get one for you too, darling?"

"Whatever floats your boat dear," Dean said, leaning across the table and giving Lauren an exaggerated wink.

Lauren replied with an equally exaggerated laugh.

Ok, seriously, what the hell did I miss here?

"Oh you!" Lauren gently hit Dean on his shoulder.

Sharika and I looked at each other confused. She slightly tilted her head, giving me a questioning look. Any clue to what is going on? I read off her expression. I responded with raising my eyebrows. No, you? Is what I tried to convey in my look. She understood. She shot me another curious glance before returning her attention back onto Dean and Lauren. As did I.

"Would you like anything else?" a woman's voice asked from behind me. I turned around to face her.

"No thanks," Lauren replied, staring at her coffee. "What about you guys?"

Dean, Sharika and I all shook our heads. Tara smiled at us, particularly Dean and left, putting an extra sway into her hips.

Lauren coughed into her coffee. "So who's coming with me to buy g-strings?" she asked, looking pointedly at Shar.

"Lauren, you're on your own for this one," Sharika replied, looking slightly disturbed at the thought.

"I need to buy shoes tooooooo," Lauren added quietly, almost singing the last word.

"I saw your dress and know what shoes will go with them, so you can go get the undergarments on your own."

"Fine," Lauren sighed as she accepted defeat. She finished the rest of her coffee before she got up and wandered away.

Now where was I? Ah, Sharika in her special lingerie standing at my doorway…

000

AN: EEK!! Sam and his perverted-ness… (scared) Thanks for reviewing guys! And you will again. Know why? Know why? Cause you love us!! (insert infinite love hearts here) And we love you when you do!!