"I want you to stop by tonight for dinner and to take some leftovers from last night home with you so you have meals for the next few days."

She squelched a sigh. "But mama, I've got a lot of work that I need to get mailed out today." She returned, teeth nibbling on her lip at the mention of free food.

"Then get them mailed out and stop over afterward. I won't be like Alya's mother and demand you here at a specific time dear. I know you're busy. I got a text the other day about it."

She stopped amidst the walk back to her dorm and gaped down the sidewalk leading off campus. "I wondered why the sudden phone call..."

'Damn it Alya. You beautiful, annoying friend you...'

"Don't think I'm unaware of how hard you've been working yourself." Sabine chided with a click of her tongue. "I've known of your late night habits since Sorbonne, dear. That kind of thing doesn't change and I understand your responsibilities perfectly well. One reason why you need to come over for a good meal."

She smiled, shoulders dropping from the tension. Her wonderful, lovely mother, who was so great at so much. Even the call, with its initial start, was full of concern and compassion.

"So, with that being said. Do what you need to do. If you eat with us, you eat with us. If you're late and we finish, I can keep a plate warm for you and get leftovers ready in the meantime."

"Thank you mama. You always know what I need."

"That's because I'm your mother." Sabine laughed. "So, no more arguing on the subject. Get your items sent out before the post office closes and come straight over. Understood?"

"Understood. See you later, mama." With a click of the phone, she stuffed it in the back of her pants with a smile and concentrated on the trek back to her dorm. Classes were done, her latest project turned in, and she was going to put aside the recently assigned chapters for a few hours until after the big stuff was taken care of.

More Christmas orders and dinner with family.

The door clicked shut, silence and the winter chill greeting her. Sunlight streamed in through the unblocked window, shining on the concrete floor and rug she had made in high school. Her mannequin was off to one side, dressed in the sweatshirt she had gotten halfway through last night. There were three boxes all taped up and gaping open, waiting to be filled and sent off.

She just knew the people at the post office were going to get sick of seeing her one of these days. Maybe she should consider dropping off an early Christmas present of chocolate-filled croissants next month.

She smiled and grabbed the skirt, blouse, and sweater from their places on the desk. Carefully folding each one after wrapping it in delicate paper for the journey, they were placed inside with adjoining care instructions in multiple languages, thanks to Nino. A quick roll of the packing tape gun and then they were slid across the mostly bare floor toward the front door.

She sat on the floor for a moment, eyes on the small clutter across the way. It was a nice, yet sad feeling to send off her creations. Even though she spent so much time making each one and would never see them again, they were going to (hopefully) loving homes for the rest of their days. Such feelings had stayed with her for years and she wondered if she would ever truly get over it once her business grew and she wasn't the only one making everything anymore.

With a shake of her head, she stood and put the handy tape gun back in a drawer. She deposited the backpack in its usual spot on the desk, mentally vowing she'd get a chapter or two read later after dinner.

Just as she was checking on the funds for the post office, a buzz came from her back pocket and jolted her. A hand pulled the phone out and found a short message on the initial sign in screen.

How have you been? Haven't heard from you for about a month.

Her mouth went dry at the words and the contact number shown with them. She harshly swallowed, mind blanking. Somewhere over the next few moments, she reminded herself to blink and finally looked away from the screen when it went dark. Her eyes idly gravitated to the awaiting boxes that she had to somehow get to the post office. Then she had dinner with her family, books to read...

Fingers turned the screen back on and started typing in the return box.

I was just heading to the post office to mail out some packages. I could use an extra pair of arms if you're free in the next ten minutes...

She stared at the phone, mind whirling. Why she did this to herself, she didn't know. She knew exactly what may happen by inviting him over to her dorm. She knew because it had happened countless times before.

She should just send him back a return to say that she had the wrong text box. That she was heading out now and couldn't wait for him. That she had to hurry because she had dinner with her parents real soon.

I was just doing a painting, but I can wash up and be over right now if that's okay.

She harshly swallowed. Somewhere in the back of her head, she was aware the her palms were starting to sweat and her adrenaline was running. Her heart was racing and her peripheral vision erased itself, eyes only on the words asking for permission and announcing his possible arrival.

'No, I don't have time to wait for you to come over. Sorry...maybe another time. I was being stupid.'

'I didn't mean to bother you. Go ahead with your work. I've actually got a bunch to do later, too.'

'I'm actually going to the post office and then spend some time with my parents for a bit.'

That'd be a big help. I've got everything ready and I can just do some more work while you head over. I'll leave the door unlocked. Mind the boxes by the front.

There was a return no problem, see you then and then nothing.

She was barely aware of putting the phone in her purse and staring around the room. Get some work done now that she was feeling like this? She shouldn't have let the day take such a sudden turn, but the silent, subtle invite was there from the initial text and she let herself fall into it.

As she had done for months now.

She looked to a stack of yarn and size four knitting needles sticking out of one of the skeins. Her hands were shaking so much she didn't know if it'd be a good idea to start that hat and scarf combo, but if she didn't occupy herself, she was only going to pace until he got here. Despite the possible mistakes and annoyances, that was the better alternative.

Doing the hat was out of the question. A full round-a-bout knit would never be managed and she'd only slip needles every other second. A pair of straight needles was the only alternative...provided she didn't mess up on her counting and lines. As it was, she was about to lose a lot of work time tonight, so having to undo whatever she could get done was not a good option.

With a shaky breath, she grabbed the soft wool and plopped on the bed. Everything rested on her legs for a few moments, eyes blandly on the items, until she realized what she was supposed to be doing. She reminded herself that she could always pace, and probably build herself up even worse, if she didn't want to concentrate and take her mind off his arrival.

Fingers managed to work instead of her brain as she started the initial ties, making sure to loop enough to have fringe to work with later. That done, she fumbled with the needles, trying to remember exactly how the pattern went before mentally berating herself and starting in.

The intended effect lasted long enough to calm her nerves until there was a knock on the door. She had managed to get twenty lines done, quite a feat in her frazzled state, but was done the second the noise hit her ears.

The jolt and spike of return adrenaline caused her to jab herself right in the palm with a surge of strength. She shouted out a return noise of pain and curse before tossing everything on the bed and trying to shake the pain out. With mumbles of agony and a quick look to the small red circle, she blinked back tears of pain and stood when the door opened.

"Are you okay? What's with that noise?"

Her heart rate tripled the second he stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. She was unable to look his way amidst her nerves and instead focused on the shaking hand she was clutching at the wrist. She didn't bother to answer; knowing that anything that came out would be horribly said and give her away.

"What did you do? Making something? Did you poke yourself with a needle?"

A sleeve swiped at the pained tears and squinted his way. "Knitting needle..." She weakly managed, suddenly finding him within arm's reach. Her fingers spread to show him the dot on her hand.

He managed a small smile, hand coming out and gently closing over the trembling digits. "Still a klutz. Now I know why I was called upon to help you carry those boxes. They wouldn't even make it to the post office before you fell on one and smashed it."

She stared at the skin covering hers for a second before yanking her hand back with a little more force than what she intended. "Yea..." She shakily muttered, turning for the bed. "You know me..." She swallowed and inched away, bending down to pick everything up. "Let me just put this all away and we can go."

A pair of arms didn't let her finish the task. They wrapped around her waist and gently pulled her to a solid yet thin chest and soft hug. "You always do give yourself away..." Came the quiet murmur in her ear.

The breath left her in a shaky whoosh and she was all too aware of his arms around her. Of the heat against her back. Of the backs of her legs pressing up against his. Of the tufts of his soft hair tickling her ears.

She was worried he could feel her shaking like a leaf in his hold. That he could feel her heartbeat with his arms all the way down in her stomach. That he knew exactly what was going to happen before the post office ever became a necessity.

Somewhere in those quiet seconds, she was unable to think of anything rational to push him away or untangle herself. Part of her relished the time in his arms...the long time apart and the last time they'd been together.

Despite their history, yet because of their history, he was here now and he was doing such a thing...knowing that it could lead to something else. He seemed content to just hold her like that and stay as they were though...as if waiting for her to take initiative in some way and direct him. He had knocked on the window and she had opened it to invite him closer. Past events kept her rooted, even when sensibility yelled at her to get going on all the things she had to do today.

His arms finally let go, sliding across her stomach as he did, in his acquiescence to her silence. "So...about that post office then..." He mumbled, taking a short step back.

His words were like a bucket of ice water to her thoughts and prompted her to realize where she was, who she was with, and what had yet to transpire for the next few hours. She blinked and righted herself, hands numbly holding the needles and yarn which were all over the place from being jostled. "Yea...sorry... Let me just...put this away for now..."

She avoided eye contact as she moved around him and set the skein back where she pulled it from. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves and turned to face him, blue eyes locking with green eyes for the first time since his entrance.

She took a second to admire his almost feminine beauty and thin structure through the subtle masculinity he exuded. The kindness in his eyes and the small smile on his face. The paint under his chin...

She headed straight over without thinking and licked her thumb, reaching for the division between neck and chin, and rubbed.

He jerked back, eyes slightly wide, arms quickly grasping her wrist. "What are you doing?" He queried, heart racing underneath her thumb.

She blinked in the middle of getting red off his skin and recognized her actions. She blushed from neck to ears and paused in her work. "Y...you had some...red paint...right there..." She lamely explained, hand shaking under his hold. "You must have...missed it...because of your hair..."

He looked to her and took in everything she gave in her eyes. Everything. She may have thought she was hiding things from him, but she couldn't.

Never him.

He was silent for what seemed an eternity before closing his eyes and angling his head back for better access. "I thought I got it all..." He mumbled. "Would you?"

In that gesture, she knew all that the next thirty minutes would bring and it made her shiver. She foresaw it because she knew what she would do, what he would do, knew what that innocent action meant, knew what her response would be. Even though they had been apart for the last year already, she still felt that she knew him better than most. His initial text had already led to this and she was unconsciously aware of that when she responded to him in the first place.

Her thumb stopped in its movements, feeling his heart beat rapidly in time with her own. Her head shut down as she stared, transfixed at the sharp angle of his chin, thinness of his neck, the length of his lashes, and the light touch of his hand around her wrist.

With a harsh swallow, she kept rubbing and smearing paint with the intent of getting it off.

It was a kind offer of help, really it was. He had missed that one spot because of the location and it blended in with his hair enough for him to miss it. In fact, his hair probably had covered it since it was almost to his shoulders now. She didn't want it staining his clothing, since it was acrylic and she knew from personal history that it got all over the place easily.

She didn't register the mess she was making more than she was fixing, more mesmerized with the movement and feel of his skin against hers. The nostalgic fire it lit in her blood, running through her veins, was like stroking the embers and throwing new wood on the smoldering pile. She didn't even know how many times she merely moved her thumb back and forth, barely doing a bit of good. A part of her relished this, had missed it, and regretted it all at once.

"Did you get it?"

His Adam's apple bobbed with each word, creating a beautiful dichotomy to his pale skin and fair features. It reminded her of how male he was; how much he could fit against her quite easily. The quietness of his voice, each word slowly chosen, blazed the fire into an inferno. She stared at the straightness of his nose, the swoop of his hair over one eye, and the delicate curve of his brow.

His eyes finally opened when she never answered. His neck slowly angled toward her, green eyes darkening past any possible color of emerald she could ever find in a fabric store. He stared at her in silence, in total seriousness for heartbeats, before his free hand rose and cupped her cheek.

"You always gave yourself away...you know that?" He breathed, somehow inching closer.

She was unaware of her hand falling from his face or that she was stone in his hold. The ability to breathe had left as she remained as mesmerized by his eyes as he was with hers. His words never registered in her ears, though she heard him perfectly. The touch of his thumb against her cheek was like a burn she wanted more of.

It wasn't until his lips lightly touched hers, barely gaining a foothold, when the explosion happened. Her arms latched around the soft silk that was his hair, mouth claiming his ability to speak. She pushed against him so fully that no air could be seen, stealing the shocked noise he tried to make at her brazen approach. In a second, not thinking of what would happen afterward, his arms returned the strength of her embrace, one hand mussing up the pigtails she had to keep out of her way while she knitted.

His hands repositioned themselves to hold her weight as she jumped up and wrapped her legs around him. He held her against him easily, though he looked like he had no ability to do so. Eyes closed, unable to think, he shifted blindly, but expertly, and plopped down on her mattress. She only gave a muffled noise of annoyance that his lips left hers and readjusted. Her legs unlocked from his torso and shifted to angle up for better leverage against him.

"The post office...is going to close...at this rate..." He mumbled around her lips.

She left his mouth for his jaw, heading in the opposite direction of the paint. "Don't worry..." She breathed, licking his skin and focusing only on him. "I know exactly when they close...and this won't take long..." Hands brushed under the front of his shirt even as his went up the back of hers.

"Besides...I have dinner with my parents after the post office." She was silent long enough to pull her shirt off and over her head. A hand went and pulled the bands out of her hair to keep the back of her neck warm. She also liked it when he played with her hair and knew he liked her hair loose. "And you may as well come with me after this." Her hands grasped his hair as his head dipped into the small valley she presented him. Gasping noises were all she got out before she remembered she wasn't finished speaking. "I..don't think...they'll mind..."

Green eyes paused at pale skin covered with a pink, lacy bra. "Even though they know...?"

"They...won't mind...probably." She idly muttered, pushing up against him with a groan that drowned out the rest of any possible conversation.