Chapter 10

Gaby's engagement party was on Valentine's Day at Ronan's, a swanky upscale restaurant in Newport Beach (about a fifteen minute drive north of Santa Ana - though with the population of Southern California being what it was, it felt like you hadn't even changed cities). She and Ben had rented out a large private room upstairs with a small dance floor and buffet-style service. With all the music, food, and friends, it was a great time that was sure to go down in history.

Now if only I was enjoying it.

"Do you honestly expect to hide in the bathroom all night?" Anna asked me when I called her for a second opinion.

I glanced at my reflection in the mirror, wondering what had ever possessed me to follow Musa's advice and borrow that strapless dress. "I just... I don't want a big blowup."

"A blowup? Bloom; whose superpower magic thingie led to a war between high school students?"

"That's totally irrelevant and you know it!"

"Bloom. Whose powers?"

After a moment, I sighed. "Mine did."

"And who fought in that war?"

"I did."

"And who has fought in a bunch of other battles against things I can't even imagine or pronounce correctly?"

"...I have."

"Exactly. I think it's a bit too late to say you're against 'big blowups.'"

"This isn't the same thing though!" I insisted, waving my hand over the sensor on the sink and watching it turn on and off. "This doesn't have to do with protecting the magical dimension. This has to do with me wanting a normal relationship with a normal guy."

"And part of that normality is marching yourself out there and giving him a piece of your mind. Besides, he might not even be there yet."

I bit my lip. "He is. I... kinda ran for the bathroom when I saw him come in."

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "Bloom, you have faced down the lord of the freaking dead!"

"Actually it was Shadowhaunt- "

"Who cares? You are the most badass person I know, and you're being intimidated by some punk with an English degree! Now march your butt out there before I go up there and do it myself!"

She hung up before I could say another word.

I rolled my eyes and put my phone away. Calling Anna back would do no good; she'd just send me to voicemail. And as much as I hated to admit it, she was right. Running from my problems wouldn't help me at all. I had to face them head on, and if that meant things with Thomas would end tonight, it was the best thing for it.

At least, that was what I told myself.

After putting my hair back in a halfway decent bun (I'd been dancing a little bit before Thomas showed up, and for some reason it was obscenely hot in there) and applying a coat of lip gloss, I headed back into the party. It'd filled up significantly while I was in the bathroom, and the room seemed much more alive. I took a deep breath. You can do this Bloom. Just enjoy yourself, and when you find Thomas, be honest with him. It's all you can do. With that pep talk going through my brain, I held my head up high and confidently stepped into the room.

And of course, I barely made it three steps before colliding with another person. "Sorry, sorry," I exclaimed automatically, not bothering to look up. Instead of moving on, though, their hands settled around my waist; that made me look up with a start, to see that I had just literally bumped into the person I was supposed to be looking for but didn't really want to find.

"Hey there, stranger." In the 'romantic' dim lighting, Thomas's eyes practically glowed, which did nothing for the knot of nerves in my stomach. He flashed me his trademark grin, carefree and slightly mocking and everything I loved so much about him all wrapped into one, and just like that, all my resolve was lying in a puddle at my feet. "Have you been hiding from me?"

My mouth felt like the Sahara Desert. "I, um..."

He chuckled. "Okay, you cannot be allowed to shut yourself in ever again if this is going to be the end result. I can't date someone who forgets what a joke is." He turned around for a second, giving me time to remember the story I'd fed him: that I'd had to scrap an entire concept and was hiding out at home in hopes of getting the creative juices to flow. "You look like you could use a drink," he said when he turned back, a glass of wine in each hand. "Hope you don't mind, but I'm not much a fan of the stronger stuff, so I wouldn't know what to get, and somehow I doubt the drink of the night would appeal to you - it's called 'Cupid's Brew'."

I laughed, gratefully wrapping my fingers around the stem and taking a slightly larger than polite-sized sip; I was definitely going to need alcohol to get through this. "Hasn't Gaby ever heard of taking a theme to excess?"

"Apparently not; have you seen this place?" I had noticed the somewhat ridiculous amount of heart-themed decorations everywhere (I don't even want to think about how Gaby got Ben to agree to them...). It had always bothered me in years past, how she'd insist on covering the office in pink and red paper around the second week of February. Now I finally had a boyfriend, and I couldn't even enjoy the one holiday unquestionably made for couples. Fate sure had a funny sense of humor sometimes. "If I hadn't seen the invitations with my own eyes, I would've sworn she'd written in a dress code too. You stand out like a sore thumb with all the pink, white, and red in here."

My hands automatically flew up to my hair, where I could feel a stray curl escaping from the bun already (damn). "You try growing up a redhead and see if you ever want to wear those colors."

"Never said I was complaining." I felt the heat of his gaze as his eyes traveled down the length of my body, slowly making their way back up. Something flickered behind his eyes, and I was momentarily glad I'd let Musa talk me into wearing the stupid dress. "Here, let me get that..." It took me a second to realize he was talking about that piece of hair, and before I could protest he had stepped behind me; then his fingertips brushed against my bare shoulders and I had to bite my tongue to keep from letting out an audible sigh.

My temporary mind-blank didn't last, though, and when more than a few seconds had gone by I started to wonder if something was going on. Or - oh God forbid, he noticed my tattoo; that was a story I really couldn't get into tonight. The minute that thought entered my head, I wanted to take my hair down, but that would definitely be conspicuous now.

Finally, his fingers bumped against the back of my head, clumsily tucking the escaped piece of hair back into the bun. Fortifying myself with another gulp (it really couldn't be called a sip) of wine, I turned around to face him, hoping my thoughts weren't written all over my face. "So," I started, then hesitated. Did I really have to do this right away? No, I decided. We could have a little fun before the inevitable - assuming I could keep acting like everything was normal, that is. "Do you want to dance?"

For a moment, he looked positively stunned, as if I'd just told him I was a Russian spy (or a fairy, some sarcastic voice in the back of my mind added). But after a moment he smiled, though I couldn't help but notice it looked a bit more forced than before. "I would love to."

We stayed out on the dance floor for a few songs, most of them with a beat we could just sway along to. And while it was nice, being in his arms, I couldn't help but notice there was something strange about the way Thomas was acting. I could tell he wasn't focused on anything around us - we'd nearly bumped into other dancing couples three times - but he wasn't really looking at me, either. Every now and then, I would see him giving me what I could only think of as a look of pure shock, but he didn't make any move to talk, and all my attempts at making conversation were met with answers clearly meant to shut down any further discussion.

Finally, I squeezed his arm so he would look at me. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he said, brushing it off like he had every other time I'd tried to talk to him, but I could tell he really wasn't. His gaze was shifting nervously all over the room, and there were tiny beads of sweat on his forehead. Realizing that the heat was getting to me too, I made an abrupt decision.

"No, you're not. Come on." Without waiting for him to protest, I grabbed his hand and pulled him off the dance floor and out the door that separated the private room from the rest of the restaurant. Upstairs, there wasn't much else besides the bathrooms and a tiny little hallway with giant framed pictures on both of the surrounding walls, but it was at least a little bit cooler, without all the people. I shut the door behind us and then leaned against the opposite wall, crossing my arms over my chest and staring him down. "Now tell me what's going on with you."

Thomas gave an exasperated sigh. "I'm fine, okay? Probably one too many of those Cupid's Brew things."

I raised an eyebrow. "How many did you down before you found me, then? Twenty? And besides, you said you hated them." He opened his mouth, then closed it once he realized I'd caught his lie. I rolled my eyes. "Seriously, what is going on with you? We were doing so great, and then you start lying to me. What's so bad you can't tell me about it?" I didn't know why I'd gotten it into my head to confront him now, but once the words were out, it was impossible to take them back - and I didn't want to, either.

"I... I have not been lying."

This time, I didn't try to hide the disbelief on my face. "I know you have."

"Oh really? Name one thing."

My hands balled into fists. This was not going well. For a second, I considered dropping the argument entirely, but I knew I'd never forgive myself (and neither would Anna). "Well... those scars for example. I know you didn't get them from a bike accident."

Thomas's jaw dropped. "You... you talked to Rebecca, didn't you?" I didn't respond, and he shook his head in disbelief. "How did you even find her?"

"I- "

"You know what, never mind. I probably don't want to know the answer to that." For a moment he looked sincerely worried about what I was going to tell him. "Just... why would you do that?"

"Because I don't appreciate being lied to!" I snapped. "Look, the last serious boyfriend I had... he did a lot of lying, and as you can see we didn't work out so well."

He gave an unfriendly laugh. "I don't tell you about my life-threatening accident, and suddenly I'm being compared to one of your idiot ex boyfriends?"

"Look, you don't have to make such a big deal out of this..."

"Oh really? Because it seems like you're making a really big deal about this..."

"But this is sort of your fault..."

"And it's really none of your business because it's my personal life!" Thomas yelled. He was obviously mad, and with the lighting in the hallway his eyes looked more golden than they ever had before. "I mean, God, it's not like I forgot to tell you I was engaged and lied to you for a whole year like your dunce blonde prince did about Diaspro!"

The hallway fell deathly silent, the only noise coming from the muted music on the other side of the wall. My eyes widened to the size of dinner plates, and I felt a familiar knot settle in the pit of my stomach. I stared at Thomas, terrified of him for the first time. "...What did you just say?"

His eyes widened as his words came back to him. "I-I... I mean, I..."

"You said Diaspro." I stared at him, my voice sounding hollow. "How do you know about Diaspro? I've never told you anything about her, or Sky!"

He shut his eyes tightly. "I-"

"And you said prince! You can't even know that! How could you know that?"

I expected anger, denial, laughing, anything besides what I was getting now. The man in front of me wouldn't even acknowledge I was there, staring at the ground and probably hoping an excuse would come falling out of the sky. There were gears shifting behind his eyes, trying to find a way for the situation to make sense, and what scared me most of all was that I knew that look, and the last time I'd seen it I hadn't even been on this planet.

It felt like my blood was freezing in my veins, and I started to shake my head. "Tell me it isn't true. Tell me you found some book in that ridiculous collection of yours, or that Anna called you and she accidently told you something she shouldn't have. Hell, say a woman named Musa called you and told you something. Just... don't tell me that. After I tried so hard to convince myself that he was gone, and it wasn't you... tell me you're not."

He wouldn't look at me. "Bloom..."

"Thomas! Tell me you aren't him. Tell me you aren't..." The words were stuck in my throat, but somehow I managed to get them out. "Tell me Baltor's dead. Please."

It could've been seconds or minutes before he looked at me. I wasn't even sure. But when he did, he didn't even have to open his mouth to say what I knew he was going to say. And when he did, it felt like my heart was shattering into pieces and stitching itself back together at the same time.

"I can't tell you that anymore."

I turned and ran before he could say anything else.

The air outside was cold, but it was a welcome change from the stuffiness of the hallway. It was also good in the sense that my body was urging me back to someplace warm. That meant my car, the apartment, or anywhere that wasn't back inside that restaurant.

He's alive.

"Bloom, stop!"

A hand grabbed my wrist, but I tore away before it could get a decent grip. "Go away."

"Please, just hear me out..."

The hand grabbed at my wrist again, and I gave up and spun around. "Was it real? Was anything that you said to me the last three fucking months real? Or were you so dedicated to a lie that you didn't mind deceiving not only me, but a group of innocent people who don't even have anything to do with this?"

It seemed some of the fight was gone was from his eyes, and I took it as a sign to continue. "I don't even know what to call you! Was there ever a Thomas Crowell here, or was he a lie? Or did you kill him off in that fire, devastate his family, just so you could perpetuate me?"

A flash of anger sparked in his eyes. The man in front of me dropped my wrist as though it were on fire, and I could tell I'd crossed a line in my yelling. He opened his mouth to respond...

"Oh, come on. Don't tell me you're bailing out this early; it hasn't even been two hours! I know my dancing isn't great, but is it that scarring?"

My jaw dropped as my eyes fell to the entrance of the restaurant. I'd been so caught up in the fight with Baltor (Thomas? I had no idea what to call him anymore), I'd forgotten the whole reason I'd been at Ronan's.

"Or," Gaby continued, her eyes darting nervously between us, "is there something else?"

"I... uh," My brain seemed to be drawing a blank. It was too surreal; my boss and my enemy turned apparent boyfriend facing each other at the entrance to a steakhouse. I couldn't decide whether to run for it and get a head start on my resignation letter, or start throwing fireballs and worry about wiping Gaby's memory later.

I was so caught up in my thoughts, it took me a minute to realize another voice was speaking. "I know, I know, we're terrible employees. But Bloom just got a call from Anna, and she's a bit stranded. Serves her right for not taking her car in for servicing, I said, but you know this one." Baltor jerked a finger at me, and it took everything in my power to keep my mouth shut. "So, sadly, we get to go play hero in the parking lot of a Forever 21."

Gaby raised an eyebrow. "Bloom?"

"...It's actually an Express," I somehow managed to say.

She gave a dramatic sigh, but I could see her giving an understanding smile. "Well, the last thing I want to do is keep someone at work overtime, especially if they don't work for me."

He rolled his eyes. "I promise to be in bright and early Monday morning, Boss Lady."

"I doubt that," Gaby smirked. "Alright, you pass my judgment. Go rescue a damsel in distress. I'll see you both Monday."

I was at a loss for words as Gaby disappeared through the doorway. My eyes finally fell back to Baltor, who was giving me a pointed look. "Would you like to continue your little tirade about me being an imposter?"

I shook my head in disbelief. "How do you know Anna's check engine light is on in her car?"

"Because you told me two weeks ago, and knowing Anna, she still hasn't done anything about it." His look went from slightly sarcastic to serious as he glanced me over. "Bloom? Are you alright?"

"That depends. Am I still standing?"

"For now." Before I could argue, his hands were on my shoulders, guiding me to a bench. "Sit down; I haven't seen you look this pale in years."

Numbly, I sat down, letting him take the space next to me without complaint. He tried to take one of my hands, but I pulled away wordlessly. I saw him sigh quietly, but he didn't reach for my hand again. "Tell me what you're thinking," he finally said.

I looked at him. "Who are you? Are you Baltor, or Thomas...?"

He sighed. "I'm... both, I suppose. Obviously, I didn't grow up as Thomas Crowell, but his memories are in my mind as though I lived them. But at the same time... I remember you. I remember everything we've ever been through; both here and in the magical dimension."

The comment did nothing to ease the dizziness in my head. "Can... can he ever come back? The real Thomas?"

"No." He said it so simply it was surprising. "Thomas Crowell died in that fire four years ago. There's no simple way around that. For all intents and purposes, I am him now. While I do have his physical body and a few of his leftover traits, I'm afraid that's all that remains of him. Which means," he continued, watching me intently, "the person you're in love with is far more similar to me than Thomas."

An icy cold feeling trickled down my spine. "No," I insisted, starting to shake my head. "No, you are crazy if you think I'm in love with you. In fact, I don't even know why I'm still here." I got to my feet and started walking, not even paying attention to the fact that the parking lot was the opposite direction. I'd walk home if I had to - in my heels. Anything was better than having this conversation.

"Bloom, wait," he called. I could lie and say I stopped because my feet were killing me, but it wasn't just that. I didn't turn around, though; I still had some pride left. "I shouldn't have said that. I can only imagine how much of a shock this is to you-"

"You think?" I gave in and turned around to face him, eyes burning with anger. "The man I've spent the last three months with, the first person I've really let into my life since coming back to Earth, turned out to be someone I thought I'd left behind in another life. Why would I ever be in shock?" Unbidden, my voice grew somewhat softer as I continued, "Maybe I was in love with Thomas Crowell, or I could've been. But now I'll never know, because he wasn't real."

For maybe the first time ever, Baltor looked speechless. I sighed, suddenly feeling tired for a reason I couldn't discern. I was so done with this conversation. "I'm not going to turn you over to the Magix Council, even though I know they'd love to know you're somehow alive. I left that part of my life behind four years ago. So I hope you have a nice life, Baltor. But whatever you do, it's not going to involve me." Feeling like an enormous burden had been lifted off my shoulders, I turned and headed in the direction of the parking lot.

From behind me, I heard a chuckle of disbelief. "So that's it, huh?"

"Yes, that's it! I put you in the back of my mind years ago, Baltor! There's no reason to move those memories now!"

"Oh, really?" I was able to go another five feet before he was at my back again, pulling me against him, leaning down to whisper into the shell of my ear. "I don't believe you," he said, the timbre of his voice sending a shiver down my spine. Or maybe it was just the cold. Let's say it was the cold. "Your voice says one story, but your body is telling another. And last I checked, this kind of ink was permanent."

My heart stopped. My tattoo. "I... um..." There really is no way out of this one, is there?

I felt his fingers brush the back of my neck, as he carefully lifted my hair and gathered it on the other side of my neck, leaving free the side where I knew my tattoo could be seen in all its incriminating glory. "Now this was quite a blast from the past," he commented, moving to face me again. "There's more to this story, Bloom, and I'm not letting you go until I get it."

Something snapped inside of me. "Because that's what you do, isn't it, Baltor? You take and take until there's nothing left for anyone to give. This is why I can't do this anymore. You're never going to be the guy I thought you were, regardless of the fact you're here now. So will you please just get out of my life already?"

My chest heaved with exertion - I hadn't realized I'd nearly screamed the last part - as the cold night air suddenly hit me like a slap in the face. I rubbed my hands along my arms, trying in vain to keep warm and wondering, not for the first time, why I was still standing in the parking lot, talking to him.

There was something different about the look in his eyes, something I couldn't quite name; they were undeniably gold now, and I'd forgotten how difficult it could be to read emotions out of that particular hue. "I don't think you mean what you're saying," he said, in a maddeningly calm voice.

I threw my hands up in exasperation. "Well I'm sorry then; when did you become such an expert in reading my emotions? Nobody sent me a notification."

"It's not that I'm an expert," he said slowly. "It's that you're making it too clear."

"Making what clear?"

"Come on, Bloom, if you can't see it why should I tell you?"

If I'd felt like something snapped before, it was now in a few million pieces. "There is nothing to see! God, what do you want; just to sit here with that cocky grin on your face and wait for me to tell you how I was hopelessly in love-" At that, my brain finally caught up to my mouth and I stopped short, clamping a hand over my mouth, utterly mortified at what I'd just all but admitted.

I don't know what I expected; anger, sarcasm, maybe even laughter. Either way, I expected it wouldn't be good. But instead, it was eerily silent. Hesitantly, I glanced up, wondering for a moment if Baltor had truly reverted to his old ways and left me alone in front of the restaurant. To my surprise he was still standing here, looking at me in what seemed best described as wonderstruck. "What did you just say?"

My cheeks burned. "Are you really that stupid, or do you just like making me squirm? Do you want me to stand here and admit I had feelings for you four years ago? Do you want me to admit that that's why I got your stupid mark tattooed on the back of my neck? Do you want me to admit that I couldn't forget you, no matter how hard I tried? Because if that's the case, then congratulations; you've finally won."

He slowly shook his head. "You... you're not serious-"

"Why would I not be serious?" I yelled. After a moment, I took a deep breath, bracing myself for the worst. "You got what you wanted, now leave me alone. If I'd wanted to become a complete joke, there are much better ways I could've done it."

I was expecting a biting response, but when a moment passed and he was silent, I exhaled and turned on my heel, heading back towards the parking lot. I'd lost quite a bit of dignity (damn my stupid mouth!), but I still had some pride; any more of this conversation would just be masochism.

But again, I only made it about five steps before fingers curled around my arm and pulled me backwards. "What now, Baltor?" I exclaimed exasperatedly, trying to yank myself free, but he held tight with a surprising strength. I looked up to his eyes, which were bright and full of something that looked a lot like... determination? "Are you really intent on shattering any last fragment of dignity I might have le-"

He swallowed up the sound with his lips on mine and any thoughts of going anywhere left my head entirely.

Kissing him felt at once familiar and foreign. My body remembered Thomas, the shape and feel of him, the scent of his skin and hair, despite the fact that my mind now knew that the man I had been falling for wasn't real. And at the same time, I could tell there was something different about him: the tightness of his grip on my waist, the urgency with which his lips moved against my own, like he was finally getting something he'd wanted for so long and wasn't sure if it was real. Or maybe that part was me projecting my own feelings onto him.

I was breathing heavily when we finally parted, my head spinning like a Tilt-a-Whirl, so that I had to close my eyes and take a few deep breaths of cold night air before I felt normal again. When I opened my eyes, I saw him staring at me, a look of amused satisfaction dancing in those gold eyes.

Something sparked to life inside of me, and without thinking twice, I reached up and slapped him across the face.

"Ow!" he yelped, bringing a hand up to his cheek, where I was pleased to see I had left a nice red handprint. "What the hell was that for?"

"What do you think that was for?" I snapped. "What is your problem? Do you get some kind of perverse pleasure from tearing my heart out? Why can't you just let me go?"

He went from looking pained to shocked. "Hold on a minute... you think I did that as a joke?"

"You expect me to believe you didn't?" I felt a varying degree of emotions: anger, sadness, disbelief... But mostly, I was just tired. "You've gotten everything you've wanted, so can you please just leave me alone?"

"Bloom wait," he said as I turned to leave (how many times had I tried to leave this place tonight?).

"There's nothing left to wait for," I replied dryly. "Unless you're going to tell me Gaby is actually Icy."

"Yes there is," he said. "You think this is a joke. That I'm just toying with your feelings." I didn't respond to the comments, and he kept talking. "Well I'm telling you I'm not."

"Yeah right-"

"Bloom, look at me." He took my chin in his hand and directed my face towards his. "I am not lying to you. I don't think it's ridiculous that you had feelings for me, and I don't blame you for being upset about this."

"And you expect me to believe that?"

"Yes, I expect you to believe that." He let go of me and rubbed his temples, probably trying to fight off a headache (I only assumed because I could feel one coming on, too).

Part of my head told me to make a mad dash for the car while I had the chance - he obviously wasn't paying too much attention me. I could go home, change the locks, and get Musa to stand guard with me until late next week (it seemed like Baltor's powers either couldn't exist within Thomas's body, or it would take time for them to return). But for some reason, I couldn't turn away. He seemed intently focused on figuring something out, and I was a bit curious as to what it was.

And finally: "There were dreams."

I raised an eyebrow. "I'm sorry, what are you referring to-"

"I had dreams," he said again, his eyes not meeting mine. "About you."

I could only stare at him dumbly as he kept talking. "Not from the old days - those are far too gone for me to even remember. But ever since I woke up as Thomas Crowell in a New York City hospital, I would have these dreams; crazy vivid things that sometimes felt so real I would swear I had lived them, even when I knew it was impossible. I dreamed about fantastic worlds, buildings that seemed structurally impossible, people flying, magic. And in every one of them there was a girl, with red hair and blue eyes." I felt my jaw drop, and even though a voice in the back of my head was yelling at me to run while he seemed somewhat distracted, I couldn't move. "You were real to me before "Thomas" ever knew your name, though the dreams never gave me that particular piece of information. It took me forever to settle on Rachel later, and even that never felt quite right; nothing ever seemed to fit the stubborn, impulsive redhead from my dreams. Like I knew your name but just couldn't access it."

I heard the words, but I was having trouble processing them. He can't be telling the truth... Can he?

"I certainly didn't intend to write a book at first," he continued, looking somewhat nervous. "I just started sketching, and eventually writing, because I didn't want to lose the dreams; I didn't want to lose you. A friend found the journal I'd been writing in and assumed that I was writing a book, and I went with that to avoid admitting the truth: that I was falling in love with the girl from my dreams." He finally looked up at me, his gaze more serious than I'd ever seen from him. "Imagine my surprise when I move here and find out she's real."

There was an awkward silence, until I realized he was expecting me to say something. "I... I don't know what to say," I stammered weakly.

He took a step forward, eyes blazing with determination. "Say you believe me."

"I... I don't know what I believe!" I exclaimed, taking a step back instinctively. "This is all so much... How am I supposed to trust that you're telling the truth? We were mortal enemies, Baltor! You might not remember those days, but I do!"

"I remember," he said seriously. "I remember you. Whatever miracle gave me a second chance at life, whatever magic erased my memories of who I was, it couldn't make me forget you, or what I felt for you. Why is it so hard for you to believe that?"

"Because..." I looked at him for a moment, and then shut my eyes tightly. "I've spent the last three months trying to convince myself that you were dead. Hell, I've spent the last four years trying to convince myself of that. I've pushed away so many people, and just when I finally start to get a normal life, here you are. Everything I've been dreaming of but never admitting I wanted. But there's still that voice in the back of my head, reminding me what happened the last time I let myself acknowledge my feelings for you."

I heard a small sigh. "You think I'm going to vanish again. Or worse - turn against you."

Slowly, I nodded.

"Bloom." I felt a hand on my shoulder, and I looked up at him before I realized what I was doing. "I don't blame you for thinking that. But what you can't deny thinking, is the other side of this." He gave a small smile. "I have no idea how I got here; maybe it was a person, maybe it was fate. But either way, we have a second chance here, away from Magix, your friends, the Trix... and we'd be fools not to take it.

"I'm not going anywhere," he said, brushing a piece of hair behind my ear in an eerily familiar way. "I promise you. So... what about that second chance?"

A small smile crossed my face. "Technically, this is still the first chance."

He smirked at me. "I didn't fall in love with you for being technical, darling."

I tried to keep myself from smiling at the comment. The sincerity in his voice... I knew that wasn't something a person could fake. At that moment I finally let the last defensive wall I had left crumble, because it wasn't worth it anymore. And what was worth it was standing in front of me.

I wound my arms around his neck. "So... does this mean I can kiss you now? After all, we have a lot of time to make up for."

I managed to catch a glimpse of the grin that spread across his face, before I reached up and pressed my lips to his.

Despite the fact that I'd kissed him innumerable times as Thomas, and even just a few minutes ago, it felt like our first kiss all over again. There was a new sweetness to this one, that came from knowing exactly who I was kissing and that he wanted to be kissing me just as much. I ran my fingers through his hair, like I'd wanted to do for so long, and what did it matter that it was dark brown instead of red-blond? He might have a different physical appearance, but the inside was still the same; the same man I had fallen hopelessly in love with in spite of knowing how wrong it was.

After close to five years, I was finally getting my happy ending.

"Bloom." He was saying my name like a prayer, his arms coming up to rest against my back, pulling me close like he never wanted to let me go. I could understand the feeling. "Am I dreaming? This doesn't feel real, you being here."

I smiled, then pinched his arm.

"Ow!" he yelped. "Will you stop hurting me?"

"No," I said seriously, though I had to fight to keep a grin off my face. "Because I'm really here. And you have to love all of me, even the parts that annoy you."

"Well then same goes for you," he said, sliding an arm around my waist.

"I think I can handle that." I closed my eyes as he kissed me again, the feeling sending tingles throughout every part of my body.

"Let's get out of here," I said when he pulled back. "I don't know about you, but I'm getting kind of sick of this place. Especially the parking lot."

"Agreed. We are definitely not coming here for our first date."

I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from grinning like a maniac. Our first date. Because we were a couple, who could do normal things like go on dinner dates or to the movies without anyone making a big deal out of it.

And do other couple-y things...

The thought lodged itself in my head and refused to go away. As nice as all the kissing was, I wasn't seventeen anymore.

He caught my gaze, and I felt a familiar tingle on the back of my neck as I saw the same look in his eyes that I knew had to be in my own. Maybe it was our connection coming back, or maybe it was just us; it didn't matter much to me either way right now. "My place isn't far, and there are no pesky roommates around..." He trailed off suggestively.

"Sounds perfect." I slid my hand into his, interlocking our fingers. "Lead the way."

So are we forgiven?

Yes, the big Valentine's Day update is here, and with that we finally get Baltor back! Don't lie; you missed him.

Sorry about this being so late; I'm actually updating in the midst of a Southern California college trip (ugh, college, why are you not years away?). There's been insanity galore, and there's only an hour left of Valentine's Day, so I won't stay too long. I hope everyone has a wonderful day, and that this update has only made it better.

Much love,

~ember & Authoress