Heeey!

Update, 'cause I'm feeling frisky! ;)

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Don't own ROA or PC or CR...!

Celia

Winter formal this weekend, my trail of thought as I arrive home. It seems that I'm the only one who really doesn't care about it all; the only person who isn't obsessed.

That's not to say I'm not excited. I am...really. I just can't muster up the commitment to think of the formal all the time.

I'm too busy thinking about other things. And, no it's not Dylan this time, although every time I think of his name, of God forbid, see him, hanging around the house, or at school, with his popular friends, that rush of embarrassment floods through me, as if someone's injected my blood with mortification. I've been ignoring his for the past few days, anyway.

No, it's Estelle I want to talk to, who, in turn, has been avoiding me.

Dammit. Why is it all so confusing now? Now that Dylan's here. Everything's weird, messed up, different.

I sigh, and drop my bag down on the wooden floor, going to the kitchen, to get myself something to eat. Lucky for me, Estelle is sitting on the high counter chair, listening to her iPod, and doing her homework. Her eyes are down, focused on the work in front of her.

I sigh and smile. She doesn't look up.

"Estelle, I have to talk to you." I say, quietly.

She doesn't respond, just keeps writing. I try to swallow down the lump in my throat. It's weird, we've fought before, but this fight seems more scary. As if we'll never make up again.

"Estelle." I choke.

She doesn't look up.

I can feel tears brimming in my eyes, but refuse to let them fall. She has to hear me out. Then she can be mad at me, or think whatever she wants about me, I won't stop her. She's old enough to make her decisions and judgements. But just let her hear me out for a second.

I reach over the counter, and pop the headphones out of her ears. She looks up, surprised. The moment she sees me, her eyes cloud over, and her lips tighten. She starts to storm out of the room, but I reach out and stop her.

"Estelle, please, just talk to me!" I exclaim. "Tell me what's wrong. Is it me and Dylan, because, I swear-" At the mention of his name, Estelle jerks and tears start to come to her eyes. I reach over to try and hug her, but she pushes me away and runs off. I'm left staring at the place where she ran, wondering how I'm ever going to forgive myself for hurting my baby sister, over some jerk who doesn't care about me anyway.

I sink down onto the kitchen floor, and let myself cry. It feels good.

That is, until he shows up.

I hear his footsteps, and don't ask me how, but I just know it's him. Maybe it's the arrogant way he walks, or the fact that the room swells up with his aura. Maybe I've just gone mad. Finally cracked.

To think, before he showed up, I actually considered myself a calm person. The advice giver when Ada got hysterical over a new beau, or whatever.

"Celia? What's wrong?" Dylan asks. I don't look up, but feel him crouch down next to me. I can smell him, his clean scent, weird for a gangbanger- aren't they supposed to smell gross, and stuff?, and I can envision him there. His motorcycle boots, worn in jeans, Hoosiers top, and black leather jacket. Blonde hair mussed, like always.

I don't respond to his question.

"Celia." Dylan sounds calm, assured of himself. God knows I'm not. "What is it?"

I can feel anger rise up in me, a torrent of bile up my throat, waiting for me to vomit it all out, say what's on my mind. I want to.

I will.

I look up from my palms and right into his green eyes, furiously.

"What's wrong?" I say softly. "Is that you've ruined my life. Okay?"

Dylan chuckles. The nerve. The fucking nerve. How dare he chuckle? Oh My God, how dare he chuckle at me?

"Ah, the teenage angst appears, finally. I was beginning to think you were a robot." He grins, wickedly.

"How dare you." I tremble, my words shaking. "You...you bastard! Do you know what you've done? You've completely ruined my sister's life!"

Dylan looks confused. "I thought I ruined your life?"

"You did!" I cry. "You ruined both of our lives! By showing up on our fucking doorstep! God, I hate you!"

Dylan looks amused now, raising an eyebrow. He's infuriating. I want to punch him right on his smirky lips. "And how have I ruined your life, exactly."

"You...you...you're all I can think about! You've done something to me, and it's just...it's stupid! You're stupid!" I snarl, pettily.

Dylan looks bewildered now, his face changing emotions so fast, I can barely register them.

"You kissed me," I continue, "and Estelle saw. Don't pretend it didn't happen. I didn't know she had a crush on you. Granted, neither did you, I think, but still! It's wrong, and you haven't expressed the slightest bit of sorrow, or anything, while I'm working my butt off, trying to get her to forgive me! You...do you have a heart!" I exclaim. I can feel tears rise up in me, and this time, no matter how much I try to hide them, look into a bright light or otherwise, they fill my vision.

Dylan is staring at me now, lips parted. Then he says, ever so softly, "oh I'm sorry. I didn't know I was supposed to say anything to her, considering, I'm not even part of this fucking family." His voice is rising slightly now, features cold, compared to the heat in his voice. "And I'm sorry, that you're fucking having a bad day, or PMS or whatever, and I'm sorry you're taking it out on me, and I'm sorry that your sister has a little crush on the big bad gangbanger, and I'm sorry that I have no heart, and I'm fucking sorry that you ran into your room completely naked and blamed it all on me, and I'm sorry that you have a family and a life that's worth living and I've intruded on your little happy fest and sprinkled a little bit of reality into it!"

I stare for a second. "I...forgive you."

Dylan stares back at me, his expression hardening at my words.

Then the next thing I know I'm in his arms and his lips are on mine, and this time, it's not tender or seductive or gradual, it's like a torrent of emotions flooding through me and out into the air around up and the only thing left is mind numbing pleasure.

I let out a moan and wrap my arm around his neck, my other, reaching out so I can twine my fingers into his hair. His hands are on me, everywhere, and then he pushes me back against the hard tiled floor, never breaking his kiss.

I gasp as the cold floor presses into my hot, flushed skin, but it leaves me, the minute Dylan's hand comes in between us, stroking my stomach and sending butterflies through my veins, which trail up and then turn into hot fire, melting me, burning me, singing my whole body slow, and fast at the same time.

The I hear footsteps. And a growl. A very dad-like growl.

Oh shit.

"What is the meanin' of all this!" Dad exclaims.

I pull away from Dylan, who rolls over. We both stand up at the same time and back away from each other, me blushing and spluttering, Dylan, looking up at dad with a cocky smile and a raised eyebrow.

We are so busted.