Of course I was running late.

Why? Well, partly because traffic in Los Angeles sucks and it gets worse every year. And partly, maybe, because it took me two freaking hours to decide what I was going to wear.

It's not common knowledge, but I put a lot of effort into my appearance. I like to feel confident, and that effort sometimes helps. Some days, no makeup and baggy clothes are what I need to feel like I can take on the world. Other days it may be a bit of eyeliner, a touch of lip gloss, and a low cut top that shows off my girls. Mother Nature blessed me with these 32Ds, so it'd be a crime against nature not to show 'em off sometimes. But it's never to impress people. I don't care what people think of me. It's all about the power trip. I like power.

But for those two hours, I felt completely powerless. Nothing fit right. Nothing looked right. The tight stuff was too desperate. The baggy stuff was too sloppy. Nothing was working. And I was left with one very irritating question: why the hell did I care?

It brought up a topic I didn't want to deal with: Tori Vega.

Denial is a lovely state. The grass is green, the sky is blue, and if anything unpleasant tries to stick its ugly nose in, all residents get free blinders to prevent them from seeing such harsh realities intruding into their delusions. Oh, and there are no taxes! The downside? Crushing anxiety, violent mood swings, and brief periods where the blinders fail and all the ugly truths come pouring in.

I was never a stranger to crushing anxiety or violent mood swings. But all of that was magnified when it came to Tori. If you haven't figured it out by now, my feelings about her have always been complicated. In those brief, fleeting moments when my blinders failed, I would admit that I respected her tenacity and persistence. I admired her willingness to be nice to everyone, no matter how awful they are to her. I could even respect her tendency to be an opportunist. I mean, we all want what's best for us, and Tori's drive usually pushed her to come up with crazy inventive ideas.

In an especially weak moment, I'd even admit that she was kind of okay-looking. All right, I always thought she was pretty. Or maybe, possibly, beautiful…if I was feeling particularly sappy. Okay, okay, I was attracted to her. A lot. But come on, who wouldn't be? I mean god, have you seen those legs?

I buried all of that, though. Or I tried to. Once in a while, it would slip out. A comment about her looks. Or letting her touch me in some way without threatening dismemberment. Hell, sometimes I even touched her; a hand grab here and there or dragging her by the wrist into the janitor's closet at school. Though now that I think back on it, there was some twisted symbolism there.

On a normal day, I'd sooner beat you with the blunt end of my scissors than admit to any of this. But this wasn't a normal day. It had been months since I'd seen Beck or had any kind of human contact, so my conflicted emotions were riled up worse than normal. Which is why it took me two freaking hours to find an outfit.

In the end, I settled on a gray tank top and a snug pair of dark jeans. I added my black faux leather vest that didn't quite reach my waist. A long necklace with a silver charm drew the eye to the top's plunging neckline, so I went with a bra that boosted the girls a bit and created a nice line of cleavage. A hint of dark eyeliner, a bit of gloss, and the two-hour ordeal finally ended with me still not quite satisfied. That was about as good as it was going to get.

Then I embarked on my next ordeal: driving to the airport. That was just mindless enough to let me obsess over why I put more effort into getting dressed for this than I did for my last date with Beck. I didn't care what anyone thought. So why did her opinion matter? And what possible reason would she have to care anyway? The beanpole was straight as an arrow so far as I knew. Even Cat dating Sam had thrown her for a loop. She was happy for them, it just seemed to weird her out a bit. Kind of strange for a girl born and raised in LA, but whatever. I personally didn't label myself or limit myself. Sam and I were a lot alike in that regard. I had no interest in the baggage of a label and I didn't owe anyone any explanation for anything. I happen to believe it's people you fall for, not a race or a gender.

But I hadn't fallen for Tori, so why the hell was I making such a big deal out of her homecoming? It was stupid and none of it made sense. I hate doing things that don't make sense, unless I'm doing it just to be unpredictable. Which I've done.

So yes, I was running late. But if you've ever flown anywhere, you know that the airlines are almost always late for everything. I was reasonably sure I still had time. That didn't stop me from driving a little aggressively. I mean, I would have done that anyway, but at least with being in a hurry I felt kind of justified about it.

Of course, that all ended as I approached the absolute nightmare that was LAX. The pickup system was so convoluted and I think the off-ramps and roads surrounding the terminals had been designed by blind oompa loompas that had never driven a car before or had any concept of how they worked. On top of that, there were people everywhere. Cars stopping. Cars cutting into traffic. Cars that start to pull off, realize they're idiots, and try to cut back into the same spot. Honestly, places like that leave me with the strong impression that the human race is doomed.

After throwing out more middle fingers and f-bombs than I'd ever given in one sitting, I finally made it to terminal five. There were so many people clustered around, it was almost impossible to see anyone. But even through all of the crazies and the mouth-breathers and terrible drivers, I spotted Tori. I took in the sight as I slid into the parking lane. She leaned against a pillar next to her lone suitcase. She wore a white button-down blouse with frills on the sleeves and a swooping neckline with no buttons from the neck down to the bust. If she had cleavage, there'd have been an eyeful with a top like that.

But that neck. Slim, smooth, as endless her legs, framed snugly by her brown hair with—were those blond highlights? Oh god. Wow.

Speaking of her legs, they were on full display in a pair of high-cut denim shorts with some tasteful rips. A cute pair of silver and black boots capped off the look. And what a look it was.

I hadn't laid eyes on her in almost six months. That's not a lot of time apart. But seeing her there, with the bright LA sun catching the white in her blouse making it almost glow, I actually found myself unable to think for a minute. And the way the glow contrasted with her dark skin…holy shit.

All kinds of thoughts popped into my mind…most of them involving that neck…and those ridiculous legs…and…

"Hey, hey, hey!"

I caught the movement in my periphery and slammed on my breaks. Ahead of me, a terrified-looking woman was scrambling into her open trunk. My car was just a few inches away from hitting hers by the time I stopped.

Shit. Real smart, Jade.

I threw the car in reverse and backed up a foot before the jackass behind me blew his horn.

"Kiss my ass," I muttered. I got out and slammed the door, glaring at the guy behind me. It was some pretentious-looking blond-haired douchebag in an oversized red truck his rich daddy almost certainly bought for him.

As I passed by the woman I'd nearly hit, I felt her eyes digging into me.

"You almost hit me," she said.

I kept walking. "Almost only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades."

"Excuse me?"

I turned and smiled sweetly. "I've got one in the trunk if you'd like a demonstration."

She backed away from me, put her last suitcase in her trunk, then slammed it and hurried to the passenger-side door. As I turned back to Tori, I found her staring at me with a blank, wide-eyed stare that just screamed, Jade, you almost killed someone!

"What?" I asked.

"Jade, you almost killed someone!"

Bam. Called it.

"Oh, don't be so dramatic. At worst I'd have broken her leg. Maybe. And anyway I didn't, so quit being all judgmental."

I didn't care much for the look she gave. She seemed to be conferring the responsibility of the near-miss on me as if her leggy ass had nothing to do with it.

Well, are you going to tell her you were gawking at her?

I sighed and turned back to the trunk lady. The car was still waiting to pull into the driving lane. I pounded on the window. She turned to see me smiling at her and panic set in.

"Go, go, go!" she screamed to her driver. "She's back!"

"Sorry about almost hitting you," I said.

The car shot over into the driving lane, to the blaring horn of the guy they cut off. I turned back to Tori and found a smile waiting for me that set those irritatingly perfect cheekbones aglow.

"Thank you," she said. "That was really nice."

"And it almost caused another accident. Win-win."

"Ha, ha. Now get over here. Give Tori a squeeze. Come on, you owe me one."

She threw her arms out. I rolled my eyes, but between you and me, it was for show. She pulled me into a tight embrace and for a split second, I was afraid to move. Something about being held in those lanky arms, crushed against that small but firm bosom, getting lost in all that hair…damn it, it did something to me. My stomach flipped. There were tingles in places I wish there weren't.

"Not feeling the squeeze," she whispered.

I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her close. My heart was racing. It had been so long since I let anyone touch me that this simple little hug had me crawling out of my skin. I squeezed her tight, gave her the hug she had always wanted from me, and I enjoyed every second of it. From the smell of her hair to the feel of my nose against her neck, I was overtaken by a heat I wasn't expecting. So overtaken, I felt the girls start to wake up a bit. I wasn't wearing the right kind of bra to cushion against hard nips, so I reluctantly let Tori go.

"Wow," she said breathlessly, her chest heaving. "That felt like you actually missed me."

I'd have done it again just to hear her gasping for air like that. The heat radiating between us was intense, drawing me in like a fucking magnet. I lingered close to her and swallowed hard, hoping she didn't notice the fact that my chest was heaving as much as hers.

"Think what you like, a deal's a deal," I said. My throat was dry. "I'm officially off the hook for it." But god, how I wanted to be back on the hook…

"Well, I enjoyed it. Is that new perfume?"

"Sure. It's called The Souls of my Enemies. Care to add yours?"

Her smile faded just a bit. "I'll get my suitcase loaded."

"Good, do that."

She stepped away and I took a minute to collect myself. My face was hot to the touch and my heart wouldn't stop racing even after a few deep breaths. What the hell was that? Wow.

I stepped out into the driving lane briefly to get back in the car. The terminal (or my head) was still spinning. So of course, I didn't see the dick the red truck pulling out. I caught the red blur in my periphery. He laid into his horn. I was so startled, I couldn't even muster the self-awareness to flip him off. He slowly drove by with some other obnoxious little shit in his front seat. The new guy formed his first two fingers into a "v" and stuck his tongue between them. The blond douche cackled next to him. "Hey honey, invite us next time! We'll make you famous online!"

He peeled out and drove off. I glared at the piece of shit, my hands balled into fists. No way he was getting away with that. "Hurry up!" I hollered to Tori, then slid behind the wheel. I was ready to chase him, but by the time Tori got in, he was long gone and there was a quarter-mile tangle of traffic between us. I wheeled on Tori. "How long does it take to put one suitcase in a trunk?"

"Gee Tori, nice to see you, glad you're here, thanks for rearranging your life to be in my movie for free."

I shot her a look as I threw my car into gear. I broke out the movie star voice. "Golly, miss Vega, thank you so much, you're just the peachiest, keenest actor in the whole wide world!"

I jerked my car out into the first driving lane.

"I don't talk like that," Tori groused. "Can you at least try not to kill us before we even start filming?"

"Fine," I grumbled. I made a mental snapshot of the truck and its idiot driver then slowed down a little. I felt Tori's eyes on me and glanced over. She was smiling again. "What?"

She seemed ready to say something, but she turned away instead. After a long moment, she said, "It's just nice to be home. Even if I am afraid for my life right now."

I couldn't help but laugh. "You're so dramatic," I said. "I'm not even speeding now. I mean if you want, I can really put you in fear for your life."

"I'm good, thanks. Unless there's a shovel in your backseat."

I can't believe she remembers that, I thought. Then again, I'm hard to forget.

"Oh, no, it's not in my backseat."

"Good."

"It's in the trunk. I'm surprised you didn't see it when you put your suitcase back there."

She smiled for half a second, but I still caught her giving me a sidelong glance, as if she weren't entirely certain I was kidding. "Right," she said nervously. "I definitely didn't see it back there. Of course, I wasn't looking for it."

"Good to know." I gave her my best wicked grin. "I'm kidding, Vega. Jeez."

"I know," she said, completely unconvinced.

"I need you for my movie," I reminded her. "I'm hardly going to kill you before it's done."

She seemed to relax a bit. "Good."

Four…three…two…

"Wait, whaddya mean before!?"

God help me, I missed this girl… What an awful revelation.