Disclaimer: All Bust-A-Groove elements belong to Enix. I own nothing.

La Rima Tibia

(Warm Rhythm)

Chapter 2: Trip

by ArchFaith (formerly known as the ArchPrincess of Saturn)

"Shorty?"

I raised my head momentarily.

"Hi."

He looked surprised to see me. Of course, no one would expect an old friend to suddenly pop up one rainy night. Soaked to the bone.

He must've noticed the tears that mingled with the rain on my face. "Shorty-pie, what's wrong?" he asked. He was using that old nickname for me. He had started calling me that the year of Bust-A-Groove 1. He had rarely used it the second year, though. Perhaps because he thought I was too old to be called such a childish name. But now I appreciated it.

"Come inside and tell me." I let him lead me into his penthouse. Inside it was warmer than the harsh wet world I had come from. He had a couple of luxurious oversized couches. There were various plants in corners of the room. A strange painting hung in the corner. Some sort of abstract art. On the buffet table was a frame of the Person in his dancing outfit. I realized this was the first time I had ever been in his house.

He made me sit down on the couch. He gave me some tissues to wipe my face, then asked me, "Shorty, what's wrong?"

I dried my tears, then told him my problem. Now that I think about it, maybe it was nothing to get upset about. But at the moment, I was extremely upset. "It's about my parents," I began softly.

"What about them? Did something happen?" he questioned.

"Well...kind of," I answered, looking down at the floor. Shorty, what's wrong with you? I thought angrily. You walk all this way to see him, and now you can't even tell him? Spit it out!

"They...left me alone again," I finally said. "Father's going to Canada for an international meeting. Mother is going with him so she can do some photo shoots." I felt my eyes tearing up again. "And...and..." my voice was so choked, I couldn't even breathe straight. I took in a mouthful of air and whispered, "Why? Can't they even spend, like, a minute with me? Do they care more about their jobs than me?! Do they care about me at all?!"

I broke into tears. I felt so childish, like a little girl. But I couldn't help it. The Person moved closer to me and placed his arms around me.

"Shorty, don't feel that way," he soothed. "I'm sure they care about you very much. And they didn't leave you alone...you have Columbo, right?"

"Yes, I do have Columbo," I replied, referring to my closest friend, who had tried to prevent me from making my midnight journey. "But...he's not same."

The Person looked thoughtful. I wondered if he knew what I meant. He probably did, seeing as he was older than I was. He said nothing for a few minutes, as if in deep thought. I was content to lean my head on his shoulder and close my eyes.

But I couldn't keep my eyes shut. Flickers of light prevented me. I opened them again, and saw something wonderful. How could I have missed it when I walked in?

A blazing fire sat before us in the fireplace. Fire. It spread warmth. The Person who Spreads Warmth had a fire burning. It was so warm.

I almost dozed off with my head on his shoulder. He gently nudged me to keep me awake.

"Shorty, get out of those wet clothes."

"I didn't bring any other clothes," I answered, my eyes still shut. "'Sides, I'm too tired."

"You can borrow some of my clothes. You might catch a cold," he countered.

"Mmmmm," I murmured back, snuggling against him.

He slowly stood up, disrupting my perfect position. "Do you trust me enough to let me undress you?" he asked.

What an awkward question to ask someone. If my eyes had been open, I probably would have a red face. "Yeah, I guess," I answered, half-asleep.

"Okay then," he replied. He picked me up—yes, picked me up—and carried me through a door. Into what must have been his room. And lay me down on what must have been his bed.

First came my pants and suspenders. They slipped off easily.

Then came my long shirt. He had to pull it off.

He didn't bother with my underwear. Actually, I didn't trust him to undress me that much.

He took the ribbons off my long pigtails and combed down my frizzly brown hair.

Finally, he placed some pajamas on me. They were probably his own.

Every few seconds, I would hear him hesitate. I once opened my eye, and caught him staring at me. He blushed, then turned away.

He tucked the covers around me. It was like a blanket of warmth covering me, securing me, telling me everything was going to be alright. I felt his hand brush my face gently. I opened one eye and smiled. "Good night kiss," I requested.

The Person smiled and shrugged. "Sure," he said, bending down and kissing my forehead. The kiss was as light as a feather, as soft as cotton candy. I wanted more of it, but decided not to ask.

"Good night," I mumbled, turning onto my side, pulling the warmth up to my chin.

"Good night," he echoed, walking to the door. "Good night, Shorty-pie. I have a feeling your dreams will be sweet tonight."

When the door closed, so did my mind for the night.

-

"Shorty-pie....."

He held out his arms, inviting me to him. "Angel....."

"Shorty-pie."

He took me in his arms and gave me a long kiss

"Shorty-pie?"

He whispered in my ear, "I love you."

"C'mon, Shortstuff, are you gonna stay in bed the whole morning?"

He told me I would have sweet dreams last night. Ironic. I had been dreaming of him and it was he who awoke me from my reverie. I slowly sat up. "Good morning," I yawned.

He was standing there, wearing a red apron. The sight of it made me giggle. "Hey! Do I smell bacon?" I asked, sniffing the air.

He smiled. "Yep. I actually got around to cooking for a change. C'mon, let's eat."

I leaped out of bed, still wearing his pajamas. I padded into the dining room and sat down at the table. He put a plate of bacon and eggs in front of me. I gobbled it up. I was very hungry, too upset to eat dinner last night. I finished before he did and asked for seconds.

"Wow! I didn't know you could cook!" I exclaimed.

He grinned. "That's the first time anyone's ever complemented me on my cooking," he laughed. He stood up and went over to the window. In the morning sun he looked especially handsome. He was the kind of person who seemed predictable at first glance, but was completely unpredictable up close.

He stared out the window a couple of minutes. He then turned to me. "Shorty, I've got somethin' to ask you."

"Yeah, what is it?" I asked, noting the very serious look on his face.

"As it turns out," he began, shifting his feet, "I'm going on a trip to Paris tomorrow morning."

"Paris?" I asked, excited. I had heard so much about the City of Lights. I've only seen it in books or on television, but it seemed so romantic. "That's—"

And then I remembered that I wouldn't be going with him. "—great."

I only had today to spend with him. Then I would have to go back home, to my empty house. Columbo would probably ask me where I was and what I was doing. And then there would be nothing. Just more days of lying on my bed wondering where my uncaring parents were. More days of reading stupid books and watching boring TV shows and playing endless board games.

He walked back over to me. "Shorty, I know you're disappointed. But..."

"But?"

"Would you like to come with me?"

I was completely blown away. He had just asked me to come with him?! I felt like fainting. Paris? Me? And him?

I tried to make sure he wasn't fooling around. "Are you kiddin' me?"

"I'm serious."

I still didn't feel sure. "For real?"

"For real."

Then came the obligatory, "You really don't have to do this. I'll be fine right here."

He took my hands in his. "I really want you to come with me. It will get your mind off things. You need a break."

A break with you is what I need. I flashed a smile. "Since you insist, I'll go."

He grinned. "I'll have to call the airline to get another ticket," he said, going over to the phone.

Paris. A walk in the rain, alone with my fears and visions, only last night, had led me to this. And it led me to him. I glanced at him, talking on the phone. Did he care for me that much?

Is that why he invited me?

I guess I'll just have to find out.

-

Columbo stood on the top landing of the staircase in the foyer. "Shorty! You're home!" he squealed. He noticed the Person standing next to me. "Oh hi," he greeted shyly.

To prepare for our trip to Paris, I needed to pack a suitcase. The Person and I had to stop by my house to get my stuff.

Columbo suddenly became worried. "Are you okay?" he asked, scampering down the stairs to me. "Did you guys do anything last night?"

"No Col," I answered, picking him up and giving him a hug. "I'm fine. And we didn't do anything last night."

"That's good! Oh yeah, while you were gone, I picked out three books for you to read and four TV shows we can watch. And after that, we'll play a board game. See! Me and you can have lotsa fun by ourselves!" Columbo squealed, bouncing up and down.

"Actually.....I'm not staying home."

"Huh?!"

"Me and him and going on a trip," I said, nodding to the Person.

"A trip? To where."

"Not far....well, not very near, either..Paris."

"What?! Shorty, you can't go!" Columbo said, jumping from my arms onto the floor. "Your mother and father—"

"Mother and Father don't care," I snapped. "I'm just here to get my suitcase." I raced up the stairs and into my room, leaving the Person to convince Columbo about the trip.

I pulled out my old green suitcase from the back of my closet. I opened it and began searching for things to bring. I grabbed all the nice clothes I could find: some pants, some shirts, a few skirts, a few dresses, and some underwear. I packed my toothbrush and hair spray, and other things a girl can't live without.

My suitcase was so heavy I had to sit on it to close it. I lugged it down the stairs just in time to hear the closing arguments.

"--Good care of her," the Person was saying.

"But that's not the point," Columbo argued. "Her parents--"

"What kind of parents would leave their daughter alone all the time?" the Person demanded. Columbo shrank back, unable to answer. The Person then noticed me standing on the stairs. "Are you ready?" he asked. I nodded.

I gave my suitcase to him and he went out, to put it in the car. I bent down and gave Columbo a kiss. "Col, please," were the only words I could tell my best friend. I rose and began to walk out.

As I came to the door, Columbo cried, "Shorty!" I turned. "Shorty...have a good trip," he said slowly.

I smiled. Thank you, Col. I knew you'd understand.

It is exciting, but it is love?