AN: This is the only one of this genre I'll ever write. This was on a dare from a friend.
Disclaimer: I'm poor. Poor people own nothing. Fictional characters included.
He was a mutant on a mission. A mission of the greatest importance. A mission that would define, forever, the rest of his life.
Pietro Maximoff stood loitering on the curb outside Bayville High. School had let out nearly an half-hour before, and his "ride," namely Lance and the rest with the rapidly deteriorating Jeep, had departed long ago. Pietro had made some excuse as to why he was staying behind. He couldn't remember what it was, but it hadn't been very good, he recalled - Tabby had laughed in his face, and Todd, Fred and Lance had given him odd looks. But they'd gone away at last, leaving him to pace restlessly on the curb and aim impatient looks at the crowd streaming from the school.
The "mission," he termed it, had been borne out his fear of three words. Three innocuous, little words, really, that seemed to strike fear in every red-blooded, heterosexual American male. Namely these: Sadie Hawkins Dance.
Pietro remembered seeing quite a few pale and worried faces among those of his gender, and he was as pale and scared-looking as the rest - never mind that he was he was far from the typical American, red-blooded, male. Rather, he'd been born in Europe and was a mutant - but red-blooded as far as he knew. However, he had been no less alarmed by the prospect of a Sadie Hawkins as had any of the guys, but his fears were not the same as theirs. Some of them seemed to be afraid that no girl would ask them. Pietro had no such concern: He knew he'd have a deluge of offers. He was one of the handsomest boys at Bayville, and his school-wide reputation for being a charmer was set in stone. And sure enough no less than five girls asked him to be their date. He'd fobbed them off with vague promises to "think" about it.
The truth was, though, that there was only one girl he wanted to ask him to the dance. Just one. God knows he'd thought about her, dreamed about her every waking moment, it seemed. Anytime she passed him, his head would start spinning and he'd feel his heart start to pound. His mouth would go dry and his knees would shake . . . and he'd feel like he was on the verge of passing out. He never did, though, and she never noticed what her very presence did to him. Fact was, she never noticed him at ~all~ unless they were arguing . . . or their teams were fighting one another. His eyes narrowed when he saw Scott Summers walk jauntily down the steps toward his cherry-red convertible. Behind him were Kurt Wagner and Pietro's life-long rival Evan Daniels. His eyes lingered a little on the dark-skinned boy. He'd had such a crush on the blond - loved him since childhood, actually - but nothing had ever come of it. And now, nothing ever would, because he was in love . . . so much in love . . . with ~her.~
And now he was going to tell her. Pietro swallowed painfully. He needed to tell her the truth. Keeping his feelings a secret was eating him up inside. Maybe she wouldn't freak out. Maybe she wouldn't look at him in disgust. Maybe she would even . . . even . . . kind of like the fact that he liked her. He smiled a little. Maybe she'd even go and get a soda with him somewhere . . . and hang out and talk for awhile. Maybe she'd even think, "Hey, Pietro's kinda hot. Maybe I'll ask him to the dance."
But none of that could happen until he let her know he was interested. And now was the time. Pietro straightened up, smoothing back his silver hair. He'd let her know, and everything would be all right. And of course she would love him! He was Pietro Maximoff, after all. Irresistible . . . or something. The fastest boy alive! And she seemed to think he was funny, at least, and not repulsive. He'd seen her aim quite a few smiles in his direction. He treasured those smiles . . . they made his heart tremor with joy. Just a toss of her hair was enough to send him spinning. And sometimes, when he was close enough to smell her perfume, his head swam at the scent of baby powder mixed with daisies and spice. The scent made him want to bury his face in her hair; it made him want to spend hours running his hands over her skin. He would do anything, anything at all, to be that close to her constantly. Even if it meant being blasted by Scott's optic lasers or skewered by Evan's spikes, or mind-screwed by Jean Grey - it would ~all~ be worth it if he could just be near her . . . touch her . . . draw her close. If only for a little while.
Pietro squared his shoulders and tugged at his sweater. He was ready. He felt, at that moment, invincible. In love, ready for the world, and invincible. It was a wonderful feeling.
But it got better. Because then, all of a sudden, he saw ~her.~ There she was, on the steps, walking down. Gliding down, really. It seemed at times that she really could walk on air. God knew that being around her made him feel as if ~he~ could. He held his breath, watching her look around, presumably for Scott and the rest of her friends. She caught sight of them and waved, a large, sunny grin curving over her lovely face. Pietro held his breath a moment as she fully descended the steps and started walking toward them. After a moment's hesitation, he followed, knowing that he had to move fast - but not at Quicksilver speed - not in public - if he was going to get to her before she reached the car.
He followed behind her stealthily, picking his way through the people who were moving around on the sidewalk. He kept her in his sights, amazed at how the sunlight gave her shiny hair a golden, almost ethereal, cast. She was walking slowly, he noted, and looking around, almost as if she were trying to spot someone. He was a little confused by this. Her friends were in plain sight in the car - whom could she be searching for?
She stopped short then, several feet away from the car. Pietro stopped, too, a little ways behind her, and wondered what could be the matter. He was in the process of looking around - just as she had - when the girl turned fully around, and was suddenly facing him. Pietro's breath caught in his throat when their eyes met. He was struck dumb for a moment, amazed that he was so abruptly confronted with his love. At that moment, all of the smooth words and eloquent gestures he had rehearsed in his mind fled. His mind was a total blank. His knees began to tremble and his throat closed up. But he couldn't force his eyes off her any more than he could stop himself from breathing. He couldn't stop staring, even though he was aware that he must've looked like a dolt standing in the middle of the sidewalk with his mouth hanging open. He didn't care, though. There she was, and she was looking at him! Better still, she was . . . yes! She was! She was smiling at him! And . . . oh god . . . it couldn't be . . . but . . . but it was! ~She was walking toward him!~ Straight toward him! He hastily glanced around . . . there was no one behind him . . . no one at his side. Yet she advanced, still, never breaking eye contact.
~Oh GOD! She's coming to talk to me! She's actually coming to talk to me!~ He swiped at a loose strand of hair. ~All right, Maximoff. Be cool. Don't blow this! Don't . . .~
She stopped in front of him, still smiling. "Hi, Pietro. Do you, like, have a minute?"
He swallowed hard. "Hey, Pryde." He tried to inject just the right amount of casualness into his voice. "What's up?" He forced himself to stand up straight.
"Not much," she said, toying with the end of her ponytail. Pietro breathed deeply. He was close enough to smell that delicious mix of baby powder, daisies and spice. "I was wondering if I could, um, ask you something?" she asked almost shyly, looking at him through her long bangs.
"Um . . ." Pietro's mind was working at its normal super speed. ~Ask me something? But . . . I'm supposed to tell her I love her. I'm all ready to go! And if I don't now, I never will.~ "Uh . . . I don't -"
"It'll just take a second," she pleaded, her blue eyes wide. He melted then. Between those huge, beautiful blue eyes and the daisies, baby powder and spice, he was putty in her hands.
"All right. What is it?" He held his breath.
"Well . . . um . . . geez . . . I feel, like, so silly asking you this . . ." Her cheeks colored a lovely shade of pink, and she looked away. "But, well, you know about the Sadie Hawkins Dance . . . I mean, of course you know, but . . ."
"Yes?" His heart began to beat hard. It was happening. It was happening! Kitty Pryde, the girl of his dreams, was asking him to the dance. He nearly screamed with relief. He hadn't even had to open his mouth. There it was: She liked him! She really liked him! He grinned from ear to ear, his worries and nervousness seeming so silly to him now. ~Ah . . . who can resist the great Pietro Maximoff? Why'd I ever doubt myself?~
"Well . . . um . . . yeah, the dance." She giggled nervously. "Uh . . .I was kinda wondering . . . if you'd . . . like, um . . ."
"Yeeesss?" He started picturing what he'd wear. The tan suit he had would be nice. Or maybe the blue suit. Anything but the black one. Black always made him look so washed out. "Don't be shy, Kitty. Spit it out."
She took a deep breath. "O-okay. Would you, um . . .like . . . uh --"
"-Yes, yes. Of course I will." He broke in, forestalling further embarrassment for the girl. There was really no need to drag it out. She'd said more than enough. "Did you really think I'd say no?'
"Um . . . but I haven't even asked -" She looked confused.
"You don't need to. I understand." Pietro inched closer to her. "I've, um, been kinda hoping this would happen."
Her eyes widened. "Really?"
He nodded. "Really. I, um, I . . . I-I like you a lot, Kitty. I . . . always have." His cheeks went red, and he looked a little sheepish himself.
"Oh, Pietro. That's, like, so sweet!" Kitty said, beaming. "And I thought you were gonna, like, say you wouldn't do it."
"I'd be a fool to say no," he said. "I would never forgive myself."
"Oh, like, it wouldn't be that bad." Kitty shrugged. "I mean it's no big deal . . ."
"No big deal?" He reeled a little. "Kitty, please believe me when I say that it's a ~very~ big deal . . . to me. I mean . . . I had no idea you were feeling like this . . ."
"Well, I don't know what I'm feeling, yet," she said with a slight giggle. "I mean, what'll the others say?"
"Forget the others! They'll get over it," Pietro said hotly. "All that matters is how two people feel about each other. Right?"
"Right!" She looked pleased. "Wow . . . Lance was right! He said that out of all of you, you'd be the one to understand about us."
Pietro's smile sagged a little. "Um . . . Lance?"
"Yeah. Like, I told him - you know, after he left the X-Men - that it might be a little weird for him and me to, you know, hang out. I was worried that you guys were still angry that he left you . . . I didn't think you guys would react well to me and Lance, um . . . you know."
"Lance?" Pietro repeated again, feeling lost. "Lance and . . . you?"
"But I was, like, so wrong! You ~do~ understand. Well, at least ~you~ do, Pietro. You have, like, no idea how relieved I am." She threw her arms around his stunned form. "So you'll, like, tell him, okay?"
"Lance?" Even her brief embrace, Pietro could feel his heart breaking, could feel his dreams ebbing away, could feel his confidence, his swagger, his ardor drain from him. In moments, it was gone -- all of it -- and he stood rigid with shock and disappointment. Lance. Kitty and Lance. Pietro thought that the weird flirting thing between the two had been done with. Lance, after all, seemed to want Kitty only for her looks. At least, that's how it seemed to him. Pietro loved the whole package: He loved her smile, loved her walk, and loved her cheerful, valley-girlish expressions. His love went so much deeper than Lance's - he was sure it did - and what was more, he was sure it showed. Even now, Pietro was sure that Kitty could look at him and see the adoration in his eyes. He couldn't hide it; he'd never tried.
But it didn't matter. For her it was Lance. Lance. Only Lance.
"Pietro?" Kitty was eyeing him strangely. "Are you, like, okay? You look like you ate some bad tuna."
"I'm fine." He muttered after a pause. He saw Scott staring at them from his shiny car. His ruby-tinted shades glinted malevolently in the sunlight, and Pietro could see the beginnings of a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I think your friends are getting jumpy. You'd . . . better go."
Kitty glanced over her shoulder. "Yeah. You're right. So, like, um . . . you'll tell Lance?"
Pietro thought he'd scream if she said "Lance" one more time in that silky, slightly giddy tone. The voice she never used when she was talking about anyone else. The voice she'd never use when referring to him. "Uh . . . tell him what?"
"To, um, give me a call. Tonight," she said. "I was gonna tell him, but I kept missing him in school, and then I saw you, and figured I'd ask you to give him the message."
"Ah." His eyes narrowed. "Glad I could . . . help."
"Thanks," she said, his sarcasm seemingly lost on her. "I mean . . . it's so weird. I was kinda hesitating to say anything to you . . .because of, um, you know. All the stuff that's happened. But I guess it's true - it never hurts to ask." She gave him another dazzling smile just as Scott, losing his patience, honked the horn. "Ooops. I'd better go. Thanks, Pietro. Lance was right - you're a really good friend," she said, starting away from him. "See you!"
And then she was gone, leaving that sweet smell and one broken heart in her wake. He stared after her for a moment, watching her climb in next to Evan - another thwarted love for Pietro - her whole face lit with laughter. He watched the shiny vehicle speed away in the direction of the X-Mansion. He watched until he couldn't see the car anymore, until he couldn't smell her scent anymore, until he felt ready to move again.
In a daze, he walked away, but kept his head high. He was the great Pietro Maximoff, after all. He couldn't be seen dragging, no matter what happened. Glancing up at the emptying school, he saw four of the five girls who'd simultaneously asked him to the Sadie Hawkins Dance. They saw him, too, and began walking toward him. All of them wore sultry smiles and determined looks. Pietro stopped and smiled back, watching as they flocked toward him. He glanced from one face to the other, unable to really distinguish them. None of them really had any features that would stand out - no bright blue eyes, no sun-kissed dark hair, no daisy scent. But they were all pretty in that bland way, and they were all fairly normal, and they'd all had the guts to ask him to the dance. So how could he turn any of them down? A new thought struck him: ~Why~ turn any of them down? He grinned humorlessly at the throng surrounding him. He was the great Pietro Maximoff - more than enough for one girl. Maybe they could all go together, he thought as they reached him, all reiterating their desire to take him to the Sadie Hawkins Dance.
All of us together, he thought idly, adopting a cool, detached expression. Hey, why not? Like ~she~ said: It never hurts to ask, right?
Except sometimes, he thought, glancing at the spot where he and Kitty had stood talking. Except ~sometimes~ . . . it does.
Fini
Disclaimer: I'm poor. Poor people own nothing. Fictional characters included.
He was a mutant on a mission. A mission of the greatest importance. A mission that would define, forever, the rest of his life.
Pietro Maximoff stood loitering on the curb outside Bayville High. School had let out nearly an half-hour before, and his "ride," namely Lance and the rest with the rapidly deteriorating Jeep, had departed long ago. Pietro had made some excuse as to why he was staying behind. He couldn't remember what it was, but it hadn't been very good, he recalled - Tabby had laughed in his face, and Todd, Fred and Lance had given him odd looks. But they'd gone away at last, leaving him to pace restlessly on the curb and aim impatient looks at the crowd streaming from the school.
The "mission," he termed it, had been borne out his fear of three words. Three innocuous, little words, really, that seemed to strike fear in every red-blooded, heterosexual American male. Namely these: Sadie Hawkins Dance.
Pietro remembered seeing quite a few pale and worried faces among those of his gender, and he was as pale and scared-looking as the rest - never mind that he was he was far from the typical American, red-blooded, male. Rather, he'd been born in Europe and was a mutant - but red-blooded as far as he knew. However, he had been no less alarmed by the prospect of a Sadie Hawkins as had any of the guys, but his fears were not the same as theirs. Some of them seemed to be afraid that no girl would ask them. Pietro had no such concern: He knew he'd have a deluge of offers. He was one of the handsomest boys at Bayville, and his school-wide reputation for being a charmer was set in stone. And sure enough no less than five girls asked him to be their date. He'd fobbed them off with vague promises to "think" about it.
The truth was, though, that there was only one girl he wanted to ask him to the dance. Just one. God knows he'd thought about her, dreamed about her every waking moment, it seemed. Anytime she passed him, his head would start spinning and he'd feel his heart start to pound. His mouth would go dry and his knees would shake . . . and he'd feel like he was on the verge of passing out. He never did, though, and she never noticed what her very presence did to him. Fact was, she never noticed him at ~all~ unless they were arguing . . . or their teams were fighting one another. His eyes narrowed when he saw Scott Summers walk jauntily down the steps toward his cherry-red convertible. Behind him were Kurt Wagner and Pietro's life-long rival Evan Daniels. His eyes lingered a little on the dark-skinned boy. He'd had such a crush on the blond - loved him since childhood, actually - but nothing had ever come of it. And now, nothing ever would, because he was in love . . . so much in love . . . with ~her.~
And now he was going to tell her. Pietro swallowed painfully. He needed to tell her the truth. Keeping his feelings a secret was eating him up inside. Maybe she wouldn't freak out. Maybe she wouldn't look at him in disgust. Maybe she would even . . . even . . . kind of like the fact that he liked her. He smiled a little. Maybe she'd even go and get a soda with him somewhere . . . and hang out and talk for awhile. Maybe she'd even think, "Hey, Pietro's kinda hot. Maybe I'll ask him to the dance."
But none of that could happen until he let her know he was interested. And now was the time. Pietro straightened up, smoothing back his silver hair. He'd let her know, and everything would be all right. And of course she would love him! He was Pietro Maximoff, after all. Irresistible . . . or something. The fastest boy alive! And she seemed to think he was funny, at least, and not repulsive. He'd seen her aim quite a few smiles in his direction. He treasured those smiles . . . they made his heart tremor with joy. Just a toss of her hair was enough to send him spinning. And sometimes, when he was close enough to smell her perfume, his head swam at the scent of baby powder mixed with daisies and spice. The scent made him want to bury his face in her hair; it made him want to spend hours running his hands over her skin. He would do anything, anything at all, to be that close to her constantly. Even if it meant being blasted by Scott's optic lasers or skewered by Evan's spikes, or mind-screwed by Jean Grey - it would ~all~ be worth it if he could just be near her . . . touch her . . . draw her close. If only for a little while.
Pietro squared his shoulders and tugged at his sweater. He was ready. He felt, at that moment, invincible. In love, ready for the world, and invincible. It was a wonderful feeling.
But it got better. Because then, all of a sudden, he saw ~her.~ There she was, on the steps, walking down. Gliding down, really. It seemed at times that she really could walk on air. God knew that being around her made him feel as if ~he~ could. He held his breath, watching her look around, presumably for Scott and the rest of her friends. She caught sight of them and waved, a large, sunny grin curving over her lovely face. Pietro held his breath a moment as she fully descended the steps and started walking toward them. After a moment's hesitation, he followed, knowing that he had to move fast - but not at Quicksilver speed - not in public - if he was going to get to her before she reached the car.
He followed behind her stealthily, picking his way through the people who were moving around on the sidewalk. He kept her in his sights, amazed at how the sunlight gave her shiny hair a golden, almost ethereal, cast. She was walking slowly, he noted, and looking around, almost as if she were trying to spot someone. He was a little confused by this. Her friends were in plain sight in the car - whom could she be searching for?
She stopped short then, several feet away from the car. Pietro stopped, too, a little ways behind her, and wondered what could be the matter. He was in the process of looking around - just as she had - when the girl turned fully around, and was suddenly facing him. Pietro's breath caught in his throat when their eyes met. He was struck dumb for a moment, amazed that he was so abruptly confronted with his love. At that moment, all of the smooth words and eloquent gestures he had rehearsed in his mind fled. His mind was a total blank. His knees began to tremble and his throat closed up. But he couldn't force his eyes off her any more than he could stop himself from breathing. He couldn't stop staring, even though he was aware that he must've looked like a dolt standing in the middle of the sidewalk with his mouth hanging open. He didn't care, though. There she was, and she was looking at him! Better still, she was . . . yes! She was! She was smiling at him! And . . . oh god . . . it couldn't be . . . but . . . but it was! ~She was walking toward him!~ Straight toward him! He hastily glanced around . . . there was no one behind him . . . no one at his side. Yet she advanced, still, never breaking eye contact.
~Oh GOD! She's coming to talk to me! She's actually coming to talk to me!~ He swiped at a loose strand of hair. ~All right, Maximoff. Be cool. Don't blow this! Don't . . .~
She stopped in front of him, still smiling. "Hi, Pietro. Do you, like, have a minute?"
He swallowed hard. "Hey, Pryde." He tried to inject just the right amount of casualness into his voice. "What's up?" He forced himself to stand up straight.
"Not much," she said, toying with the end of her ponytail. Pietro breathed deeply. He was close enough to smell that delicious mix of baby powder, daisies and spice. "I was wondering if I could, um, ask you something?" she asked almost shyly, looking at him through her long bangs.
"Um . . ." Pietro's mind was working at its normal super speed. ~Ask me something? But . . . I'm supposed to tell her I love her. I'm all ready to go! And if I don't now, I never will.~ "Uh . . . I don't -"
"It'll just take a second," she pleaded, her blue eyes wide. He melted then. Between those huge, beautiful blue eyes and the daisies, baby powder and spice, he was putty in her hands.
"All right. What is it?" He held his breath.
"Well . . . um . . . geez . . . I feel, like, so silly asking you this . . ." Her cheeks colored a lovely shade of pink, and she looked away. "But, well, you know about the Sadie Hawkins Dance . . . I mean, of course you know, but . . ."
"Yes?" His heart began to beat hard. It was happening. It was happening! Kitty Pryde, the girl of his dreams, was asking him to the dance. He nearly screamed with relief. He hadn't even had to open his mouth. There it was: She liked him! She really liked him! He grinned from ear to ear, his worries and nervousness seeming so silly to him now. ~Ah . . . who can resist the great Pietro Maximoff? Why'd I ever doubt myself?~
"Well . . . um . . . yeah, the dance." She giggled nervously. "Uh . . .I was kinda wondering . . . if you'd . . . like, um . . ."
"Yeeesss?" He started picturing what he'd wear. The tan suit he had would be nice. Or maybe the blue suit. Anything but the black one. Black always made him look so washed out. "Don't be shy, Kitty. Spit it out."
She took a deep breath. "O-okay. Would you, um . . .like . . . uh --"
"-Yes, yes. Of course I will." He broke in, forestalling further embarrassment for the girl. There was really no need to drag it out. She'd said more than enough. "Did you really think I'd say no?'
"Um . . . but I haven't even asked -" She looked confused.
"You don't need to. I understand." Pietro inched closer to her. "I've, um, been kinda hoping this would happen."
Her eyes widened. "Really?"
He nodded. "Really. I, um, I . . . I-I like you a lot, Kitty. I . . . always have." His cheeks went red, and he looked a little sheepish himself.
"Oh, Pietro. That's, like, so sweet!" Kitty said, beaming. "And I thought you were gonna, like, say you wouldn't do it."
"I'd be a fool to say no," he said. "I would never forgive myself."
"Oh, like, it wouldn't be that bad." Kitty shrugged. "I mean it's no big deal . . ."
"No big deal?" He reeled a little. "Kitty, please believe me when I say that it's a ~very~ big deal . . . to me. I mean . . . I had no idea you were feeling like this . . ."
"Well, I don't know what I'm feeling, yet," she said with a slight giggle. "I mean, what'll the others say?"
"Forget the others! They'll get over it," Pietro said hotly. "All that matters is how two people feel about each other. Right?"
"Right!" She looked pleased. "Wow . . . Lance was right! He said that out of all of you, you'd be the one to understand about us."
Pietro's smile sagged a little. "Um . . . Lance?"
"Yeah. Like, I told him - you know, after he left the X-Men - that it might be a little weird for him and me to, you know, hang out. I was worried that you guys were still angry that he left you . . . I didn't think you guys would react well to me and Lance, um . . . you know."
"Lance?" Pietro repeated again, feeling lost. "Lance and . . . you?"
"But I was, like, so wrong! You ~do~ understand. Well, at least ~you~ do, Pietro. You have, like, no idea how relieved I am." She threw her arms around his stunned form. "So you'll, like, tell him, okay?"
"Lance?" Even her brief embrace, Pietro could feel his heart breaking, could feel his dreams ebbing away, could feel his confidence, his swagger, his ardor drain from him. In moments, it was gone -- all of it -- and he stood rigid with shock and disappointment. Lance. Kitty and Lance. Pietro thought that the weird flirting thing between the two had been done with. Lance, after all, seemed to want Kitty only for her looks. At least, that's how it seemed to him. Pietro loved the whole package: He loved her smile, loved her walk, and loved her cheerful, valley-girlish expressions. His love went so much deeper than Lance's - he was sure it did - and what was more, he was sure it showed. Even now, Pietro was sure that Kitty could look at him and see the adoration in his eyes. He couldn't hide it; he'd never tried.
But it didn't matter. For her it was Lance. Lance. Only Lance.
"Pietro?" Kitty was eyeing him strangely. "Are you, like, okay? You look like you ate some bad tuna."
"I'm fine." He muttered after a pause. He saw Scott staring at them from his shiny car. His ruby-tinted shades glinted malevolently in the sunlight, and Pietro could see the beginnings of a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I think your friends are getting jumpy. You'd . . . better go."
Kitty glanced over her shoulder. "Yeah. You're right. So, like, um . . . you'll tell Lance?"
Pietro thought he'd scream if she said "Lance" one more time in that silky, slightly giddy tone. The voice she never used when she was talking about anyone else. The voice she'd never use when referring to him. "Uh . . . tell him what?"
"To, um, give me a call. Tonight," she said. "I was gonna tell him, but I kept missing him in school, and then I saw you, and figured I'd ask you to give him the message."
"Ah." His eyes narrowed. "Glad I could . . . help."
"Thanks," she said, his sarcasm seemingly lost on her. "I mean . . . it's so weird. I was kinda hesitating to say anything to you . . .because of, um, you know. All the stuff that's happened. But I guess it's true - it never hurts to ask." She gave him another dazzling smile just as Scott, losing his patience, honked the horn. "Ooops. I'd better go. Thanks, Pietro. Lance was right - you're a really good friend," she said, starting away from him. "See you!"
And then she was gone, leaving that sweet smell and one broken heart in her wake. He stared after her for a moment, watching her climb in next to Evan - another thwarted love for Pietro - her whole face lit with laughter. He watched the shiny vehicle speed away in the direction of the X-Mansion. He watched until he couldn't see the car anymore, until he couldn't smell her scent anymore, until he felt ready to move again.
In a daze, he walked away, but kept his head high. He was the great Pietro Maximoff, after all. He couldn't be seen dragging, no matter what happened. Glancing up at the emptying school, he saw four of the five girls who'd simultaneously asked him to the Sadie Hawkins Dance. They saw him, too, and began walking toward him. All of them wore sultry smiles and determined looks. Pietro stopped and smiled back, watching as they flocked toward him. He glanced from one face to the other, unable to really distinguish them. None of them really had any features that would stand out - no bright blue eyes, no sun-kissed dark hair, no daisy scent. But they were all pretty in that bland way, and they were all fairly normal, and they'd all had the guts to ask him to the dance. So how could he turn any of them down? A new thought struck him: ~Why~ turn any of them down? He grinned humorlessly at the throng surrounding him. He was the great Pietro Maximoff - more than enough for one girl. Maybe they could all go together, he thought as they reached him, all reiterating their desire to take him to the Sadie Hawkins Dance.
All of us together, he thought idly, adopting a cool, detached expression. Hey, why not? Like ~she~ said: It never hurts to ask, right?
Except sometimes, he thought, glancing at the spot where he and Kitty had stood talking. Except ~sometimes~ . . . it does.
Fini