A/N: Some quick notes: First of all, I suddenly felt the need to give all of my chapters titles. Thus, as you may have noticed, they all have titles now. How exciting is that? (Not v. exciting, I know). Second, I just planned out the rest of my chapters and discovered that I am about halfway done with this baby. Hurray. Third, we'll be lucky if I get another update in before the New Year, but I'll try. We'll see. Fourth, REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW! The more reviews I get the better the next chapter we'll be :o)

And off course my usual Eagles update (since I'm sure you all care…): 11-0, baby! Go Eagles!

- - - - - - - -

Chapter 16

All of Us in Costume

From the minute I walk into the party—arm in arm with Chase as it were. We've even got corresponding costumes going on. The theme at the party this year is book or movie characters. He's Han Solo. I'm Lea. Sexy Lea he's been calling me, because my flowing white dress features spaghetti straps and is cropped off at my knees. But with the bun-things, you can definitely tell who I'm supposed to be—Anyway, from the minute I walk in I've got my eyes peeled.

The first person I spot is Jen, who's standing all alone near the wall, and I make my way over to her, Chase following languidly behind me.

"Hey babe," I say, leaning against the wall beside her.

"Hey Becka, Chase." She barely looks at him or me for that matter. She takes a slow sip from her plastic cup, staring intently into the crowd. Chase raises his eyebrows in this what-is-up-with-her look. I shrug. I turn to Jen.

"So. Is Christian here?" I ask rather nonchalantly. Too nonchalantly. Jen assumes I don't care what the answer is and shrugs. Still looking at the mass of people and she says, "Everyone's here. Elton's here. His girlfriend's here."

Aah, I see. Music is starting and Chase is beginning to pulls me away—"Come one, come on. Let's dance"—but I hesitate to leave Jen by herself.

"Find Taylor," I say, as I begin to let Chase pull me away.

"Taylor's with West," says Jen. Naturally.

"Find…Sophie." I can't believe I just said that. Neither can Jen. She wrinkles her nose.

"Find Natalie Banks." It's my last try. Another bad try. But then Chase pulls me into the crowd. I can't stop watching Jen, though. I can't stop watching her all by herself there and feeling terribly guilty.

Then the worst thing in the world happens.

I'm still dancing, still watching, and I see Elton and Amy making their way to where Jen is. She sees them too and her eyes widen. But it's too late—nothing she can do, no where she can go. And here's what this Amy bitch does. She bumps into Jen just right so that her drink spills all over herself. Then the Amy bitch says, "Oh I'm sorry. I didn't notice you there," and she keeps moving. Elton looks possibly a little sympathetic, but he keeps moving too. They leave her standing there, alone and wet now with a small group of people laughing at her.

I want to cry. I want to do something. But Chase is moving me farther away from the scene. What can I do? What can I do?

Then the greatest thing happens. This guy dressed in black steps out of the crowd, walks over to Jen. He says something to her and she smiles. I love this guy. This here is a great guy. Then he turns around to lead her to the dance floor, and when I see who it is, I love him more.

Christian.

I want to cry again. I want to run across the room and kiss him. Instead, I throw myself into the dance. Chase notices the change in my attitude and he says, "What did I do to deserve this?"

"Nothing!" I laugh, which is the truth, throwing my arms around his neck in my elation. Christian is here. Christian is dancing with Jen. Christian who hates dancing. He's doing that for my friend. He's doing it for me. He's here.

We dance touching. We dance apart. We dance until I can't dance any longer, and then we stop and mutually drift in opposite directions.

Later, my euphoria has worn off and I'm the one standing by myself against the wall, though for me this is by choice. I haven't seen Christian since he was dancing with Jen and I'm afraid he might have taken off already without saying a word to me. I've got my own plastic cup now, which I am sipping thoughtfully as I survey the room.

Suddenly there is a parting in the mass of people and across the room I see my man in black leaning against the opposite wall. Christian. He raises his cup to me, in a mock toast across the room. His face is expressionless. I don't know what to do.

It doesn't matter, because the crowd moves again and I can't see him anymore. I start to panic. Because I was so close. And what if he disappears again? What if he doesn't really want to talk to me? What if—

The crowd shuffles again. Christina is still there. He breaks into a grin when he sees my panicked expression. I relax into a smile as well, mine a little sheepish. He looks away from me for a moment, then back again, nodding meaningfully toward where he was just looking—the door. I smile more fully and nod my agreement. Then I turn and he turns and we both start in that direction. I pass my cup off to some beyond-drunk girl on my way.

We meet in the doorway. He puts a hand on the small of my back, guiding me past the groups of people hanging around the door. Once we're past them, he slings the arm around my shoulder. It's very comfortable. Very good.

"I'm not Zorro, you know," is the first thing he says to me. "Everyone thinks I'm Zorro, but I'm not."

I smile slightly, looking up at him. "Oh yeah? Who are you?"

"Becka!" he gasps with mock horror. "Of all people you should know! Come on—The Man in Black. The Princess Bride. I'm Wesley, girl!"

Now I laugh. "I love it," I say.

"And you," he continues, looking meaningfully down at my bare-bellow-the-knees legs, and raising an eyebrow, "are Sexy Lea."

Another smile. "That's what Chase said," I say.

"Damn," says Christian, "here I thought I was original."

"Oh, trust me," I laugh, rolling my eyes. "You are."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

We've been ambling towards the brick half way that lines the driveway here. When we reach it, I slip from under his arm and sit down, not on the wall but on the driveway, leaning against it. Christian sits down beside me. That was a weird start. Weird as in, we just went back to normal without talking about anything regarding why we have not been normal. We're both quite for a while. Then I start.

"Christian?"

"Hmmm?" he murmurs. His eyes are closed.

"Let's never not talk for a whole month again, 'k?"

Christian smiles and opens his eyes to look down at me. "You started it," he says. Then: "I can probably fit you in next Tuesday."

I wince at that. Deserved it, though. I lean forward and pull my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around them. "I am so sorry," I say miserably.

"It's okay," Christian says, looping an arm around my waist and pulling me closer to him. "It doesn't matter."

I sigh and lean back again. Christian was right about one thing. "You were right about one thing," I admit.

"Oh yeah?" Christian begins a slight smile. "What, exactly?"

"When you said that you deserve better than this." I look at him. The smile fades.

"I didn't mean that," he says. He wants to let me off the hook.

"Yes, you did."

"It wasn't true."

"Yes, it was."

He doesn't reply right away. He just sits there staring off across the empty lawn. Then he looks back at me. "Well, I don't care. You can't argue with that," he says with finality. He is going to let me off the hook. Whether I like it or not.

I think I like it.

"I can't argue with that," I agree.

Then Taylor bursts onto the scene. "Becka!" she says. She's been looking for me. "There you are. I haven't seen you all night, girl." Then she notices that the guy I'm sitting next to is, in fact, not Chase Everhart. "Christian," she says, obviously surprised.

"Good to see you too, Taylor," Christian grins.

"No," Taylor says. "I mean good. Good, you two are friends again. Finally." She rolls her eyes. "Anyway, she turns back to me. "They're closing up shop in there, so you'd best get in there and dance the last dance at least."

"I'm coming," I say.

Taylor narrows her eyes like she doesn't believe me. Then she says, "You'd better be coming," turns on her heals, and skips back inside.

I push myself off of the ground and start brushing off my dress.

"Who are you going to dance with?" Christian asks from behind me. It's a strange question coming from him. I was going to dance with Chase, but now that he's asked I've got a better idea.

I turn to face him, placing my hands on my hips. "Christian Lewis. I'm surprised you've got the nerve to even ask me that question. After all these years of making excuses, Mr. Sorry-but-I-don't-dance, it turns out you've been lying to me all along."

"I take it, you saw that with Jen," he says, smiling sheepishly.

"I'd say you owe me a dance," I reply.

Christian makes a being deal about acting like this is such a pain in the ass, but he's ginning. "Come on, cowboy," I say, reaching my arms down and pulling him up. He grumbles all the way to the dance floor, but he so obviously doesn't mind at all having to dance with me. It's a fast song. For all his complaining, Christian is surprisingly good at this dancing thing. It's a great dance. When the music switches to something slow, I turn to leave. "I guess we're even now," I say. But he catches my arm before I walk away.

"Hey," he says quietly as I face him again, pulling me back towards him. "I probably owe you more dance than one." And he pulls me into his arms. Suddenly I'm having trouble breathing.

"Okay," I whisper, because it's all I can get out. I'm feeling a little dizzy, and I don't think that's due to an impending migraine. I lay my head on Christian shoulder, and as soon as I do something very strange happens. My brain stops working. Like just stops. And there's this feeling in my gut like the feeling you get when you're on a roller coaster about to go down that first big hill.

I try to think about Chemistry or Creative Writing or When Harry Met Sally or The OC or Chase or anything, but I've apparently lost my ability to think. So I try and concentrate on the song that's playing. Which is easier, but very unhelpful:

There's a different feel about you tonight. It's got me thinking lots of crazy things.

Oh God. What is going on? What is wrong with me?

Everybody swears we make the perfect pair, but dancing is as far as it goes.

I close my eyes very tight and will this—whatever it is, this feeling—to go away. It will pass. It will go away.

You've never moved me quite the way you've moved me tonight.

Becka! Get a grip. You are so not in love with Christian Lewis. God, no. That's impossible. Disgusting, really. No. He's you're best friend. That's all. Just stop. Oh please, please, please let this song end.

It does. Finally. But Christian holds me a minute longer. His lips brush my forehead. I look up at him, startled and a little panicked, and there is definitely something there. Something different. In his eyes.

But as soon as I see it, the moment is gone. Christian is grinning, saying something I'm probably supposed to be laughing at, making his way to the exit, dragging me along with him. He's cheerful, buoyant, himself. He's just himself.

I'm going crazy. I'm hallucinating.

"Now Becka," Christina is saying now, "You'd best go find Han Solo before the Millennium Falcon takes off without you."

Yep. Definitely hallucinating.

"Right," I say, very badly wanting for him to be gone.

"I'll be seeing you," he says, and then he disappears.

Hurray. I feel my senses slowly coming back to me. I breath deeply, in and out. I calm myself down.

Chase shows up. "What's wrong with you?" he asks noticing I'm still a little frazzled.

"Nothing," I say. I'm already much better. The feeling is gone, anyway. It was all in my head. I'll shake it off. Chalk it up to an overactive imagination. "Let's go," I say to Chase. Christian and me, that's ridiculous.

I must be watching too many movies.

Yes. That's it.