...
Don races all across town, speeding past dozens of honking cars, even running a few red lights.
I better not crash this car otherwise Dad's going to freak once he gets home after visiting Erica. . . he thinks to himself as he nearly drives into a curb. And this is probably illegal.
But he's got no time to lose. This'll all be worth it.
Don switches on his phone and plugs his earphones in so he can talk handsfree.
He dials the Ritz-Carlton's main phone line (he got the number from Aram who easily found it online within a matter of minutes and texted it to him) and waits for someone to pick up.
Finally, someone from the front desk does and starts to introduce themselves but Don cuts them off.
"Do you have a room reserved for anyone under the name of 'Keen'?" he asks, erratically changing lanes.
"I'm sorry sir, we can't disclose that type of information unless you tell us your-"
He doesn't let them finish and abruptly hangs up in annoyance, knowing that he won't get any helpful information from them.
And now all he can do is hope that Lizzie will be okay.
She's a smart girl, of course she will.
She figured about your bet, she can definitely figure this one out.
He tries to convince himself, but he still feels obligated to save her.
It always has been his obligation.
Then he has an idea.
Don makes a u-turn and drives back in the other direction, suddenly having an idea.
…
With a heavy sigh Lizzie takes the house keys out of her gigantic handbag and unlocks the door.
Tom Keen. She always trusted her instincts, and somehow she had a feeling the whole time that Tom was not to be trusted.
And it became crystal clear when he had driven her all the way into town and right into the parking lot of the Ritz-Carlton and told her they were there to have "a good night's sleep".
She's never going to get into a car with a seemingly nice eighteen-year-old boy again.
But Lizzie, being the intelligent girl she is, brought along a can of pepper spray just in case things got out of hand tonight, and now she was glad she did.
It took her a while to figure out what Tom Keen was planning on doing after he dragged her away from the prom, but when he was nearing the parking lot of the Ritz-Carlton with a sly grin on his face, it all clicked.
He was using her for sex, if nothing else.
Tom Keen is a perfect example of the reason why Lizzie doesn't just trust any boy; for fear of having that happening to you.
So then Lizzie thought fast and took the pepper spray out of her bag, then sprayed Tom directly in the face as he was opening the car door for her and ran off as fast as her heels would allow her to.
Fortunately the spot they had parked at was relatively far from the building so there was no one close enough to witness (or hear) Tom's reaction (which consisted of a lot of swearing), so Lizzie was able to help Tom back into his car seat safely and run off and call a taxi home.
(She doesn't think that the effects are permanent and is ninety-percent sure that it won't do permanent damage to the eyes).
"Dad, I'm home." she calls out, exasperated, and sees her dad reading the newspaper by the kitchen table.
"How was prom?" he asks, glancing up.
Lizzie sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. "It could have been better."
"Did you have a least a little fun?"
She smiles faintly, thinking of how Tom had danced with her and made her feel just a bit better. "Just a little."
He chuckles and gets up, patting her shoulder as he passes her. "Mr. Reddington called, he told me about how you didn't want to go to prom and all. What, or perhaps who changed your mind?"
Lizzie smiles faintly. "Thinking back on it, I don't really know.
It's true. She really doesn't have a clue.
"Well then maybe let me help." a familiar voice says.
Lizzie looks up, and sees Don Ressler walk into the front hall from the living room, dressed in his prom suit and corsage and all.
Her dad grins. "Mr. Reddington told me all about it, and then this young man arrived and tried to apologize and begged me to let him in because he needs to tell you something. . . I think I'll leave you two to it. You can talk in the backyard if you like."
He walks upstairs with a small smile on his face, leaving Don and Lizzie alone in the room.
"Lizzie," Don says, quick and cautiously so he doesn't mess up like he has before. "I heard from Aram that Tom was trying to get you to-"
"I know." Lizzie interrupts softly. "I found out kind of late, that's all."
"Oh." he closes his eyes, relieved. "That's good, because I was really worried, but I know that you're a smart girl and all. . ."
He trails off, not really sure what to say next, but fortunately Lizzie just smiles and leads him outside to the backyard.
Don looks around. It's a pretty nice backyard, complete with a full-out patio and chairs and lights, and even a pool.
"We've decorated the backyard the exact same way each summer since my mom died." she says, avoiding his gaze. "She's always liked this arrangement, the lights, the chairs, the pool. . ."
Don reaches out for her hand and holds it, and to his surprise, she doesn't pull away.
"You missed your prom. And you won." she says softly.
"I know, but I don't care." Don takes a deep breath, thinking about what to say next.
"You know, times have changed, but sexual harassment is still a big problem." he continues cautiously, turning to face her but not letting go of her hand.
"I know." She looks right at him. "So I prepared myself. I brought, um, I brought a can of pepper spray with me."
Don raises his eyebrows with a proud smile. "Really? And did you use it?"
"Yeah, but. . ." Lizzie bites her lip. "I don't think the damage to his eyes will be permanent. . . what do you think?"
Don laughs, and so does Lizzie.
Easy laughter, Don thinks. That's a step in the right direction.
No, he contradicts himself. I'm going to fix things right now. No more waiting around.
"Lizzie, when I did the bet, I didn't know you." he blurts out, clearly catching Lizzie off-guard. "I was stupid and selfish, I wanted people to respect me again and not see me as the dude who 'got screwed over by Audrey Bidwell', and I needed the money and the victory of the bet to prove it."
She lets go of his hand there, gently, and he's worried he's made the wrong move again, but he continues anyway.
"I was an asshole. I get it now. What I did you was horrible and you didn't deserve any of it, Lizzie. Nobody did." She looks up at him carefully.
"But then again, I'm sort of glad I made the bet with Pete. I mean, I would have never met you, and we would have never talked because I would continue to be a prick-"
She stops him right there, and kisses him.
A real, good, honest kiss and it feels amazing.
This time it's Don who is caught off-guard, but he deepens the kiss and holds her tight in his arms.
It's gentle, but it's sure; they're both sure that everything is forgiven.
When they finally pull away, it's Don who breaks the silence. "You know, I've been meaning to do that for quite a while now."
"Well so have I." she responds with a quirk of the eyebrow.
Lizzie smiles again, brushing her hair away from her face, and in that moment he has never been in love with someone more.
"So since we both missed our prom," Don begins, and he know this time that he won't mess it up. "and I missed my chance to dance with the only girl I really want, Lizzie Scott, will you dance with me?"
"Um, there's no music." she says uncertainly, suppressing a giggle. "But yes, Don Ressler, I will dance with you."
And so they do. They both enjoy it, because it's totally romantic in an unconventional way.
"You know, I was kind of liking the glasses better on you." he says flippantly, pretending to observe her face. "You looked hot with them on."
"Shut up. Was I?" She's blushing now.
"Yeah, I mean you're cute without them, but with them, damn-"
"Oh my gosh. Stop it, Don. I'm actually getting used to these contacts. This is just like when you said 'your eyes. . . are pretty'." She laughs at her impression of Don, and he thinks it is the cutest thing ever.
"Well what were you expecting from the quarterback of the football team? He's an idiot." He starts to realize that they were actually flirting, for the first time.
"I don't think you're an idiot. It was just so stupid and funny at the same time."
"Guess that's how things will be when you pair up the quarterback and the smartest girl in school."
"The quarterback and the dork. Nice." Lizzie laughs, shaking her head. "But what are you going to do with that bet?"
"Pete won fair and square, I'm going to have to give him the money he earned. Besides," he looks directly into her eyes. "it was definitely worth it."
Just at that moment the string of lights turn on, surrounding them in hues of gold and silver.
Lizzie snickers, and Don notices. "What is it?"
"Nothing. It's just that, this such a cliché. We're a cliché. The quarterback and the captain of the academic decathlon team. Like in the movies."
"Is that a bad thing?" he's careful to ask her.
"No." she bites her lip, thinking. "Definitely not." She glances back up at him. They're both smiling.
So then they just keep dancing.
She kisses him again, and it's the best feeling in the world.
Once they pull away, it starts to rain, not heavily, but slowly and steadily.
Like in all those romantic movies Erica made me watch, Don thinks to himself.
And it's totally not cheesy in real life. It's romantic.
"Alright." Lizzie says, looking up at the sky as they both get soaked although neither of them care. "this is most definitely a cliché."
Don just smiles.
"Cliché." Lizzie repeats with a half-smile, resting her head on his shoulder as the rain continues to drench them and ruin their prom outfits indefinitely, and Don nods, content.
Everything is perfect.
…
A/N: Okay, this was a whole lot of fluff, but I hope you liked it! Thanks again to everyone who has kept up with this story, I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Stay tuned for the final chapter; I plan to post it in a few days! Until then :)