The Christmas Holidays... Gemma and Felicity are shopping... I don't know how they get to go around London unchaperoned, but they just do... okay? okay... now read! yay!

"Not tonight," Gemma mutters, her eyes fixed on the green silk she's wearing to the Hathaway's masquerade next week.

"We haven't been in forever!" I hiss back, pretending to check the price on a garish pink taffeta I'd never wear. "Miss Bradshaw is leaving us soon for those awful cousins. Poor darling Ann! She'll never have any fun again!"

"Maybe tomorrow," Gemma sighs, still not looking at me. "I just, I want to wait until we're back at Spence again. I don't want to ruin -"

We see him at the same time: Simon. She stops mid-sentence. I freeze for a second, then drift casually behind her to examine a pair of elbow-length gloves of delicate white lace.

"Ah, the lovely Miss Doyle!" exclaims Simon cheerily as he walks through the door of the shop. He bows over her hand and kisses it. Gemma's cheeks turn a faint shade of pink that clash spectacularly with her red hair. As he looks up from her hand, our eyes meet. He opens his mouth in surprise and then closes it, silently.

I step around the rack, still staring straight into his very blue eyes. "Good afternoon, Mr. Middleton," I say carefully. "Miss Doyle and I are picking up our dresses for the Hathaway's masquerade next week." I sound too polite to my own ears.

"Miss Worthington," he nods. He looks faintly ill.

I raise my eyebrows at him over Gemma's head. He closes his eyes for a moment and when he opens them, he's looking at Gemma. I move the stand next to her, but Simon is still determinedly not looking at me. "Miss Doyle," he says. "When are you returning to school?"

"January," she says, smiling. Her voice turns hard as she says, "And then, the wedding in June."

"Ah, yes, that happy day," says Simon, almost as though he'd completely forgotten.

"The happiest," I agree. Gemma looks at me curiously, as though something in my tone has confused her. Simon carefully avoids my eyes, fixing his instead on something just past us. I stubbornly stare directly at him.

Suddenly, Simon sweeps past us, and his hand brushes against mine. His "Pardon me, Miss," is barely audible and perfectly polite. He picks up the same pair of gloves I was looking at earlier. "These are lovely." He drops them as quickly. Gemma looks away modestly, or bored

Then, Simon is coming back, and his hand is on my waist for the shortest of moments. My sharp intake of breath is too audible, but Gemma is distracted by the entrance of the dressmaker from a back room.

"Miss Doyle?" the woman says, offering her arm to Gemma. "Your dress is ready for fitting."

"Good afternoon, Mr. Middleton," Gemma murmurs politely, curtsying with grace, charm, and beauty before disappearing with the dressmaker.

Simon and I are suddenly quite alone. I go back to examining those gloves, which is quite ridiculous as I've just been sent a rather similar pair from Paris.

"Miss Worthington," Simon breathes in my ear. I turn in surprise and find myself staring once more into his eyes. "Those gloves would become you," he offers. "You look lovely in white." He chuckles, his hand on the small of my back. "You look... very innocent."

"Simon!" I chastise, stepping away from him. He smiles mischievously, and closes the gap between us, wrapping both arms around me.

"Not here!" I whisper, but he pulls me to him quite roughly. My face is crushed against his chest before he pulls away enough to find my mouth with his. I haven't been this close to him in a month, and at first I kiss him back eagerly, forgetting where we are. Somehow, he's found a wall, and he pushes me up against it. The instant my bare shoulder touches the cool, smooth wallpaper, I awake from his spell.

I duck from his grasp and push him off me. "Mr. Middleton! Your conduct has been most... improper!" I gasp. I set to fixing my hair, pretending to be affronted.

"Good day to you too, Miss Worthington." He bows gallantly, looking barely disheveled. As he leaves the shop, he swipes the white gloves with a wink at me. He walks halfway out the door, then calls over his shoulder. "Are we still talking at the Hathaway's ball?"

I answer, "Yes." I can't help it.

ohhhh, i love simon and fee together... review?