Having a crush on a Russian heartthrob is not a bad thing in today's society. It is considered perfectly normal, actually, especially if the one doing the crushing is a sixteen-year-old girl.

It is normal for that girl to jump to his defence when someone attacks his character, it is normal for that girl to blush when asked if she likes him and reply a hurried denial, it is completely, gut wrenchingly normal for this girl to maybe find his email or write him an old fashioned letter stating how much she likes him.

All of that is normal, even the part where the world doesn't know about her crush and the guy supposedly doesn't have even a clue what her name is even thought she knows everything about him from when he was born to his favourite colour.

Utterly, completely normal and typical. Utterly me. Or at least what I'm supposed to be.

But that's not me.

And now that we get into the details, you'll be able to see where my story starts to veer away from the socially accepted 'normal' and into the 'what was she thinking?' part of life.

Firstly, I am not you're typical sixteen-year-old girl. I'm a female beyblader, one of only seven who have ever competed professionally in the history of the BBA and one of only four who still compete today. On top of that, my brother and I are the only tag-team still competing professionally in the sports world.

I'm also a member of a circus family, though I'm related to no one there other than my brother, and my temper has gotten me kicked out of more places than I can remember.

So no, I guess you could say I'm not your typical giggling, boyfriend-hunting, lipstick-wearing, cell phone-obsessed teenage female of the 21st century.

Actually, the only thing you could consider 'normal' about me would be the aforementioned crush on the aforementioned Russian heartthrob.

But, no, that's actually not right either. Though it does make sense, seeing as I'm such an odd girl, that my crush (and relationship with said crush) would be just as unique (read: scary, temperamental, weird) as I am.

Well, I think it does.

But anyway, I suppose I should introduce myself, hm?

All right then, I'm Julia Fernandez. Born and raised in Spain and the older twin of Raul Fernandez. I've grown up in the circus as part of a balancing clown act with my brother ever since I can remember and live to be on stage, unlike my brother.

I'm 5'6, with a good body and not scared to show it; tan skin, two-tone orange-brown hair left to grow down to my knees with messy bangs and green eyes. Not overly special but not hideous either.

I've lived most of my life being told what to do and then instructing other people below me what to do. I love being up front and centre and I never back down from a fight.

That is the 'me' everyone knows, loves, hates and expects. They don't know about the girl who snuck out a window a week and a half ago in Paris so she could meet up with her boyfriend, who she really shouldn't be seeing by the rest of the world's standards, just so they could get some time alone and avoid the press.

By the world's account I should have punched the guy, not kissed him, when I found him sitting on my open windowsill at two am but I guess I kind of missed (read: ignored) the memo on that one.

And who is the mysterious boyfriend who managed to whisk me away from my bed at such an unreasonable hour the night before a tournament?

It's my aforementioned Russian-heartthrob-crush, the same crush who, normally, wouldn't even know my name and live a billion miles away from me in California or some other warm and sandy place despite being a Russian heartthrob.

But remember, we are a rather unique pair.

Though, I guess you could be one of the most bland girls imaginable and still be considered a little strange (read: deranged) in the head when you're on the arm of one Tala Ivanov.

Yeah, you got it right.

Tala Ivanov:

The captain of the feared Russian Beyblade team the Blitzkrieg Boys, one of three people to nearly bring down the star of the BBA, Tyson Granger, best friend of the multi-billionaire and beyblader extraordinaire Kai Hiwatari and general badass.

Six foot tall, lean, strong build; porcelain pale skin, unruly red hair and icy blue eyes contrasted by high cheek bones and a wicked mouth that when not curled into a snarl or a smirk is spouting acidic comments volatile enough to leave anyone hurting for weeks.

Trained as a solider for a world war that never came to pass, deadly in more places than just the beyblade arena, unpredictable and risky as anything I've ever come across.

A true, untamed beast; just like his icy she-wolf bit-beast, Wolborg.

None of that explains why I love him but that's how the world sees him. That's the slot in the world carved out for him. A slot fit for a heartless teenage soldier with powerful friends. Nothing more, nothing less. Just like how my slot's carved out for their image of me.

…

Yeah, it's easy to see how that didn't work out for us.

It didn't work because those slots didn't have room for us to fit in them. And people should just accept that.

But they don't so they give people like me who like to make sure everything's running properly labels like "control freak" and "super bitch" and people like Tala who don't know how to deal with other people properly tags like "anti-social" and "stuck-up" and do they say it to our faces? Ha! They'd sooner jump off a cliff.

Sigh…

But, whatever. You're not here to listen to my life story are you? You just want to know about how Tala and I got together, right? Yeah, that sounds right to me.

Well, here it goes.

Now, you have to understand, my team has never had an issue with the Blitzkrieg Boys. Never. Not once, not ever. Not when Bryan sent Ray smashing out cold and not when they got Kai to join their team. It was never our fight so it was never our problem.

That changed when the whole BEGA thing rolled around because suddenly, it was our fight and suddenly, we, as in the entire BBA, including the Blitzkrieg Boys, were fighting on roughly the same side.

Boy, wasn't that a surreal moment?

I visited him once, you know, when he was in his coma. I don't know why. Maybe I just thought that if I visited him I'd get a clue about what I was supposed to do, seeing as he and his team were some of the first to act during the whole fiasco.

Nothing special happened, really. He was in a coma and it wasn't like he was just going to jump up and kiss me as soon as I entered the room or something after all, but still… I'd liked to think back then that maybe he'd heard me.

I hadn't said anything that momentous, I'd probably just said what everyone else had told him; you know the typical; "get well soon!" And "we need you" and everything else that you say to a sick person and by the end of my half an hour visit, I don't know, maybe I did feel a little better. A little more reassured that we really were battling for a reason.

But anyway, that was our first meeting. He was unconscious and I was a stuttering mess looking for something to give me strength for the training hell I would latter put myself through.

No roses, no romance, hell, not even any hate or friendship. Because like I said, we, F Dynasty that is, were completely neutral in all the drama that seemed to revolve around that team.

But notice that I said 'were' instead of 'are'? Past-tense, you note, not present-tense? Yeah, that's because we, or maybe just me, can no longer be considered a neutral party in all the madness that is the Blitzkrieg Boys.

And how did this happen when you are forced to assume that, at this point, I'd only met Tala that one time while he was still in a coma?

Well, that would be because a few months latter after the fall of BEGA something straight out of some fairytale storybook happened.

I became a damsel in distress.

Or, more accurately, my brother did.

Now, before I begin my tale, I'd like to clear up a rather common misconception about my relationship with Raul. I do love my brother. Yes, I boss him around but only because that's the only way things get done and yes, I do push him during training but only so he can fight and perform better.

Raul is not a strong person. Not will wise and most certainly not physically, his talents do not lie in fighting and performing or standing up to people. They do lie in creating and making beautiful things that leave most people gasping in amazement. His skills lie in the more delicate, patience-taking things. Things that drive me crazy but are necessary to our life style.

It's Raul that sews and mends our costumes and it's Raul that repairs and adjusts our blades. I book flights and hotels and transport, I plan our attacks and our routines and set aside time for training and make sure he trains. We both make sure that our "trainer", Romero, Gods bless him, gets his lazy ass on the plane.

We are a team and we do everything as a team, that's why all BBA acquired flights make sure that wherever we're seated we're seated together.

Except for this one.

We were just coming back from a teeny tiny little charity tournament in Moscow, Russia. It had been all local teams that were seriously competing so Raul and me had just battled the only other professional team there: the Blitzkrieg Boys.

And would you believe me if I said it was all by chance that either of us teams had been there? That's why none of this made it onto any of the sports networks or gossip rags, because it wasn't supposed to have happened.

Raul and I had only been there because the circus was doing a series of shows with another, larger performance company we'd had ties to once upon a time and we'd been invited when the organizers of the tournament heard we were in town.

The Ringmaster hadn't cared whether we accepted or not because we weren't going to be traveling back to Spain with the circus. The next World Championships after the BEGA Incident (isn't it clever what politicians come up with as names for their screw ups?) was starting up a week after this little tournament so it wouldn't have made sense to head all the way back to Spain when we could just cool our heels in Russia and then head over to Japan for the start.

The Blitzkrieg Boys had only shown up because the apartment they were staying at currently (they travel too much for me to really call it theirs) was just a few blocks away from where the tournament was being held and they were; and I quote, "bored as hell and out of chocolate."

…

Don't even ask me. If there's one thing you'll learn while reading this story it's that the Blitz-Boys have their own special kind of crazy that no one has been able to figure out yet. I mean hell, even I'm still thrown for a loop every now and then and I'm dating one of them!

But anyway, back to the story…

We were just getting ready to board the plane to go to Japan, I remember, when one of the little attendant people came up to us and said there had been a miscalculation on the fight seating and that they had booked a few to many people for the flight.

As in six too many.

And do you want to bet who five out of those six were?

…

Yeah, you guessed it: the Blitzkrieg Boys. Kai and Ian recently re-included once again.

The poor little stewardess was practically quivering in fear when she told us.

Anyway, moving on once again.

As it turned out, because I booked a ticket for myself before I booked Raul's and Kai booked the Blitz-Boys just seconds after I booked our tickets it was only me who could get on the plane.

This worked out fine in my mind. I would go over to Japan, sign us in for the tournament thing at the BBA, and then catch a flight back to Russia and pick up Raul, who the Blitzkrieg Boys had offered to let stay at their place until I got back. It would only take one call to Mr. D so he'd know I was going to be signing the Blitz Boys in as well and we'd be golden.

Romero, our trainer, wasn't even with us seeing as he was going to Japan on a connection flight through Spain so he could spend some time with his family before the World Championships started.

So, of course, I'd assumed, my plan would work out, well, perfectly.

How dumb of me. Assuming that my brother could handle what I assumed to be one night with the Blitz-Boys. What an idiot.

As it turned out my brother must have been spending too much time with the White Tigers because he, point blank, refused. I don't know if he was scared or just being dumb but he would not stay over at their place for one night. Talk about irrational! I was so pissed but whatever. I guess it turned out to be his loss.

And that my friends, is how I wound up spending a week at the Blitzkrieg Boys' place. A place that turned out to be a luxurious penthouse apartment they'd been renting while Kai's (once-upon-a-time Voltaire's before the cops finally got him) mansion (yes, I did say mansion) on the out skirts of St. Petersburg was re-done in a less evil-psycho-esque style.

This apartment, with more rooms than an apartment had any right to and a bigger TV than I'd ever imagined outside of a movie theatre, is where I, Julia Fernandez, the completely unexpected 21st century girl, got even more messed up.

During the week I spent there (thank-you unexpected snowstorms!) I got falling-down-drunk for the first time in my life, learned how to rig a shower to spray a multitude of different hair dyes, picked my first lock, cooked something more complicated than scrambled eggs and played the wondrous, alcohol-requiring game that is 21.

Oh, and I kissed Tala Ivanov.

And God, did he kiss me right back.

Yup, on my last night there (the blizzard that had kept all the planes grounded would lift latter that night), on the balcony of the apartment at around midnight during a light snow I kissed the guy who I previously thought hated me/didn't care to know me.

I don't remember why (it was during one of those previously mentioned games of 21) but I think it might have been on a dare. Yeah, that makes sense; it would explain all the wolf whistling and the snapped photos that happened once we left the balcony (Tala's hand in my jeans's back pocket and mine in his), at least.

It doesn't really matter whatever stared it though, because whatever did start it, started something beautiful, bat-shit-on-acid crazy, but beautiful.

In our opinion at least.

Ever since then we've been inseparable. Or at least as inseparable as two secretly dating teens can be when they're supposed to be completely uncaring about each other.

Or maybe, just maybe, the whole 'secretly-dating' part of our relationship didn't work out so well for us either.

I mean, it's not like we tried to get our relationship out there. Fuck, that was the absolute last thing we wanted! Do you know how many times some "reliable source" (read: paid off creeper with a PhD) has proclaimed it 'unhealthy'? I mean seriously, I get the curiosity. Neither Tala or I, as I've mentioned forty frickin times before, are what you call your average Joe and Jane, we couldn't have been with the lives we've lead, but does that give every person on the planet the right to know every single detail of our lives?

No. No it doesn't.

And then the garbage about it being 'unhealthy' and 'dangerous,' what a load of shit.

I mean, it's not perfect of course. Tala and I both have wicked tempers and neither of us handle stress very well. I can't tell you how many times I've gone home crying just to beat the shit out of my punching bag and I've come over to his place after a fight to find his hands bandaged and the walls dotted with fist-sized holes but… I know we'd never hurt each other.

And besides, why should we listen to them? It's not like the world's ever given a fuck what happened to us before, what should they now?

It's not like we listened anyway, we're happy together and no one's getting hurt. If they don't like it they can suck it.

Our weapons, when we mange to piss each other off, are words, mostly. Vicious, biting words. I only remember getting physical once and it was me who hit him.

I slapped him across the face just once, when he really got me ticked about something I can't even remember now. I felt like hell after. I missed him. I wound up coming back to his place crying like a child and apologizing. We spent the rest of the night watching old Romero zombie flicks and eating junk food.

That's what a lot of our dates are like. Horror flicks and a multitude of bad-for-us snacks. Not a dream date to most people but when you look at our lives (a traveling circus star/ star blader and a solider/star blader) and consider the hounding we get from the media and society when we go out in public it becomes simple to see how things that would be dull to normal people become cool and romantic to us.

But anyway, I'm getting ahead of myself here.

Before I started my rant on modern day media and society I was planning on telling you how exactly the beyblade community and world in general found out about our relationship.

Would you believe it if I told you that our cover got blown because of one trashy, arrogant American and my short temper?

Well, you might want to, seeing as that's how it happened.

I'm sure you all remember Michael Parker, a snappish little idiot who enjoys picking on his opponents, chasing other guy's girls (whether they're openly dating or not is beside the point) or just anything in a skirt and generally acting like a douche and making a bad name for the American people.

Anyway, Michael was being his usual horrid self and trashing all the other teams – on live TV – starting with the White Tigers ("Just a bunch of Chinese Hillbillies really, we'll get them easy") to the Bladebreakers (who once again go by that name after the BEGA Incident) to, finally, the Blitzkrieg Boys.

Or more specifically, my Tala.

Now, over the many years I've spent as an entertainer and, more recently, as a professional blader (which I find to be way more dirty and competitive than anything else out there sans maybe full blown wars) I've become pretty good at blocking out harsh criticisms and idiotic remarks. You have to be to be a blader, seeing as trash talk is really as much of a sport as the actual game.

But, I dare you to turn a blind ear when some snobby, egotistical, ignorant bastard starts verbally attacking your boyfriend, who has gone through more than enough shit already, in front of fifty-million-odd national television viewers.

Now add in my temper.

Yeah, that's what I though.

It was like when Bryan punched Lee in the face when he started trashing Mariah during their little coming out thing, it's an instinctive reaction to cause him physical pain when he started ripping into Tala.

And thus, because unlike Bryan I do not have size and training on my side, I kicked Michael in the nuts.

On live, national television.

It was quiet possibly the most awkward, fuck'um relationship revelation in the last decade. Probably would have gotten most dramatic too if not for Mariah and Bryan's the week or so before.

Anyway.

It's been a while since then, nine months to be exact, and I just recently turned seventeen. Quite a bit's happened in those nine months and hell, probably longer than that when you count everything from Bryan and Mariah coming out in all their dramatics to me becoming a trapeze artist in the circus, something that I've always wanted, to Raul dropping out of the circus in exchange for collage.

I'm happy for him, honestly. He's going to a special one the focuses in art and design, and luckily it pretty flexible so he can still beyblade when he chooses.

And it's not like everything's changed, either. For one thing beyblade's still as hot as ever, and the world's still as dense as it's always been, still patting its self on the back for finding out about Bry and Riah and me and Tals I think, feh, and little do they know there still missed at least three more couples...

I snicker a little but keep applying my eye shadow. It still makes me laugh how stuck up those gossip reporters look on TV, ha! They don't even know the half of it.

But, whatever. I guess I should explain to you where I am now, shouldn't I?

Yeah, I guess I should.

Currently everyone's staying in Toronto, why? Because Mr. Dickinson has decided that this is going to be the next place for the World Championships and is giving the teams time to get used to the city before we have to start blading.

I think it's a fabulous idea personally, if only because it gives Tala and I ample opportunity to sneak away for a date, such as we are doing tonight.

And yes, it is an actual, "real" date. No monster movies or junk food here. Apparently Tala's got something special planed and has called in a favour or two in order to keep the press away, or at least that's what he said.

I can't imagine what he's got planned. Seeing as we're in Toronto, which is known to be rather chilled at the best of times this time of year, and his text read to, and I quote: "Dress in your winter best."

Sigh. Here's another thing I've learned being the girlfriend of Tala Ivanov: he loves riddles. I don't know if it has something to do with the computer hardware Boris had put in his brain when he was a kids (fucking Abbey - those scumballs better be fucking grateful their locked up otherwise they just might have had a run in with more than a few fists…) or if he's just weird like that, but if he ever has a surprise planned, you can bet your ass he'll give you a brain twisting hint or five.

Blowing out a sigh I catalogued myself in the mirror.

My hair is as long and duo-coloured as ever, with my bangs falling in my eyes and the rest falling down to my knees, but this time I've braided two pieces back as a way to keep some of it out of my face.

My make up is all bronzes and light pink lip gloss, which, as far as I can tell, looks good with the snug fitting, light blue long-sleeved turtle neck sweater I'm wearing over a little black camisole.

Tight, classic blue jeans with little rhinestone designs on the back pockets and cute brown leather ankle boots go with the sweater and a simple black pea coat with pleats at the back and my white leather purse cover the accessories portion of my outfit and a necklace given to me by Tala for my birthday not to long ago hangs around my neck.

All and all, I figure this is about as girly as I'm ever going to get outside of the circus, where all I ever wear during the shows is bright, sparkly and tight fitting.

Smiling a little into the mirror I sucked in a breath before slipping on my coat, grabbing my bag and heading out of my hotel room, the door closing behind me with a sharp click that signalled its locking.

Moving purposely through the hallways that lead to the elevator I hastily reached into my aforementioned bag and pulled out a pair of jewelled sunglasses and slipped them on before stepping into the cream-walled-and-tiled elevator and hitting the lobby button.

It was late out, around seven-ish, so I'd probably look a little strange wearing the sunglasses but other than my hair my eyes are my most recognizable feature, like with a lot of bladers in the professional ring, so it's become more of a habit than anything else to wear them when heading out into the public; if only to help preserve one's eyesight in the face of a multitude of photographers and paparazzi.

It's funny. Before I started dating Tala, Raul and me could walk around big cities like this with little to no one recognizing us, never mind the hordes of journalists we get stalking us, but now that our relationship's become public… it's like being constantly onstage at the circus but with no security personnel to keep them from invading the ring.

With a barely withheld sigh I left the lobby and walked out into the chilly Toronto night, already it was snowing a little and that made me smile. In the part of Spain Raul and I grew up in it didn't snow very often; maybe once or twice in all the time we lived there. It was a bit of a shock traveling to Russia where it was cold all the time and now here in Canada where, while it wasn't quite as cold, still wasn't what I'd exactly call warm.

Rounding the corner the corner I came to a stop when I heard a couple lines of music from a song I recognized as one of my favourites.

Know all about … About your reputation … And how it's bound to be a heartbreak situation … But I can't help it if I'm helpless…

It was a song sung by LeAnn Rimes, not someone I usually listened to, but I couldn't help but fall in love with it, it was practicaly the theme song for Tala and me.

Shouldn't wanna spend my time with you … That I should try to be strong … But baby you're the right kind of wrong … Yeah, baby you're the right kind of wrong …

Cocking my head to the side I took a curious look around the street, I'd only ever heard one LeAnn Rimes song on the raidio before, and it wasn't this one.

And only one person knew I liked this song.

I thought back to the rest of my boyfriend's string of cryptic answer texts. When I'd asked him where to meet him he'd just replied with: "you'll know it when you hear it." I'd assumed he'd just give me a signal the old fashined way, via a phone call/text message, but then again this was Tala…

Abbruptly the Rimes song ended and the first dregs of Simple Plan's Jet Lag drifted out over the nearly deserted street.

Shaking my head bemusdly I started heading in the direction of the music, my small smile flashing into a grin when I caught sight of Tala.

He was leaning back against the hood of a parked black Jeep Commander, a cocky grin on his face as the song blaring from the speakers switched to The Only Hope for Me is You by My Chemical Romace.

Grinning myself I ran up to him and tackle hugged him, smiling into the shoulder of his long-sleeved black zipup hoody.

"Hey, to you too, belleza." He whispered in my ear, making me shiver and smile even brighter. Belleza was his nickname for me, it meant beauty in Spanish. It was sweet, seeing as I'd always thought of us as similar to the story of Beauty and the Beast, like Bryan and Riah were the modern day Romeo and Julliet.

Actually, now that I think about it, I guess you could say all the Blitz Boys love stories could be realated to fairtales.

I snicker a little bit, I don't even want to know what Tala and the others would say if I brought that up.

"What are you grining about?" Tala asks, his face twsited in wary amsument, the song playing now is Iris, a Goo Goo Dolls song we danced together to at a Hiwatari Corp. function Kai dragged everyone to so he would, and I once again quoet; "kill everyone dumb enough to come neer me with a spoon."

I assure you, it was a perfectly charming bussiness party.

I grin back at him unabashedly, "nothing", a say in a completely sing-sing voice the obviously does nothing to put him at ease.

"Just wondering what this mystery date is all about," which is true, Mariah isn't the only curios one out there, you know.

Now it was his turn to smirk. "I suppose I shouldn't keep you in suspense anymore," though the sparkle in his eye says he wants to, "hop in and we drive there," he finishes, and I would say grinning like a Cheshire cat, but his smile's too wolfish for that.

Shaking my head I pop open the door (I'm no china doll, I can do it myself) and buckle myself in. He turns down the music (now on Don't Wake Me Up by The Hush Sound) so we don't blow out our ear drums and the next thing I know we're whizzing down the street on our way to who knows where.

An ice rink. My boyfriend of nine, wonderful months has taken me to a rented-out ice rink so we can skate together without being stalked by creepers with cameras. The lights are dimmed and there are even fairy lights sprinkled about to make it just that much more romantic.

I can hear music (our music) playing softly from hidden speakers somewhere I can't see.

It so romantic I want to cry.

Or maybe that's just because, while I am a trapeze star in the circus, and a top-notch beyblader, I have never, ever skated.

Ever.

"Tala." I hiss-whisper.

He keeps grinning his annoyingly cute grin; "yes?" he replies.

"If I die-" he snorts "or break something important during this," I level him with an ineffective glare, "I blame you."

He just shakes his head and pulls me up from the bench I've been sitting on while tying up these infernal skates and wraps one of his long, strong arms around my waist from behind.

"Like I'd ever let you fall." His warm breath by my ear makes me relax against my will. Broken by Seether and Amy Lee echoes like a ghost off the walls as we slowly make our way onto the ice, Tala never once letting go of me.

"Okay," he says, once we're out in the middle of the ice with me using his arms like braces. "Just use me as your guard and try to keep your weight beneath you. You're probably going to fall at least once but I'll do my best to keep you from hitting the ice." He gives me a quick, boyish grin, "I promise."

I smile back and then, we're off. Moving ever so slowly across the ice with me likely cutting off the circulation in Tala's black hoody covered arms as I do my best to stay up right.

We keep going like that for, I don't know, maybe thirty of forty minutes? Tala continuing to whisper encouragements in my ear the entire time until, eventually, I manage to find my ice-legs.

It shouldn't be too much of a surprise, really. Part of my routine at the circus is walking across a short strip of wire to get to my first platform, and I've always had great balance. It just takes a bit of time for me to get used to the slipperiness of the ice and then I can move around with just Tala's hand for support.

But of course, my fast learning is absolutely nothing compared to the little tick show he put on for me while I took a break for some hot chocolate.

The rational part of my mind tells me that it's just the sum of years of practice and dedication and maybe some help from having such close ties with his ice-element bit-beast, but another part of me I haven't seen in a long time insists it's something different.

Something magical.

The way he moves… dipping and spinning and jumping and balancing… it seems strangely fantasy-like. And in those odd moments when he glides close enough for me to catch his face… it's like someone lit candles behind his eyes, making them flicker and sparkle.

Boy, do I sound like a chick or what?

"Hey, Belleza!" I snapped my head to the front and out of my daydream for my green gaze to collide with Tala's blue one.

"Come back in here, there's something I want to give you." He says, with the same smile on his face that he's had on since he's picked me up tonight.

"Coming" I reply back, hauling myself up off the bench and carefully making my way along.

Hey, just because I'm decent on the ice doesn't mean I'm good at this yet.

He snickers a bit and easily, carelessly, glides over to the edge of the rink to meet and wrapping his arms around me once he does.

The lines of the LeAnn Rimes song start playing again. We've been here, spinning and skating, for so long that we've had time for around twenty songs to go by.

And I haven't regretted a minute of it.

I giggle a little. "Looks like we're out of time." I say, arching up to kiss him quickly as well as use him for balance.

He laughs breathily, "Yeah, I guess," he says and kisses me back, but this time not quick like mine. It's long a hot on my lips and my fingers find themselves tangled in his spiky read hair before I even realize what I'm doing.

"I love you." The words are such a quick rush they catch me by surprise.

"I always have," Tala continues, there's a red blush that matches his hair on his cheeks. "That's why I've always been so… frosty to you, I- I just didn't want to get you messed up in my life, but…" He looks down and starts chewing the hell out of his lip and I almost kiss him just to make him stop doing that and because I really, really love his lips and it would really, really suck if he hurt them over something so stupid as worrying about me loving him.

Because obviously I already do.

"And, anyway, I was wondering if when we're older… would you be mine?" All form of his composer is shatter now and that's left is my Tala. My sweet, romantic, scary idiot whom I love.

"Belleza?" He asked, his voice so nervous I thought he'd go to pieces right in front of me. In his hand left was a silver engagement ring in a small blue velvet ring box.

I grinned up at him, grabbed the front of his hoody and pulled him into a searing kiss, trying to convey my answer to him via my lips.

I felt him scramble to keep from dropping the box in his shock but eventually he got his act together again and kissed me back, his arms once again where they should be, around my waist.

"So can I take that as a yes?" He asked, breathing hard and resting his forehead against mind.

I smile and nodded, "Yeah, yeah, you can."

He beamed, "Great."

And with that he took my hand in his pale one and gently slipped the band onto my finger. It was a simple, elegant white gold ring that fit my finger like a glove. The diamond, a rather nice one that fit my taste perfectly, was set in the centre of the twisted band and three tiny blue diamonds were laid on either end of the twist.

And, on the inside, was a small, cursive inscription that simply read:

Beauty and Beast – Together Forever.

I felt tears brimming as I hugged him, my feet killing me in these bloody skates listening to songs that I'd only started loving because they reminded me of my Tala.

Together forever. Yeah, that would be us.

Because we all know Beauty is nothing without her Beast.

It's done! Finally, this chapter has taken forever to finish. So sorry about the wait and also to those of you who tried to guess the themes I'm going to be using only to be wrong! (Cough - kaihil lover – cough) I didn't even know what I was going to be doing until I started writing and then I changed it half way through and, well, you get it.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed, Thanks for Reviews Goes To: Ms. Controversy, kaihil lover, cOOlzanimeaDDict, MyEvilHead and Zulka!

Thank-you so much! I could never do this without your Reviews! Please keep it up!

Sincerely,

BlackRoseGirl666