"Has he asked you yet?"

"Asked what." She said.

Bash quirked his brows as he pulled up to the stop sign.

"Sort of." She sighed. "We're going."

"Ah." He nodded to nowhere. "All his campaigning has his priorities in a twist."

Now Mary frowned.

"Right, right," Bash said, rolling on the gas. Normally, he might have broken the speed limit. But not today. "It will look good on his transcripts."

"You're impossible."

"You're unfair to yourself."

She was about to defend herself, until his truck sputtered and stalled. He sighed from deep in his chest, as a cloud of greyish smoke steamed from under the hood. Flicking on his flashers he pulled to the right side of the road, willing the tortured vehicle up into the nearest parking lot. He rested his head against his steering wheel. "Third time this month." He muttered, a frustrated lurch from his seat to check under the hood.

Mary watched him, biting her lip. He frowned at the engine for a solid three minutes, before ripping the door open and slamming it shut again.

"There's a leak."

She nodded. "Is it- bad?"

"It'll take more than duct tape." He sighed. "I need to get her towed."

She nodded again, glancing away from him, behind her. Where a line of shops glistened in the near-sunset light.

"Well then- it sounds like we have time to kill."

He frowned, ready to protest- but then he decided that they could be friends; should be friends. And he followed her.

By now, he could not help his chuckling.

She'd progressively tried on ridiculous dresses: a cupcake-shaped yellow one, an head-to-toe sequined gown, a neon green dress with a tattered ruffled bottom. And now this: a strapless ballgown with the fluffiest tulle bottom since the invention of clouds, composed of light fuchsia, teal, and yellow (what he could only call "fancy tie-dye").

"How do I look?" She said. She stood in front of a trio of mirrors with a flourish, striking a flamboyant pose.

"I think its my favorite." He straightened his face.

"Oh good," she said, contorting her face in the mirror. "Because you're about to dance with it." She turned, held out her hand, dragging him from his plush maroon waiting chair. "May I have this dance?"

"I suppose," he rolled his eyes before smiling at her, as they spun down the long hall of clean white dressing room.

He twirled her and dipped her and ran her across the room- until they toppled into one of the dressing room walls.

There it was: the unexplainable glow that drew him to her in the first place.

She beamed up at him, because he was good at this. He smiled down at her, because he couldn't help himself.

But then she bit her lip, because this should have been with Francis. And it ached, just slightly, because she knew that it was highly doubtful that it would have happened like this with Francis at all.

"Right," she said, standing herself up straight. He cleared his throat. From the far side of the dressing room, a young sales associate with curled red hair and a pound of makeup breathed through her nose. "We should-"

"Right." He side stepped her- a little sad that he was so happy to be doing this with her. And a little more sad when he realized Kenna probably would have seriously considered that last dress.

"The look on her face." Mary shook her head, chuckling.

He had offered to walk her home- it was the least he could do. It was getting dark out now, with the sun hidden behind the rest of the world, with the soft residual light making everything look the way it does in dreams.

The ambled, slower as they got closer to her house. When their laughter died out, it was silent. Until she stopped under a street light- like a little circle of reality carved out in the dream light.

"I've missed you, Bash."

His hands tucked in his pockets. Now that it came to it, he really wasn't sure what to say. They were the right words, said with the wrong timing, the wrong meaning.

"We could have stayed friends." She shrugged.

It was only one kiss. One kiss in a supposedly deserted hallway, after she'd heard rumors about Francis cheating on her. From the first day she'd transferred back from Our Lady of Charity, she'd shared a special sort of friendship with Bash- a friendship that just seemed set apart from her other ships. And when he was there, at that time, and he was so... Bash. But then Francis brought her flowers and cupcakes in front of the entire quad at lunch before she even had a chance to straighten anything out. And somehow everything had changed faster than she could manage it.

"Yes!" He smiled sarcastically, angry from no where. "I'm sure Francis would have rolled out the welcome mat and the three of us could have been a little tricycle, riding off into the most awkward happily ever after the world has ever known." His eyes narrowed. "You know how he is."

"I know." She sighed. She glanced up the grey paved walkway that led up to her front door. "I know."

He breathed, shoulders dropping a little. "It's alright, Mary- I'm not upset over it."

She nodded, thanked him for taking her out, for taking her home. He watched her cross through the grass, like she missed the walkway on purpose.

But that wasn't true at all.

a/n: apologies for the absence. this chapter is really rough because i wasn't sure how to write it:/ but please, review anyway.