Warren and I walked back into the auditorium together. My cast was only a minor incumbrance, a weight on my leg I was growing used to. The pain was dull and only achy when I stood on it for too long at a time (fast healing was a really nice power to have, most times).

I paused a moment in the rear doorway to observe the cheerful scene – all my friends with happy expressions, full bellies, and growing excitement for the dance to come. My heart ached that I wouldn't be there to share the experience with them, and maybe wouldn't get to see them again after tonight. But I had resolved myself to this path a long time ago, and damned if I was going to lose my nerve now.

I felt gratitude swell in me, not just for the people around me who I called friends, but for one in particular. I glanced at Warren, just to find him already looking my way.

"Thanks for thinking of us," I said and reached out to squeeze his hand. Hand in mine, he didn't let it go. Electricity seemed to thrum up my arm and into my head.

"Stephen called me to say he was going to get you," Warren replied, warm eyes turning dark and troubled with some emotion I couldn't name. "It should've been me," He grumbled quietly.

I let out a laugh and before I could stop myself, reached up to tuck a strand of loose hair behind his ear.

"Don't sulk, Warren," I teased him, although I liked this side of him. It was protective and just a little bit jealous. "It was probably for the best. Poor Stephen really had his work cut out for him."

Warren's eyes bore into me with attentiveness so surprising, it almost made me flinch. His eyes seemed darker in this light, but his mouth was spread in a gentle smile. My gaze drifted over his face, and on impulse I reached up to kiss his cheek. Right on the dimple I loved so much.

He regards her warmly and she impulsively reaches up to kiss his cheek. Right on the dimple she loves so much.

"I'm glad you came," I said, our eyes never breaking from each other. The clamor echoing through the rafters was muffled in my ears, my attention on Warren – and all his attention on me. He still grasped my hand in his, firmly, as if I would slip away from him at any moment. He simply nodded back at me, cheeks pink. I looked away before my own cheeks had a chance to betray me, too.

The dance was starting soon. When the girls were finally ready to head out, they came to me to say their good-byes. Warren seemed displeased at having to let me go from his side. I corralled the girls into my arms, answering last minute questions and enjoying the feeling of being surrounded by friends. Smiling faces adorned with makeup and jewelry beamed back to me, and I almost felt like crying again.

And then they were leaving, walking as one very stylish, sophisticated, somewhat unbalanced-on-heels, group. My heart ached to see them go, but I tamped it down quickly and smiled and waved.

Stephen entered as they were leaving, and a squeal of delight rang through the group at the sight of him. He was wearing a plaid suit of purple and black, complete with black button up and bowtie. It was very endearing. I knew immediately he must have picked it out to match Lorelai (she would undoubtedly be wearing purple), and although it rang a little bit like a 1950's mobster, it fit him well. He blushed hard at the attention, but smiled shyly as they fussed over him and quickly made his way over to me.

He offered his arms out in a hug, and I took it.

"Wow, you look handsome!" I complimented him, holding him at an arm's length. He smiled excitedly.

"It's to match Lorelai!" Stephen beamed (I knew it, I thought), "Dark colors look good on me after all, I guess."

I nodded my agreement. We chatted briefly, and he showed me the corsage he had picked out for her. A purple orchid surrounded by curling black ribbons peeked out from the box in his hands. I let out a little gasp at the sight of it – it was truly beautiful.

"She's going to love it," I assured him, and we burst into conspiratorial giggles. Warren shifted awkwardly next to me to get a better look at the thing in the box. For some reason his expression seemed aloof and unimpressed. I ignored him to pay my attention to Stephen.

"I wish you were coming too," Stephen said quietly, looking up at me with sad eyes. I felt the same way. In fact, I felt a lot of things – regret that I wouldn't be there, anxiety about whether I would be expelled, anger at the injustice of it all – but I swallowed those feelings hard. I didn't want Stephen to know what I was feeling and carry it through the night with him. I wanted him to have fun with Lorelai, unburdened by the consequences I brought on myself.

I managed a smile that didn't look pained – good for me.

"It's okay," I waved it off. "But, seriously – thank you for coming to get me. And for talking to my parents like that."

Stephen grinned at me. "Of course, Nora. But I don't think I could do it again, so for the love of God, don't get into any more trouble!" He breathed the sentence out, reliving the anxiety of sitting at my kitchen table and advocating for me like he was my lawyer. To my parents. Honestly, real lawyers in real court probably went through less harrowing experiences.

"Okay," I agreed with a smile. Stephen hesitated, then reached out to hold my hands affectionately.

"Are you sure you're going to be okay? I have to go now, the dance is starting and Lorelai is waiting for me –"

"I'll be fine," I reassured him, ignoring the longing and worry building back up in my heart. I forced it down, but not before Stephen sensed it.

"Let me know what happens," He said, smile gone and replaced with worry. "I'll come by your house to see you this week, okay?"

I nodded, not trusting myself to form words around the lump forming in my throat. Stephen nodded to me and Warren both, offered a small smile, and turned to go. Warren and I watched him leave. In a moment, the gymnasium was silent and it was empty except for the two of us. I took a breath and fortified myself, turning to Warren with a smile.

"Guess you better go, too," I said, desperately hoping the expression on my face didn't look as pitiful and lonely as I was starting to feel again. Warren stood with his hands in his pockets, looking idly around the gym, but I could see the beginning of a frown on his face. The soft light made his tan skin seem even darker, and for the first time that night I admired how broad his back and shoulders seemed in his suit.

"Don't think I want to," He said, his quiet voice seeming loud in the empty auditorium. He glanced at me from the side of his eye and my heart skipped a beat, "I'd rather stay with you,"

"But you're all dressed up and ready, with nowhere to go," I teased him, playfully grabbing the end of his tie and placing one hand on his chest. He was taller than me by a head, and I regarded him from below. "Besides, I'm not allowed to stay. I –"

"Miss Stone," A familiar voice echoed through the gymnasium. We both jumped and I almost lost my balance from the scare and the cast on my foot. I dropped my hands from Warren to turn to Principal Powers. She had made her entrance via walking, instead of making an asteroid impact like usual, but my heart still hammered the same.

"I wasn't aware you were on school campus," Powers continued, coming to a stop in front of us with arms crossed. She was dressed in a classy black jumpsuit with long sleeves and flared legs. She appraised me critically from head to toe.

"Well, technically I'm not expelled," I countered automatically, "Yet. Ma'am." I added quickly as her expression turned stony, and I swallowed.

Powers regarded me with a raised brow and said nothing. The silence fell heavy and it's effect was not lost on me.

"Nice outfit, by the way," I squeaked. I could feel sweat trickle down the center of my back. I didn't dare turn back to Warren.

Powers finally let out an exasperated sigh. "It's just as well. We have reached a decision regarding your… consequences."

I swallowed again. I registered the feeling of Warren standing close behind me – close enough to feel heat. It fortified me just enough to square my chin and respond.

"And?"

A pin could've dropped in the silence that followed, short as it was.

"You are allowed to stay," Powers stated.

All the breath went out of me. My body felt light and the heaviness that was squeezing my chest began to release me. I stood in disbelief.

"With stipulations," the principle continued. I barely registered what she was saying. I could stay? With stipulations? Whatever it was, it had to be better than expulsion. I was in a daze as Powers continued speaking to me.

"We have reflected on your motives, and agree that it may benefit the student body population to experience life from their counterparts' perspectives," She stated coolly, although a dangerous sparkle in her eyes put me on edge. "As an experimental education courseload, you will continue your sidekick classes –"

I couldn't help it. I jumped from excitement, boot and all, smile plastered onto my face. "No way!"

"-without your powers, young lady," Powers continued. I nodded my agreement eagerly. As if that would be too hard to do. I was ready to continue celebrating when she spoke again.

"And in addition, you will also complete your assigned hero classes in order to receive full graduation credits," She continued. The smile dropped from my face just as a mischievous grin slid onto hers, and my stomach turned in knots.

"At the same time?" I breathed out. That was too much school at once.

"Partially," She countered cooly, "You will also need to take classes in the summer to complete your entire courseload."

I felt my gut twist and I grimaced. I hated being stuck in class. And through the whole summer, too? I felt my resolve begin to weaken. Powers' sly smile seemed to ask me, How important is this vendetta to you? I gritted my teeth and squared my shoulders.

"I'll do it," the words came out more confident than I felt.

"You will also be required to do some service hours here on campus," She continued in an authoritative voice. I nodded in response.

Powers let the silence hang for a moment, then nodded once. "Very well," she said and something flashed in her eyes. Respect maybe? She turned around before I could identify it.

"I have called your parents already to inform them of this decision," She threw over her shoulder, and I felt relief flood my body. At least they knew I wasn't expelled. The click of her heels signaled her departure, but she stopped short at Warren's voice.

"Wait!" He called out, stepping forward to stand next to me. I startled as his hand found my wrist. The principle turned on us again. "What about the dance? I mean, if she's not expelled, she can go, right?"

I looked at him with wide eyes. He was really pushing my luck. I was fortunate not to be expelled, but he was asking the principal if I could go to homecoming? And after all the havoc I wreaked at the STC homecoming tournament?

There was only one possible answer – Warren Peace was a crazy bastard. I waited with bated breath for the principal to renege on everything she had just told me.

Instead, Powers let a smile slip onto her face. She crossed her arms and one finger came up to tap her chin, as if trying to remember something.

"Funny you should ask," She started. "I mentioned the same thing to Mr. and Mrs. Stone."

I felt my throat close up in anticipation.

"I believe their words were, 'Have her home by midnight,'" Powers stated, seeming to enjoy the shocked look on both our faces. Without another word, she turned heel and click-clacked her way down the hallway. And just like that, she was gone.

Warren and I turned to each other in disbelief. His shock exploded into a wide grin, excitement written on his face.

"No way," I mumbled, looking up at him as a smile spread across my face in return. "No freaking way!"

I jumped again, and this time at Warren. He grabbed me readily and I wrapped my arms around his neck, legs around his torso. It was made a little more difficult by the cast on my foot, but he held me tightly as he spun us in a circle. Our exclamations echoed in the abandoned and empty gymnasium.

He set me down roughly on accident, but I grabbed onto his arms and righted myself. He grinned, full lips framing a beautiful smile that I desperately wanted to kiss.

"Nora, will you come to homecoming with me?" Warren asked, and I nodded giddily.

"Yes!" I exclaimed, and he leaned down to kiss me before the word was fully out of my mouth. My hands held the sides of his face, and I felt his arms encircle me. He pulled me flush into his chest. His lips were soft and urgent and jubilant. I felt elated – I can stay! I kept thinking over and over – and responded in kind. We pulled away shortly after, breathless. I was still smiling.

"I love it when your eyes do that," He laughed out, and I realized in my excitement that my powers had turned on. It startled me.

"Oh," I stuttered. My smile dropped and I quickly turned my head away on reflex, only to feel Warren's warm hands reach up and cup my chin. He turned my face to him gently. His eyes, deep pools of brown, wandered all over my face and then held my gaze. His hands ran through my hair greedily and slowly, tracing the lines of my jaw and neck. His touch was hot and left my skin tingling in its wake. I felt excited and unnerved. Between the two of us, I was supposed to have animal tendencies – but at that moment I felt like prey. And I liked it very much.

A small cough sounded from the doorway. Warren looked up, almost annoyed, but didn't let me go. Mind fuzzy, I was the first to step away as Stephen and Lorelai came into view.

"Get a room!" Lorelai hooted, cackling in laughter. I felt myself blush but couldn't keep from smiling embarrassedly. I shook my powers off and felt my vision turn normal.

"We overheard Powers," Stephen coughed into his hand to disguise a smile. "So for real, she's letting you stay?!"

"Yes!" I recovered from the momentary embarrassment quickly. If Warren wanted to kiss me like that, I didn't care who was around to see it. I wanted more of it.

"And go to the dance too?" Stephen asked excitedly, and I confirmed with a nod. He grabbed my forearms and we were jumping up and down (I was hopping lopsided) and celebrating again, when Lorelai spoke.

"Not like that you can't," She started, regarding my jeans and tee critically. It was that moment I first noticed her dress – a soft lilac this time, strapless and with ruffles on the bottom, accented with a studded belt and fishnets. It looked great on her. It was also at that moment I realized I didn't have anything to wear. My hands flew to my head in a panic.

"Oh, shi-!"

"Enough of the dramatics," Lorelai waved off my panic with a hand. Purple polish replaced her usual black, I noticed. She marched decisively onto stage and pulled from a rack a hanger, from which hung a plastic bag. Presumably with attire inside.

I stood looking at her dumbly.

"What's that?"

She rolled her eyes.

"Your sister snuck this out to my car when we came to pick you up," Lorelai countered. "She said she thought you might need it."

My mouth dropped and I heard Stephen giggle. I rounded on him with an accusatory finger.

"Did you plan that?!" I demanded, flustered. Warren covered a smile with his fist. Stephen put his hands up defensively.

"Absolutely not! I could never plan such subterfuge and trickery," He feigned defensiveness, "But if I happen to see your sister sneaking stuff out to the car and I distract your parents in the kitchen, well…"

I covered my face in my hands as I blushed. Laughs went around. I smiled widely.

"I can't believe this," I mumbled, and Lorelai descended from stage to put the item in my hands. It was covered by a black trashbag, and I couldn't see into it. But as I had nothing else to wear, I had inadvertently given my sister complete control over my homecoming outfit. I half feared what it might look like.

"Believe it, girl," Lorelai threw over her shoulder as she grabbed Stephen's lapel and dragged him away with her. I noticed she was wearing her combat boots. "Hurry up and get ready! Don't be late, either of you!"

"See you soon!" Stephen smiled widely at me, and gave me a thumbs up before disappearing down the hallway. Once again, Warren and I were alone in the gym. I had no time to focus on that, however – my mind was frantic with what needed to be done.

"Oh my god, I'll never get ready in time," I started, taking the steps up to the stage two at a time, trying not to let my boot slip as I hurried. I hung the dress back up on the rack and began digging through the makeup strewn all over the tables. "Okay, Warren, you go ahead and I'll meet you there. I'll try and be quick."

"Why?" He asked, one foot up the stairs already. "I can just wait here with you."

I looked at him incredulously. "But the dance is already starting and I don't want you to miss it!" I insisted.

He scoffed at me, brown eyes boring into mine. "I didn't come here for the dance, Nora."

I came here for you, my mind finished his sentence for him.

"I'll stay," He stated, joining me on the stage. "Now sit down and do whatever kind of things girls do to get ready. Go on," He jostled me into a sitting position at the table. The mirror that had been propped up on top of it reflected him standing behind me, hands on my shoulders to keep me in place, and a lopsided smile on his face.

"Okay, okay," I conceded, pulling my hair out of my face and getting to work. If only there was enough foundation to cover up this blush that seemed to constantly take over my face whenever Warren touched me. Or looked at me. Or talked to me. Or breathed near me.

I rummaged through the messy table top. Mascara, shadow, liner… I was flying blind without knowing what Joann had picked for me to wear. But at this point, I was feeling too overwhelmed to look at it.

I'll do something neutral, and it will be good enough…

"What are you going to do with this?" Warren's voice broke my reverie. He picked up my ponytail from where it hung in the middle of my back.

"I don't know, leave it, I guess?" I said, starting my foundation. "I don't have time to do my hair."

What he said next surprised me.

"I can do it for you," He offered, so casually that I did a double take. Did I hear him right? I turned in my seat to look back and up at him.

"What?"

"Your hair," He said in a gruff mumble, "I can do it for you, if you want."

"You know how to do hair?" I couldn't help it, my voice sounded pretty unbelieving. An irritated expression was on his face now, but his eyes were soft when he finally looked at me.

"Yes," He said, matter-of-factly, "It's not that hard."

"Well, no," I conceded. I didn't have anything else to say.

"So?" He asked. Arms crossed, but gaze somewhat pleading. As if to say, Let me help you.

"O-okay," I stuttered out, and smiled. "I would like that."

His face softened and the corner of his mouth turned up ever so slightly. I turned around as he grabbed up a brush from the table and pulled the tie out of my hair. It fell down my back in a flat cascade, tickling my skin. Warren began to brush it, hands gentle and experienced as they ran along my head and untangled knots. I shivered at his touch. Oh, I thought in surprise, this feels good…

I came to, and continued my makeup. We worked quietly, except for a few small exchanges between us. To my surprise, Warren began to part my hair and use clips to part it into sections.

"Curled okay?" He asked, and I nodded, searching the table for the curling iron.

"Do you know how to use a curling iron?" I asked, voice hesitant. Warren scoffed.

"No," He replied, sounding genuinely amused. His eyes caught mine in the mirror. "Don't need one."

Before I could ask any more questions, he brought his hands to my hair, wrapping sections around his finger. I felt the heat from his skin penetrate mine, and realized what he was doing. In a moment, he let the hair fall – one perfect, loose curl – and started the next one. He was perfectly controlling the amount of heat in his hands right now in order to curl my hair.

"Oh my god," I blurted out in disbelief, "You've done this before, haven't you?"

He had the nerve to act amused as he focused on his job.

"I do my mom's hair, sometimes," Warren replied, unphased, "When she's late for work."

I watched him in awe as he continued, making it seem easy. The heat from his hands didn't scare me like most straighteners or curling irons did. It felt good, and natural. He was totally engrossed in his work, eyes focused. I tore my own gaze away from his face to finish applying eye shadow. A little smoky eye is always in style.

I finished my lipgloss (not lipstick, it smears no matter what brand you use) and my makeup was finished. I settled comfortably into my seat, the heat from Warren's whole body radiating into me. I watched him through the mirror.

"Almost done?" I asked with a smile, and he turned to look at me. His expression changed upon seeing me – eyes widened and lips parted, ever so slightly. A glossy look creeped into his eyes.

"Wow," He breathed out distractedly, hands beginning to drift, job forgotten, "You are so beauti-"

"OW!"

I yelped when his finger – hot enough to burn – accidentally touched my neck. I jumped, and the table bounced from the force of my knees colliding with it from underneath. Cosmetics rolled onto the floor as Warren backed up hurriedly, hands held away in a defensive position.

"Shit!" He cursed, and began waving his hands as if he was drying them off. Or cooling them off, I guess. "Shit. Fuck! I'm sorry!"

My hand flew to my neck and pressed on it hard. It stung terribly and made my eyes water. I took short, controlled breaths.

"It's okay, it's okay," I wheezed out, "Just surprised me, is all. It's okay."

Warren made no move to come near me. He stood a distance away, face angry and expression cloudy. He stayed there even as I scooted my chair out to turn and look at him. I did my best not to grimace when I smiled. It burned like a bitch.

"Hey, it's okay-"

"I burned you," Warren said in disbelief. His eyes began to glass over with heavy emotions.

"Yes, but I'm okay," I reminded him, in what I hoped was a patient voice. It didn't seem to reach him.

"I've never burned you before," He said dazedly, looking down at his hands. He had gone without his gloves tonight, and dark skin emblazoned with red flamed peeked out from under his suit and shirt. The tattoos seemed to mock him ironically. He curled his hands into fists.

I stood up, hand still to my neck. Common sense told me I should put lukewarm water on it before it began to blister. But the look in Warren's eyes was far away. As if that moment had put a rift between us that he couldn't cross. I crossed the floor in awkward strides, boot heavy, imaginary rift be damned.

"I'm okay, really," I assured him. He cast his gaze to the ground and did not look up. I reached out for him with the hand that wasn't glued to my neck, and quick as lightning, he stepped back.

"Don't," Warren's voice was low with warning. I ignored it.

"Warren," my voice pleaded with him of its own accord. He looked up at the sound of his name, brown eyes searching and scared. Scared of what, I wondered? Scared of himself? Or scared of me, being scared of him?

I reached out slowly and he tensed. Tentatively, I touched his arm, feeling the heat even through his shirt and suit. I let my hand trail slowly towards his wrist, and his panicked eyes never broke mine. I cautiously touched his wrist – hot, but not hot enough to burn – and then probed his fist open gently with my fingers. He greedily laced his fingers through mine as he exhaled a breath I didn't know he had been holding. I smiled at him, and felt his body temperature begin to cool down.

"See? We're fine," I whispered, realizing how close our bodies were. I had to look up into his face from where I was standing.

"I hurt you," He whispered back, staring at the hand I held to my neck. His gaze made me shiver from the intensity. He was much more expressive than normal today, and it was throwing me off balance.

"Consider us even, then, okay?" I argued gently, "For the time I bit you. Or for the time I asked you to go full-flame and then doused you in water and it made you sick for literally, like, days. Oh yeah, or for that time at practice that I -"

He held his free hand up to my mouth, and I could see him stifle a laugh.

"I get it," his eyes were soft again. I nodded and let his hand go, afraid of what I might do if I kept in contact with him. He reached up to peel my fingers from my neck. I tried not to wince as cool air touched the burn. I saw Warren flinch.

"Is it bad?" I asked, and he waved me back over to the mirror.

"See for yourself, I'm going to put a wet towel on that," He mumbled, still angry at himself. I sat back down in front of the mirror and gasped.

"Oh my God! It looks like a hick-"

"Don't say it," Warren growled out, as he returned with a wet paper towel. I stuck it to my neck gratefully. The look in his eyes was dangerous, so I stifled any further comments about the appearance of the burn. The coolness of the cloth soothed the skin and I sat in my seat gratefully. Warren seemed hesitant to touch me again.

"Hey," I caught his gaze in the mirror, and faked a stern expression, "I can't go to the dance with half-finished hair. Will you curl the last bit?"

He was anxious, that much I could tell. He might as well be regarding my hair as if I was Medusa with a full head of snakes. Wordlessly, though, he took a breath and reached back out to finish the job. I closed my eyes and felt the heat of his hands reach to my cheek, my ears…

"Done."

It really did look great. I couldn't have done it better myself (but that wasn't saying much, because I sucked at curling my own hair). I smiled up at him.

"Thank you," I said, standing up, "I won't forgive you, though."

Warren's face was shocked. "But Nora! I-"

"All the times at school I was having a bad hair day, and you kept this all to yourself?" I put a hand to my chest in mock suffering, "I'm hurt, Warren. Really hurt."

I enjoyed watching his expression change from worry to understanding. A grin slid onto his face as I marched around him to take the dress off the rack.

"I'm going to change. Wait for me?" I asked. His smile didn't fade as he nodded. I walked to the nearest empty dressing room (more like glorified janitor closets, but when you were in a sidekick's club, you weren't allowed to complain). I eased the dress out of the plastic, and steadied myself for whatever it might be.

I recognized the dress as one of my sister's, worn previously to a dance long ago. But Jo went to a lot of dances, and had a lot of dresses. Did she have to pick this one?

I undressed, then slipped it over my shoulders. It took some adjusting to cover myself modestly with the cowl neckline hanging dangerously low to my cleavage, the halter neck supporting the front of the dress. The body of the dress, however, fit wonderfully – the sheath-style dress was loose enough to provide some comfort, but clung to my hips in just the right places. I was surprised to see my sister had included a ziplock bag of some jewelry – gold bangles, gold hoops, and a gold chain choker. And a single one of her favorite sneakers, ones she rarely wore because the white and gold details were in such pristine shape. I scoffed at the one shoe. It was just like to Jo to figure I wouldn't need the second one because of my boot.

She must have put a lot of thought into this. Might as well see how it looks…

I put the items on and appraised myself in the floor-length mirror. Jo always had a good eye for fashion, but this ensemble was almost too perfect for me – the silver satin of the dress, accented with gold jewelry and shoes. Somehow it worked. Understated, classic, low-maintenance. I hated to admit it, but damn she was good.

When I came back out on stage, Warren had gone back down the steps and into the front row seats. He was digging around in a bag when the sound of my footsteps alerted him and he turned. I smiled broadly, but somehow felt a little insecure in the clothes I had not chosen. Was I overdone? Was I underdone? Did the one perfect little white and gold sneaker look stupid with my chunky cast on the other foot?

I gauged Warren's blank expression critically. His eyes roved first down, then up, then down again my body. His mouth was set in a soft line (God, those lips, I thought) and I saw his throat bob as he swallowed. He mumbled an explicative under his breath.

"Well?" I asked nervously. "Don't keep me waiting. What do you think?"

A wispy laugh escaped his lips as his eyes met mine. They were deep and dark and wide with desire. The powers inside of me lurched – the instinct of a hunter to pursue the vulnerable prey, to circle and strike and devour. I felt the spark of power as my eyes flashed colors. The suddenness of it startled me, and I tore my gaze away from his. Hot blush creeped up my neck and I willed it away.

Warren cleared his throat, and removed something from the bag. My curiosity, piqued, gave me the willpower to tear my gaze away from the industrial-grade rafters of the auditorium. He came up the steps and approached me with his offering.

"I think… I want you to have this," He stated in a husky voice, and I looked down to his hands. It was his leather jacket. I stood unmoving.

"Since when did you have this?" I asked, confused, "Why did you bring two jackets?"

Warren cleared his throat as I made eye contact. I didn't dare to guess what he was about to say. I let him gather his thoughts before bombarding him with any other questions.

"Well, I… ahm, what I mean to say…" He started softly, eyebrows furrowing as he struggled to find the words. He chuckled nervously. "I brought it because I was going to ask you to keep it."

"Even before you knew we were going to the dance together?" I felt my throat tighten a little as a lump formed. Warren nodded and glanced at me through dark lashes.

"Yeah, even before the dance. When Steven told me you would be here," He continued, holding it up to help me slip it on. A pink tinge on his cheeks told me he was a little more embarrassed than he was letting on.

"And you want me to keep it?" I asked, tugging the black leather onto my frame. "Like, as in, forever?"

Warren grinned then, gripping the collar as he wrapped it around me. My heart fluttered at the proximity of him.

"Until you don't want it anymore," His voice dropped, the low timbre rolling over my skin and leaving goosebumps in its wake, "This way you always have a reason to think of me."

"As if I needed another reason," I whispered.

His hands on the collar of the jacket – his warm body standing over me – the words rolling off his tongue and over my skin – the tension was too much for me to handle. My resolve fell away as my body collided into his and my hand grabbed the back of his neck, guiding his face toward mine. Our mouths found each other instantly. Urgent, needy kisses erupted between us, his lips soft and firm all at once. Warren's hands were suddenly around me – pulling me close, he slipped his hand under the jacket and pressed his palm flat against my bare back, searing into me in the most pleasant way possible. My hand gripped the hair at the base of his head, almost too roughly. I was attempting (and failing) to reign myself in but a throaty hum escaped Warren's lips and brushed over mine. I had no control over myself. The only sensation I was aware of was everything at once – lips roving over lips, hands exploring, bodies pressed together tightly, heat kindling between us and inside of me. So, so, so much heat…

I ripped away from him, voice breathy.

"Warren, you're smoldering," I gasped out, sweat trickling down my cheek. He was too hot. His fingertips still seared into my bare shoulder blade, other hand hot on my face, eyes glossed over and dark and needy – God, he was too hot.

"Sorry," He breathed out, taking a gulp of air, but he didn't let go. I stood rigid, afraid the slightest movement would provoke him and send his temperature soaring. His touch was uncomfortable and almost burning me, but not quite. I looked up at him with what I hoped was an innocent and neutral expression. He appraised me through a downcast gaze, dark hair falling into his face and lips parted as he panted. I let my eyes linger on his kiss-swollen lips, full and pink against dark skin. I swallowed, gathering all the self-control I had left, and took a step back. He let me, hands falling to his sides. Mine did the same. Another moment passed as we both righted ourselves – his hair askew, my jacket crooked – and glanced back at each other. A little grin crossed my face, and I was pleased when Warren's face mirrored it. He offered me his arm.

"Ready?" He asked, and I nodded eagerly as I took his arm.

"Ready," I replied. We walked together through the auditorium, down the hall, outside and towards the main gymnasium.

Ready for anything as long as it's with you…

….

Hello all. I live!

Sorry for the delay in posting, I think most of it was because this was a long ass chapter (it was originally going to be two separate chapters, thus the two names, but I didn't want to skimp you guys after being gone for a month). I also ruptured my ear drum and got fired for the first time ever, in the last month that I was away, so… there's that too. LOL!

Anyways, hope you enjoyed this chapter! Some angst, some resolution, some fluff, some fashion, some smoochy-woochy stuff. A veritable buffet of a chapter. I have some other ideas of where I want this story to go and things that need to be resolved, but I am having a really hard time finding the motivation or desire to write. I'm going to try hard, but if I can't, this might have to be the unofficial ending of this fic. We'll see.

Thank you guys for the reviews and encouragement! I love it.