Apples, Marshmallows, and Record Stores (Part 1)

Bea

"Bea, y'know you can come with us if you want," Neo says, standing behind Alanna while running his pale hands down both of her arms and resting his chin atop her head. "We have enough room in Alanna's car. Plus, we'll all be there."

"Neo, if she doesn't wanna go she doesn't have to," Alanna flashes a smile at me, "And she looks like she wants to go out and sing karaoke with ice cream."

I snort and grin back at her, flashing her finger guns. "You know it, girl. I knew it wasn't a mistake to tell you my ideal date. Nothing bad could possibly come from it."

Neo shakes his head, a crooked grin similar to mine aligning on his lips. "You girls have a very different definition of "bad" than mine."

Alanna silences him with a kiss. "Cállate, Neo," she murmurs against his lips once they stop. 

I, being a normal single gal, fake gag into my hand at the romantic gesture. "God- your PDA is killing me," I say in a strangled voice as I clutch at my throat dramatically. Drama. The reason I befriended Neo a month ago, other than feeling bad about seeing Alanna being manhandled by Max and doing nothing about it (also a month ago, he seems to be a better guy now). 

Alanna snorts and whacks my arm. "You sure you don't wanna come?" she asks a final time. 

I nod, giving her a thumbs up. "Positive. I'm tryna cut back on drinking Max's shitty drink mixes."

Alanna winces at me cursing, and I mirror the expression, mouthing a sorry and tapping a finger to my closed lips, signaling that I'm working on my dirty mouth. Alanna huffs a laugh despite herself and gives me a final look behind her shoulder as she and her football boyfriend walk to her car, Neo swinging her keys around a finger and blurting, "Crap," when they fly off and into the darkness. But Alanna just laughs, picks them up, and teases him as they get in the car and drive off. 

I sigh and lean against the counter stacked with records, on the opposite side of the counter than I'm normally on. (The customer side, doofus. It's hard to talk with my friends from behind the counter.) It's always nice when they visit me at my job here, but it leaves me longing for the kind of love they have. I check my watch and my eyebrows shoot up. Swell, Natalie's coming to pick up the shift. A fond smirk crawls onto my face at the thought of my bookish coworker, and I remind myself to tell her about a story-like interaction I witnessed while at Taco Bell today, knowing she'll light up and use it as fodder for her stories. 

The bell by the door chimes, signaling a customer's entrance. I close my eyes and internally whine at God for forcing me to socialize with customers when my shift is over, but I quickly open them and flash a smile at the customer. 

My heart stops beating in my chest as I catch the sandy brown hair and hazel eyes that have been haunting my mind ever since that party a month ago. 

Oh, boy. 

Lucien

The good thing about being friends with Max Howell is his knowledge of all the record stores in town. The not-so-good thing about being friends with Max Howell (aside from the occasional assholery that even makes me want to punch him square in the nose) is his crappy taste in music. So, here I am, wandering all around town to find a nice record store with a good Radiohead record stock. I step into the third shop I've entered in the past three hours and am bombarded with the scent of apple and marshmallow-scented perfume. 

I know that perfume. It's been in my dreams for the past month. 

My eyes immediately track her down, and there she is, standing in the middle of the aisle, her expression neutral as she scans me head to toe. I step toward her, my lips quirking into a grin. "Gee, you're here too?" I never caught her name, but Max did not fail to tease me about "the Cotton Candy Girl" for the next few weeks in the unnervingly quiet aftermath of the party. And now... she's here.

Her expression mirrors mine, a sly grin on her face. "Yeah. Browsing. You looking for anything in particular?"

The thoughts of what I was here for before elude me. You, my brain screams, forgetting all about the Radiohead records. I've been looking for you. Those sky-blue eyes shutter, her eyelashes brushing her cheeks as she blinks, and I'm snapped out of my reverie. "Radiohead," I say, my voice slightly hoarse. 

Her eyes brighten, her entire body straightening as a wide, excited grin breaks out on her face. "Well, you've come to the right place. This is my absolute favorite place to buy records, which is why I w- come here as often as I can. Here's the section they're in."

She grabs my hoodie and fists the fabric in her hand as she tugs me over to a section close to the back, babbling about her favorite Radiohead songs. I feel so bad because I can't listen to her fully when her freckled hand is on my chest and her apple and marshmallow scent is muddling my brain. She turns back to look at me once we reach the section and her grin falters when she takes in her hand still clutching my hoodie, which she removes like she had been holding fire. Her grin returns in full force as she gestures to the section. "Radiohead," she says, and the awkwardness of her voice layered over her deep-rooted excitement over the band melts my heart. 

"Thanks," I say, giving her a crooked smile in return, trying to hide the soft, fond smile that was previously on my face. You do not look at someone with adoration after you bonded at a party over a month ago and have been avoiding each other ever since. But it's her and I can't help it and I grin. 

And she doesn't seem unnerved by it. 

The bell above the door chimes, and I swivel my body to face it, Cotton Candy Girl bopping her head to look by my side at the person entering the store at my back. Her eyes light up with both panic and excitement, and she grins. "Natalie! Great to see you! See, I was waiting for one of y'all to show up. Did the other gal quit her shift early or what?" She asks, an odd, high laugh escaping her lips. 

A girl with big brown eyes and dirty blonde hair blinks owlishly as she hangs up her coat behind the counter. "Umm, I dunno, Bea," she says, her melodic voice soft, high, and wavering. Skittery. Her big eyes take me in like she's sizing up everything about me and can see into my soul. Naturally, this makes me squeamish, and I squirm a bit, twisting my body so Cotton Candy Girl can see the other girl (who is obviously a friend who happens to work at this store) better. Then, what the brown-eyed girl said resonates in my brain and my stomach flips. Bea. Cotton Candy Girl's name is Bea. I risk a glance at her, a soft fondness creasing the smile lines at the edges of my eyes as I take in her playful,  rogueish smirk. 

And suddenly, that smirk is turned on me. "Nat's a softie- she's real tight with the other worker," she says, her blue eyes twinkling. 

Natalie scoffs, but the sound is tinged with enough laughter to soften it. "Sometimes a little too tight," she says, giving Bea (Bea) a knowing look as she pulls her hoodie over her head. Bea snorts, rolling her eyes, and Natalie takes the opportunity to flick her eyes to mine and speak to me. "Hey, it's Lucien, right?" She asks, her soft voice somehow bolder with her friend here. 

I smile and nod, my hands drifting to my hoodie pockets. "Yep."

She nods nonchalantly. "Can you go to the back and grab me my uniform? Door to the right, bottom shelf. My name's on the pin."

My eyebrows shoot up and I try to smooth my expression over, going from surprise to neutrality. "Uh..." My eyes flit to Bea (Bea, Cotton Candy Girl, the only person I really know in this shop), who shrugs. She doesn't know what's going on either. So I smile, slightly uneasy, and say, "Yeah, sure."

I walk away, and Bea doesn't stop me. 

Bea

"Why are you pretending to be a customer instead of an employee?" Nat asks as soon as Pretty Boy's out of the room. 

"I dunno, I panicked!" I say, throwing my hands up, my throat constricting with nerves. 

Nat gives me a Look (a certain staredown that says she doesn't know how I get by), sighs, and shakes her head. "Alright, your shift's over and you're still here, so you want something." She purses her lips and flicks her eyebrows up as if to say, What do you want?

"Well, my new best friend here was just about to make a purchase," I say, hooking my thumbs in the loops of my jeans. 

The corners of Nat's lip twitch up as she smirks softly. "You wanna use your employee discount with that, Bea?"

I grin. "You know it."

She snorts, rolling her eyes, but says nothing when I thumb through the albums and hand her one.

Lucien

Despite Natalie very kindly instructing me on where her things are, it took me a minute to find the damn things. I had to use my hand to make an L to remember which hand was my left hand and which way was the right way. Suffice to say, when I finally make my way back to the front of the store, I am blushing from embarrassment. 

"Here you go," I murmur, arms outstretched to Natalie, who's on the opposite side of the counter from me and Bea. 

"Thanks, Lucien. Have a lollipop," she says before going to the back of the store, presumably to change into the uniform, which she could've done without me bringing the uniform to her. I look after her, mouth parted and eyes squinted in utter bafflement. 

Bea snorts and loops her arm through mine. "C'mon, bub, let's go."

"Where?" I ask stupidly, breathing in her smell again. "To look at records?"

She smiles, a decision lighting in her eyes as she shoves something into her bag and keeps her eyes on mine like she's in the same predicament as me; like she can't look away. "Well, we are in a record store." 

* * *

Bea

Lucien looks different this week. He has a pretty septum in his nose that is almost identical to mine. Maybe he took inspo from me, but who knows with a guy like him? 

I ended up chickening out of giving him the Radiohead record I bought for him at work and I've been kicking myself for it ever since. I can't blatantly let him know I'm interested. I have to let him come to me. 

News flash: it's tortuous, and I have discovered that I am not a very patient person.

I sit in the English room, hoping and praying that he has this class with me. I want him to walk in and sit next to me. Maybe even just say something to me. I want him to make a move. For the love of God, please let him walk in. This class can be torturous, especially with the sub who's glaring at me sharply over her glasses. I sigh. If Lucien doesn't come to class today, at least I have the "lovebirds" with me. Right on cue, Alanna and Neo walk into the classroom, snickering and giggling as Alanna whacks him in the arm with her purse and sticks her tongue out at him. Alanna sits down quickly, leaving Neo standing by himself.

"Alanna, I thought we were gonna sit together," Neo says in a whiny voice.

Alanna wrinkles her nose teasingly at him. "Neo, Bea is my main priority right now, okay? I'm asking her about the dance tomorrow."

Damn. I forgot about the dance, mostly because nobody asked me yet. I'll probably stand with the freshmen and dorky juniors waiting for my frickin' Prince Charming to arrive and sweep me off my feet. But that won't happen because I'm Bea Fleur Wiggins and nobody wants to date the girl with the wolfcut and pink hair.

Lucien

I clutch my binder in my hand, walking next to Max. He smells of cheap cologne and beer today. I went to the party with him but I've got to admit I left because Bea wasn't there. I was hoping to get another dance with her or (even better) her number. But she never showed.

"Luc', I gotta ask," Max pauses, his mouth quirking up in a teasing smile as he says the nickname  ('Loosh', not 'Luke' like this girl in my history class last year thought it was). "When are you gonna ask Cotton Candy out?"

"Her name is Bea," I say sternly, shooting him a piercing look. "Plus, she isn't interested in me. If she were, I would have asked her to the dance by now. I'm not in her league."

"But you got a septum to impress her, right?"

I sigh. "No, I want a chance, Max." To love her like I breathe.

As we near the English wing, I wave goodbye to Max, who mutters something that has me flipping my hand around to give him the finger, which only makes him snicker as he walks to Spanish. I don't understand why he takes Spanish, but it's his life. I switch the weight of my backpack onto my left shoulder, my gaze falling to the floor. Of course, the one time I'm not paying attention, I bump into someone. My eyes flick up, and I try to hide my instinctual wince. Neo. He's not bad, but he's friends with Bea, and... well, I guess I'm jealous that he's closer to her than I am. 

"Sorry, man," I mutter, my gaze falling to the floor again. 

Neo gives me a friendly smile and a careless shrug. "No worries. Lucien, right?"

I nod, pressing my lips together and molding a corner of my mouth into a smile that I can't make reach my eyes. "Yeah."

He grins and steps close to me, leaning slightly down to whisper near my ear. (he's really fucking tall, okay? I'm not short...) "Look, I know it's none of my business, but Bea's free for the dance tomorrow if you don't already have a date." 

My stomach flips, and my eyes widen. "But she's- but she's Bea. How could anyone not have asked her already?"

Neo's grin turns wry, and he claps me on the back. "She has her eyes set on a certain guy. I can't say any more. But I think you might wanna try it out with her." His girlfriend calls his name, motioning him to the seat she saved for him next to her seat by Bea. "Good luck, man." He says with a smile before smoothly striding away and planting a playfully wet kiss on his girlfriend's cheek. 

Bea

There he is. Sandy brown hair and all, Lucien stands at the door. Neo turns around and gives him a quick grin, turning away from Lucien to waggle his brows at me (which earns him a half-hearted smack from a snickering Alanna). I roll my eyes wearily at their playful teasing. If Lucien wanted to go to the dance with me, he would have asked me already. And he hasn't asked. So, it's obvious that-

Lucien comes to a stop in front of my desk. "Hi," he says, the ghost of a soft smile curling his lips. 

My lips part in shock, and I can feel my gaze softening as I look up at him. And for the life of me, I can't stop. "Hi," I say back, mirroring his expression on instinct, trying to hide the hope in my eyes. 

He clears his throat. "So, I, um, heard some stuff..." he says haltingly. 

I blink and raise my eyebrows, laughter molding my smile into a grin. "Yeah?"

He licks his lips nervously, that plump, slightly chapped, incredibly tantalizing feature of his sporting a grin like mine as he laughs softly under his breath at himself. "Yeah. Um, I heard some stuff regarding you and the dance. And, uh, I just wanted to know if it was," he awkwardly gives me a thumbs up, "true," he finishes weakly. 

I close my eyes and laugh softly, reaching out and curling a hand around his jutted-out thumb. "If the stuff is that I don't have a date to the dance, then yeah, it's true," I say, my eyes dancing with light and an anxious hope as his fist unfurls and I slide my fingers through his. He pulls away like my touch scalded him.

"Sorry," He says awkwardly. "Um, what I'm trying to say is if you want a date, I'd be happy to go with you."

"Yes, of course!" I exclaim a little too excitedly, making him wince from the sudden noise. "I mean, yeah, sure. I'll have to buy a dress though." Mom is gonna be stoked when she hears this, but right now, I need to control myself.

"Can I sit next to you? If that's okay with you, of course." Lucien asks, pulling his backpack off his shoulder with a shy smile.

"Yeah, sure. Guess we got the back row filled out now."

Lucien

I watch Bea write in her notebook. She writes lyrics, I think, and we pass it back and forth, writing a new one each time. I decide to pull a fast one when she hands it to me and write my number along with the chorus to "High and Dry" by Radiohead.

Bea glances over at me confused. I lick my dry lips and watch her eyes follow them then shoot back up.

"It's my number. In case you need something. You don't have to text me anymore after the dance." If you don't want to. The thought rings in my mind, and I bet she can see it through the way I look at her. Damn, I bet I'm so obvious.

"Thanks, I appreciate that." She licks her lips nervously, and they quirk into a wry grin aimed at me. "Lucien, you're a hell of a friend, so I'll probably text you every night, even after the dance." 

Friend? She called me a friend? 

* * *

I grab my phone off my nightstand after fiddling with my guitar. I've been trying to fix my amp for weeks but it still won't work. My jaw tightens as I see the name pop up. Bea Wiggins. Pretty, pretty Bea.

Bea: You up?

Me: Yeah, I was playing my guitar for a bit

Bea: WAIT WAIT WAIT! YOU PLAY?

Me: Mhm my amp don't work rn tho

Bea: I think I like you more now

Me: Oh? Thanks 

Bea: No prob hon

Bea: Oh shit auto correct

Me: Damn Bea you got my hopes up 

Bea: I got my dress btw

Me: REALLY? Can I see? If thats okay with you of course

Bea: Sure

She sends me the picture, and I hate to be a horny jerk but she is curvy, making my thoughts start to edge themselves with something hot. I mean, I don't really care about any of that, but I can't help but notice. I mean (and I pray Neo can't hear my thoughts), she's not Alanna-curvy, but she's a close second. (I'm not attracted to Alanna, but she is pretty and has nice curves.)

Me: Wow! You look great

Bea: Thanks

Me: Can I make a suggestion?

Bea: Um idk what is it

Me: Maybe straighten your hair like you did at the party but with like those little curled up tufts. You'd look super pretty 

Me: I mean you already are but I think you'd look super duper pretty

Bea: Whatever see you tomorrow. Night

And of course, I spend the rest of the night wondering if I said something wrong or if Bea was just sleepy, but that's normal, right?

Bea

Alanna picked me up from school today and forced me to eat a banana muffin her abuela made. Neo is in the passenger seat, pulling his shirt on because apparently he didn't have time to do it. But then again, experience says they were probably pulling a fast one.

"Hey, Bea," Alanna says peering into the backseat. "We have to pick up Lucien and Max, so you're gonna be stuck with them back there. That okay?"

My stomach riots excitedly at the thought of sitting so close to Lucien, but the excitement curdles when I remember the Max part. 

"Um, sure," I say, pulling my phone out of my hoodie pocket. 

* * *

The second the car door opens, I look up from my phone as my gaze is drawn to the sight like a magnet. Max hops in the car with Lucien by his side. I get to sit in the backseat with Lucien. And yes I'm freaking the fuck out because I don't want to be crammed back here with Max "professional asshole" Howell. 

"Hey," Lucien says sliding into the left side of the car. His lips are chapped again but look so soft. 

I realize I've been staring too long at his lips, letting them flick to his nervously downcast eyes. I smile softly at his obvious anxiety and drum my fingers on my thigh to get his attention. It works, his eyes snapping up to mine.

"Hey," I say, tensing as Max slides into the opposite side.

"Are you doing okay?" He asks, sticking up his thumb. He does that a lot; maybe it's an impulse of his.

"Yeah, just a little sore from sleeping on the floor," I say with a grim quirk of my lips. 

Lucien's brows furrow. "Why'd you do that?"

Welp, time for something that could sound mildly odd to the dirty-minded folks out there (i.e., Neo, Max, the football boys, Natalie, and my older sister Cyra). "My bed broke."

"Oh, that sucks, I'm sorry," Lucien's eyes are wide and earnest, and it hits me like a brick how much I like him.

I can feel every hard edge that makes me who I am around most people soften. "It's fine. That's what I get for using matches to smoke."

Lucien

"Lucien, I gotta ask; how did you muster the courage to ask Bea out?" Neo asks, putting his hand on Alanna's thigh. 

I realize that I've been staring at Neo's hand for too long and look away, the question snapping me out of my reverie. (Was I staring at his hand or her thigh? I don't want to be a perv or seem unfaithful to Bea, who I'm not even with yet, but still... God, this is not going well.) My gaze flits to Bea's and I smile nervously. "Um, we don't- I don't- Uh, we haven't decided what this is..."

Neo grins, mischief and amusement glittering in his eyes. "Just saying, y'all would look cute together." 

Alanna, smirking as she drives, mutters her agreement.

"I guess he's just that guy. He knows how to pull, apparently," Max chimes in, giving me a nasty, fake smile. God, why'd he have to open his mouth?

"Max, shut up," Alanna whispers, gaze glued to the road. 

A sneer ghosts his face at her words against him. "Yes, your majesty," Max mutters under his breath.

"Max, just shut the hell up! Jesus fucking Christ," Neo hisses, eyes blazing with fury as he turns in the passenger seat to glare at Max. He's so angry, he can't even bring himself to apologize for making Alanna flinch at the cuss word. "You're really pissing me off this week and I'm still mad you missed that tackle last night and got all of us caught drinking." Neo sighs, and I can see him trying to let the anger ripple off of him.

Then, Max's lip curls up into a sneer, and I know Neo isn't going to be calm any time soon. "Well, captain, if you hadn't allowed Fletcher and Milo to bring the drinks in, we wouldn't have been in that position." 

Neo's eyes flash, and Bea spurs into action before me, her hands flying out to grab Neo's. "Hey! Guys, knock it off." She says, and her voice is firm. Her eyes flick to Alanna's hands on the steering wheel, and my eyes follow, guilt flooding me as I only just noticed that Alanna's hands were shaking slightly. 

Max's eyes travel up and down Bea's body, an ugly leer contorting his face. "Didn't know you'd ever be one to break up a fight since you're such an ugly, trashy sl-" 

He doesn't say another word before my hands curl around his collar and I shove his back against the window of the backseat. 

Alanna pulls the car over into a small spot where truckers pull over. Neo and Alanna climb out while Bea struggles to crawl to the center console.

My hands are still tight around Max's neck as he tries to break free. The veins in my hand are popping out more than usual. 

"Fucking let go! I don't know why you stand up for her!" Max says breaking free and scrambling from the car. I follow behind, still feeling fire boiling in my stomach.

Bea

Neo hugs Alanna tight apologizing for everything. Max appears, standing in front of Lucien and smiling.

"You think this is fucking funny?!" Lucien asks, licking his lips to distract himself from the furious edge in his eyes.

"Yeah, Luc', I find this fucking hilarious" Max replies, still grinning. "She's a fucking whore. I mean do you see what she wears? And with all those curves, she's gotta be giving somebody a good time,"

"Fuck you, Max," Lucien murmurs, a sneer curling his lips at his former friend before turning towards where Neo holds Alanna in a tight embrace as he presses soothing kisses to the top of her head. "Sorry you had to hear that, Alanna. I know how you feel about cussing." Then, he turns his attention to me, and my heart jumpstarts my body, every nerve sparking like live wires as he stares deep into my eyes with his own earnest, elegant hazel ones. "And Bea, I'm also sorry that I crammed you back there with Max. I should've seen this coming from a mile away."

"It's not your fault, Lucien," I say firmly, staring at Lucien. 

He stares back at me with a sad weight in his eyes, and my heart sinks into my stomach.

* * *

Lucien

School was like hell on earth today. Max was falling for attention bragging about how I choked him out. "The bastard could've killed me, you know," he would say, slapping me on the back and snickering. I darkly thought that it wouldn't have been too bad if I did, but I kept that thought to myself. 

Alanna offered to drive me home, and, despite not knowing if Bea was gonna be in the backseat again, I said yes. My teenage hormones are already soaring after everything but I arrogantly, genuinely wondered to myself, "What could make it worse?" Well, I'll tell you what could make it worse. A pretty girl with pink hair, thighs that expand when she sits, and a septum piercing. Don't even get me started on the way her plump lips look smirking at me... 

I realize I'm having jerk-like thoughts and shut them down hastily.

My thoughts dissolve, making me painfully aware of her proximity to me, her arm brushing mine with every slight jostle of the car over the oddly paved streets. 

"Bea," I say quietly, hoping the lovebirds aren't eavesdropping. "Are we still going to the dance?"

"Yeah," She replies, pulling on her hoodie. "Why wouldn't we?"

My stomach flips, but I plow on, fiddling with my septum ring. "Because of Max's mishap. Y'know he's gonna be there."

"Lucien, he's the least of my worries," she says in that dry tone that makes my heart speed up and the worry in my stomach dial down a bit and turn into something else. 

"Oh, okay. So, when should I pick you up?" I ask as we near my home.

"Welp, the dance doesn't start till 6, so pick me up at five. My dad's gonna be home, but I think you'll do just fine."

"What's that mean?" I question, my gaze locked on her as if it would draw an answer from her. The car stops abruptly, and she ducks her head to try and hide the smirk on her plump lips. 

* * *

Bea

A badass girl being nervous about a cute boy isn't a crime. But as my older sister Cyra ties the back of my dress together around my waist and I fiddle with my septum ring, I can't help but worry that it is. 

Cyra sees this and snorts, smacking my hand away from my piercing. "Stop worrying, Bea. You're a catch. And that Lucien knows it."

I flash my signature confident smirk at her, but it's a bit uneasy, the confidence missing. "Damn right."

Cyra's bright blue eyes (same as mine) scrutinize me until I'm squirming. "It's okay to be nervous, Bea. Despite what I said, it's okay for powerful girls like us to be nervous about guys.

I sigh and duck my head, rubbing the slightly scratchy outer fabric of the dress between my fingers. "I know..."

Cyra smiles and takes my hand, spinning me around and giggling as the black ruffles that cascade around my legs spread out and the fabric sighs. "Then have fun."

I laugh with her and flash her a grin, my weariness pushed aside. "Thanks, Cyra. I will."

* * *

Lucien

Was this all just a prank? I can't help the thought that runs through my mind as the man who is presumably Bea's dad eyes me suspiciously, his harsh jaw lined with stubble paired with his scrutinizing gaze making it difficult for me to not squirm. 

"Hi, sir! I'm Lucien Maximoff. I'm taking your daughter Bea to the dance tonight," I say, flashing him what I hope is a sweet, confident smile. I think I need to work on the confidence part. 

His eyes flick to my hands and narrow slightly, a ghost of a sneer flickering across his face. "Nice name. I'm Andrew, Bea's dad. Bea's upstairs getting ready with Cyra, but you're welcome to wait here with me." His dangerous eyes tell me that going upstairs isn't an option. 

I smile and nod. "Perfect! Thank you, sir."

He smiles stiffly back without it reaching his eyes and steps aside as he opens the door wider for me to come inside. I smile and mutter my thanks again as I step inside. 

When he closes the door behind me, I can't help but feel slightly claustrophobic and like a trapped rabbit waiting to be caught in the maw of a fox. Bea's dad's reddish-brown hair isn't helping. 

My gaze flicks around the house and I adjust my tie nervously. Her house isn't lavish, but it's comfortable and homey, and I find myself wishing my home was more like this. 

Mr. Wiggins clears his throat and my gaze snaps to him as I panic slightly. He opens his mouth to speak, but I hear footsteps on the stairs, and we both turn. 

My mouth dries out and I try to keep myself from thinking more jerk-like thoughts, but I don't think I manage. 

I thought she was gorgeous before, but now... Oh, God, she knocks the breath right out of my chest. She is wearing a brilliant, off-the-shoulder black dress that clings to her waist, and then spreads out with chiffon ruffles at her hips. Her legs are bare and visible, and my suit suddenly feels too tight. 

Don't be a jerk, Lucien. I tell myself. 

I don't think it's working. 

Bea's footsteps stop as she takes me in, her eyes holding a kernel of heat as she takes me in. I'm wearing a common black suit and tie with a white button-down, but she seems to think it's hot by the way her pupils flare so wide that I can see it from a few meters away. 

She blinks away what are probably her own dangerous thoughts and her bright blue eyes meet my hazel ones. Her elegantly heeled feet continue moving down the stairs. Once she descends the stairs, she gives me a slow, knowing smirk and twirls, the ruffles of her dress flaring softly. I take a stuttering step forward with a hand reached out to touch her, in utter awe of her before her dad clears his throat behind me, causing my body to stutter to a halt and jerk away from my gorgeous date like she's a hot iron poker for a fireplace. (The hot part is right. The rest, thankfully, is not.)

"Oh! Bea, you look absolutely gorgeous!" A woman's voice squeals from what I guess is the doorway to the kitchen by the stairs. The owner of the voice comes out, and her face is so much like Bea's that I blink. The woman beams at her daughter before turning to me excitedly. "Oh, and you must be Lucien! Bea's told us-" Bea cuts her mother an intense look, and the older woman redirects her sentence, "-a bit about you. Welcome! I'm Penny, Bea's mom." She comes forward and gives me a sweet hug, and I swallow harshly to keep myself from tearing up at her kindness as I hug her back. 

"Thank you, Mrs. Wiggins. Your daughter is a wonderful friend and I'm so glad I'm able to go to this dance with her." I say once Mrs. Wiggins pulls back, remembering the moment in class when Bea said we were just friends. 

Something flickers in everybody's expressions and Mr. Wiggins just makes a gruff noise in the back of his throat. The noise seems to kickstart Mrs. Wiggins back into her bubbly self, and she says, grinning, "Well, I just know y'all are gonna have a good time."

"But not too good of a time," Mr. Wiggins grumbles, giving me a pointed stare. 

I nod and smile nervously. "Of course, sir- I mean-" 

"Jeez, won't y'all just let my poor little sis and her date go to the dance?" Bea's older sister Cyra complains from the bottom stairs, her brown space buns glinting in the light as she flashes her sister a thumbs up and a wry grin. 

Mr. Wiggins grumbles and Mrs. Wiggins laughs, but Bea just grins, and I smile softly at the sight. God, I'm so in love. And she doesn't even know it. 

Bea's eyes flit to me and she steps closer to me. "Well, don't you look dapper," she murmurs, her eyes dipping to my tie. 

I smile and duck my head bashfully, a bit of my hair falling into my eyes. "Thanks. You look... way better, though." Since she's so short and I'm so tall, I have to basically press my chin to my neck to avoid meeting her gaze.

Bea huffs a laugh and her index finger and middle finger come to my chin, gently lifting it up a bit so I would look her in the eye. "Then reeeeally look at me, hun," she says teasingly with a small smirk.

I grin and laugh despite myself and take her hand in mine instinctually. When her smirk falls and her eyes widen slightly, I give her a reassuring smile. "I'm escorting you out, milady," I tease. That brings her grin back, and she tips her head back and laughs heartily. 

"Thanks, Lucien. Gee, what a gentleman."

I grin, then smile and nod respectfully at her family watching us. "Sorry, we're going to be late if we don't leave. Thank you so much for your hospitality." 

Mrs. Wiggins chitters something about how it's no trouble while Cyra quietly snorts and chides her mom, but I'm focused on the way Mr. Wiggins's gaze softens as he looks at me and nods almost imperceptibly. Something in my chest warms at the sign of approval, and I mirror the action with a small smile.

They wave us out the door (Cyra calling after us to take pictures and bring home a cup of the punch), and I walk to the car with Bea's hand in mine. 

Bea

We end up getting to the party at the exact same time as Alanna and Neo. Neo looks messier than usual (a fact I decide to ignore). Lucien is clearly a nervous wreck and he struggles to look at me, making my chest warm in affection.

"BEA! YOUR DRESS IS SO PERFECT!" Alanna yells, dragging Neo with her and practically jumping to give me a hug. "Oh gosh, I'm yelling sorry," she says with a bubbly laugh that has me snorting.

"It's fine, and thanks," I say, smiling. Alanna shoots Lucien a weird look for some reason and then mouths something.

"Um... I- Bea do you wanna go in? We can't get much dancing done when you're out here," Lucien mumbles nervously as three guys walk over. I could tell the one guy was Fletcher because you can see his freakishly adorably freckles from 17 miles away. The other one is definitely Max based off of the way Lucien is hurrying me. 

"Okay," I reply, not wanting to deal with Max at this moment. But somehow, he notices Lucien and I trying to leave.

"Damn, Bea," Max yells, jogging towards us. I whip my head around and see that even Max is wearing a suit. A rich boy suit, not a sweet one like Lucien's. "You look hella fine tonight. Lucien, you are a lucky ass motherfucker."

"Thanks?" I say sarcastically with a disgusted curl of my lips, giving him a nasty stare. "You look nice too." See, I'm trying to be polite.

"Thank you, ma'am. It's the Howell charm, y'know. Ay, but Lucien, watch yo' girl 'cause I might steal a dance with her." Max winks as he slurs, and I swear to God, I want to strangle him. Lucien seems to share the sentiment because his grip on me tightens before relaxing like he's worried about hurting me. 

"Sure you will," Lucien answers, breathing in deeply and then putting his hand around the curve of my waist. "But at this very moment, she is my date and I tend to keep it that way. So, if you don't mind, I'd like to go inside and dance my fucking shoes off."

* * *

Lucien is a good dancer. I am a bad dancer. Nonetheless, dancing together is perfect. 

Creep starts playing. Yes, the Radiohead one, and based on Lucien's softly smug grin and the way his gaze flits to the guy in the booth (who, after a few moments of examination, I realize is Milo from the football team) before returning to me, he requested it.

"May I?" Lucien asks, holding out his hand.

"You may," I giggle as he pulls me to the dance floor.

"Can I hold your waist?" He asks, looking into my eyes hopefully. I can't say no to him. He's just too perfect.

"Yes," I whisper, smiling softly as his hand curls around my hip. "After this dance, can we leave? I just- I want to enjoy this night with you without Max breathing down our necks."

"Of course," Lucien says with an understanding smile, his hazel eyes lighting up. He looks at me like princes do in those fairy tales when they're about to kiss the princess. "But let's have this moment," He whispers, breathing against my cheek.

"Okay," I mumble, taking in his scent. He smells like strawberries and old furniture. But it's a pleasant scent. 

This all feels too real. Me and him, dancing in front of everyone. Neo and Alanna watch from afar, smiling and whispering. I want what they have... real love.

* * *

Lucien

Bea showed me a place called 'Young Lover's Rock'. I'm well aware that it's a make-out spot but I guarantee (sadly) that Bea has no intention of pressing her lips against mine.

We eventually get there. Bea's smoked three cigarettes already. I think certain smells calm her nerves... maybe that's why she always has that perfume on. 

"Here's the spot," she tells me with a sly grin as she flicks her cigarette out the window. It's honestly hot how she's so pretty and can be so soft and sweet but also such a badass.

I pull over into an open spot and turn the car off. The chirping of crickets and croaks of frogs morph together to create an outdoor symphony.

"So, what should I know about you?" Bea asks, glancing over at me. Her beautiful blue eyes stare deep into my soul like she sees every insurmountable, discouraging part of me and won't back down or shy away from it.

"What do you wanna know?" I ask back. Mom's girlfriend always told me to answer a question with a question, and I'm glad to finally put her advice to the test, although it makes me slightly nervous (which is already hard to not be around Bea). 

"Whatever you're willing to tell," she says in a low, husky voice. Her head tilts and her eyes sharpen as she looks at me. (Very seductively, mind you. I hope it doesn't make me a jerk to say that, but she is giving me a look.) She starts moving closer towards me, then closer, and closer. Now she's right in my face. Her dress ruffles are spread out against my legs and her thighs are visible. "I like you a lot, Lucien. So I want to know all about you." This is all happening too fast and my brain is shutting down.

"I- you like- you like-like me?" I stutter, my heart going at a million miles per second. 

Bea hums in confirmation as she wraps my tie around her hand, a fond smile curving her plump, soft-looking lips as she hears my stupidly juvenile response. My Adam's apple bobs at the movement, and I try really, really hard to keep my thoughts from drifting to how fucking good it feels to have her on top of me, but it's too late. "Yeah. Ever since we danced together at the party. That's when it started. When you didn't make fun of me one bit even though I stumbled and stepped all over your toes." Her other hand winds through my slightly wavy, meticulously sprayed-into-place sandy brown hair, my breath hitching as she messes it up a bit and tugs on it slightly. 

"Y-you're not just playing with me, are you?" I ask, wary despite myself, because there is no way someone as awesome and beautiful as Bea could possibly like me back.

She leans her forehead and smiles as her eyes flutter to a close, her eyelashes brushing my cheeks. "God, you're so cute," she whispers under her breath, and my cheeks flush. "No, I'm not just playing with you, Lucien. You are so fucking perfect it makes me want to cry."

I almost choke on my breath. "I am not perfect-" I start to protest, but she cuts me off. 

"Oh, yeah? Then how do you explain your big brown doe eyes and luscious hair? How do you explain how good you look in this suit and how you manage to turn even a simple outfit made of a hoodie and a pair of jeans into something so attractive it makes my heart stop? How do you explain the way you're always the first person to jump up and defend me? How do you explain the way you look at me when I talk- or when I do anything? For a very long while, I was so, so scared you didn't like me back. But I think I can see it now– just a teeny bit– and I'm willing to jeopardize our friendship at the idea of something more by putting myself out there and saying this." Bea breathes in shakily, and a flash of nervousness shoots through her gaze. I suddenly realize how much courage this takes, and my heart warms at the thought. That's my girl. So brave and strong. "I like you, Lucien. A lot. Please don't discount my feelings by deflecting them."

I am silent, wondering how it's possible that such an incredible girl likes me. She bites her lower lip and her eyes flicker with disappointment and sadness as she mistakes my silence for a lack of reciprocating her feelings. "I'll just- I'll just get off of you, then- I don't want to force myself on you-" she says awkwardly in a voice thick with emotion, and my eyes widen, my hands instinctively lurching out to hold her thighs in place. 

"No, Bea- you're not forcing yourself on me. I- I really like you too. I've liked you since the party, and every moment since then that I've spent with you just makes me fall in love with you even more. I-I'm sorry it took me so long to say it." The words pour out of me as the wall I've built to try and maintain the "just friends" image comes crashing down.

She stares at me with wide eyes and her thighs relax in my hands, making my eyes darken slightly (something I try to shake off). 

A soft purr (or moan) emerges from her chest. "So what now?" I ask whispering.

"I'm not sure," Bea says, moving closer to my face. Then, she kisses me. She tugs at my bottom lip, letting me know she wants this. She parts her lips, inviting me to explore more. I can feel her heartbeat. It's beautiful; she's beautiful.

Her hand starts working at my pants and I have to stop for a second and pull away. "Bea," I say her name like prayer and a warning, exhaling deeply to try to control myself. "Are you sure?" I ask even as I knead her thighs. "I mean this is- it's not a good idea. We could get caught." 

Bea

"Lucien, don't worry. It'll be okay." I kiss his neck, making him get more aggressive with my thighs. 

"Bea, you aren't making this any better. I mean the way I'm thinking I feel- I feel like Max-"

"Hey, look at me." His big brown doe eyes lock onto my bright blue ones, making my cheeks flush. But I stand my ground, looking at him determinedly. "You are nothing like Max. Okay, Lucien? Max is immature and gross and doesn't care about consent. You are kind and wise beyond your years and care enough about my consent that you're putting this on pause to worry about being a bad guy. You are not a bad guy. You are so sweet and kind and that's one of the reasons why I like you so much." 

Throughout my explanation, he stares at me with wide eyes and parted lips, tears beginning to well up in his pretty brown eyes. I tilt my head, looking at him with an understanding I've barely ever looked at anyone before. "Bea-" he says softly, saying my name like a calling and a prayer, raw gratitude and emotion lining his face. 

I smile softly and cup his cheek with my hand, running my thumb over his cheekbone. "You also express your emotions very well, which is very attractive. You do a lot of things much better than a ton of other guys."

He huffs a wet laugh, wiping away the tears in the corner creases of his eyes with his thumb. "You're amazing, Bea," he says in such an honest way that I almost start crying too.

"I know," I whisper. "But it's nice to hear you say it. Like, really nice." 

He laughs again, this one with slightly more energy than before, and I smile even as I feel the mood change into something less charged and more sweet. I wrap my arms around his neck, (my fingers threading through his fluffy hair) and he slides his arms around my waist, pulling me close to him in a sweet, much-needed hug. He presses a soft, gentle kiss to my collarbone. "Y'know, I've always thought you smell really good," he murmurs. 

I snort a laugh, grinning. "Oh, yeah? What do I smell like?"

"Apples and marshmallows," he murmurs contentedly against my skin. 

I press a sweet kiss to the top of his head, nestling my nose into his sandy brown curls despite myself. "The marshmallow part seems nice, but I don't know how it works with the apples."

"Oh, it works," he assures me, sounding so sure I instantly believe him. "You make it work."

* * *