Pillows, it turned out, were a pain in the ass to make. The instructions sounded simple when I Googled them. I found the fabric I wanted to use, and the fluff to fill the pillow with, easily at Michael's, so I figured it'd be a simple project.

But it wasn't. Because sewing sucked. And my fingers we're starting to look like acupuncture gone bad.

"Damn it!" I cried as I dug the needle into my skin accidentally for the hundredth time.

A knock came on my bedroom door. "Allie?"

"Hold on!" I cried, quickly shoving everything off my bed and repositioning myself on my bed so it looked like I was just relaxing. "Okay."

"What's up?" Paul asked, sticking his head into my room. "I've been hearing you swear for like, the past half hour."

I gestured vaguely toward the television. "Commercials. Always ruin the best part."

"The T.V isn't even on, Allie Cat." The corners of his mouth curved up. "Or did you not realize that?"

Unfortunately, when I glanced at the T.V, it really wasn't on. Laughing awkwardly, I shrugged. "Right, that's because I turned it off when I heard you coming."

"Why?"

"Because I was watching... um, porn..."

Paul raised an eyebrow. "I wasn't aware I ordered those channels."

"Well, I found one," I told him, schooling my face into something serious. "And I'm disappointed that you watch that stuff."

"Coming from the girl claiming to have been watching it before I came in..."

I shrugged. "Sometimes I get curious."

"Uh-huh," he said skeptically, crossing his arms. "Obviously you're hiding something from me, so just promise it's nothing bad."

"It's nothing bad," I told him with a smile. "Trust me."

"I will. But do you want to take a break? I've gotta run to Walmart and pick up some supplies. I'm sure you need to pick up some stuff too. Ran out of my shampoo today, so I had to use yours," he said, grinning sheepishly.

Rolling my eyes, I slid off my bed. "Did you really?" Once I was close enough, I stood on my tiptoes and sniffed his hair, and yep, that was definitely my shampoo. "Nice, Paul."

Capturing my hand in his, he tugged me out of my room. "Come with me, I hate shopping alone."

"I'll go, I'll go," I told him, smiling and pulling my hand out of his grasp. "Let me fix my hair."

He groaned. "You're such a girl."

"Which is a good thing, considering you're straight. And guys can be just as high maintenance as girls sometimes, too."

"Well, I'm not," he said stubbornly, putting his hands on his hips. "I can wake up, roll out of bed, and be ready to go."

I raised an eyebrow. "Really? Do that then, instead of taking half an hour in the shower and then another fifteen minutes dressing yourself."

"I said I can, not that I will."

Ignoring his remark, I brushed past him, heading into the bathroom. A quick check of my phone told me it was almost dinnertime. I'd been in my bedroom trying to make that stupid pillow for way too long. And had nothing but a bunch of wounds to show for it. Speaking of which, I needed to hide those from Paul so he wouldn't figure anything out. Fortunately, I was wearing a long sleeve shirt. After brushing my hair and brushing my teeth, I met Paul by the front doorway.

"Since there's snow on the ground, I'm driving," Paul said before I could even ask to drive. "If you drive, we're both dead."

Rolling my eyes, I climbed into the passenger's seat. "I can handle my car really well."

"Yeah, but it's not as cool as mine, so we're taking mine."

"Whatever, drive."

Grinning, he shifted the car into drive and then placed it on my thigh. "So, Valentine's day is tomorrow."

"I know," I responded, unable to not sound a little bitter.

"I was thinking instead of doing a date like normal couples too, we could just have a night in, and I'll cook dinner," he offered. "You know, if that sounds okay."

Seeing as how if we continued eating out as often as we did, we'd both be fat before we knew it, it sounded more than okay to me. "We should have some type of chicken. And salad," I told him, trying to think healthy. "Is that healthy? I don't really ever pay attention to that stuff."

Paul smirked, turning to give me a quick eye roll. "You're the type of person who thinks tofu is healthy, don't you?"

"Isn't it?"

"Not really."

"Huh."

We drove in silence for a few moments. I gazed out the window, watching the snowy scenery as it whizzed by. Paul wasn't exactly the best cook, so I was a little worried about the Valentine's dinner. However, since he was actually going to try, I figured I could force it down if it didn't taste good, anyway.

"Decided a piece for Nationals yet?"

I groaned, letting my forehead drop against the glass window. "Ugh, no, don't bring that up."

"Come on, Allie. You need to start practicing."

"I know," I responded. "I just can't choose. There's nothing that calls out to me."

Paul chuckled. "How about the Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2?"

"Also known as the hardest piece ever created?"

"You could do it."

I turned in my seat to face him, pursing my lips. "You're joking."

"How many times do I have to say you're amazing before you believe me?"

"A thousand."

Paul nodded. "Okay. I can do that."

"Really?"

"You're amazing. You're amazing. Amazing, quite amazing. Amazing—"

"Okay, I get it," I interjected with a laugh. "Paul, if anything's amazing, it's you're undying belief in me."

"Also you're inability to see how special you really are."

I smiled at him, patting his arm. "You really know how to flatter a girl."

He faked a confused look. "You realize I'm only talking about your piano skills, right? Nothing else."

"Ouch, I'm wounded," I said dramatically, bringing my hands to my heart.

Paul laughed. "But really, I'll help you. Everyone else has piano teachers to help them, and technically I am your teacher, so it's fair enough."

We took a sharp left, causing the sun to shine through the windshield. Squinting, I pulled down the visor. "It's not fair, and you know it. You're a prodigy, Paul."

"But—"

"And you're biased. You want me to win."

"So?" he said stubbornly. "Is it so wrong that I want to choose my own duet partner? All my life I've been ordered to do this, do that. I don't even get to choose my performance dates, Allie."

I frowned at him. "Really?" Paul never really talked about his other profession, so I didn't know much about it. I'd been to a few of his performances with my parents, but that was about it.

"I don't hate it, but it's really strict," he continued, running a hand over his face. "Piano isn't my whole life. That's why I volunteered to teach. I needed a break."

"Are there a lot of diva's in the piano world?"

Paul snorted. "Oh, yeah. Lots of people like Olivia, but worse. I've seen my fair share."

"Was there anything else you wanted to do?"

Frowning, he glanced at me. "What?"

"For a job," I clarified. "Like, I wanted to be a vet."

"You did?"

"Yeah, but then my mom said I shouldn't because every time an animal died, I'd cry and I figured she was right. I couldn't deal with seeing animals I couldn't save," I told him, smiling at the memory. "I mean, I'd probably cry if a frog under my care died."

Grinning, Paul nodded, braking as we came to a stop sign. "Remember that time you bought hermit crabs? And they died the night you got them? You would not stop crying."

"It wasn't fair," I defended, crossing my arms. "They must have been sick. Pet stores suck. They just keep animals locked up to sell at ridiculous prices. Selling animals... that's like selling people."

"Yeah, good thing you aren't a vet."

I rolled my eyes, but smiled nonetheless. "So what about you?"

"Hmm, lots of things," he answered vaguely.

"Like?" I prodded.

A small smile crossed his face. "An astronaut."

"Wait, really?"

"Oh, yeah. Big time. I also wanted to be a pirate," he said with a laugh. "And more seriously, a firefighter."

An image of Paul as a pirate astronaut entered my mind and I chuckled. "So what happened to those dreams?"

"They got pushed aside once everyone realized how good at piano I was," he told me with a shrug. "I don't mind that much. Playing piano is fun and I love it."

"And it made you rich."

He nodded. "And it made me rich. But that's not why I play."

"Obviously," I said with a grin.

We pulled into the parking lot of Walmart and Paul, like usual, parked in the furthest spot from the store. He liked the exercise, apparently. Cutting the engine, he turned to me, a surprisingly serious expression on his face. "Is playing piano what you want to do with your life?"

I blinked, a little caught off guard by the question. "Huh?"

"Maybe not your whole life, but you'd be performing for a while, if you really made it. Which I'm sure you would. And maybe you could go to college after for something else, but it'd take a lot of time and dedication to be a pianist."

"Yeah, I get that," I told him, undoing my seatbelt. "And I wouldn't mind. I love playing the piano as much as you do, Paul. I'm just a little iffy about public attention."

His lips curved up into a smile again. "Oh, really?"

I ignored his sarcasm. "But I do want to show off my talents. I'm just..."

"Modest?" he suggested. "You get used to the attention."

"Yeah, I know."

"Anyway, let's go get the shopping done," he said, clapping a hand on my thigh. "The sooner it's done, the better."

Although it was still freezing outside, the air conditioning was on in Walmart. I pulled my sweatshirt around my tighter, grumbling under my breath. Paul laughed and took my hand, his warm skin covering mine. A cute blonde guy chirped an over enthusiastic greeting to us— Julius, his nametag read— and handed us a carriage. Not knowing if we needed one or not, I took it, and thanked the worker.

"So what do we need, Paul?" I asked, somehow managing to control the cart and hold his hand.

"Let's look at the posters first," he responded distractedly, making a beeline for the back of the store. "I want an Avengers one."

I grinned and rolled my eyes. "You're such a nerd."

"Am not. What's the definition of nerd, anyway?"

"Mm, about six feet, a brunet, generally named Paul..."

He squeezed my hand gently. "Ha ha, very funny."

"I try."

Turned out, there were five different Avengers posters. Paul bought all of them, surreptitiously sliding them into the carriage when he thought I wasn't looking. I threw in a One Direction one when he wasn't looking. Although, if it turned out he actually liked One Direction, it'd be a lot less funny.

But whatever. At least they were cute.

Next we went to the hygiene products, where Paul spent at least ten minutes sniffing all the shampoos and conditioners. "Which one do you like more?" he asked me, holding out two different kinds of the Axe brand.

"The blue one," I said randomly. Honestly, it didn't matter. It took about me about three seconds to choose a brand of shampoo. Why Paul took choosing shampoo so seriously, I didn't know, but it was kind of endearing.

"I don't want to smell bad... but I don't want to smell fruity either. I suppose mint is alright," he murmured, mostly speaking to himself. "It does smell like our toothpaste though."

"I like the blue kind," I told him.

He frowned at it for a moment and then tossed it in the carriage. "Okay."

"You're more of a girl than me," I commented with a smirk. "Want to buy some tampons while we're here?"

His face stayed completely blank. "Do you need some?"

"What? No—no!" Embarrassed now, I faced away from him, trying to hold back a blush. "I'll buy those on my own."

"I really don't mind—"

"No."

He was quiet for a few moments. "Hey, do you know why they put the condoms and pregnancy tests next to the tampons?"

"Jesus, Paul, we're leaving this section," I demanded, snatching his hand again and tugging him away. "Don't say stuff like that so loudly, either."

He laughed at my expression, using his free hand to ruffle my hair. "Why not? You're cute when you're embarrassed."

"Paul?"

I dropped Paul's hand immediately, putting a good few feet behind us when I heard his name being called. Paul seemed hurt for a moment, before turning around. I copied him, my gaze landing on his mother. She brightened considerably when she noticed that it was indeed her son. "Hi, Mom," he greeted her, allowing her to tug him in for a kiss.

"Hi Holly," I said, giving her a small wave.

"Hi Allie," she responded, also giving me a hug. "How are you two?"

"Good," Paul and I echoed simultaneously.

Smiling, she studied our faces, a curious look coming to her eye. "How are things at home? You guys aren't killing each other?"

Paul let out an awkward laugh. "No. Allie's a good girl."

"Can't argue with that."

"Paul makes me wash his underwear though," I pitched in.

Paul blushed, shooting me a dirty look. "Allie!"

Holly raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

"W-well she's doing the laundry anyway."

"Is that considered sexual harassment?" I inquired innocently, going for the wide-eyed look.

Holly laughed quietly. "I don't think so. I'm glad you two are getting along. But it's not that surprisingly anymore. It's almost like you're married."

Paul and I exchanged awkward glances. "Right," I said, shifting on my feet.

"But were you holding hands earlier?"

"Yes," Paul replied at the same moment I said, "no."

Holly furrowed her eyebrows. "What?"

"We were," I told her, sending Paul a warning look, "but it was only because Paul was being embarrassing and I had to drag him away from the lady products."

"Do I even want to know?" she questioned, sounding wary.

I forced a chuckle. "No."

"Right. Well. I'll let you two finish your shopping in peace. Paul, don't be afraid to come visit your father and I. We miss you."

"I'll come visit," he promised her as she kissed his forehead.

"Bye, Allie," she said, squeezing my arm. "Have fun in school."

Nodding, I bid her adieu and then turned to Paul, pursing my lips. "Why did you say yes?" I demanded once she was out of range.

"I told you, I won't lie to my parents," Paul responded casually, beginning to walk again.

I pulled him to a stop. "But I thought we agreed to keep our relationship a secret."

"Well..." He shifted on his feet uncomfortably, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "I was thinking maybe we should tell our parents."

My jaw nearly dropped. "What?"

"I think they should know—"

"No," I cut him off. "Absolutely not."

He frowned at me. "Allie."

"Why? We're fine like this!"

"I'm not," he stated stubbornly. "I don't like sneaking around. It makes this seem wrong, which it's not. I want to let people know you're my girlfriend, Allie."

His words were flattering, but I still held my ground. "I'd feel more comfortable if we just kept this between us for a little longer."

"Well I don't want to hide it from our parents."

And I didn't want to tell my dad. My mom wouldn't be as much of a problem, but I was worried about my dad. What if he forced me to move out of Paul's house? What if I couldn't finish up my senior year with my friends at school? "No, Paul."

"This isn't only up to you to decide," he snapped at me, and he genuinely sounded irritated.

Which frustrated me. "And it's not up to you, either."

"Can't you just try and see it my way?" he implored, all puppy-dog eyes and pouty lips.

I didn't waver though. "No."

"You won't even try?" he asked, narrowing his eyes slightly.

"Paul, I just don't think it's a good idea."

Looking hurt again, he faced away from me, and began walking toward the back of the store. "Never mind. Let's finish shopping."

Not wanting to him to be upset with me, I quickly caught up. "Paul, I'm sorry, but—"

"No, it's fine," he interjected flatly. "I didn't realize I was so embarrassing."

"You're not," I said exasperatedly. "It's just not the right time."

He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. "Okay, Allie."

"You sure?"

"Yeah," he muttered.

I grimaced. Yeah, no, he wasn't okay with it. And yeah, it was a little unfair of me to decide to keep our relationship a secret, but he wasn't thinking it out completely. "Let's just finish our shopping."

He grunted his reply and I had to withhold a sigh. Great, our first fight (would this even be considered a fight? It was more like a squabble), right before Valentine's day.

Just perfect.

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