hi guys, a day late but much more edited than it was yesterday. i'm sorry for the irregularity lately. i'm going thru some family stuff on top of six classes and a bunch of clubs. plus i'm getting sick so i'm clearly living lavish out here at uconn. anywho, i hope you guys enjoy.

ALSO WARNING: i may or may not have accidentally called Cam Asa or Felicity Poison. I'm a little out of it because it's late and i'm exhausted but I wanted to get this chapter out for you guys because i know i'd have had no time to tomorrow. i'm pretty sure i went back and checked it all but who knows? either way, just comment if i did and i'll go back and change it.

  qotc: do you like ashton and mel together? 

COMMENT <3 I love reading those :) also vote if you're reading this so I know the size of my audience. 

To my pleasant surprise, Cameron keeps his word about actually texting me. The awkward phase of short responses quickly passes and soon enough, we're back to sending each other funny pictures and sarcastic replies. I try my best to not come off as too flirty seeing as I promised to let him control the pace at which things happen.

Things only seem to get better with time just as I had hoped and the last two weeks have been progressive. Just a few days ago, the thought occurred to me that the month long winter break may damage the advancements we've made. What if we fall off again because of the recess? It's a long time to go without seeing one another, especially after having such a long gap of no communication. What if he completely loses interest altogether?

I'm just finishing up packing my bag for my commute home tomorrow, which I'm not looking forward to, when my phone starts to ring. I look at the screen and waste no time answering it. "Hello," I greet Cam once I balance the phone between my ear and shoulder. I continue zipping up my duffel bag and toss it near my door once I'm done.

"Do you want to hang out tonight?" he poses the question and I feel my heart start to race. "Or are you leaving early tomorrow?

"I'm not getting picked up until the afternoon. I'm down to hang out," I confirm as I pace around my room. Like I said before, we've spent a lot of time together this past week, almost to the extent to which we used to hang out before everything went bad. We got dinner a couple times and have talked on the phone even more. I saw him last night, too; we went out for a drive to talk, which I assumed was the last time we'd see each other before we both head home. Yet, here he is asking me to hang out again and I'm obviously more than willing.

"Anything specific you want to do?" he wonders. "I was just going to hangout here and watch Christmas movies."

"That sounds like fun..." I trail as I think about whether or not we'll cuddle. We haven't had any kind of physical contact at all but maybe I'll get lucky. I feel pathetic for craving his arm around me, but that's just who I am now, I guess. "We made some Christmas cookies earlier. I'll bring some over."

"Yes, please," he encourages.

"Well, I'm about to shower. I'll come over after. Is that okay?" I wonder and he confirms before hanging up. I hurriedly shower, moisturize, and do my hair in a matter of forty minutes; I'm sure it's a brand new record. I'm pulling on a casual outfit when my phone rings. I hop over with my sweats halfway up my legs, look at the caller ID, and swipe to answer. "Yes, Cam?"

"Are you coming?" he urges and I chuckle loudly. "It's been like an hour."

"I'm getting dressed now," I tell him.

"You don't have to get all dressed up, Flizzy. This isn't a date," he teases.

"Shut up, Cam. I'll be there in twenty minutes," I inform him.

"Don't forget the cookies!" he pleads, which gets a sigh from me. I pull on a sweater and then my coat before shoving my feet into my boots. I jog to the kitchen and put half the remaining cookies on a plate before shoving one in my mouth. After wrapping them up, I set out for Cam's apartment.

I ring the doorbell patiently and wait for him to meet me on the porch. You think he'd be downstairs already seeing as he's been snapping at me to hurry up. The front door opens and he smiles at me. "A caroler?" he teases and I roll my eyes at him before shoving my way into the building. In reality, I squeeze between the narrow space and avoid touching him at all costs. "You smell good."

"Thanks," I mumble in response as I walk up the steps to his apartment. Once we reach his floor, he opens the door and motions for me to enter.

"I'm set up in the living room. We can move to my room if you want. It's up to you. Ashton isn't here so..." he trails and I look at him with raised brows.

"Why would it matter if Ashton's here?" I question him and he laughs loudly. "Are you trying to make a move on me?"

I internally yell at myself for saying something so bold. Should I cool it with the flirting? I said I'd let him control the pace at which things happen. I can't help that I'm growing antsy, though. It's been almost three weeks and I haven't even hugged him. It doesn't matter that much but I can't help but notice. Does the progress we're making even count if he still doesn't want to touch me? There's obviously still tension.

"I told you about Ashton so you didn't have to worry about him bothering us in the living room," he retorts for clarification with an entertained grin on his face. I decide to roll with it. He's clearly not uncomfortable.

"You didn't answer my second question," I insist and he scoffs noisily.

"You wish," he teases with that same wide smirk. Oh, I do.

"At least take me on a date first," I encourage and he rolls his eyes at me.

"I've tried that. Remember?" he retorts. "You've denied my attempts multiple times."

"You know what they say...next time's the charm," I reply hopefully.

"Oh, now you want to go on a date with me?" he asks as he takes the cookies from my hand. He walks to the kitchen and I follow with intentions of getting a drink.

"Yes," I say and he halts to look at me.

"Seriously?" he blurts with raised brows.

"Yes," I conclude with another nod.

"That's all it took?" he wonders and I bob my head up and down again. "Well...now I have to think of date ideas. You know, last month there were so many things we could've done. Haunted houses, pumpkin patches, apple picking and corn mazes..."

"Well, find something. It doesn't have to be fancy or special. I'll enjoy anything," I encourage. "And I'll find something and take you on a date."

He offers me a wide grin paired with an understanding nod. "Do you want eggnog?" he questions as he unwraps the cookies and throws out the foil. He strides over to the fridge while I take a seat and pick up a cookie.

"Yes," I confirm and he grabs the bottle. With a sharp shake of the plastic container, he places two glasses on the table and pours the thick liquid into them.

After taking a sip, he coughs a little. "Oh, this is adult eggnog." He stares at the unlabeled bottle and gives a slow nod. "Never trust anything Ashton brings into this house, I swear."

I bring the glass to my lips and nod. "Yes, it is." He stares at me for a few more seconds before shrugging and taking another sip. I offer a quiet chuckle as I continue to switch between biting into a cookie and sipping the rather sweet but strong drink.

"How drunk are we going to get from this?" I ponder as I stare at my half finished cup. He takes another large gulp, lets it pass down his throat, and then licks his lips.

"Does it matter?" he wonders as he stares into his finished cup. I give him a nervous laugh and he grins at me. "What? Are you scared to be drunk with me?"

"No..." I trail as I avert my gaze to the tray of dwindling cookies. I definitely am. The last thing I want is to make him uncomfortable by boldly flirting or making a comment that's too sexual. I guess I'll just have to keep a very close eye on my tongue. In reality, I should be worried about him; anytime he's under any sort of influence, he becomes a sexual deviant of sorts. Not that I'm complaining...

We slowly work our way through the cookies and eggnog until he gives me a wide toothed grin and I know he's had enough. "Alright, let's watch movies now," I insist as I cap up the eggnog. To my surprise, he doesn't complain and only picks up the last cookie and eats it with a satisfied smile on his face.

Upon standing up, I feel the alcohol hit me but I try to work through it and drag him to the couch. Not only is he less tolerant to alcohol but he's had more than I have, so while I'm feeling it, I know he must be feeling it more. A sigh escapes my mouth as I sit him on the couch a cushion away from me. After grabbing a blanket from the pile on the ottoman, I toss it over myself and sit on the opposite side of the couch.

He fiddles with the remote and starts playing the funny Christmas movie that he was watching before I arrived. I don't ask to restart it, mostly because I've seen this movie more than a handful of times but also because I'm too focused on making sure I don't wind up in Cam's lap. His excited and entertained giggles and laughs fill the room whenever a remotely funny scene comes up, in addition to his tiny comments of 'oh, I love this part' and 'watch this!' I simply stay put and keep my eyes focused on the screen and my hands tucked between my thighs. After a half hour of sitting like this, Cam turns to me. "What's wrong?" he presses with a perked out lower lip.

"Nothing," I reply to my best ability. I even offer a confused head shake and limp shoulder raise.

"You've been sitting like that since you got here. Are you uncomfortable?" he continues to interrogate and I make it a point to appear more relaxed. I put my hands on either side of my thighs and relax my shoulders more.

"No, I'm fine, Cam," I assure him with a quick shake of my head. He stares at me in slight confusion before continuing the movie. From the corner of my eye, I watch as he shifts around on his cushion, breaking the invisible barrier I put between us. His hand slips across the cushion a bit and I risk a glance every few seconds until soon enough, his pinkie lightly touches mine. I know that he's waiting on me to make the next move so I'm not surprised when his head turns in my direction after a minute of me not doing anything.

"I'm trying to hold your hand," he blurts and I give a slow nod as I keep my eyes locked on the screen.

"I know," I confirm awkwardly. What does one respond to that?

"Do you not want to?" he questions in slight confusion.

"No, I do," I respond before pursing my lips. "But not when you're drunk."

He stares at me before letting out a wild laugh. "You won't hold my hand because I'm drunk?" he gasps when I don't join in on his giggling. Now, I'm looking at him in his bewildered state.

"You haven't touched me at all in three weeks. Why now?" I pose the question before answering it myself, "because you're drunk."

He scoffs in disbelief. "No, because I'm not going to see you for a month and I'm going to miss you."

"I feel like I'm taking advantage of you," I mutter after considering his explanation.

"I called you over here so we could spend time together before we have to leave. I wanted to watch movies and cuddle, so can you just hold my hand, Flizzy?" he asks in slight exasperation. I stare at him for a few more seconds and he makes it a point to extend his hand. I sigh in defeat and press my palm against his, which gets a satisfied grin from him. I feel a small smile makes it way onto my face as I bow my head shyly.

As the movie continues, he gives my arm a light tug and I assume it's him adjusting in his spot on the couch. When it happens again, I turn to him and he motions with his head for me to move over. I give him a skeptical look and he sighs. "Flizzy, either you move over here or I move you over here."

I fight back the grin on my lips as I stare at him rebelliously. He waits a few more seconds before releasing my hand and leaning over. He somehow manages to take either side of my waist and slide me over to his side of the couch. With a satisfied grin on his lips, he tosses his blanket over me and finds my hand beneath the fabric. I ignore the rapid beating of my heart and the way my stomach is flipping inside my body. Instead, I focus on the way his thumb traces shapes on the back of my hand and the way his leg presses against mine.

This is all it takes to send my heart into overdrive. The more I think about him, the more my stomach starts to shift with feelings and emotions, which are probably only as intense as they are because the alcohol coursing through my system. I know better than to act on them and instead, try to keep my eyes on the television. He taps the rhythm to the song playing on the movie against the back of my hand and I tighten my grip on his fingers absentmindedly. It feels so natural to be holding him.

"I have to pee," he announces as he grabs the controller and hits pause. He gets up and carefully walks to the bathroom with me watching. I wait patiently for him to return and when he does, he's tying his sweatpants. My gaze travels up his body until I meet his gaze and I can tell he's well aware of the thoughts traveling through my mind.

"Hi," I say sheepishly and he rolls his eyes from a few feet away and tugs lightly at his curls. He slowly drops onto the opposite side of me so that he's in the middle of the couch rather than the corner. He stretches his legs out before him and offers me a wide grin.

"I was thinking about where I was going to take you on our date," he starts and I immediately perk up. With a teasing grin, he tilts his head. "Want to go see Santa?"

"Anything but that," I retort, though my brain is elsewhere. He looks so good. He always does. But right now, he looks happy, as if genuinely content with how things are. Would it be weird if I held his face in my hands? Would that be crossing the line? I wouldn't kiss him. I just want to hold him. Well, of course I want to kiss him, too, but I can wait for that.

"You can sit on his lap and tell him what you want for Christmas," he continues to joke with a jubilant expression on his face.

I open my mouth to say something before biting my tongue. My first thought is to tell him that I'd much rather sit on his lap and show him what I want for Christmas. But instead, I go with my second thought. "Can I touch your face?" I blurt and he stares at me in a state of slight confusion.

"Sure," he confirms nervously. I tap at his leg and he turns to face me so that we're now staring at each other. I prop myself up on my knees and inch closer to him, which results in him putting his hands in his lap and waiting for me to fulfill my odd request.

Gently, I rest my hands on either side of his face and I can tell he's fighting back a smile. I lightly press his hair back like a cat's ears and run my thumbs over his eyebrows. A giggle slips out of my mouth at the sight of him without those patches of hair on his face. My index finger lightly flicks at his nose, which he wrinkles defensively before narrowing his gaze at me. I trail my hands down his face and admire the sharpness of his jawline with my index fingers. I swallow nervously as my eyes fall to his mouth.

I definitely don't want to kiss him when we're both drunk. That'd be a bad idea. If he insists that holding hands is fine, then I'll do that. Hell, I'll even cuddle with him. But kissing him is too much. I find myself swallowing again as I tear my gaze from his mouth. I bring my eyes to his again and discover a sultry expression taking over his face. My eyes open and close and I silently wonder if my mind is playing tricks on me. I'm even more surprised when he inches closer to me.

"Go for it," he encourages in a voice barely above a whisper. I feel his jaw move beneath my palms, which are still resting on his face. When I don't move in, he drops his gaze to my mouth. "Flizzy."

"No, Cam..." I trail quietly but I feel frozen in place. Removing my hands from his face seems impossible. Besides, I don't want to. Wow, this was a bad idea. Why am I only now realizing that?

"Why not?" he mumbles back, barely moving his mouth now.

"We're drunk," I mutter, "you're drunk. You don't want this when you're sober."

"And how do you know what I want?" he replies in the same hushed tone. I have to strain to hear him because my blood is rushing so loud throughout my body. I don't even want to risk trying to read his lips.

"You made it a point not to touch me for the last few weeks," I remind him, "this is drunk you talking."

"I've wanted to," he admits in a short breath and I make the mistake of dropping my eyes to his mouth, "I've wanted to kiss you...all over."

His words make my body hot with passion yet I somehow manage to hold back. "Cam..." I say and his hands travel from his lap to my inner thighs before slowly reaching my hips. Every part of my skin he touches goes numb and my breathing only gets heavier as I try to remind myself that he is drunk.

"Hm..." he breathes onto my neck as he continues to move closer to me. I turn my head away from him so that I can focus more.

"If you've wanted to kiss me so bad, why didn't you?" I ask in hopes that it'll clear his mind a bit and he'll realize that he doesn't want to just yet.

"I wanted to see if you'd leave if I made you wait," he confesses and I feel a sharp pain in my chest. He seriously thought I was going to leave? Even after I promised I wouldn't?

"I wouldn't...I'm not going to leave," I tell him as I use my hands to pull him back to look at me.

"I know," he replies as his half lidded gaze bounces between both of mine.

"I promise," I say again and he gives me a slow nod.

"I believe you," he responds.

"I'm sorry for hurting you," I whisper again as I rub along his jawline with my thumbs.

"I forgive you," he replies before wearing a small grin. "Now can I kiss you?"

I chuckle quietly and nod. I slide my hands down to his neck as I move closer to kiss him, which feels better than I could've imagined. At first, we go slow. Once our mouths connect, we both release nervous breaths as we move together as one. Then, once we get into a better rhythm, he pulls me onto his lap and wraps his arms around my waist in a vice grip.

After a little while of us intensely kissing, his hand travels south and he runs his hand along the button of my jeans. I pull away quickly and catch his attention. "Cam..." I start with a brief shake of my head, "I'm not doing anything we haven't done already."

"Yeah, that's fair," he agrees with a slow nod, "sorry, I just got ahead of myself."

"Trust me, I get it," I nod at him, "but I wouldn't let our first time be like this."

He nods along with me as he rests his head back on the couch. I crawl off of his lap to give him space and he reaches out and grabs my hand. After playing with his fingers for a second, I place my head on his shoulder and focus back on the movie, which we've missed a half hour of. We let it play until the end, though I don't think either of us are really into it, and then he turns to me.

"Do you want to sleep here tonight?" he blurts curiously before butting in, "it's just that its late and you probably don't feel like walking and I can't exactly drive you. I'm not trying to have sex with you or anything like-."

"Yes, Cam," I cut him off with a short nod. "Your bed better be comfortable."

"It is," he assures me with a half smile. "We can go lay in it right now."

After giving me clothes to wear and giving me a spare toothbrush, he leaves me to get ready for bed in the bathroom. I try my best to imitate my normal nightly routine but without most of my products, it's nearly impossible to do. So, I leave the bathroom in a matter of five minutes and switch places with him. I crawl into his bed and pull the blankets up to my chest and discover that he was right; his bed is comfortable.

He returns, shuts off the light, and climbs into bed beside me. I immediately lay my face on his chest and cuddle up against him, which seems to satisfy him judging by the way he adjusts himself. He brushes his hands through my hair and I feel myself slowly dozing off.

Before I can fall asleep, I open my mouth to say goodnight. "Cam?"

"Yes, Flizzy?"

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight." My words come out as slight mumbles but I don't feel as if its a sufficient enough end to our night. I want to thank him for letting me back in, even if it's only a little as of right now. I want to tell him how much I appreciate and care about him and how grateful I am for this second chance. I want to tell him that I won't mess up this time and that I can't wait to meet his family. However, my drunken and tired mind can't manage to form coherent enough sentences to explain all of that.

"Cam?" I mutter after another brief silence.

"Yes, Flizzy?"

"I love you," I blurt into the silence and I immediately realize what I just said. I almost take it back. Then I realize that there's no point. Its true. I've known it for a while now. I just wish I could've said it at a better time. There's a long pause and I just assume he's going to ignore my declaration but he surprises me, too.

"I love you, too, Felicity."