'Shiiiiiiiittttttt.' Christian yells, his mouth close to my ear. 'Jesus, woman. Slow down.'

I revv the accelerator and whiz forward. I approach a turn and I shift to the side, bringing down the bike with me, and I hear Christian let off a stream of choiciest Italian curses.

Man, someone should really wash out his mouth with soap.

'GODDAMNIT. WE ARE NOT IN THE GRAND MOTOR PRIX, CORAL. SLOW THE FUCK DOWN.'

The more he asks me to slow down, the more faster I go. The roads are bare and inviting, and I've got a sissy co-passenger. What more should I ask for?

'We are soooo going to get pulled over.' Christian moans, and shifts, his arms entwining around my waist. I stiffen for a second, and then hope he didn't feel that.

I ride into the shopping mall Christian mentioned and gun the engine down. I beckon for him to get off and I shut the bike off.

Christian takes off his helmet, his chocolatey hair an adorable mess of spikes. 'I can't feel my legs. I'm never riding with you again. It's a goddamn trap.'

'God, you sound like a whiny woman.' I say, taking off my own helmet. 'Is this where you wanted to come?'

Christian nods.

'And this particular shopping mall allows customers only at three in the morning?'

'To hell with your sarcasm. Get a move on. We don't have much time.'

I shrug before I slide off the bike and follow him into the mall. It's seemingly empty, there are not much people, except for drifters and really pregnant women craving chocolate ice creams and their grouchy husbands.

Christian leads me to an elegantly designed shop named "Lawrence". Oh well, guessing by the interior, I guess this is where we would trade in his Ducatti. In exchange for a couple of dresses, of course.

A rather grumpy, bored Barbie sits at the reception. Her eyes flit to us as we enter and she hastily throws away the magazine she was hunched over.

'Mr. Beneventi, I presume?' Her voice is sugary, and sickeningly sweet. Christian gives her one of his own patented lopsided grins, and I can hear her moan under her breath.

Somebody kill me already.

Her eyes shift to me, rather reluctantly, and she regards me distastefully, like I was something the cat brought in. She plasters her sick smile onto her face.

'You must be the gorgeous sister.'

I roll my eyes.

'Close, but no, sweetheart. I am his fiancée, so you can stop eyeballing him.'

Christian hides his chuckle with a cough, and I watch the woman turn red with anger and embarrassment.

'I'm really sorry,' Christian says, looking at her name tag. 'Susan. But we are really, really short on time. If you could make this quick?'

Susan bats her eyelashes and springs to action, quick to impress. 'Sure sir. Just a moment.'

'Come on, ma'am. Do you prefer v cuts?'

Half an hour and a thousand dresses later, I am pushed into the dressing room to try on at least a short listed hundred. I eye the pile of expensive satin and silk and roll my eyes, before pulling one out and slipping it on.

It is red, my color. And fierce, of course. It has a slit all the way up one leg, and the back is deep with a criss-cross of spaghetti straps.

Not bad. I kinda look sexy in it.

There is a knock on the door.

'Have you put on the first dress? It's Christian.

'Yeah.'

'Come out, then.'

I bite my lip. 'Why?' I call out.

'I want to see you sweetheart.'

Oh the show.

'I want it to be a surprise, baby.' I say, my voice sultry.

It takes two to tango, anyways.

A moment of silence.

'Come out, darling.' His voice is a challenge. 'Let me see you.'

I almost want to squeeze the life off his lungs, but I patiently open the door and walk out.

Christian stands with the woman, Susan, and she's trying her best to chat him up. Christian politely smiles, his eyes slitting to the dressing room door every two minutes.

He sees me coming out and straightens. Susan stops chattering. I see Christian's eyes grow wide, his green eyes sparkling, and I find myself melting.

Emotions swirl in his eyes, I don't know. Lust?

He is attracted to me?

Something shifts in me.

Red suits me, and the dress, with its modest heart neckline is a charmer.

I smirk.

'How is it?' I ask, pushing my leg out the slit, and giving a twirl just for the sake of it.

Christian's eyes darken.

'No.' He says, his eyes drawn to my exposed leg.

'But I like this one,' I say exasperated. 'I think I look good in this.'

'No, Coral.' His voice is thick. 'Try another.'

I try to push him more, but he wouldn't budge. I try on a violet number, then a blue one, a silver one, a pale yellow, a satin black.

'No. Too much skin.'

'No. Too tight.'

'No. Cleavage, uh.'

'No. Too short.'

'No. You look like a shapeless doughball.'

'No.'

'NO!'

I'm tired, sleepy and my hands ache from zipping up an infinite number of zippers. I am too tired to even argue when I put on the sixtieth dress, and step out to let Christian say no again.

I don't have the energy to twirl. I just stand there, waiting for him to say something.

'I like this one.'

WHAAAAAAAAAAT?

I look down to see what I am wearing. It's an off-shoulder black mermaid gown, that flares outward from my knees. It's a classy, elegant piece, but I don't care. Thank god I don't have to stuff my fat ass into another dress.

'No, you don't, darling.'

Shit, I said that loud?

'Yes, you did.' He turns to Susan. 'We'll take this one, Suzie.'

She blushes all the way to her toes.

/////

Christian picks out a couple of tuxes but he doesn't even bother to show me. Not that I want him to, but it wouldn't have hurt for him to ask anyway. We leave the dresses there for alteration and Christian promises to pick them up in an hour or two.

He drops me off at the dorms. It's 6 in the morning and he tells me he has a morning shift at Baristas, and he speeds off without even a goodbye.

I can see that he feels bad for dumping my ass at Boston, but he has too much of an ego to apologize straight to my face.

Shrugging, I make my way up to my room. I hear sounds, Rachel must be up. I grab my key and open the door.

'Hey, Rach.'

'Holy fuck!'

I turn in time to see Rachel with her legs over Jonah's shoulders, and his head between her –

'MY EYES!' I yell, closing my eyes and pressing my palms on them for extra protection. 'MY INNOCENT EYES! OH MY GOD, WHERE'S THE DAMN DOOR?' My hands grab air. 'WHERE'S THE FUCKING DOOR DAMMIT!'

'Coral, it's okay. You can open your eyes now.'

'AND SCAR MYSELF FOR LIFE? NO, THANK YOU.'

'We are okay, jerk. Just shut up and not let the whole dorm know!.'

'Even Jonah?'

'Even Jonah. Open your eyes.'

Sure enough, Jonah has put on some pants and Rachel has covered herself with the sheets.

'What the hell, Rachel?'

She blushes, and runs a hand through her messy bee-hive of a hair. 'I thought you were staying at home, with the weekend and all.'

I roll my eyes. 'Okay, whatever. Jonah clear out, now. I need a few hours of sleep.'

'But, I – '

'Don't wanna hear it.

He picks off his shirt from the floor. 'See you later, Rachel.'

Rachel nods, pulling the sheets closer. Jonah gives me a smirk, his eyes scanning me,  before letting himself out.

I turn to face Rachel, a question on my face.

'It's a loooooong story.' She falls back onto the mattress.

I make a move towards my bed. 'I have all the time in the world.'

'About that,' she says. 'You might wanna stay clear of your bed. Until you clean the sheets.'

My mouth falls open. 'My bed? You did it on my bed? '

'Um. The thing is, we were a little, uh, preoccupied to notice the bed, but we switched when we did, promise. I swear it was around the fourth time that we – oomph.'

I had hit her with my pillow.

////

After I made Rachel wash all my bedding herself, I take a long, long much needed nap. I already told Rachel not to wake me up when she left for classes, and honestly I didn't feel like sitting in one of my own either.

I'm somewhere north in dreamland when I hear the lock click. I am on my feet in a flash, my momentary mafia instincts kicking in.

Christian stands in the doorway, shopping bags raised above his head.

'Jeez, woman. It's me.'

I bite my lip. 'We need to do something about that extra key.'

'Nope. That is my key, darling.'

'Shut up.' I rub at my forehead. 'You got the dress?'

'Yeah.' He hands me a bag. 'You weren't in class today.'

I crick my neck and train my eyes on him. 'No. I wasn't feeling well.'

Concern clouds his green eyes. 'Are you sick?' Christian steps into the room, his warm, large hands suddenly on my face. 'Do you have a fever?'

His hands are all over my face, touching my forehead, my cheeks, my hair.

It feels so good.

Shit.

I pull away as if struck by lightning. 'No, I don't. What are you doing?'

Christian frowns, as if puzzled, then he smirks. 'You are afraid.'

'What?' My voice breaks.

Christian grins.

'You are so, so afraid.'

I cross my arms over my chest.

'Of what, genius?'

'Of me. Rather, you are afraid whether you'll fall for me. You are afraid of my touch.'

'Bullshit. I am not afraid of you, Christian Beneventi.'I walk towards him and point a single finger at his chest.

'You don't scare me.'

Christian grins even wider. His fingers curl around my wrist. 'Not even if I do this?'

'Do what?'

He jerks me forward, and I lose balance. His hands grip my waist to stop me from falling, and I press my palms to his chest.

Instinct.

'No?' But my voice is shaky, even to me. His face is close, too close, hell, his body is too close. I need to get away, get away, get away.

'You are sweating.' He chuckles. 'We are engaged, sweetheart. If you can't be close to me without sweating bucket loads, what would happen when I do this?'

I don't have a chance to react.

I don't have a chance to say 'Do what, you shithead?'

I don't have a chance to be prepared.

I don't have a chance.

Because, then, at that very moment, Christian's mouth's on mine, and I am seeing stars.

////