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Slowly, the realization that her hair had been thoroughly wrecked started to become an overwhelming distraction in Maebe's mind. She was using it as a defense, because Alistaire was staring at it, and it made her self-conscious enough to care. She reached up, trying to tame the mess with her fingers, but all she managed to do was unravel the tight pulled back style, which released the hair to be free. She never wore her hair free like this. She wanted to pull it all out rather than continue to stand there with her hair curling around her face and down her shoulders.

This was the Maebe no one was ever supposed to see. The one she saw in the mirror every morning, when she woke up. Before the brushes, the ribbons, the makeup. It was the canvas, and it was supposed to be private.

She remembered the first time Alistaire had ever let her hair down. The subsequent fit, and fight, had been embarrassing. No one made her lose her temper like Alistaire. And yet, making up made her forget what she'd been fighting for in the first place. It made her forget how much she hated letting her hair down, around him. Both literally, and figuratively. She felt the slow, sinister crawl of comfortability remind her why she cared so much now. He'd gotten into her veins.

Maebe's gaze snapped into focus when she realized he was taking his glove off. She dropped her hands out of her hair, and followed the movement of his hand, hypnotized like a deer in headlights. He touched her neck, and she felt his skin brush against hers.

And then he asked her. He knew exactly what he was doing, touching her right where her pulse jumped in sudden response to the question. He knew it was there, against her skin, that the truth would escape. All of her pretty little masks were put back on the shelf, useless against him. Her eyes narrowed as she glared up at him with betrayal.

He was an absolute b*****d.

Unfair. Unfair. Entirely, completely, wholly and utterly unfair. If Maebe was a screamer, she would be wailing at the top of her lungs right now. But she steamed quietly, as was her nature, waiting for him to make a move. Something. Anything. She craved it as much as she reviled against it. But it was to be expected, wasn't it? She felt like she was losing the game - in small steps perhaps, but inevitably heading towards a loss regardless. He was the one dragging it out of her, despite how hard she fought to keep the game from coming to a crumbly, messy end.

It was just a little easier to push away the end, when he touched her like that. His fingers were always so delicate and deliberate. She wondered if he planned out every move, even the tiniest scrape of his bare fingers against her skin, well in advance.

She wouldn't put it past him.

"Actually, I thought I had." Just because she hadn't said a word, didn't mean she wasn't fully aware of how her heartbeat had spiked at the mere idea of Alistaire's jealousy. But she couldn't blame him for having no way to interpret it; she wouldn't have been able to figure it out herself, the day before. So there was another way.

But it meant the end of the game, and she knew it.

She unfolded her arms from their tight perch, and lifted her hands up to settle, with slow and delicate hesitance, against his cheeks. She had to bring him down, or she'd never be able to get this. When he was closer to her level, she closed her eyes, and took in a deep breath.

It was possibly the worst kiss she'd ever given, because she was so scared that she didn't know what she was doing. Her lips pressed with the hesitancy of an untried teenager, searching for his until they fit together like melted candy. She didn't push into him, or even part his lips; but her kiss shook with an unfamiliar tenderness that even she couldn't quite get a grasp on yet. She didn't know if she was doing it right. But God, how she tried.

When she pulled away, she knew she was unmade. What was left was a new canvas, but she wasn't ready to open her eyes and see if she'd created a masterpiece, or a monster.

For something as soft and purposefully gentle as the kiss they'd just shared, Maebe was sure her lips hurt. Maybe they were just as confused as she was, and this was their defense mechanism. She pulled her lower lip in with her front teeth, soothing the ache momentarily. When it was released, it popped out in a soft pout. Still, she refused to open her eyes.

She wanted just a moment longer-

They snapped open when Alistaire's lips brushed against hers, moving with his own attempt at unfamiliar gentleness. She didn't realize she'd gasped, but the breath was muffled by his presence. Even in newfound territory, Alistaire exceeded her in leaps and bounds. He found ways to juggle the tenderness they'd always been lacking, with the intimacy that a good kiss always deserved.

She hated him for being so good at it so quickly. She hated him, even as her eyes fluttered helplessly and she surrendered to his kiss. She hated her own heart, beating so wildly it threatened to sprout wings and escape. But none of her hate escaped through her kiss, as it used to do. There, between them, everything felt new.

Her eyes managed to open, half-lidded, when he pulled away, and her lips shakily tilted upwards in a half-smile of defeat. "I don't know." Her voice was a whisper, ragged and oddly pleased. "How am I supposed to know? This is news to me, too."

She paused, and her eyes opened fully, furrowing with intent. "But." The kiss had been toeing the line - but this was the dive. And you know what? She told herself, filled with a sudden determination. She was ready. Come what may. "I know one thing. When Otto kissed me, I know what I was thinking. If I was going to be kissed like that, I wished it had been you."

Alistaire was being so infuriatingly inquisitive. Maebe had yet to feel the other shoe drop, because he hadn't given her a single clue as to how this revelation was actually going to affect their dynamic. And he kept asking her questions as if she had any idea what she was doing. As if she could lead him to some mysterious answer, when all she was doing was blindly searching for it, herself.

"I don't know, Alistaire." Her eyes barely rolled in a weak echo of her usual sass. "There was this whole.. everything. On one side here, where we lived. And that's what you and I know. We get it. We didn't want to upset the status quo. But there's other ways to live and I just barely discovered I kind of like one. That doesn't mean I'm an expert. You know?"

She'd been talking with her hands, which was difficult since he still held her face in his own, but she managed. Now, she stopped moving them, and gently placed them against his shoulders. "But what I do know is, I hate everyone. I mean, just.. everyone. But I've always .. not hated you."

Her face crunched up slightly. "Does that even make sense?" She wasn't fluent in relationship talk, and she hoped that kind of feeling didn't mean she was in love or anything. She just wanted.. everything to be with Alistaire. Why was that so wrong? "I feel.. something. Okay. And this whole time we've been talking, and kissing, I've been waiting for you to cut me off, because feeling something isn't really my forte, and I'm sure I'm doing it wrong. But you haven't yet, and if you're just toying with me I will rip your balls out."

Maybe that was love. Who could say? Definitely not her.

Everything stable about Maebe's world fell out from under her, destroyed by the sound of three fairly innocent little words. She understood, oh, how she understood what he meant, but that didn't mean she'd expected him to feel the same things she was. Her body filled with a thrilling ache that vibrated within her, until she had to let her head loll back behind her while it remade her from within. His hands were on her neck, and just their touch had her coming back to look at him, searching for the truth in those enigmatic eyes. All she saw was her reflection, frazzled and undone. It made her smile.

I don't love you, he'd said. Should she have been disappointed? There was no time to tell - his hands and lips were on her, in strange and new ways. He held her like he wanted to, not like he was claiming his territory. And the way he kissed her now, oh.. she wanted to believe these moments would last.

She was pressed against him, her arms sliding around his shoulder so she could lean up on her tiptoes and lose herself in his embrace, but she pulled away just once to breathe against his lips, and whisper a terribly smitten sounding, "I don't love you, too."

The words counterbalanced the way she said them, as if they meant something so entirely opposite, that it was comical. But she gave him no room for thought, diving back in for more of these newfound moments they'd recently discovered. The countdown had begun, with people screaming behind them, but she couldn't hear them, anymore.

If she could have laughed, she would have. But she couldn't even breathe, let alone form any sort of laughter. He picked her up as if she weighed nothing, carrying her off even as his lips never broke away from hers. She felt her back flatten against the wall, and then he was flat against her, and her mind blanked out. She slid back down, barely able to keep herself up with the weight of passion blanketing down upon her. She whined up at him breathlessly when he broke the kiss, clawing to pull him back down, but still stilled when he spoke.

Suddenly, she didn't believe him anymore.

Maebe let out a sharp, stuttering breath, her eyes flickering desperately back and forth between his lips, and the confused expression in his eyes. She didn't expect this - she didn't even know how to handle it - and she didn't know how to deal with her sudden unexpected blissfulness about it. Never in her wildest dreams..

"You could have fooled me." She sighed out, pressing her head back against the wall. This was the exact opposite of everything she'd thought she wanted. She felt like she was falling. Tripping. Drowning.

She opened her eyes, and reached up, pressing one hand against Alistaire's cheek. Her fingers moved with the lightest brush, touching him in ways she'd never dreamed of doing before. Her eyes flickered up and met his, as the words left her easily.

"Take me home, Alistaire." It was time to put everything aside, and give in to her heart.

There was only one answer left, as the clock struck midnight.

"Yours."