Contagious

Insecurity was not something that Paul was accustomed to feeling. It was evident with his attitude, posture, even the look on his face. He skipped his last period and sat outside the school, on the ledge by the flag pole, his back against the cold metal. He wrapped his arms around his waist and waited for the final bell to ring. He'd never fought with Martin before, and it wasn't something he particularly wanted to do again.

There were so many thoughts running through his head. He never considered himself bitter towards Martin in any way but, judging by his outburst earlier, part of him clearly was. He never thought he was a terribly unattractive guy—he had some of the same features as Martin. He was tall, slender, and he had a nice smile. But Martin had the blue eyes and the dimples all the girls loved. He always thought he was a good friend—backing off of a girl if Martin showed interest in her as well (and he always did).

He found himself growing more and more upset with each passing minute. He faintly heard the bell ring, signaling the end of the day, and he heard the chattering rise. People were walking all around him—to the buses, their cars, their carpool, and he could feel their stares. Paul wasn't the type of guy who liked to dwell on the negative—he always had a smile on his face; to him, depression was foreign and for the weak.

“Poolie? What's wrong?”

His eyes lazily opened and landed on Parker, who was standing in front of him with her hands on her hips, her black cap sliding down over one eye. “Hey.”

Parker reached up and pushed her hat further up her forehead, setting her bag on the sidewalk and sitting down on the small ledge next to him. She jerked slightly, wiping at the back of her jeans. “Damn, it's cold out. Why are you sitting out here? Have you been here long?” she asked, running her fingers over his forehead. “Poolie, you're freezing. What's up, babe?”

“It's nothing,” Paul told her. He knew she wouldn't believe, or accept, that as a plausible excuse for skipping his last classes and sitting outside in the cold but he gave it a shot anyway.

“Don't lie,” Parker said. She heard her name being yelled in the distance and sighed, looking over at Ross who was waiting for her a few cars down. She glanced back at Orion, who was watching her and Paul with blatant curiosity. “Orion, can you distract Ross for a few minute?”

Orion smiled, hoisting her bag over her shoulder. “You sure?”

“Keep it PG,” Parker told her before looking back at Paul, crossing her legs and resting her elbows on her knees.

“No promises,” Orion mumbled before walking off towards Ross.

“I got into a fight with Martin,” Paul said. “And it was bad. We never fight.”

Parker nodded. “Yeah? Over what?”

“You.”

She sighed. “You gotta stop doing that. I'm the last thing two friends should be fighting over.”

Paul shrugged. “Apparently, Martin and I have two different opinions on what it means to be a good friend.”

Parker looked down at her nails, picking at the faded and chipped black nail polish she had put on before the show for kicks. (Somehow it had become a tradition with her and the guys to paint their nails black before every New York show. They did it before their first one, as a joke, and it always stuck. It was almost their good luck charm.) “I'm sorry you guys are fighting.”

“it's just...” he sighed. “It doesn't matter.”

“Obviously it does or you wouldn't be sitting out here... All alone... In the cold,” Parker told him.

Paul looked over at her, eyes meeting through her bangs. “I hate fighting with him. I hate fighting with anyone,” he corrected. “But it's worse when it's Martin.”

“Yeah, he's... He's a drama queen,” Parker muttered sardonically.

He smiled, just barely. “Yeah.”

“Come on. Ross is gonna give me a ride home. We can talk there... If you want,” she suggested.

“Okay, yeah. Sure,” Paul agreed, standing up slowly and cracking his back. “Ow.” He rubbed his neck quickly before reaching a hand out to Parker.

She laughed and took his hand, allowing him to help her stand up. “C'mon, he's just over here,” she said, tightening her hold on his hands. She wasn't letting go anytime soon.

+

They weren't talking. In fact, they weren't doing much of anything. After Ross dropped Paul and Parker off at her house, they made their way to her bedroom, shutting the door behind them and discarding their shoes. The last thing on their mind was talking. Paul instantly crawled onto her bed, fluffing up the pillow behind him and Parker found herself lying in his arms. Her radio was on, the only sound in the room was the smooth voice of Jon Bon Jovi, and Parker pulled her green chenille throw over their legs to help keep them warm. Her arm was around his waist, playing with the hem of his old, stretched band tee; his hand was drawing lazy circles on her back. She had wanted him to talk about his fight with Martin but she was too content with their current position to force to subject.

“Sorry I'm being quiet,” Paul whispered into her hair.

Parker shook her head. “Don't worry about it.”

“I just don't want to dwell on it. We were both assholes and we both said some pretty horrible things. I have a feeling he and I will be okay tomorrow,” he told her.

Parker looked up at him. “Yeah?”

He nodded. “Guys don't fight like girls do.”

She laughed. “What does that mean?”

“Did you and any of your female friends ever make up the next day after a big fight?”

She paused, the smile fading off her lips. “You have a point. We hold grudges, don't we?”

He nodded. “Very bitter people, you women are.”

She laughed. “You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to.”

“Good,” he said, pulling her up a little bit until their faces were level. His hand cupped the side of her face, thumb running over her pale cheek, and he smiled. “Because I'd much rather do this,” he told her before pressing their lips together.

Parker smiled.

+

Martin ran his hands over his arms, pulling his jacket tighter around him as he balanced on the ledge before Parker's window. He wanted to talk to her before Paul had the opportunity to fill her head with ridiculous thoughts...and before he could tell her about Martin's slip-up in their fight earlier. He didn't think Parker was his. He had no claim over her. But it didn't stop him from wanting that claim. He had found himself climbing the lattice and hoisting himself up onto the ledge before he realized it was even a thought in his head, his hand poised above the window to knock when he froze.

All he saw was Paul and Parker, on her bed. He didn't need to see anything else.

+

“I'll see you in the morning, yeah?” Parker asked, standing at her front door.

Paul smiled and rested his forehead against hers, thumb rubbing over her cheek. “Yeah, you will.”

Parker's eyes closed briefly, content with her current position leaning against Paul. It was something she hadn't felt for a long time, just...perfectly content. Maybe not completely happy but it was as if she was on her way. “Do you have to go?”

He laughed slightly and kissed the top of her head, reaching behind him to open the front door. “Unfortunately, yes. Mom's making dinner and all,” he said, shrugging.

“Psh, food,” she mumbled, rolling her eyes.

Paul laughed again. “I'll see you in the morning,” he told her, repeating her earlier words before kissing her again. Parker pushed herself up onto her toes to deepen the kiss and Paul pulled back. “Nope. You can't trick me,” he whispered against her lips.

Parker smiled. “Doesn't mean I won't try.”

“Goodbye, trickster,” Paul said, winking at her, before he stepped out into the cold and started to make his way home. He heard the door click shut quietly behind him and he smiled again, pulling his hood over his head before stuffing his hands into his pockets. He had made it past a couple of houses when he felt his phone start to vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out, seeing Martin flash upon the screen, and he answered it hesitantly. “Hello?”

”Hey, bro.”

“We're back on 'bro' terms?” Paul asked.

”Yeah, um. You of all people know how shit I am with apologies so... Can we just skip that bullshit and be okay again? You know I hate fighting with you, bro.”

“I hate fighting with you, too, Martin. But it's going to keep happening unless we settle this, you know?” Paul told him. He wasn't lying—in their very long friendship, they rarely ever fought. Martin was more aggressive and Paul was more passive, choosing to let things go rather than dwell on them and Martin was the opposite. Somehow their friendship had made it through many painful years and Paul didn't want that to end just because he was with Parker.

Martin was silent for a minute. ”I know.”

Paul sighed. “Just answer one question, Martin. Are you over Parker?”

More silence.

Paul rolled his eyes. “That's all I need to know.”

”I'm not over her, Paul.”

“So what are we going to do about this?”

”Nothing. I'm going to get over it. I'm never going to be over her, Paul, she's...the first girl I ever loved. That shit doesn't go away. But you're right. I can't have it all. And I have a good thing with Dallas. So I'm going to suck it up and be happy for you and be happy with Dallas.”

Paul stopped walking. Martin never apologized (and he still didn't, not in so many words) but he also never admitted he was wrong and he never admitted when he had to change something about himself. “Really?” he asked, hesitant.

”Yes. I know you like Parker and...it's not fair of me to ask you to put yourself on the back burner for me. You've been doing that for years and... I hate that you felt like you had to do that.”

He should have known better than to think Martin would actually apologize. “Yeah, well. It happens.”

”It shouldn't. I'm sorry, Paul.”

“You should've told me to sit before you said that, bro,” Paul half-joked, a small laugh slipping from his lips.

”Screw you, bro.”

He could hear him laughing through the phone and he knew they were gonna be just fine.

+

Three days later, Parker found herself in one place she hated more than almost anything—the mall. Orion grabbed her arm and dragged her into a store, thrusting dresses and shoes at her, telling her to try them all on. She was on a mission to make sure Parker looked her best at the dance.

“What about this?” Orion asked, holding up a red halter dress, a smile on her face.

Parker frowned. “Please tell me you're kidding.”

Orion looked at the dress, then back at her friend. “Why do you say that?”

“I'm a red-head. I'm not wearing a red dress,” Parker said firmly, shaking her head.

Orion rolled her eyes. “You are so difficult.”

“I know,” she told her. “So what are you doing the night of the dance? You going?”

“Hell no,” Orion said. “I...actually have a date.”

“Really now?” Parker asked, smiling. “Who?”

Orion bit her lip. “Don't be mad that he didn't tell you, okay? I wanted to.”

“What?”

“Ross and I are going to get some food and see a movie or something,” Orion told her.

Parker smiled. “Are you talking serious?”

Orion nodded.

“Awesome,” Parker said, still smiling. “You two are adorable together.”

“That's what I thought!”

Parker laughed and kept walking with her friend, immediately stopping in front of a store, eyes wide. “Oh...my... God.”

“What?” Orion asked, following Parker's eyes. “Oh wow.”

Parker walked into the store slowly and over to the rack that had caught her attention. She took the dress off the rack, holding it up. It was strapless, knee-length, nude length slip covered with a black lace patchwork, held together with a white bow creating an empire waist. It might have been a little short for February but she didn't care. “This is the dress.”

Orion took the hanger from her and held it up to her chest. “I have the perfect black heels that will match this.”

“This is the dress,” she repeated.

“Martin won't be able to keep his hands off of you,” Orion joked.

Parker looked up at her. “Martin and I are done. Do you think Paul will like it?”

“Paul will love it. Now go try it on.”