Contagious

Awkward. That's what Parker was feeling. Or maybe uncomfortable was a better word to use. Either way, she was nervous. And this time it had less to do with Martin and more to do with Paul.

Okay, that was a lie. Of course it had to deal with Martin—it always did. While she was technically “with” Paul since he asked her out the night before, she couldn't stop thinking about the conversation she had with Martin earlier in the day.

She had been wrong. She had thought he had moved on and was over it, over her. Maybe he was the former but there was no way he was the latter. And as much as she didn't want to admit it, she derived some small amount of pleasure from that fact. Though she wasn't sure how he was able to act so calm when she was a wreck whenever she was in the same room as him.

She had two options, she told herself as she leaned against her locker. She could be miserable because she was confused about Martin or she could suck it up and try to be happy with Paul. Because, face it, Paul was adorable, and it was becoming increasingly more obvious that she had to get her mind off of Martin, just like Orion had told her.

“Hey, Parks.” Paul smiled as he walked over to her, his striped hood pulled over his head, making him look far more boyish than normal. But it worked for him. He wrapped his long arms around her waist, pressing her lips against her hair. “How are you?”

“I'm good,” she told him, leaning into his chest. She was surprised at how easy the relatively simple action came to her. But it shouldn't have been too surprising since Paul had always been rather affectionate. “How are you?”

He smiled. He knew Parker well enough to know she was uncomfortable. And she was. He pulled away slowly, looking down into her hazel eyes, pushing a strand of bright red hair out of her face. “Listen. If... If this whole...situation makes you feel awkward because of Martin, let me know. Okay? It won't break my heart. Don't get me wrong—I'll cry. I will totally cry,” he told her, a lazy smile on his face.

Parker laughed.

“And I mean a full-on, fetal position crying fit. It would be very embarrassing,” he said.

“Stop lying, Poolie,” she replied, nudging his arm playfully.

Paul laughed and kissed her temple. “So I was thinking we could see a movie this weekend or something.”

She bit her lip. “I actually have a photo shoot and a Fuse gig in New York this weekend.”

He laughed. “Only you, Parks,” he said, shaking his head.

“I'm free tonight though,” she offered, feeling both excited and nervous.

“You're mine tonight, then. I'll pick you up at five,” he told her, just as the bell rang, signaling students that they had five minutes to get to class.

+

Parker collapsed back on her bed, sighing. “It's not like that, Ross,” she told him, eyes rolling.

”You're hung up on Martin and going out with his best friend.”

“I'm not hung up on Martin,” she muttered. “We're both...over one another.” Lie. A flat out lie. But it was going to become reality soon enough. She knew Paul could help her get over Martin.

”Liar. Just ask Martin how he feels.”

“No.” Parker shook her head. “Martin and I were over before we ever began, Ross. I'm not playing that game. I like Paul. Paul is safe and he's comfortable, a nice guy, a fun guy who won't...fuck me over,” she explained.

”And you're sure he won't?”

“With my luck, it probably won't,” she agreed. “But I'm going to go with whoever makes me happy at this point.”

”And that's Paul?”

Parker sighed. “It could be. Why are you so against Paul?”

”I'm not anti-anyone except...fucking Sarah Palin. I'm just trying to see how you feel about this whole situation.”

“I don't know how I feel about any of it just yet, Ross,” she said, rubbing a hand over her eyes. It was true. And just one more reason she wished she hadn't come back to Boston. She was shaken from the conversation by a loud tapping on her window. She sat up quickly, almost dropping her phone when she saw Martin perched on the ledge. It was the oldest feeling of deja vu and she just sat there for a minute.

”Parker?”

“Sorry, Ross, I gotta go,” she told him, setting her phone down on her bed before walking over to the window, opening it slowly.

Martin smiled. “Can I come in?”

“Are you clinically psychotic?” Parker asked, anger replacing shock as he stepped into her room, dusting the leaves from his jacket.

“It's possible,” he told her.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “What do you want, Martin?”

He sighed, his hair shielding his eyes so Parker couldn't read him like she normally did, and he shook his head. He didn't know where to start. He settled for saying the first thing on his mind. “Don't go out with Paul.”

Parker's jaw dropped but she recovered quickly and scoffed. “What did you say?”

Martin ran his hands over his eyes. “God, I can't do this, Parker!” he exclaimed.

She just stood there for a minute, silent, as Martin paced back and forth.

He looked over at her, hands clutched by his side. “Why are you doing this?”

“Martin,” she sighed, shaking her head, before walking over to her bed and sitting down. “I don't have the time or patience for your cryptic answers.”

“I thought you were more patient now,” he muttered. “I've seen your interviews, you know. You're walking around all cool, calm, and collected but that's not you. And no amount of touring can change the basic instincts you have. You're forgetting that I know you better than anyone,” he told her. “Better than Paul ever will.”

“Stop dragging Paul into this,” Parker said, her voice soft. She didn't want to raise her voice. Not at Martin, not like she did the last time. He was the one man she never wanted to yell at and the one man who always tested her patience more than anyone else. She forgot how furious he made her in her time away.

“It's his fault. He shouldn't have asked you out. It goes against the Bro Code. And you should have never said yes,” Martin said, pacing back and forth across her room. “God, what the fuck were you thinking, Parker?” he asked.

Parker rolled her eyes. “You're kidding me with this, right?”

“No, I'm actually being serious right now.”

She sucked in a deep breath, counting to five before looking up at him. “I'm trying really hard to not yell at you right now, Martin. Where the hell do you get off lecturing me because I'm going out with Paul? Shouldn't you be mad at him for violating the Bro Code?”

“Trust me, I am,” Martin said. “I understand his reasoning; he's liked you since fourth grade. I just don't understand your reasoning,” he told her. He stopped pacing and leaned against her window sill, directly across from her.

“I don't have to explain myself to you, Martin,” she told him, standing up and walking over to her door, opening it. “You can leave at any time.”

Martin pushed himself off of the window and walked over to the door, shutting it softly and staring down at Parker. “Why are you going out with him, Parks?” he asked, his voice soft.

Parker took a step back—he knew about her personal space issue and she was growing frustrated with how he kept pressing her boundaries. “I don't have to explain myself to you,” she repeated.

He took another step towards her, backing her against the wall. “Parker,” he sighed, lifting a hand to brush her hair out of her face. Her eyes were downcast, her hands by her side in silent surrender. Martin knew all her weaknesses and used them to his advantage. “Do you remember the first time I kissed you?”

Parker looked up at him, surprised by the question she hadn't been expecting, and she suddenly wasn't bothered by how close he was. It reminded her of old times—Martin sneaking in her window after her parents were asleep, quiet giggling, soft kisses. But that was a long time ago, she told herself, and she refused to answer his question.

“It was over ice-cream.”

“Lies. It was during that one bad storm we had,” she corrected him.

Martin smiled. “I like the ice-cream story more.”

“Of course you would. You got more action and didn't run like a scared little boy,” she teased him, smiling.

“I didn't run. You ran,” he told her.

“It was storming and my mother was yelling. And I didn't know what the hell you were on so of course I can,” she said, laughing easily. For a minute, she could pretend there was no awkward past between them, if only for a minute.

Martin laughed with her, knuckles trailing down the side of her face, feeling her skin heat up as she blushed slightly. It was barely noticeable, even with her light complexion, but he saw the tell-tale signs creeping under the collar of her shirt. His knuckles trailed down the side of her neck, over her collarbone, before tilting her chin up so their eyes could meet. “I missed you,” he whispered.

“You seem to have been faring well while I was gone,” she told him.

He knew what she meant. He just didn't care. His brain wasn't thinking; his body was moving on autopilot as he leaned down and pressed their lips together. It was just like old times, only not as innocent. It wasn't one of the quick, shared kisses before her mother called them downstairs for food, or a quick make-out session before the guys came over so they could play. It was more than that.

Parker wanted to fight, she did, but instead her hands found their way from her side to his neck, fingers tangling in the hair at the base of his neck. She sighed against his lips and finally felt right for the first time since returning to Boston. His hands gripped her shirt at her lower back, lifting it just barely so his fingers could slip under and pull her closer. He pushed the voice in his head to the back of his mind, the one telling him that he never wanted to let go, the one telling him that he was right where he belonged.

Martin slid his tongue across her lower lip as her fingertips danced along the back of his neck, causing him to moan slightly. He held her tighter as she pressed their hips together, all the pent up emotion that and been bubbling to the surface since she arrived finally coming out. She hadn't realized how much she missed him until just then and she didn't want to move. She wanted to stay there forever.

Parker felt something vibrate against her hip and jerked, accidentally biting the side of Martin's lip as she fell back into the wall, fingertips pressed against her lips.

Martin groaned, one arm still around Parker's waist as he dug his phone out of his pocket. Dallas flashed across the screen and he hit 'ignore,' shoving the phone back into his pocket. He rested his forehead against Parker's, fully content to start up where they left off, but Parker had other ideas.

She jerked away from his hold and under his arm, crossing the room to her bed. “You should go,” she whispered, keeping her eyes downcast.

Martin sighed. “Parker, she...”

“I don't want to hear it, Martin. That should not have happened,” she said, shaking her head.

“But we both wanted it to—“

“That doesn't make it right, Martin!” She sighed. “This isn't fair to Dallas. Or Paul,” she added as an afterthought.

“Yeah, you really seemed to care about his opinion when my tongue was down your throat,” he snapped.

Parker scoffed and glared up at him. “And you didn't seem to care about Dallas, either, and you're actually dating her.”

Martin ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the ends slightly. “Dammit, Parker, you piss me off like no one else.”

She sighed. “I'm not even going to respond to that. Just go. Paul will be here any minute to pick me up,” she told him.

“Wouldn't want to ruin your precious date,” Martin muttered sarcastically before walking over to the window and climbing out onto the sill. “Don't worry, I'll make sure he doesn't see me sneaking out.”

“Fuck you,” Parker told him, walking over to the window and slamming it shut, barely missing his fingertips as he slid down and out of her sight.

+

”Mom! The ice-cream truck is here!” Parker screamed, rushing towards the front door, nearly slipping on the rug. She had two dollars clenched in her fists—just enough for a chocolate push-up. She ran out the door and saw Martin in the front yard. “Martin! Ice-cream truck!”

Martin's ears perked and he wondered how he hadn't heard it since he had actually been outside. Regardless, he rose to his feet and ran of to the end of the block, waiting for Parker to join him. He smiled as the truck pulled up and Parker appeared by his side. “We're the lamest twelve year olds ever.”

Parker rolled her eyes. “Everyone else is jealous.”

The smile left Martin's face when he realized he didn't have any money. He dug through his pockets, coming up with a couple of pennies and some lent. “Darn. All I wanted was a fudge pop, too.”

“I'll get yours,” Parker told him. “Mom gave me enough for two. You always forget your money,” she said, laughing.

Martin blushed slightly, hoping he could pass it off on the summer heat. “Thanks, Parker. You're the best.”

“I know,” she agreed, laughing. They picked out their choices and Parker paid, pocketing the change, and they walked back to his yard, sitting on the sidewalk. They were quiet for a few minutes, both content to just eat their ice-cream, when a car horn honked a block away, startling Parker and causing her to drop her push-up. She frowned. “Damn.”

“You're not supposed to swear, Parker,” Martin said.

Parker pouted. “But I dropped my ice-cream,” she told him, feeling like she was eight instead of twelve. “That always happens to me.”

Martin looked over at her and reached for her hand. “We can share mine?”

“No, it's okay,” she said, dejected. She glanced up at him. “You can enjoy yours. I'll find something at home.”

Martin looked down at his fudge pop before dropping it in the grass. “Oops.”

Parker looked over at him and laughed. “You're such an idiot. Why did you do that? Now we're both without our ice cream.”

“Exactly. Both of us are,” he told her.

The smile fell from her face as her eyebrows knitted together. “Wha—?”

She was cut off by Martin kissing her. She wouldn't call herself a genius by any means, and she wasn't even sure she knew one hundred percent what the action meant. But she knew she never wanted to move.