Claire’s chest was compressing in on her. It was literally going to snap in two from the pain, she was sure of it. Never before had she felt anything like it. It burned… It burned…

She shoved through the blurring crowd, not caring whom she pushed out of her way, feeling the tears start to cascade down her cheeks in earnest. Her breath came in sobs as she forced her way through another busy vendor and out onto the sidewalk.

Taking a cursory glance at the oncoming traffic, she darted across the street and began to sprint towards the hotel.



When she reached the gated entrance to the hotel grounds she stood hunched, with her hands resting on her knees as she caught her breath, and she felt the oppressive weight enveloping her again, squeezing the air from her lungs.

With another jagged sob she wiped the wetness from her cheek as she turned and stumbled towards her hotel room. She didn’t know where else to go.

She grabbed her room key from her pocket and shoved it into the door slot, her hands shaky and her vision blurred from the tears. She heard the lock click, announcing that it was open, and she shoved through the door roughly.



Christiana sat on her bed with her phone in her hand, texting Cris and one of her friends back and forth. She looked up when Claire entered the room, and her appearance startled her. She pushed her phone aside and sat up, her eyes wide.



Claire stood just inside the door, her arms bending in towards her chest as if to ward off pain from an attacker, and tears were skating down her cheeks in abundance.

“I want to go home,” she managed to make out between jagged gasps of air. Christiana could tell that Claire was losing her normal ironclad control over her emotions by the way she was breathing; it was as if she couldn’t catch her breath. She knew what usually followed the beginnings of these attacks: She didn’t want to allow it to happen here.



“Claire, what…?” she began, pushing herself towards the edge of the bed.

Claire bit her lower lip, straining to keep from breaking down, and she shook her head. “I don’t want to be here anymore.”

Christiana motioned for her to join her on the bed, and Claire stumbled forward numbly, sitting down next to her.

“What’s the matter? Why do you want to go home?” Christiana asked in what she hoped was a soothing voice: She didn’t want to portray her alarm.

Claire shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut, her body shaking with silent tears.

“I don’t … I don’t think I can tell you,” she said slowly.

Christiana looked at her beseechingly. “Of course you can. You’re my sister, you can trust me.”

Claire let out a watery breath, only to catch it again as fresh emotion began to surface.

“I went to f-find Colton,” she began, forcing the words from her throat, knowing from experience that if she kept it bottled up it would do worse inside her. “And… he t-texted me, saying he was going for a… a walk… and I as-asked him if he was o-okay and he only said,” she broke off, her lip quivering and she tried to still the sob she knew was coming. “He said ‘Yep’, which is … not like him. If he were okay he would have said… like… ‘Never better’.”

Christiana nodded, not wanting to interrupt, her mind turning a mile a minute.

“So I thought he’d go down to the b-beach. And he did,” she whispered, her arms creeping tighter to her chest as she spoke. “And then,” she said, her voice becoming thicker and deeper as the tears started coming again. “I saw him… and he was k-kissing … Maritza,” she choked out – almost whispered it.

“Maritza?” Christiana couldn’t help but ask. She was surprised.

“Y-yes!” Claire said, bringing her eyes up to Christiana’s. The blue in her eyes had turned almost crystalline from the tears, and her expression was crushed. Her chin wobbled and her lip quivered. “He t-told me he didn’t l-like her! That she w-wasn’t his t-type!” she stuttered.

Christiana was sure her expression had changed from shock to sympathetic, and that was enough to break down Claire’s defenses altogether. A jagged sob tore its way through her and the tears in her eyes overflowed.

“It was supposed to be m-me…” she cried softly. “It was supposed to be me!”



She hunched and covered her face with her hands as her body shook with heart wrenching sobs. Christiana reached out and wrapped her arm around her, trying her best to comfort, all the while her mind turning over and over, coming again and again to one major point:

It was supposed to be Claire…



He had told her, Christiana, himself on Christmas Eve, when he’d had several glasses of wine too many. He’d found her in the living room, sitting on the love seat that they’d pushed against the far wall in order to make room for the party.

He’d flopped down playfully next to her and she’d asked him how he was feeling.

“I’m great,” he said with a lopsided grin. “I’m better than great,” he said leaning toward her. He was so close she could smell the wine on his breath. She giggled at him as he got too close and his head weaved as he tried to keep it straight.



“Can I tell you something?” he asked her in a staged whisper. He was far from being quiet, but the din in the room was loud enough anyway that no one would hear him.

She obliged him by playing along with the whisper. “What?”

Her mother had always said that the two most honest people on the planet were a small child and a drunk… and she was interested to hear what drunk-Colton had to say.

He leaned in even closer, smiling widely. “I’m better than great… you wanna know why?”

“Why, Colton?” she asked, trying hard not to laugh.

“I’m in love,” he said simply, blinking a few times.

“You are?” she asked dramatically, still obliging his drunkenness.

He nodded vehemently. “But you can’t tell Claire,” he warned, sitting back again.

“Why can’t I tell Claire?” she asked curiously, losing all pretenses now.

He looked at her lazily, his lips still upturned in a grin. “Because then she’ll know.”

She blinked confusedly at him and he laughed delightedly. After a moment, she couldn’t help but ask: “Why can’t she know?”

“Because it’s my secret. Shh,” he said holding his finger up to his lips, and he giggled.

“Who are you in love with?” she asked in the staged whisper again, trying to figure out if her hunch was accurate.

He looked around them suspiciously and then leaned in for his whispered answer: “Claire.”

Christiana gaped at him, at a complete loss as to what to say. He crooked his finger at her again, and she leaned towards him.

“I’ve never been in love before. And she thinks I’ll never fall in love. That’s why she can’t know.”

“Why does she think you’ll never fall in love?” she whispered, trying to keep her face free of shock.

He sat back against the couch and frowned at his wine glass. “I told her I wouldn’t.”

Christiana would have waited for a better explanation, but she knew none would be forth-coming, so she waited while he took another swig of wine and quickly pumped him for more information.

“You don’t want to fall in love?”

He shook his head.

“Why not?”

“Because then you just hurt more when you have to say goodbye,” he said simply. He looked at her blearily and his lips quirked. “She doesn’t know, though. You won’t tell her, right?”

Christiana swallowed, shaking her head as he stood up to stumble into the kitchen for more drink. She was still completely floored by the news. He was in love with her? Was that true? Could his inhibitions be lowered enough that he was divulging a true secret, or was he just exaggerating?

She remembered having observed him from that night, watching him closely when he was around Claire. She’d noticed him watching her every so often… she listened to their banter, and noticed Claire blushing more whenever she was around him, surmising that perhaps those feelings were reciprocated in some way.

He was careful not to touch her too often, and careful not to be caught looking at her for an indecent amount of time. Usually when he did that, his jaw or shoulders tensed up as if he were irritated with himself about something.

She’d also noticed how his eyes softened whenever she spoke to him. He was very good at controlling the rest of his features, but she could see the longing in his eyes when he forgot to hide it…

And she’d known he’d told her the truth.

And now he’s kissing Maritza? It didn’t sound like something he would do at all… She couldn’t make sense of it.



“I’m sorry,” muttered Claire, pushing herself back off of Christiana’s shoulders. Christiana forced her mind back to the present and she went and grabbed the tissue box off of the side table, handing it to her sister.

Claire sniffled and dabbed at her eyes with the tissue, feeling as if every emotion she possessed had just been stripped from her, and all that remained was a shell. She felt exhausted and barren.

“Why are you sorry?” Christiana asked her quietly.

Claire shrugged, her fingers tearing distractedly at the tissue crushed in her palm. “It’s stupid, I know… but … I just thought he’d started to like me,” she finished at a whisper.

Christiana nodded, her eyes saddened. “I thought so, too,” she said at length.

Fresh tears began to well again in Claire’s eyes, and she bit her lip to try and stave them off.

Suddenly there was a soft knock on the door, breaking into the silence. Assuming it was their parents, Christiana called out over her shoulder: “It’s open.”



The door opened halfway and Colton stuck his head in, surprising them both. Christiana noticed Claire duck her head immediately as she tried to cover the fact that she’d been crying, and her eyes drifted to Colton’s in the next instant. Though his face was grim—the line of his mouth harsh and firm—she saw the concern flicker across his eyes; she saw the glimmer of guilt, there, too.

And she knew at once that his feelings had not changed. Somehow this made her feel better.

“Hey,” he said quietly. He spoke in a hushed tone – the kind one would use in a hospital room of a sleeping loved one. It was the non-confrontational kind of tone… a caring tone.

“Hey,” Christiana answered back, her eyes sliding back to watch Claire’s profile. Claire fidgeted with the tissue in her hand, a deep flush creeping up her chest and neck.



“Claire, can I talk to you a minute?” Colton asked.

Claire’s eyes swung up to his quickly, surprised at the direct question. Before she’d even fully considered it, she was nodding haltingly.

“Sure…” she agreed breathlessly. “Just… give me a sec…”

He nodded and then pulled the door shut as he stepped back out into the corridor.

“Crap,” Claire muttered under her breath.

Christiana tilted her head curiously, and Claire answered her.

“He probably saw me… what am I going to do? He’ll know I’ve been crying,” she rambled.

Christiana nodded understandingly. “Well, maybe he just wants to talk to you… he must know he told you she wasn’t his type.”

Claire laughed sardonically, the sound feathery in her tears. She sniffled and pushed her shoulders back, stiffening her back at the same time.



She pushed herself off the bed and went to examine her face in the mirror quickly. “Great,” she muttered. Her face, neck and chest were splotchy; her eyes puffy and red. There was no way to hide the fact that she’d been crying… not even if she washed her face with cold water and put on fresh makeup. “See,” she said bitterly to the mirror as she ran her fingers over the puffy skin beneath her eyes. “This is why I hate crying.”



“You’ll be fine,” Christiana said softly.

Claire took a deep breath, concentrating on pulling the air deep into her lungs and letting it out slowly, feeling her body begin to calm. She shook thoughts of what she’d seen out of her mind.

“Okay. Okay,” she said to herself, and she turned and headed for the door. She hesitated as her hand twisted the knob and she looked back at her sister worriedly.



“You won’t tell anyone… will you?”

Christiana shook her head vehemently. “I promise.”

Claire nodded, her hand still gripping the doorknob, but she didn’t pull it open.

“I’ll still be here when you get back. Then we can talk if you want,” Christiana said soothingly, almost as if she sensed what Claire needed to hear.

Claire smiled wanly at her, then twisted the knob fully and yanked it open.





She made her way out into the small courtyard between hotel bungalows. Colton was leaning against the side of the building, his back to her, overlooking the elaborate garden that had been constructed. There was a small pathway that led on either side of a long fountain, with benches at either end.





She made her way towards him timidly, and coughed softly to announce her arrival.

He turned and smiled at her, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. The smile did not reach his eyes.

She forced herself to smile in return but she was sure hers looked just as stiff. “What’s up?” she said at length.

His smile slipped and he looked back out at the gardens. He looked as if he were unsure where to start, and she felt a silent twinge of satisfaction that he seemed just as ruffled as she.



“Uh,” he began, running his hand along the back of his neck nervously. “I just sorta… wanted to explain. I saw you down at the beach just now,” he said, his eyes sliding to the corners to watch her.



“Oh,” she said, her voice hardly above a whisper. She looked away as the overwhelming urge to cry again tugged at her. She dug her nails into her palms to keep her focus.

“Are you alright? You seem kind of upset,” he asked her, folding his arms across his chest nonchalantly. She blinked slowly, searching desperately for something to tell him.

“Um,” she started shakily. She cleared her throat and dug her nails in deeper, feeling them bite into her flesh. “I just… I… thought you said you didn’t like her,” she said in a rush. What else could she say? She nearly cringed at the thought of telling him the truth.



“I didn’t say I didn’t like her,” he corrected softly. She flinched slightly, unaware of his eyes on her.

“Er, well, you said she wasn’t your type, then.”

“She’s not.”

He was being infuriating, she decided. Why did he always have to keep such a tight control on his emotions? She’d give anything to know what he was truly feeling.

“Well… at any rate, you led me to believe she did not interest you. I feel like you lied to me,” she said. She tried to make the words sound calm and even, but was sure that some of her shakiness had warbled its way through on some words.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. She looked at him to see if he was mocking her or not. His features were carefully neutral, like always, but she could sense sincerity in him. She nodded in acceptance, and then plunged forward, wanting to clear the air while she still had the nerve.

“I know you’re single… I know you’re young… and I know I have no claim over you,” she said, crossing her arms.



He opened his mouth as if to speak but she held up a finger beseechingly. He closed his mouth reluctantly and gestured for her to continue. She took a shaky breath.

“But you could do… so much better, Colton,” she said haltingly. “You deserve someone better than that… that… slut,” she finished scathingly, feeling anger bubble up inside her at the thought of Maritza with her greedy hands all over him as she’d been. She half expected him to jump in and defend her, but he barely flinched at the word, just continued to watch her silently as she vented. She barreled on.



“You deserve someone who doesn’t just want you, but someone who loves you, too. Someone who knows what it means to you to be a part of a family. Someone who can appreciate how passionate you get about teaching. Someone who knows not to ask you questions when your shoulders are tense, but just to be there for when you’re ready to talk.”

A tear skipped down her cheek and she brushed at it quickly before he could see it.

“You should be with someone who knows your favorite book is Don Quixote, and that you read it so much the binding is useless, but you refuse to buy a new one. Someone who you can share your music with; someone you can laugh with. Someone like…”

Someone like me, she’d been about to say. She had to bite her tongue to withhold the admission from him. She shook her head slightly, trying to fumble her way through the mistake. “Someone like… like my mom is for my dad,” she finished weakly.

She could feel his eyes on her and she was certain her face was flushed to the one hundredth degree. Finally he spoke.

“Thank you,” he said softly. “I hope someday I can find someone just like that.”

She tried to smile and nod but was sure her mouth only formed a poorly masked grimace. She didn’t want to think of Colton with anybody… not yet, anyway.

“As for Maritza,” he said calmly, scratching the side of his face. “There’s a lot more than meets the eye with her, really.”

Claire snorted under her breath. Sure, she thought, remembering the way his hands had fisted into her shirt, pressing her assets closer to his torso. She ripped her thoughts away from the memory. Colton chose to ignore her snort of derision.

“But… if my seeing her bothers you… then I won’t.” He looked at her critically, his eyes focusing on her profile, and she cringed.

“Why should it matter what I think? I’m not your…” she halted, switching gears. “You don’t have to get my permission.”



“I know that,” he said calmly. He still had not moved from his leaned position on the wall. She felt uneasy under his gaze, feeling as if she couldn’t look him in the eye fully, else he’d read her every thought that passed through her.

“But,” he added when she didn’t say anything. “If it bothers you, I’ll break it off with her.”

Claire’s emotions were winging wildly out of control within her. Her heart seemed to ache with the words he’d just spoken… saying he’d break it off with another girl simply because it upset her. It was gestures such as this that made her long to scream her true feelings for him… to tell him to pick her instead. She wanted to turn and run back to her sister, to fling herself on the bed and cry her misery out against the pillow; it was so unfair.

Her voice was barely audible when she answered him. “You would do that…?”

He nodded.

“Why?” she asked incredulously.

“Because you’re my best friend. And your opinion means very much to me,” he murmured from his post against the warm bricks.

His words pricked at her. Best friend, he’d said. He’d called her that before, too… in the car ride home from the dress shop. Her heart felt as if it had been chipped once more at the reminder that she was nothing more than a friend to him.

She bit her lip as, in turn, the rejection bit deeply at her, and she strove to remain as outwardly calm as he looked.

“Well,” she said slowly, gauging his reaction. “Then, yeah. It bothers me.”

She watched him for any sign of disappointment. She wasn’t sure what she’d do if he were.

He pursed his lips and shrugged nonchalantly. “Okay then. I won’t see her.”

She shook her head. “Just like that?”

He smirked slightly and nodded. “Yeah. Just like that.”

“Why?” she asked again.

“Because, Kitten,” he said softly, finally moving from his position against the wall.



He closed the distance between them in one stride and she tilted her head back to look at him, willing her eyes not to tear up again. He stood over her, his eyes tender as he looked down at her, and he slowly raised his arms to encircle her.

“For you to say you have no claim over me,” he said quietly, raising an eyebrow. “Is just ridiculous.”



He chuckled darkly before pulling her toward him and into his embrace tightly. Her arms wrapped around him automatically, his words echoing inside her head and warring with those from earlier about her being his friend. The mixed signals were enough to make her head spin – she didn’t know what to think anymore.





And yet she hated to let him go when his hold on her loosened. She did so reluctantly, ducking her head so that he did not see her disappointment when he straightened. He tilted his head as he looked down at her.

“Better?” he asked hopefully.

She nodded, trying to hide the tumult within her.

“Good,” he said, smiling crookedly at her. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, you know that?”

She smiled tremulously up at him. “I know,” she answered. “Me either.”

He chuckled softly before taking her hand and leading her back around the path towards her room. She noticed in the way he walked and smiled that he was uplifted in some way… as if he’d been told something that was an explanation he’d been searching for. Something that seemed to be the answer for a question he’d been asking himself for ages.

And she couldn’t help it: She was envious.

==============================================

Sorry sorry sorry for the random empty spots with no pictures... and then the like... overabundance of certain scenes. I had to make due with what my game would allow... which has me screaming profanities at the screen in the middle of the day on a Saturday afternoon... Fun, fun.

As a side note, if you're interested in viewing some of these "HD" pictures at a larger resolution (like, mammoth sized... seriously...) you can check out my flickr page that I have put up for the McT's. There is often some pictures included that are outtakes, as well ((waggles eyebrows at the blatant plug)) . The link is at the top of the page, or, if you don't want to scroll back up, I suppose I can help you out....