A Series of Clato One Shots and Short Stories

One Day

                          A/N: This story is based off of the song, One Day, by Tate McRae. I don't take any credit for the song, of course, it belongs to the singer. Hope you like the one shot! :)

                         Clove sat at her desk, braiding her hair, a million thoughts rampaging through her head.

                         She glanced over at the blonde boy across the room from her and observed as he doodled in the margins of his paper. She admired his sky-blue eyes, allowing her mind to run rampant with ludicrous ideas.

                        'Maybe Cato actually knows who I am..." She rolled her eyes at the foolish idea, tearing her eyes off of the boy and scowling. 'Who am I kidding? There's no way he would pay attention to me."

                         She wandered down the hallway, holding her head down, anxious to even catch his eyes. She paused at her locker and heard him begin to laugh, hardly a few feet away. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach, and her cheeks flushed as she listened to the voice that only addressed her in her wildest dreams.

"It's impossible to get you off my mind..."

                          Clove could be in school, doing homework, in soccer practice, even trying to sleep, and thoughts about Cato and his dazzling sky-blue eyes would slither up on her, distracting her from everything and anything that would require her attention. No matter how hard she tried, she could not quit thinking about him.

"I think about a hundred thoughts, and you are 99..."

                          He invaded every space in her brain, every second of her day, even a portion of her dreams. Ninety-nine percent of her life revolved around thinking of him.

"I've understood that you will never be mine..."

                         He'd never notice her or love her as she loved him, and Clove understood that. Why would he waste his time on a shy nobody when he could have anybody he fancied?

"And that's fine, I'm just breaking inside."

                        

                            Cato glanced up, his eyes scrutinizing the congested corridors of the school. He caught sight of Clove and grinned, watching her as she made her way down the hall. She always kept her head down and fidgeted tensely, perpetually hiding her stunning emerald green eyes. Cato tried to speak to her, but it wasn't exactly easy; the second he approached her and opened his mouth to greet her, she panicked, hastening away before Cato would get the opportunity to say anything.

"It's impossible to get you off my mind..."

                             Cato tossed and turned in bed, even though it was twelve-thirty PM on a school night, he had fallen captive to a severe case of insomnia. Every time he closed his eyes, she was there, each aspect of her embellished on his eyelids. Cato would stay up for hours, filling page after page in his journal with all of the things he loved about her. He'd describe how gorgeous her eyes were on the uncommon occurrence that he'd catch a glimpse of them; he'd write about her freckles, her smarts, her broad grin, her laugh, and her rosy lips that he longed to kiss.

"I think about a hundred thoughts, and you are 99..."

                             Cato failed four tests and received two detentions because he hadn't been paying attention in class, too occupied watching Clove fumble with her long coffee-colored tresses and wishing that he could tangle his hands in them.

"I've understood that you will never be mine..."'

                             Cato wanted to give up, considering that he could barely work up the nerve to speak to Clove, and when he did, she ran away. But he couldn't bring himself to let her go, and that was the most difficult part. He understood that he was just desperate and naive, but he simply couldn't help himself.

"And that's fine, I'm just breaking inside."

                             One day, Clove noticed Cato approaching her, but rather than bolting, she took a deep breath, lifted her head, and smiled.

                             One day, she sat with him in a cafe, laughing at one of his cheesy jokes. She looked up and froze, his blue eyes insnaring her in his gaze. She got lost in the moment and leaned closer, her heart racing in her chest as Cato leaned in as well, sealing the gap between their lips in a long-anticipated kiss.

                             One day, they laid out on the grass, gazing up at the stars and talking, their fingers intertwined. And it was then, laying there, spilling their deepest and darkest secrets, that Clove worked up the courage to call Cato her's.

                            One day, Cato chased Clove around the beach, finally catching up to her and grabbing her by the waist. She was forced to look at him, her green eyes twinkling with mischief and pleasure, a broad smile playing at her lips as she laughed at him. Her hair was windblown, billowing out behind her as Cato tangled his fingers in it, just as he had always wanted to do.

                           One day, Clove lye curled up beside Cato, her head on his arm and her fingers interwoven with his. Cato took a breath, shifting to gaze at Clove and tuck a strand of loose hair behind her ear. She buried her face in his shirt, breathing in the familiar scent of clean laundry and lavender, trademark Cato. That was the first time she told him that she loved him, and that was the day when Cato promised her that she was the only one for him.

"It's impossible to get you off my mind..."

                            Cato couldn't get his mind off of it, his nerves were going haywire and he couldn't calm down. His thoughts kept straying to the small black box in his pocket. He was relieved when the night was finally over, and he went home not with his girlfriend but with his fiancee.

"I think about a hundred thoughts, and you are 99..."

                             For ten whole months, ninety-nine percent of Clove's thoughts revolved around planning the day when she and Cato would finally be married. You can imagine that she was thrilled when all of their hard work paid off, and she finally was allowed to call Cato her lawfully wedded husband.

"Maybe there's a chance that you will be mine..."

                            Clove sat between Cato's legs, her back leaning against his chest as she tenderly held their newborn daughter. The child was an excellent combination of its parents, with her bright blue eyes and dark brown hair. Cato pressed a kiss to the top of Clove's head, grinning brightly, as he told her how perfect their daughter was and how glad he was that she'd looked up when he spoke to her for the first time ten years previously.

                             They loved each other through the difficult times and the fabulous times; through the arguments and the loses...no matter what, they loved each other. And it's all because of that one day.

A/N: Sorry if that was a really crappy ending, I was kinda stuck on how to finish it off.