Too Late, Love. Or is it? (one-shot)

part 2

"What's your name again?" Jon winced as they headed inside. It defies all the rules of introduction for him to ask a girl to dance first then get the name afterwards. It's rather forward even for him-and that's saying a lot.

"It's Clare and for the record, I think you didn't ask before this," Clare frowned as she concentrated on battling the pebbles under her heels. Why on earth did I let Iza talk me into this?

"I didn't?" Jon looked down on her with those big, innocent eyes. Too innocent.

"Yes, you didn't-oh, thanks," Clare laughed and gratefully smiled at him as he helped her into the house.

It was already on a party mode inside and it seems that every student body that had been invited was there. Most was enjoying the music, others were busy on foods and cocktails, and some were already having a dip on the back pool.

"Do you know where Steve is? I wanna say 'hi' before I go get to Izz," Clare sidestepped as she nearly came in collision with a 'wild' dancer, or is it a 'drunk' dancer?

"Why, I'm boring you already?" Jon feigned hurt.

"No, you baby. He invited us so it's a courtesy call."

"Did you just call me your 'baby'? Hmm, I kind of like that huh," Jon creased his brow and rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

Clare laughed. "I didn't call you 'my baby', I called you 'a baby' and there's a huge difference." She grinned.

"Now I'm hurt."

"Oh, is that a pout? The famous Jon actually pouted and it's cute!" Clare joked loudly.

"Hey! That's way below the belt!" Jon continued to look indignant. He can't seem to stop the urge of making her smile in his presence. Well, that's not to say that every female doesn't smile at his presence but it feels different with her. She didn't giggle or try to impress him. She's just-her.

"But you ARE pouting!" Clare laughed harder and Jon beamed.

"Hey!" Steve called as he strode toward them with a nonchalant Tracy trailed behind him.

Jon cleared his throat and whispered, "I think that's your cue of escape from my clutches."

Clare turned to him and gave a genuine smile, "It was great meeting you Jon."

His heart skipped a beat at her gentle tone, "The pleasure's mine. See you around."

***

"I AM DYING!" Iza whined as Clare helped her across her room to lie down.

"No you're not. It's called alcohol overdose and you're diagnosed with it. Besides, it's nothing when you wake up later," Clare lectured as she tucked Iza to bed.

"Yeah, and thanks. By the way, remind me to trip that Sam when I see him, he's such a jer-" Iza mumbled to sleep.

"I'll keep that in mind," Clare mumbled. At least one of us had a nice time at that party, huh.

***

Jon was itching to ask his brother on the other night's events, well, not exactly all of that party's events but all that involves a particular person. It was noon the next day and Steve was doing whatever it was that he did in front of his netbook while Jon was leisurely scanned the business books on the wall without really seeing it.

"So, it's post-graduation now. What're you up to?" Jon rolled his eyes on himself. Oh come on! Just ask him already, for cristsake.

"Dad gave me-what should I call it-an assignment. It's about the company. He wants me to 'be ready' when I 'took over'," Steve answered distractedly as his fingers fly across the keyboard.

"Why do I get the feeling that there're quotation marks on the 'took over' part. You know I'm not interested. Thank God we're not Chinese or else dad would chain me up to do their bidding," Jon continued to ponder on how he would broach the subject of last night.

Steve scoffed, "Since when did you ever do their 'bidding' anyway?"

"Yeah, I know. I'm the black sheep here, huh," Jon said lightly, his brow furrowing in concentration.

"I don't think so. We're both following what we want. It just so happens that mine coincide theirs," Steve peeked at his twin, "and speaking of wants, why don't you ask me what I think you're itching to ask?" as he raised his brow, crossed his arms, and gave Jon his attention.

"Ever the perceptive one," Jon breathed a sigh of relief, glad for the opening. "I'm just wondering what happened when I left Clare with you," he blurted out.

"Well, we talked," Steve shrugged.

"And?-" Jon inquired suspiciously.

"And she's great."

"Oh, for the love of-! Do I really have to drag it out of you?" Jon sat, exasperated.

Steve laughed to himself. He always found it fascinating to piss his twin off. "Since I'm the perceptive one, I picked out her signals of 'we'll be great friends' or something like that. So we're good," he went back to his work, "By the way, what about Tracy?"

"What about her?"

"Isn't she your girl last night?"

"I took care of it. You know I'm a one man woman, so we're good," Jon stupidly grinned.

"I think what you mean is one-woman man," Steve sneered at him.

"Whatever man," Jon walked out, in too good a mood to argue.

***

"I swear Clare, I'M DYING!" Iza placed an ice bag on her temple.

"And I swear you're not. It's called The Hangover. So just hang in there till it's over," Clare attempted to lighten up.

"Ha-ha, very funny Clare. Anyway, if it wasn't for that Sam, I don't think I'd drink at all! He.. he.. I don't remember what he did!" Iza frustrated, sat on her garden recliner.

Well that makes the two of us. Clare thought to herself. Lately, she's been having these periods of blank lapses like when they were shopping for a graduation gift and Iza incidentally saw a skirt and unceremoniously pulled her in a fitting room. When Iza opened the door, Clare just blankly stared at her and wondered 'who on earth is this girl and what am I doing here?' She forgot her BFF! Thankfully, she just remembered and quickly commented on the skirt. Iza took her home then because she felt nauseated and had a terrible headache. Last night was what got her panicked. She just excused herself and went to the bathroom and when she opened the door to get back, she had no idea what she was doing in the middle of a dance floor so she went back in the restroom to think it over and then came that crushing pressure on her head. Then Steve, thank the gods, knocked, took one look at her, and insisted that she go home. I probably should tell mom. No, she'd just worry about it. Maybe I should go alone for a check-up or-

"-remarked on something. Hey! You're not even listening," Iza grumbled, the ice pack sliding to her nose.

"Sorry Izz, I'm just not feeling right," Clare winced as her vision blurred. She shook her head.

"Ow, you're one to talk. I'm the one 'hanging till it's over' here," Iza peeked at her, "Fine, go on. I think both drunks need some sleep."

"Yeah, right. I hope it's that simple," Clare mumbled.

***

Laters, baby. ;)