conquest of spaces

The worst part of all is that they know each other.

Sort of. Kind of. At the very least both of them have met once before. Before the obsessions with timers came about. before everyone was obsessed with finding their soulmate. Before things were awkward and weird and the only question people asked were--how long have you got? They knew each other. 

But they didn't really know each other. 

Caroline Carlyle had been quite the precocious little high school freshman. Flirty, enigmatic and so damn charming that it was no surprise that she'd ended up dating a senior and though a hell of a lot of people side eyed that entire relationship, she was all too happy to flaunt it in everyone's faces. Not that she cared, of course, she was a sarcastic little thing, witty and biting and capable of ignoring everyone who had something to say to her about dating someone four years older.

Everyone but him of course. Being his best friend, naturally Aaron didn't approve.

But it didn't last at all. He was a dick and she learned the hard way, only kicking herself after the fact, only regretting literally everything when she had her head buried in her sister's shoulder crying her eyes out because, shit, Caroline Carlyle was a pathetic little high school freshman. Fucking Travis. 

Her sister gets her timer first and she eye rolls. Though there's something about seeing the two of them holding hands that kind of makes her want one, too. A tiny, closeted hopeless romantic side of her that says, I want that, too. So she gets one. It's a stupid decision and she realizes that the minute the thing flashes on and it reads six hours.

No fucking way.

The only reason Aaron has one is because Louise convinced him and him being older brother felt that he had to say yes. He was way too young to be worrying about all that soulmate shit, but whatever, it wasn't real was it? There was no way technology was that advanced that a fucking stop watch stapled to your wrist could pinpoint the time you met your soulmate.

No fucking way.

It didn't matter, his was blank and though his younger sister was dejected there was nothing she could do about it. He didn't pay any attention to it after that, except for the few times he waved his arm in front of his face long enough to catch a glimpse at it. It was always blank.

So of course he didn't think anything about it as he was going to work that day. it was fucking work, nothing happened.

Caroline on the other hand was panicking. Literally panicking so hard she'd grabbed her sister by the shoulders and shook her. "I am not ready for this shit."

Her sister, of course, was unsuccessful at getting her to calm down, pulling her in for a tight hug and promising her a movie night, just the two of them, and well...maybe one more. The only thing she could say at that was an exasperated, "That's not helping," causing her sister to laugh and shake her head.

"Come on Care, what are you gonna do, stay home? You can't meet your soulmate at home." That certainly got her to react. 

"Yeah, yeah, you know what I'm staying home." And of course that was an unacceptable answer. Two hours later they're standing in line, buying tickets for frozen and Caroline is looking around the area worried. What if he was old?

She loves the movie. 

He hates it. Sitting in the theater waiting for the damn thing to finish and hearing the song play for what feels like the three thousandth time. Caroline is enraptured, maybe crying a little bit, completely forgotten about the countdown clock to her impending doom as the credits roll and asking her sister if she wants to build a snowman.

Amelia heads to the bathroom and she heads out, people are exiting, talking, she's singing in her head and it's dark. She doesn't see him. She doesn't hear it. And she walks right into him before she realizes what the fuck is happening. 

"Oh my god." She still hasn't seen his face though, still doesn't know it's Aaron fucking Lansing and for the most part, Caroline is just standing there, Frozen(heheh) and stunned. "I forgot that was happening." It's not until she hears his voice that she realizes who it is.

"What the fuck? When did this happen?" He's asking rhetorically, of course, but she answers him. "Six hours ago I'm guessing." Shit. She knows that voice.

"Aaron?" 

He on the other hand has no idea who it is and he raises his eyebrows, wondering when the fuck these damn theater lights are going to come on. How long are these fucking credits anyway? "Uh...yeah?" 

And she laughs. It's all she can do. It's the only way she can react. She laughs because if she doesn't she's going to fucking cry. She hates this asshole. "This has got to be a joke." Is all she says, by now her laugh nearly hysterical. Somehow she hasn't run away.

Aaron is stunned in a completely different way, he's still standing there, people passing by them, and he's stuck thinking--this bitch is fucking crazy. Caroline doesn't move though, she can't move, she doesn't know what to do. This guy isn't her soulmate. Why is she still standing there.

Finally, the theater lights come on and she squints, eyes adjusted to the darkness she looks up at his face and her stupid heart betrays her. Jesus he's cuter than she remembers. He finally studies her face, makes the connection and laughs, not that hysterical maniacal laughter that she'd been putting off. He's genuinely amused as his hands circle her wrist and he compares timers.

"Travis is going to shit his fucking pants."

It's a fucking joke, in all honesty. 

The only reason she's there is because Joanna is an old friend and she promised the woman that she wouldn't miss this for the world. Of course she never expected her promise of a few years back to still stand after all this time but then again, she would have made her attend even if she were marrying at seventy five years old. 

But she's fucking miserable and it's so obvious in her expression that even the brunette realizes it, though Blair waves her off with a shrug, regardless of said misery she's not going to ruin the woman's day. 

God she hates weddings. 

The only thing doing it justice is the open bar, though even then, sitting alone with a Manhattan in one hand isn't her idea of a fun night, free alcohol or not. 

The only reason he's there is because his pompous prick of a work rival had the gall to invite him to the fucking wedding and Rich wasn't about to back down. It was a game, he saw right through that bullshit, and his response was an RSVP with a tight smile. He was going to win this motherfucker. 

It's uncomfortable and way too over the top for his own tastes, he feels out of place in his Men's Warehouse suit and he tugs at his tie anxiously questioning his decision. He shouldn't have done this but conceding a victory--any kind of victory-- to Anthony Chastain is something that he is not about to do. Rich ain't about that life, thank you very much.

Of course the open bar calls his attention right away. There's nothing else to do at these things but drink anyway, right? It wasn't like he was going to get out there and do the chicken dance, he was perfectly content right there. Three stools away from the blonde who was feeling all too similarly to him.

She notices him out of the corner of her eye. The slump in his shoulders, the way his lips are turned downward in the corners, his eyes cast down low, focusing on his glass in front of him. It almost makes her feel sort of predatory watching him, but she can't help it. He's handsome, painfully so, dressed nicely but not so ostentatiously that it makes her roll her eyes and there is something about his expression that makes her want to-- well.

And of course, Blair being Blair wastes no time in approaching him, moving right next to him and turning to him, there's a grin on her expression as she jokingly asks, "Can I buy you a drink?" And Rich looks terribly confused for a full second before breaking out into a full smile. "Shouldn't it be offering?"

It doesn't take terribly long for them to talk, even exchanging stories about what they're doing there. It takes just a few minutes for them to both admit, not even sheepishly, that they don't want to be there. 

"I hate weddings," she tells him, a raise of the eyebrows and a shrug of her shoulders accompanying the statement. The pad of her finger idly circles the rim of her glass and she looks right at his eyes. At his lips. At his eyes and finally at his lips again.

They commiserate over this for a long time. They talk over the dancing and the cake cutting and silly ridiculous games and the obnoxious clinks of glass when everyone wants the couple to kiss. Completely absorbed into conversation they seem to miss the entire reception and they don't seem to mind one bit.

The one thing they both notice is the dispersing crowd now in the hall. What was once a full house is now a handful of people and she takes that as her sign to go for it. Blair's never shied away from this sort of thing after all and it takes less than a second for her to lean forward and kiss him hands tangling in the curls of his hair as his circle her hips. He tastes like whiskey with the faint hint of spearmint and she leans forward as much as possible to take all of him in.

They're both breathless when they pull apart, mouths swollen, chests heaving and she's about to utter the words, her hand already tangling with his when he beats her to the punch. Rich hardly gets to ask the question, "Do you wanna get out of here," before Blair is on her feet and tugging him towards the door.

"Guess it’s karma, huh? I should have looked at the forecast instead of getting my hopes up. Maybe next time, cupcake."

"Now it’s your turn to make yourself happy. You deserve that so much, Tuck."

"I’ll take you anywhere you want to go."

"I hope you’re ready for a roadtrip, blondie, cause I ain’t lettin’ ya change your mind."

"More than one hand to count the number of terrible men you’ve been with so you can guarantee if he doesn’t treat you right he will have to answer to me, Dix."

"You’re gonna stay, right? I don’t think I can take it if you leave again."

"Yeah and I’m sick and tired of your bullshit and your melodrama so I guess we’re even, huh?"

"Don’t ever expect one from me."

"Yeah, well, sorry to disappoint you, asshole. You should have known it was my stupid ass that was gonna get myself killed."

"And it’ll be easier if you leave? Your logic is pretty flawed."

"We’ll be alright, I promise, Tex."

"I-I’m sorry. I am. I can’t help but feel like that’s not enough."

"What’s up your sleeve, princess? I don’t know how I feel about this shit."

"Are you quoting musicals at me again?"