Maybe she was beautiful.

You could say you hated the kiss.

You could tell yourself you would do anything to erase it from your mind.

You could even stare coldly and blankly into her eyes and tell her you hated her, malice and ice dripping from your words.

It would be simple, quick.

It could be excruciatingly painful.

Or not.

Or you could face the truth.

You could lie. And you would.

And you're a great liar. If silly childhood rhymes were true, you would have burned through about fifty pairs of pants by now. Your mother's fire-retardant spray would have proven to be futile against the fibs and semi-truths you kept, the chunks of white lies strewn haphazardly across daily conversations.

It's only acting, you tell yourself.

Maybe it makes life just that much easier.

But sometimes, when you lie to yourself too much, you begin to believe yourself. You really could believe that everything that passed between the two of you – the endless bickering, insults, even the kiss – meant nothing.

But you won't, because it's one of the things of hers that you hold onto.

And she was strawberries.

Every insult, every wedgie.
It was the taste of strawberries on her mouth that made you forget.

Every stolen kiss.
It was the smell of strawberries in her hair that made you remember.

And every time.
It was her strawberry lips that made you lean in again, like the first time, your own lips speaking your want and need into hers, your arms cradling her small soft form.

With every breath of hers you took, and every taste of her soft lips, it would be only strawberries.

And Sam.

Sometimes it just takes a little more. Sometimes you take a little more than you're supposed to.

Because you were the one.

You were the one who pushed her back against the wall, feeling the shock and drive of the moment, feeding on the spontaneity of your actions.

You were the one who pressed yourself to her as tight as you could, your hands exploring the curves of her waist, fingers brushing shyly against her warm exposed skin where her layered tops rode up.

You were the one who moved in; closing the remaining distance with your lips, taking the chance you knew you eventually had to take.

You were the one who assaulted her mouth with your own, kissing, feeling, nipping and nibbling, needing her and wanting her only more.

Her response was almost unexpected – the slightest pause of hesitation, and then the full unrestrained aggression of her mouth, twisting itself to fit yours in a muddled array of movement as she pushed back, just as hard. Her hands found the back of your neck snugly, pulling you closer, her nails eliciting shudders from you as she dragged them through your hair and across your scalp.

And she was your drug. Simply running your fingers through her unruly curls released new fresh gusts of her. And then you would breathe, light-headedness overcoming you.

It was your ecstasy. She was your ecstasy.

It fuelled you, made you want her.

And as you pulled away, you felt the power and control it gave you to see her flushed face and unfocussed eyes, the ragged edge to her unsteady breathing.

Knowing you were probably in a similar state made no difference; you had done that to her, made her feel, and possibly broken down another wall of hers. And you wanted her more.

But you were the one who had stopped, controlling and suppressing the urge to hold her again, the need to kiss her until you both fell, exhausted. You were the one broke what you had started and smirked at her fallen features, turning and walking away, almost heartlessly. Almost.

Halfway down the hallway she tackled you.

Because a lot of the time, you do remember.

You remember every flaw of hers, because it's what makes her perfect.

You remember every insult, because it's what makes her beautiful.

And you remember the smell of strawberries as you lean in and press your mouth to hers, to the lips of this aggressive, rude, unpredictable, piece of intoxicating imperfection.

Maybe you could face the truth.

Maybe you could change your mind.

And maybe, just maybe, you could fall in love.

The Uber Long Author's Note:

Gaahh! The first time I've posted something over half a year. Yes, this is indeed exciting news! And I have a few things to say.

So about this fic, first of all; I hope somewhere a few lines in, you noticed that this could have been borderline poem-like, and honestly, I think it was meant to be like that. I really don't know though. Second, it may sound chunky and cut-up, cuz every block of words, between the lines of italics, is supposed to sound different, like the different voices in a choir sort of thing, but they still fit together in a way. I really hope I got that right.

And it's funny cuz this came to me while I was trying to sleep and I was thinking about strawberries (which I think, completely defines Sam), and now I totally sound like a lunatic, but you know when you read something and you hear it in a specific person's voice? Well I heard about 4 different voices reading stuff out that screamed Seddie! Which is mainly why this is so varied. Cuz of the voices in my head :)
Then again, on second thought, I might be kind of insane, cuz I don't think that's very healthy at all…

Okay, so aside from all this mindless blabber, an update:

I think I've taken a long enough hiatus, and I'll be back on soon cuz I'm taking over depplove23's fic Shrink and I actually plan on somehow finishing it. Eventually :)

I'm also on a bunch of other sites now as well, and I've joined the GroovySmoothie community at LiveJournal, so you might find me there. All this stuff is on my profile if you feel like checking it out :)

OH YEAH! And I reason I decided to post today is cuz *drumroll*…it's my birthday xD Yes and normally I'd be excessively jubilant, but honestly, I had 3 tests today and parent-teacher conferences, which I won't hear the end of when my mom gets home, and i found out my mom screwed with my laptop and now i have to import just about everything from my other user account, which means i have to set up a bunch of new stuff, and i really have no patience for it at all :(
But I do know that my best friends are planning something for me, and it makes me happy all over again :)

YAY! Okay, I'm finally done. You're a saint if you even bothered to read through my entire note :)

~thanks &&lovees,
PamplemousseRose