Disclaimer: I wrote this on a caffeine buzz…

… …

… … … …

Before I say anything else, I need you to understand one thing: I have a reputation to keep.

By that, I mean I am a Schnee. A Schnee is expected to act with a certain level of decorum in public. A Schnee is expected to get perfect grades on all report cards. And a Schnee is never, never to be seen engaged in debauchery.

For the vocabulary challenged in the audience, that means I'm not allowed to be a pervert. Even more so because I'm a girl. Excuse me, a woman.

And to that I say: Pbtbtbtbtbt…! Why do you think God invented closets? They store clothes and allow perverts to be …perverted in peace.

Wow, I went off on a tangent, didn't I?

I suppose I should introduce myself now. My name is Weiss Schnee. To pronounce that, just say the word 'wise' but use an 's' sound instead of the 'z' sound. Don't worry about the last name, no one gets it right anyway. As far as I know it's a German name, but I've never bothered to look up my family history. That's what grandpas are for.

The other girl-slash-closet-pervert you need to know is a friend of mine called Blake. She's an interesting one, as she is the only girl I've ever met who wasn't fooled by my 'princess' act. At all. She saw right through me. Admittedly she saw past my belt line and spotted my leopard-print G-string, but that's another story… *ahem*

Okay, focus. Story.

I bring up Blake because the two of us just happen to have similar phone numbers. Like, almost exactly the same similar. As such, we each get a lot of wrong numbers that were meant for the other. I'm telling you this because it's an important thing to keep in mind for when I talk about…

Well, I'm getting to that.

Okay, so I'm at home one night. It's close to Christmas, so I'm wrapping up all of my holiday homework (because I can! Fight me!) when I get a buzz on my phone. A few seconds later, another. When I check, I see a photo and a short 'Merry Christmas' message waiting for me. I don't bother looking at the number, because hey, who else but my best friend would send me a photo over text?

But then I open the photo… and dem titties do not belong to Blake. Mein Gott…!

Other than the obvious cleavage with the most perfect pair of double-Ds I've ever seen in my goddamn life, the next thing I noticed was the girl's hair. Hard not to, as it looked like it was glowing. It was easily the brightest blonde hair I'd ever laid eyes on, and I've seen a lot. Then I noticed her eyes, like two sparking amethysts. Gorgeous. Her lips looked like they were filled with crème… and yes, I did want to bite them and find out if they were.

In case you couldn't tell by now, I was pretty much in love at first sight… and I didn't have the slightest clue who this girl was. The number shown was local, but not one I had stored in my phone.

And yet… as much as I wanted to know who she was… another idea came first.

Before too much time could pass, I darted into the bathroom and …I hesitate to call it 'pretty-ing up' but that's basically what I did. Fix the hair, wipe the grease off my forehead (stupid acne), and practice my flirty face. I then ran back out, grabbed my phone, and took a selfie in as close to her original pose as I could pull off before sending it back via the 'reply' button. I chased that with a simple 'Merry Christmas to you, too' message and waited.

I know what you're thinking, wow Weiss is such a girl.

And to that I say: see the first paragraph.

As a Schnee, I have never in my life taken a selfie. Nor have I ever responded to a wrong number with anything more than a 'sorry wrong number that's what contact lists are for dumbass' reply.

But dem titties… *drool*

…

*ahem* Sorry, where was I? Oh, yes…

It didn't take long after I sent my reply before the mystery blonde sent her own: 'Oh God, I'm so sorry. That was meant for someone else."

Of course it was. I'd never seen you (or your tits) before in my life, so how could you have meant it for me? It was a bit disappointing, but thems the brakes. Biting back the reply I wanted to send (SHOW ME YOUR BOOBS!), I instead sent back a polite, 'No worries. Have a nice weekend.'

I also went ahead and saved the photo she sent. I tried not to stare at it too long, though… if I did, I wouldn't stop until my pants were off and the floor was wet. I wouldn't even make it to the bathroom.

But then a sobering thought hit me – she must have been sending that picture to Blake. I do get things meant for her quite often, remember? Did that mean she was Blake's friend? Or maybe… her girlfriend?

Now that was a disappointing thought. Blake and I had made a pact almost two years ago that if both of us graduate high school without any love interests (male or female), we would officially move into the 'friends with benefits' category.

And yes, I was fine with that. Blake doesn't have much in the way of jugs, but she's got some serious junk in her trunk, god-damn.

Oh look… another tangent.

I blame the Mountain Dew. Too much caffeine after 7.

*deep breath*

After making myself depressed, yet another message came in that made me spit my drink out: 'Actually, you're kinda cute. Are you into girls by any chance?'

Wat.

More wat.

All of my wat.

Does a bear shit in the woods? Is the Pope catholic? Is the sky blue? Is a blue bear the Pope that takes a catholic shit in the sky?

… … …Excuse me… I have to go dunk my head in the toilet.

…

That was more… refreshing than I dare admit.

Okay, so after nearly shattering the windows with my gay squealing, I took a deep breath and gave a one-word reply: 'Maybe…'

Try to keep in mind that this is totally normal for the 'real' me, but unthinkable to the 'princess' me. Anyone other than Blake who might find out about this would have me disowned from the family faster than… than… ugh, I suck at analogies. Just fast, alright?

Blondie: 'Um… Can I ask what you're name is?'

Me: '…"Your"…'

Blondie: 'Your name is 'your'…?'

Me: 'Do you even English?'

Blondie: '…'

I giggled as I pictured that gorgeous face twisted into a confused expression. God… I really wanted to know what she tasted like right then… Come to the Pervert Side, Weiss, we have cookies!

Blondie: 'Oh. That was the autocorrect. Hilarious'

Me: 'Why, thank you! :)'

Nothing else came for several minutes as the carbonation from my drink fizzled away. I must have stared at that screen for hours waiting on her to ask something else, but when I looked up only 2 minutes had passed. Stupid time vortex.

Desperate, I sent out the lure: 'What city do you live in? Your number looks local…'

Sure enough, she was local. And no, I'm not telling you people where I live. You think I want a bunch of nerds stalking me everywhere I go? Forget that.

…Ever seen the cartoon of the Grinch? You know, that whole 'stealing Christmas' thing? Well, imagine that wicked grin coming over my face and you'll have an idea of what I looked like as a fantastically evil plan began to form.

At least, I thought it was good at the time. Looking back, I may have overdone it. A bit.

Here is the message I sent, verbatim:

'I wanna play a game.
Tomorrow night, I will go to a movie at the Jones Plaza Cinemas.
If you can find me there, using only the clues in your possession, I will answer any questions you may have, including my name.
If you cannot find me…
…Well, you will just have to find me, won't you?'

For those not paying attention, I sent her a photo of me. That's all she had to work with. I also didn't say which movie I was going to. Can't make it too easy, right?

After I hit 'send' I just sat there, re-reading that message over and over. Did I really just do that? I almost felt like Moriarty sending Sherlock Holmes a challenge…

My phone binged with one last message for the night: 'You're on.'

A wave of goosebumps traveled down my arms and legs as I read that. Ooh… this might be more fun than I thought…

I tried calling Blake right after that, but she didn't pick up. Nor did she answer the text I shot her instead. Odd, that. Usually she's quick to pick up the conversations that involve discussing cup sizes.

But I dismissed it as inconsequential. For those of you reading this who are vocabulary challenged, I decided it wasn't important enough to think about. Instead I took the phone with me into the bathroom and…

Well, I'll just leave that to your imagination.

… … … …

… …

Author's Note: Welcome to the first part of my two-shot contribution to the Freezerburn fandom!

A few things to note – as I'm sure you noticed, this is a modern-AU… this means that characters are going to act a bit OOC. If you don't like it, tough. My story, my rules. It's also rated M because of Weiss being a big ol' pervert. Yang will be a little better next chapter, but not much.

If you would be so kind, please drop a review. I would love to know how you guys like the first-person POV. I've tried it once before and enjoyed it, so I figured… why not try it here?