Author's Note:I just had to do a Valentine's Day chapter! Tell me if you like, please(:

Being mopey and alone was not how I'd expected to spend Valentine's Day. I was the type that usually had to turn down seven guys after I chose my date for the mushy holiday. I wasn't being conceited, just honest. But here I was, sniffling into a tissue with no interest in going anywhere. I at least wore jeans and a low cut blouse today, and my hair wasn't a total disgrace. But my eyes were puffy and rimmed with red, and I had a crumpled tissue clutched in my hand. A knock at the door made me pause in my sniffling long enough to glare murderously. Of course, someone would come to see me when I was in tears.

I hated to cry in front of anyone, as a general rule. I saw it as weakness, and I needed to be strong. But I didn't have time to try anything to reduce the puffiness, so I let my hair swing into my face and opened the door. Christian stood there, wearing an expensive looking suit, a single red rose and a dress bag in his hand, and an apologetic look on his face. I stepped back and allowed him to enter, my face smooth and emotionless.

He was making it hard for me to hate him. Now he was showing me the sensitive, caring side he'd only showed to Lissa before, and it was killing my defenses. How did you defend yourself against someone who wanted to make you happy? "Why are you here?" I asked calmly. "Because you should never be alone on Valentine's Day," he answered promptly, offering me the rose. I took it involuntarily, studying it's perfection instead of looking at his face. "Maybe I want to be alone to wallow in self-pity," I suggested, voice hard. He shrugged, unaffected. "I won't allow that."

"Go away."

"What Lissa said to you is inexcusable, manipulative, and just plain bitchy." His candor surprised me, and I looked up at him. Christian was staring at me with those ice blue eyes, an intensity in them that I'd never seen before. I shrank back, feeling as if he could sense my faltering resolve. "I would like to take you out tonight, Rose Hathaway. Whether it is a friendly dinner or a romantic one is entirely up to you." I bit my lip thoughtfully, wishing I was strong enough to say no. "Okay," I whispered. He smiled, and it made me smile in return.

"But," I added cautiously, "I'm not sure if it's platonic or romantic." His smile got softer. "I understand." Offering me the dress, Christian shrugged sheepishly. "I thought about you when I saw it." Raising an eyebrow, I removed the dress bag to see a black dress made of some clingy material that would hug me in all the right places. It had a scoop neckline, thin straps, and a dangerously low-cut back. It would come to right below mid-thigh, and it was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. I held my breath, turning wide eyes to him. "You really..."

"Shouldn't have?" he asked dryly. "Are amazing? Don't worry about it. Go get ready." He made a shooing motion, and I did as he said.

When I came back out of the bathroom, Christian's expression was worth it. He appraised me slowly, and his gaze made me blush. "Gorgeous," he said finally, when he'd done a thorough visual investigation, from strappy heels to wavy hair. "Thank you," I said quietly. He offered me his arm, and I took it. Leaving together, I finally though to ask where we were going. "Gonna tell me what we're doing tonight, Ozera?" Christian laughed. "I figured you'd want to go where no one would recognize us, so you couldn't get blackmailed. We're going to a restaurant that few Moroi grace with their presence."

I shrugged. "Okay." We got into his black Mercedes, and I was pleased to see he knew how to drive. A lot of royals never learned because they could hire chauffeurs. When we got to the restaurant, I saw that it was small and cozy, and I instantly felt awkward. Christian didn't mention it, though I was sure he'd picked up on it. He made sure he didn't touch me, but I moved closer to him and gently bumped my arm against his. He took that as the invitation it was, and twined our fingers. It was nice, holding hands with a friend.

Over dinner, we talked about anything and everything we could think of. He told me more about his parents before they turned, and his aunt Tasha. I told him about the animosity between me and my mother and how I'd met Abe. He talked about horrified he was when he realized his parents were Strigoi, and I revealed my terror when I saw Strigoi Dimitri. By the time dinner was done, I realized I'd leaned instinctively closer to him, until both our elbows were nearly touching over the small, round table. The waiter brought the check, which Christian payed for with cash and told him dismissively to keep the change as a tip.

He stood and hesitantly offered me his arm, which I took. The drive back, we still didn't stop talking. I felt like I was pouring out my soul to this guy I used to hate but now liked quite a bit. He'd revealed who he really was, without the sarcastic asshole facade he wore so smoothly. I found that he was nothing like he acted. He had those qualities that annoyed me, that cynicism, the sarcasm, the attitude, but he amplified them when he was around others. When we arrived back at St. Vladimir's, it was close to six, since Moroi ran on a nocturnal schedule, and he walked me back to my room.

We stood in front of the door, and he lifted my hand and kissed it gently. "Thanks for coming with me tonight. It was nice," he said softly. He still held my hand, fingers twined, and his hair was falling in his face. Thoughtlessly, I reached up to brush it back, and he took that hand, too. And he was looking at me and I suddenly found it somewhat hard to breathe. And then he was leaning, ever so slowly, pressing his forehead against mine, those blue irises oh so close.

"It's okay," I whispered to him, not wanting to break the spell. He seemed to argue with himself internally for a moment, and then he just gave up, and pressed his lips to mine hesitantly. And it was nice. The kiss was soft and sweet and nice. He didn't try to shove his tongue down my throat, or feel me up, or get invited in. It was just a gentle, simple kiss and it made me want to cry. He pulled back and smiled ruefully. "Thanks, Rose," and I didn't know what he was thanking me for, but I just murmured, "You're welcome."

He walked away slowly, glancing back every so often, and I didn't go inside until he was gone from my line of sight. When I did finally get inside, I touched my fingertips to my lips and leaned against the door. The day hadn't ended up the way I expected it to, that was for sure. I stripped myself of the dress and hung it up, then tugged on shorts and a tank top, took off my makeup, and gathered my hair in a ponytail to go to bed. As I began to get comfortable, a knock sounded on my door, sharp and demanding. I sighed, wondering if it was Christian again. I really didn't want to ruin the great impression I'd left him with.

I grumbled, "I'm coming," tossed my covers, and stood. When I opened the door, I bit my lip hard. Lissa stood there, and she looked infuriated.