and maybe, you're gonna' be the one that saves me [zach, closed]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZHYnq3VpY6Q&feature=related

With her dance bag slung over her shoulder, Isabelle had made her usual Saturday morning trek to the dance room early before anyone else could get there to work on her audition piece for summer dance tours. Her long blonde waves tied up in a ponytail, Izz kicked the dance studio door open, never a morning person despite her tradition of rising early almost every Saturday. As soon as she was in the room she threw her bag down, slipping off her slippers and shedding her sweatpants as quickly as was decent. Left standing in a very short pair of contemporary dance shorts, her sports bra and a loose ribbed tank top, Izz began to stretch out her legs and arms thoroughly.

As she leaned over to stretch her hamstrings, Isabelle couldn't help but think about Simon, Zach, and the horrible mess that her love life had become. After a kind of seamless freshman year, it seemed so weird that so much drama and doom should choose to crash down on her this year. As she pressed the tops of her feet against the wood floor to stretch out her toes, her hands on her hips, Izz couldn't help but think of Zach, and immediately chased the image out of her head with Simon and a blush across her face.

Ugh, why did Zach Peters even begin to cross her thoughts? Angrily and not fully stretched she stomped over to her boombox, flipping through the tracks of her dance mix-CD until she reached a track from Across the Universe and pressing play. Quickly she shuffled to her spot in the middle of the dance floor, her back to the mirrors before she launched into her typical whirlwind style.

The dance was extremely acrobatic and physically demanding, and already Izz was feeling the pain from not stretching out properly. Stubbornly she continued dancing, falling onto the floor on her knees and rolling out before pushing herself back up by only her toes. That's when she felt it- a gigantic pain searing straight up her calf. Crying out, Isabelle fell forward, her pulled muscle aching horribly. With a groan Izz pulled herself up to sit, slumped over and rubbing her calf. Stupid, stupid, stupid. "Oww..."

Soccer practices were a given necessity with the homecoming game coming up, but somehow Zach hadn't quite been able to grasp that particular fact. He had been a singularly distracted midfielder in the past few sessions- and considering how his skills were just barely above par on normal days, his lack of focus spelled nothing short of disaster. The morning's training in particular had been an especially dismal affair for the freshman- the sprinklers had come on just before practice had started and he'd managed to slip on the slick grass despite wearing soccer boots, landing hard on his bum and probably earning himself a hell of a bruise. And all he'd had to brag about for his efforts was.. zilch. He'd managed to get his foot in contact with the damn ball a grand total of one time. Really, it was a wonder he was still on the team.

Which was why he was currently marching grimly down the long hallway of the JM Barry wing, still dressed in the baggy shorts and loose short-sleeved tshirt he'd worn for practice earlier, armed with a tub of Dulce de Leche-flavoured Haagen Dazs ice-cream and a metal spoon from his pitstop in the dining hall. Heck, after the torture he'd just been put through, he deserved a little comfort food, however much that statement questioned his manliness. He was Zachary Peters, artist extraordinaire and rising theatre star! He had great hair! He could eat whatever he damn well pleased, whenever he damn well pleased, and the critics could go trip over themselves on the soccer pitch. Scooping a spoonful of the cold, creamy dessert into his mouth with a vehement nod, Zach continued on down the corridor with his jaw firmly set. His shorts had grass stains on his aching behind. There was no way around it. It was time to head into The Warzone.

The Warzone, which was also known as the dance studio, where he knew a certain Isabelle Cauldine would be. In the relative silence Zach could hear faint strains of a dance track playing, the music sounding vaugely famililar. Increasing his pace until he reached the studio, he slid boldly into the huge room, standing by the open door with his arms folded across his chest, one hand still carrying the tub of ice-cream. Then he hesitated. Izz was dancing, as he'd expected, and Zach watched as she leapt and twirled and tumbled across the floor and through the air, flying around the room. This was a side to Isabelle he'd never seen, not firsthand and right in front of him. It was..

Well, hot. And that was the problem. He wasn't supposed to think she was hot, at least not think that and actually mean it as a kind of.. gay, fawning compliment. That was bad. That was losing him their little game. That was liking her.

The sudden cry of pain jerked him out of his churning thoughts; looking at her again Zach's eyes widened in automatic concern when he saw Isabelle hunched over on the smooth wooden floor, her back to him. Forgetting that he'd come here to yell at her- two months later- about their closet, ahem, encounter, he stepped forward swiftly, darting around to face her as he heard her groan. "What'd you do?" he demanded abruptly, dropping into a crouch in front of her and reaching out to pull her hands away from her leg.

At the almost foreign-voice of her unknown audience member, Isabelle looked up, her eyes wide with surprise at her hero. Zach?! She hadn't spoken with him since August and their time spent in the costume closet, and he seemed to be avoiding her like the plague. However she was almost pleasantly surprised to see the concern in his eyes as he gently pulled her hands away from her leg.

"I um... pulled a muscle... I think..." she said airily, her large blue eyes caught on him in heavy confusion. What the hell was he playing at? Isabelle stifled her beating heart and her heaving chest as she watched him, her confused eyes flitting from his concerned face to the tub of haagen-dazs on the floor next to him. What was going on? He was still in his soccer practice clothes, and had probably just come from there, since the big homecoming game was coming up fast.

"How was... practice?" she managed to ask lamely, looking down at his soft face as he tended to her outstretched leg. God he was adorable. Ugh, did she really just think that? But really, his large brown puppy-dog eyes, his soft round face, even his long hair. It was all so darn cute.

Isabelle groaned very quietly to herself, angry that she was even entertaining the idea of liking Zach. She was practically with Simon, who was her age, and way cooler, and way more popular, and way hotter. But there was something quirky and endearing about Zachary that she'd always seen, since they were in middle school really. They weren't the good friends that she was with Simon, but the dynamic they'd developed over the years was something she truly loved about school.

And then she'd gone off and kissed him. And run away? What on earth was wrong with her? It was the same game they'd been playing for years and she'd up and planted one square on him. Smooth, Isabelle. The dancer sighed, resting her elbow on her other knee and her face in her hand as she watched Zach take care of her calf, sighing a little. It felt nice to have his warm hands on her leg, and to see him feeling so tender about her.

"Zach, I'm sorry." she said simply, reaching forward and lifting his face with her hand so that he'd look at her. "I'm sorry for kissing you, and I'm especially sorry for running away like that. Not that I regret it, mind you. In fact it's exactly the opposite, and that's why I ran away, because I sort of... panicked."

She sighed, letting his face go, actual remorse painted across her own, a sentiment that rarely made its way onto Isabelle Cauldine's features. She was actually, genuinely sorry. "Can you please forgive me for assaulting and then abandoning you?" A weak smile made its way onto her face as she turned it back up to look at his, craving a bit of the comfort food he'd drug into her sanctuary of health herself.

Meeting her surprised stare only for an instant before hastily pulling his eyes away, Zach focused his attention on her injured leg, keeping his head determinedly down. He had rushed over to Izz's side when she'd cried out without really thinking about the consequences, and now he was drawing a blank on starting even a casual conversation. Ugh, this was lame, since when was he ever at a loss for words when it came to her? But it was true, pathetically so. How had he even gotten it into his head that coming here to insist on an explanation from Isabelle was a good idea? Confrontation had never been his thing; he'd spent fifteen years making it a point to avoid such things, and now he'd just randomly decided to give it a go on impulse. Man, this was so whack.

Repressing a groan, he mutely settled himself on the floor beside her leg, placing the tub of ice cream beside him. Reaching out again, more tentatively this time, he began to massage her calf lightly, careful not to apply too much pressure onto the pulled muscle, trying not to think about how smooth her skin felt. It was a strange situation to be in, he'd normally have some bad off-colour joke to crack if this had happened any time before the closet incident; but the memory of the last time they'd been alone with each other kept intruding into his head, leaving him uncharacteristically jittery. He only hoped it wasn't obvious, it'd just be downright embarrassing if Izz could tell she was actually affecting him. No, he had to act normal, that was the key.

His hands jerked once, slightly, at her sudden question, and he mentally kicked himself. Oh nice Zach, real normal behaviour. "It was okay," he muttered quickly to distract her from noticing. His eyes flicked up to glance at her as he spoke, but seeing her looking back at him he hurriedly dropped his gaze again. Casting around for something else to add to the vague answer he'd just given her, he came up completely empty and had to bite back another frustrated groan. God, why was he feeling so damn awkward? This was Izz. Izz. Say something lame! he urged himself angrily. Annoy the hell out of her, make her want to strangle him, turn things back to normal! What the hell was wrong with him?

Still in the middle of his mental lecture, Isabelle's unexpected apology caught him off guard, and the freshman found himself staring directly at her as she gently forced his head up. His throat went suddenly dry as she frankly mentioned the kiss and even gave him the explanation he'd originally planned to demand from her, his mind immediately latching onto the fact that she didn't regret kissing him. And the opposite meant that.. she was glad she had? What? Unintentionally, Zach shook his head. Nothing was making much sense. Ever since they'd known each other Izz had always been disdainful, stuck up, royally snobbish- the insults he'd thrown at her ran through his head. It was how their friendship worked, but now the solidity of that was wavering.. and he didn't know how he felt about it.

Letting his hands fall away from her leg, Zach sat back and looked back at her unsurely, confused. Her guilt-ridden expression was sincere, and she was clearly hoping for him to nod and let things go back to normal. And normal would mean he'd stop landing on his ass during soccer practice. Normal would mean he'd get to text her random pick up lines to receive a scathing little comeback in return. Normal was good. Yeah, he was more than happy for normal. Nodding agreeably, he spoke. "I'll forgive you if you go with me to homecoming."

It took Zach a moment to realise exactly what he'd said, and when he did he promptly wanted to kill himself. What, what had possessed him to say that? 'Sure Izz, what's not to forgive huh?', THAT was what he had been supposed to say, not that stupid line about homecoming! How had his mouth somehow translated that simple line into something else? Oh God, homecoming. He'd just dug himself into a grave. He was never going to get out of this one. The words hung in the air between them, like a pipe bomb just waiting to go off. Shit, he was so dead.

Izz felt, admittedly, a small stab of regret as Zach let go of her leg. It'd felt really nicer than she'd have liked for it to, but she couldn't complain; her muscle was feeling much better. Avoiding the tub of ice cream with her foot, Isabelle swung her long leg around to leave it stretched out on the ground so that she was practically doing the splits, but the stretch felt nice. Smiling she reached forward, pleased that things were patched between them as she snatched up his little tub of ice cream. With her spoonful on its way to her mouth, she stopped mid-air with his next statement.

Homecoming? Oh god. Simon had already asked her, this was really late notice, and it's not like she was going to just DITCH her date to go out with Zach! Ugh, as if! Her mouth pressed into a thin line, Isabelle set her untouched spoon of Dulce de Leche haagen dazs (her favorite, though she doubted he knew that) back in the tub, she got up on her knees and scooted around to sit next to him. Since they were clearly in the 'love' part of their cycle, she figured it was okay to not have at least four feet of space between them.

Sitting very close to Zach at his side, her ailing leg still stretched out in front of her, her long right one tucked under that one, she leaned into him a little, looking down at her hands. "Zach, I would absolutely love to go to homecoming with you, but Simon already asked me, and I said yes..." More than said, but it wasn't like he needed to hear about that.

Isabelle rested her hand on his thigh, looking sideways at him and actually feeling kind of... bad for once. Ugh it was so confusing having their friendship so muddled. Why couldn't it be like it always had been; him obnoxiously texting her dirty pick-up lines and hitting on her, her pretending to be repulsed and shooting insults at him Why couldn't they just go back to that? Her hormones answered her, loud and clear.

When you were forced to have chemistry with a person you'd rather loathe, it made your life really, well, difficult. Isabelle knew that she could be happy with Zach, that they might even be good together, but she'd be damned if she ever let that happen. Despite what a good boyfriend he might be, despite how much fun together, she outright refused to be with Zach Peters. She was too good for him, for Pete's sakes! And they were really different in some ways, maybe he wouldn't even be able to be happy with her...

"I'm so sorry... if you had asked sooner, I would have said yes. I guess that's just how it works out..." Isabelle frowned as she realized what she said was true, and a deep pit formed in her gut. "But I'll root for you at the game anyways... And we'll see each other at the dance. You can even save me one... It'll still be fun."

Ugh, she needed to make small talk again. They were okay for a while, until he'd asked her to homecoming. Leaning her head on his shoulder nervously, Isabelle traced little circles on the wood floor with the tip of her long finger, sighing. She needed to make this okay. With a smirk playing on her lips, she spoke quietly, her eyes lighting up.

"That is, assuming you can dance..." she chuckled a little to herself, lifting up her head and sticking out her tongue, "Oh, my dress is hot pink, in case you want to match anyways..."

Waiting for her to answer was like sitting on a hotbed of sharp pointy nails: pure agony. It was living a nightmare, sitting there edgily but trying to act as if he'd asked her to the dance on purpose, and when she moved to sit close beside him Zach had to physically restrain himself from flinching away nervously, clenching the hand hidden from her view into a tight fist. As she leaned into him, he automatically stiffened before forcing himself to relax, to stay cool- and then his breath whooshed out of him at her rejection. His eyes snapped away from their fixated staring at the wall opposite them, narrowing in agitation. Simon? As in Simon Theodore? As in Simon James Theodore? Well, hell. Aware that Izz was looking at him, Zach simply glared down at her hand on his thigh and gritted his teeth as subtly as he could- though of course, grinding one's teeth together is a pretty noticeable act one way or another. God, the world was an unfair place. He'd succumbed to the indignity of asking Izz to homecoming- unintentionally, but that didn't make things any better- only to be told she was going with someone else. Not that he had anything against Simon, he was a cool enough dude despite constantly hanging around Isabelle and Isaac. No, it was the rejection that stung more than anything else.

He was damned if he was going to let that show, though. Waving his hand in a dismissive manner, he forced out a hopefully convincingly casual laugh. "Psh, it's no big deal, just figured I'd ask for the hell of it," he lied flippantly, ignoring the unpleasant lurch in his stomach when it hit him that he was seriously lying, that in truth it actually mattered to him that she was going with Simon to the dance. Simon, not him. He couldn't get those three words out of his head. He wasn't supposed to care this much! No, scratch that, he wasn't supposed to care at all. Izz was just a friend, a good one, someone he could laugh and joke with whenever he wasn't insulting her, or bothering her, or irritating her, or accidentally kissing her once and then spending the subsequent two months subconsciously repeatedly wanting to kiss her.. wait, crap. Oh no, nononono. He wasn't having it. He didn't care that the tension between them could grow so thick that you didn't even need a blunt knife to cut through it, you could use a- a- fish or something; he didn't care that having her hand on his leg and sitting so close to her was making his pulse race; he didn't care that even now he really really sort of wanted to kiss her again; he refused to go there, damn it!

The warm weight of her head against shoulder brought a rapid halt to his silent protests- partly a good thing, since he hadn't exactly been very convincing even to himself. On the other hand though, he was now struggling to suppress the altogether too-strong temptation to tug away the elastic hairtie keeping her hair up in its ponytail just so he could run his hand through the soft blonde locks. Gah, even the idea sounded mushy. Not good, not good. Wondering if it would look weird if he sat on his hands, it was a welcome opportunity when Isabelle teased him lightly, though he immediately missed feeling her head leaning on his shoulder. (Not good.) Seizing his chance with no small amount of relief, Zach allowed himself to fall back into the comfortable rhythm of their old back-and-forth banter, smirking back at her with one eyebrow arching upwards in lazy amusement. "Is that a challenge," he drawled idly, secretly pleased that he sounded like his regular self. "You're gonna regret that Izz, I've already got my tux ready in my closet and I bet you five bucks it's a hotter pink than your little dress." Right, so "his" closet happened to be the costumes closet in the theatre tech room, but she didn't need to know that particular detail. Besides, pink wasn't that bad a colour, and it guaranteed him an entrance. Zach grinned at her smugly, leaning around her to grab his tub of haagen dazs. "So," he began over casually, through another mouthful of the ice cream. "You and Simon. How'd that happen?"

Zach in a pink tux; that would be a laugh. But the replaced congeniality between them, with or without the palpable tension, was nice, and Isabelle's smile was a little brighter without the gentle tug of awkwardness between them. She was about to sock him square in the shoulder for his challenge, but was thrown for a loop as he asked her about Simon. Oh god, Simon. How had it happened?!

"I don't know what Simon and I are..." she said, turning her blues down towards the floor and pursing her lips. With a sigh, she reluctantly raised her face to look into Zach's, "he hasn't really made that clear..."

"But the way he asked me was really cool..." Isabelle laughed brightly, her face a little more animated, the weight of her confusion lifted. "he filled my whole room with balloons, like up to my waist balloons, and then put this poster saying 'Will You Go To Homecoming With Me?' I made him come over and help me pop them all and almost broke my neck slipping on the damn thing, but it was really cool..."

She made sure to leave the part out about their little affectionate make out kiss, shrugging and leaping to her feet, putting pressure on her leg gingerly with her hands on her hips. It felt okay, and she extended her leg, pulling her toe up and pressing down on her knee to stretch her pulled muscle. "But you know, whatever. No big deal."

Isabelle walked over to her boombox and switched the CD to a regular dance mix, bobbing a little with the music before strolling casually over to Zach. Holding her arms out to him, she pulled him up before he could protest, taking his arm and spinning once before dragging him to the middle of the dance floor.

"Let's see these fabled dance moves then, baby. I won't believe it 'til I see 'em." It was cruel, true, but Isabelle was already too caught up in their love end of the cycle to resist taking advantage. She'd never admit she liked Zach, never in a million years, but that didn't mean she couldn't exploit whatever was going on between them.

Oh god, was saying you would never admit it the same as admitting it? Biting her lip, Isabelle wrinkled her nose in thought. Oh god oh god. He knew, it was so obvious. Nervously she took his hands, stifling the horrible urge to lace her fingers with his as she moved back and forth with the beat, placing them on her hips and putting her arms around his neck.

"Geeze, you really can't dance..." Izz observed, looking down at his feet and laughing a little, "The beat is the thing you should be feeling there. Try a little harder, I know you can do it..."

"One, two, one, two... come on Zach, gosh..." she laughed lightheartedly, ignoring the heat she was feeling with Zach's hands on her hips, moving back and forth slowly and keeping it simple. Simple was what he needed; seriously, did the boy had two left feet? Frustrating as it was for Isabelle to dumb her moves down, she was liking the feel of just having with Zach too much to be too harsh. "Come on there, Peters, just follow me..."

Zach didn't know what he'd been expecting to hear, but at any rate, 'I don't know' sounded really really good on the ears. The freshman brightened perceptibly at those three words, before hastily rearranging his expression into something suitably bland, but then as Izz began to happily recount how Simon had asked her to the dance his mood plummeted again even as he grinned mechanically. Oh balloons, wonderful. And a poster, wow. How bloody (great, now he was using British slang) original. Simon was such a genius. Catching himself, Zach started to shake his head violently- before quickly stopping when he remembered that she was looking at him and that he was supposed to stay cool. God, what the hell, what was he doing? He was being stupid. Focus, Zachary. The caustic thoughts weren't necessary, he ought to be pleased Izz had turned him down. Let her be the one saddled with a boring old date; he would be perfectly free to grace the ladies at the dance with his supreme presence and watch them go into a frenzy over him- which they undoubtedly would, of course. He was The Man. Da Man. Word. Keeping that firmly in mind, Zach nodded nonchalantly as Izz got to her feet, echoing her statement in his best 'I could care less' tone, "Yeah, no big deal."

Watched as she moved over to her boombox and changed to a different track, he wondered what she was up to. Oh oh, an up-close and personal display of her dancing expertise maybe? Probably not, but asking wouldn't hurt- unless she decided to smack him for it. Ah well. The sly grin he directed up at her when she turned back to him however was replaced by confusion as he was dragged up and forcefully yanked into the centre of the dance studio. What was she doing- wait, dance? Zach snorted a laugh, giving her an exaggerated wink, "Oh, you'd better believe they're amazing." Right, that was pretty much the biggest lie in history. But he wasn't about to let her get the upper hand, no way. Smirking madly, he allowed his hands to be guided to her hips; his immediate thought as she placed her arms around his neck was how close they were to each other again, and face-to-face, but with another laugh Zach deliberately brushed it off, choosing to concentrate on bumbling his way spectacularly through the dance rather than on dancing with Izz.

Singularly unbothered by his pathetic coordination skills, Zach snickered loudly with every encouraging bit of advice Isabelle threw at him. Knowing she was already keeping the steps extra simple for his sake, he obligingly attempted to shuffle through them accordingly, coughing out the 'one two's' between highly entertained sniggers and messing up each time he did. Apparently there was a remarkable lack of communication between his brain and his feet; he knew what they were supposed to do, they just.. wouldn't. Whenever he had to step forward with his right foot, his left seemed to want to move as well, and he would have to stumble around for several seconds to regain his balance. Step. Almost-trip. Step. Mix up his left and right feet. "Impressed yet?" he asked after a couple more minutes of atrocious dancing, so amused at himself that his grin showed a flash of teeth. "You should be, I haven't even stepped on your feet once." Waggling his eyebrows dramatically, he let go of her hips and pulled her hands away from his neck; holding onto her right he spun himself out professionally.. or not. His legs tangled together and somehow slipped on the floor, making him let go of Izz's hand and flap his arms wildly in an effort not to fall over. Miraculously, the desperate antics worked and he turned to beam at her in a self-satisfied manner. You've just danced with the devil, Isabelle Cauldine," he proclaimed. "Because damn if I'm not hot as hell."

"Mm, only mildly impressed that you haven't completely wiped out both yourself and me.. but only mildly, mind you." Izz said with a wink, grinning a little as she attempted to move Zach with her on the beat. With anyone else, she probably would've been heavily frustrated, lost her patience ages ago. Well, truthfully, usually her patience was long gone with Zach, too.

But for whatever reason, it was easy to be friendly, almost flirty, with Zach today. They were probably just on that time of their cycle. Far too comfortable with his hands on her hips, laughing with him, talking with him, enjoying herself with him, Isabelle decided to just let herself enjoy the moment, despite the still-nagging voice at the back of her head.

Maybe Zach wasn't that bad. Ugh, don't start thinking that way... Smiling a little, Isabelle watched as Zach wiggled his eyebrows at her as only Zach could before spinning out. For a moment, she was afraid he was going to pull her down with him, but miraculously he managed to let go of her hands, stumbling out and regaining his footing after a moment.

Isabelle was pleased to feel her concern (mostly) evaporated through Zach's almost magnificent wipe-out, her eyes bright with pleasure at her self-control. Here they were. Friends. This was where they belonged. No good mixing up liking someone with exchanging bawdy pick-up lines and heated insults.

"Well then, Beezlebub..." Isabelle said, scooping Zach's ice cream up from the floor and handing it to him with a flourish, "What would your oh-so-hot dark lordship say to grabbing some lunch? I'm starved..."

Clutching her grumbling tummy, Izz evidenced this fact before smiling and walking over to pack all of her dance stuff into her bag. She was vaguely aware that the view she was giving him of her ass was kind of nice, but she didn't really care. Let him look, he couldn't touch... Slipping on her sweatpants as the final touch, Isabelle slung her dance bag over her shoulder, having replaced her bare feet with her loafer slippers, and strode over towards Zach, swinging her arm over his shoulders.

"Quit looking at my ass, Peters..." she said, winking once before kissing him on the cheek. "To the dining hall, Monsieur?"

With an excited grin Isabelle led them out of the dance studio and towards food, chatting Zach up the whole way. Even if it went undefined what they were, and even if it wasn't easy for her to be spending so much time with Zach again, she was, in a sick way, kind of glad he was with her. But she did not like him.

The combination of absolutely ridiculous dancing and getting to spring one of his favourite lines from his formidable arsenal on Isabelle had the comforting sense of things falling back into their proper places. The sense of impending doom (ie, every time he caught himself thinking about liking Izz) that had bothered him ever since the closet incident had more or less vanished, at least to the point where he could easily ignore it, or better yet, squash it into itty bitty tiny little yellow polka-dotted pieces with an imaginary flick of his fingers. Admittedly he was just slightly surprised that she was letting him get away with both the stupidity and his proclamation, but hey- no one ever said he wasn't charming as hell. Maybe she was just getting the memo now, what with her being one of those stuck up dancer types and all. Oooh, burn. Yeah, he was definitely back. He had regained his manly manliness. What a relief.

Accepting his tub of haagen dazs from her, he grinned as he immediately latched onto the most important part of her suggestion- aside from the fact that she'd actually willingly invited him to join her for lunch. "You called me hot," he pointed out smugly. "About damn time you noticed." He was joking of course- well, mostly joking anyway, because it was the truth after all- and the lighthearted teasing felt good. This was the normal course their friendship always took, and the normal that Zach was happy to know hadn't been totally destroyed. There was no tiny pang of disapointment that he hadn't gotten to kiss her again, of course not. One didn't want to kiss Isabelle. One simply enjoyed the extremely nice view of her behind that she was so kindly proferring for one's viewing pleasure. Which one unabashedly did, obviously.

Completely unrepentant when she turned around and caught him looking, he smirked boldly at her words. "You didn't say I couldn't," he retorted unapologetically. "Not that I'd have listened if you had, anyway." The brief kiss she planted on his cheek made him pause for a moment, before he brushed it off as another Izz-trait. Nothing to think about, nothing to fuss over. With a nod, Zach shrugged his agreement, unable to resist another jab at her. "Didn't know you liked French now, Izzy," he remarked slyly, chuckling as he allowed himself to be led out of the dance studio. His arm slid around her waist and stayed there for all of ten seconds as they walked, before he let it fall back to his side again, although he didn't mind the slight pressure of her arm across his shoulders. Yeah, it was fine, and he was pleased that they'd managed to sort things out, even if it was back to their never-ending vicious circle.

Hell, at least it meant that he'd stop falling on his ass during soccer practices. And she'd just helped him decide on what to wear to homecoming. Oh, he was going to rock the pink.