Author's notes: total 'shippy probably overly sweet fluff. Hopefully feel good fic. For Nancy.

Girls matured faster than boys she said, but now Jarod wished that he had never matured at all. He could still feel her lips against his - the slight taste of her strawberry lip-gloss, and the smell of her perfume. It was very distracting, and Jarod wasn’t sure why. This was Miss Parker, his friend and companion though the Centre.

Somehow he knew that he really shouldn’t admire the skirts her father made her wear, or the way the jackets and tops hugged her thin frame. He was her friend, and he knew that friends weren’t suppose to do things like that. But it wasn’t his fault, he couldn’t stop it.

Occasionally he thought to tell her, but how? By the way Miss Parker I’ve noticed you’re very pretty. She probably wouldn’t mind; might even blush and say thank you, but Jarod got the feeling her father wouldn’t be impressed. Mr Parker unimpressed was a scary thought.

Though despite the fear of Mr Parker, mostly what bothered him was that he couldn’t name this feeling. It was just there no matter what he did - always lurking under the surface. It was ridiculous – how did anyone get anything done if they always felt like this? He decided, after a lot of deliberation, to ask her the next time he saw her. She usually knew about these things.

The next visit came far too quickly and slowly for Jarod’s liking. He was nervous, felling edgy, like balancing on something high from the ground. How silly because both his feet were clearly on the ground.

She strode in to the Sim lab like she always did, pausing to say hello to Sydney, and then smiled at Jarod. Her smile made something in the pit his stomach clench with happiness and adrenaline.

“Hi,” she greeted, smiling widely.

“Hi,” he returned with a smile.

As they walked over to one of the corners of the lab Jarod realised that the panic and fear was gone, replaced with a warm tingling that went all through his body. It was nice; he felt happy for no particular reason other than she was there.

“I brought something,” she said after they sat down. She put her hand into a bag Jarod hadn’t noticed she’d been carrying and after a moment carefully pulled out a flower – a daisy, Jarod thought. She handed it to him and then pulled out another for herself.

“I wanted to show you them. They’re the first ones of spring. Aren’t they pretty?”

The flowers were indeed pretty, they were large white daisies with a perfectly ground yellow centre. It was like something out of a children’s drawing, only real.

“I wanted to show you how to make a daisy chain, but we don’t have enough,” she said sadly.

“They’re beautiful,” Jarod said sincerely. “Thank you.”

She smiled again and they sat in silence for a while, twirling the flowers in their fingers and idly stroking the petals. They didn’t smell of much, but the pollen did cling to the tip of his finger.

“Have you ever used a flower to tell if someone loves you?” Miss Parker asked suddenly.

“What?” Jarod asked, slightly startled.

Miss Parker laughed a little; he liked her laugh too. “It’s simple – you get a daisy and you pick off each of the petals as you say either ‘Loves me’ or ‘Loves me not’.”

Jarod didn’t really want to destroy the flower so quickly, but he followed her instructions.

“So I just pick a petal…”

“Yup,” she agreed, moving closer to him and leaning across. He could feel the warmth of her body next to him. “Now say ‘loves me’…” Miss Parker said, watching him closely.

“Loves me,” Jarod repeated, and gently plucked the petal out.

Miss Parker was smiling again. “Now do it again to the one next to it, but this time you say ‘loves me not’, and what you say when you pick the last petal is the truth.”

“Loves me not,” Jarod continued dutifully. “Loves me…” The petal drifted to the floor. “Loves me not…” he nearly faltered when she shifted and even more of her leg was pressed against him.

Petal after petal drifted to the Sim lab floor, creating abstract patterns. Jarod stared at these as he plucked the last petal.

“Loves me,” he said as he watched it drift to its fallen comrades.

“Who were you thinking of?” Miss Parker asked quietly.

He could hear her breathing and feel part of her body pressed against hers. If he concentrated a little he could still feel the press of her lips against his. How could he think of anyone else, ever?

“You, of course,” he said quietly.

It was her that kissed him the second time too. It was sweet and light and made that feeling come back in his stomach, but he no longer cared he couldn’t name it. Instead he was thinking that he hoped he’d be the one to start kiss number three.