Exchanges Only

- One-shot -

I am an amazing saleswoman, and the awards on my shelf are proof of that. I realized I was meant to dabble in products and services from the time I was 5 - when I bartered my brother's beloved Power Ranger action figures to my tomboy cousin in exchange for the Barbie dolls she loathed.

Since then, things have only gone upward.

Of course, as with all success stories, I have encountered difficulties and roadblocks. Not to mention, I've come across things - and people - that made me hate the life I had chosen for myself.

Clark Roberts was the bane of my existence. A particularly handsome bane, but a bane nevertheless.

A bane who was currently shouting out my name in the middle of the mall's food court.

"What do you want, Roberts?" I snapped when I felt him at my side.

"A refund."

That made me stop and turn to him, eyebrow raised. "A what?"

"A refund," he repeated patiently.

I glowered at him. "You haven't bought anything from me," I pointed out. "And the things you did buy, you returned for refund ages back. Each and every one." It was a sore spot for me.

Clark smirked, and it brought out the dimples in his face. I wished I could tease him about them, but they somehow only made him look more handsome. "You sure?"

"Positive."

"Hmm." He stuffed his hands in his jeans' pockets and leaned back to look over me. "Sure, I've made your career as a saleswoman hell...but there is one thing I hadn't even considered returning until now."

At least he admitted he had been trying to mess with me. It started when I was 9 - when he was 11 - and I had set up my first official sales-stand. Naturally, I sold lemonade.

Clark had shown up near the end of the day, bought a drink, spat it out, and told me even his dog wouldn't like it. Of course, that was very insulting because his dog ate just about everything - it chewed up the most random things in the neighbourhood.

Not being one to turn down a challenge, I had offered a refund if he could support his claim. He accepted, and poured some juice in his dog's mouth.

The dog had run away whimpering, and my ego was crushed. (Briefly.)

That was when my hate-affair with Clark began.

After that day, he made a point to purchase any product or service I was selling, just so he could return it a few days later and smirk at my 'failure'.

Bane of my existence indeed.

"I've changed my refund policy," I told him as I reminisced our history.

"To?"

"To no refunds." This time it was my turn to smirk.

His eyebrow went up. "Oh really? What if somebody is dissatisfied?"

"You mean if you are dissatisfied," I pointing out grumpily before I answered his original question. "No refunds, exchange only."

Clark seemed to be considering this, because he was silent for a few seconds. And then he nodded, "Fine, we'll play that way."

"You don't have anything to return!" I told him again, rolling my eyes.

"I do," he said. "If I'm right, will you refund it?"

"If I'm wrong - which is highly unlikely - I will exchange it, as is my new policy." I was not making an exception for him.

There was a glint in his eye when he responded to that. "I guess I can live with that," he agreed. "Should I give it to you now or later?"

"Well, since we're here and all..." I shrugged, curious as to whether he was telling the truth. Had Clark actually kept something I'd sold him? Shocker!

"So that's a yes?"

Duh. "Yes."

And the next thing I knew, I was against a pillar - where'd that come from? - with Clark's lips pressing against mine. His hands flitted from my shoulders, down to my wrists, and pulled my hands up to lock them behind his neck. My subconscious mind screamed questions at me, but my conscious was too busy focusing on the sensation Clark's lips brought me.

His tongue ran over my lower lip, and I groaned when that made my stomach tingle. Taking advantage of my groan, his tongue slipped into my mouth. And then - as fast as it had all happened - his tongue withdrew back into his mouth, and he was breaking away from my lips to press his forehead against mine.

"Oops."

Oops indeed. I fought to catch my breath and orient myself.

"I gave back more than you sold me," he whispered. "You're going to have to make the exchange a lot more...desirable."

My brain had finally regained control of my mouth. "What are you-" And then I remembered.

Kissing booth. Age 11. Clark had been my first - and only - customer. After he paid his $2 and placed a wet one on me, I realized just how many cooties I was setting myself up for and closed up the business.

Needless to say, he had been my first kiss. At 11...but still.

"Do you remember now?" he asked, his breath playing over my cheeks because his forehead was still against mine.

"That was...that was six years ago!" I stammered, his nearness freaking me out. "You can't..."

Clark moved back, and I realized my hands were still around his neck. I quickly dropped them. "You gave your word," he commented. "And I just returned the service - you owe me."

"I'll bend my no-refund policy and give you your $2 back," I offered meekly, pulling out my wallet.

"No."

I was digging through my change. "Just a sec- what? What do you mean 'no'?"

"I meant 'no'." He smirked, enjoying the panic on my face. "We agreed to an exchange, and I want an exchange. I want a proper kiss from you in return for the one I returned." He paused and looked thoughtful. "Or, you can just give back the kiss I just gave you...both ways work for me."

I gaped at him. Was Clark using my own policy to force me to...kiss him? What happened to all those girls that threw themselves at him on a regular basis? More importantly...why me?

"Well?" He was waiting patiently, his posture very relaxed.

"No."

He was ready for my refusal. "That makes you a liar and a cheat."

The words stung, but I refused to let that show. "I was eleven! I don't think anybody's going to blame me for it."

"But you'll blame yourself." He let the words hang in the air, and I hated him more than ever in that minute for knowing me so well.

"No, I will not," I denied, already feeling the pit forming in my chest at the thought of ruining my perfect sales track record. "Leave me alone, Roberts." I shoved him aside and headed for the mall's exit with only the thought of putting as much distance as I could between the two of us.

Otherwise, I might just jump him...and not in a negative sense, either.

"Don't you think this bikini makes my tan stand out nicely?" My best friend, Lina, lifted a leg and examined it critically.

I rolled my eyes at the sky, as if begging God to bestow some sense into the girl beside me. "You're such a 17-year-old girl!"

"You're one too," she shot back at me, lifting the other leg and giving it the same inspection. "Except you're all prim and proper, what with your salesgirl personality and all."

"Saleswoman," I corrected her automatically. I was too mature to let myself be called a mere 'girl'.

"Oh, I think you've lost that title when you refused to follow through on your agreement last week." Lina could be a bitch when she put her heart into it.

I groaned and flipped onto my front, letting the sun shine my back. We were at the beach, lying on the sand to make the best of the weather. "You don't have to bring that up again."

Lina copied my action and flipping onto her front as well. "What I don't get is...why don't you just do it and get it over with?" She grinned at me. "Besides, Clark's just gorgeous! If I were you, I would be offering discounts on my kisses, and giving him buy-one-get-an-infinite-number-for-free deals!"

"I hate you." I glared at her and then closed my eyes, letting my chin rest on my towel.

I jolted about a half hour later when I felt something sliding down my sides. Rolling onto my back, I noticed a pair of legs standing above me...and grains of sand dripping from above to land on my bare skin.

Looking up, I groaned. "What do you want, Roberts?" Deja vu?

He grinned down on me. "I want my exchange to be completed."

"That's not going to happen, so sue me."

Clark sat himself in the sand beside my head and started twirling my hair around his finger. "I'm not going to let you get away with fraudulent representation."

"Big words," I commented, yawning my displeasure.

"Only for you, babe."

"Buzz off." I turned my head away from him and noticed something. Actually, I didn't notice something, which is what irked me most. Lina was gone. "Where's Lina?"

"She ran off when I came by." I could hear the smirk in his voice and, sure enough, when I turned my head it was there in all its dimpled glory.

I stood up and began picking up my things. I was on a mission to find Lina and kill her.

"Are you running away too?"

"Shut it, Roberts."

"Sure thing, Lizzie."

I whirled on him. "My name is Elizabeth. Learn it. Use it."

"Will do, Lizzie."

Giving up, I leaned down to pick up my towel. "What?" I demanded, noticing the way Clark's eyes became shifty. And then I realized that, by bending, I had given him an amazing up-close view down my bikini top. Cleavage, anyone? I straightened up quickly, blushing, and couldn't help but smile when I noticed the pinkness of Clark's face. "Are you blushing?"

"Are you?" he shot back.

I shrugged and wadded up the towel in my arms. "I'm out of here." I headed in the direction of my car.

"Oh, and Elizabeth?" he called after me. I slowed and shot a look over my shoulder. "My name is Clark. Learn it. Use it."

Deciding that didn't require a response, I turned my head back and continued on my way.

"Hello Ms. Masters. How are you doing today?"

I smiled up at the interviewer. "I am very well, Mr. Jones. But please, call me Elizabeth."

The man nodded at my request and flipped open a file on his desk. "So I have here that you are a recent graduate of the Sales Expertise Training Program. Is that correct?"

"Yes it is, sir. I found it to be a very beneficial program because it allowed practical experience and case studies in many types of sales work."

He smiled, his teeth flashing at me. "Thank you, Elizabeth. Not many people know, but I designed that program."

Having done thorough research prior to the interview, I had indeed known that. "Really sir?" I feigned amazement. "Please forgive me if I sound too...enthusiastic, but the program was just brilliant!"

Mr. Jones thanked me again before turning a page in the file. "You are a very qualified candidate, Elizabeth," he said, making me beam, "but I have one issue with your application."

My beam became a slight frown as I pondered what the issue could be. "What...what exactly do you find lacking, sir?"

He looked up and pierced me with his eyes. "I believe that the foundation to a great salesperson begins at a young age...and we try to hire those with great initiative and track records. Do you understand?"

"I do...but what am I lacking in? I believe that I meet all of the criteria you have mentioned."

"For the most part, yes. But it says here that you've failed to complete a transaction with a client."

A sense of dread began forming in my chest.

"You agreed to an exchange with this client but, after taking back the faulty service, refused to give him the better product you had agreed upon. I'm sorry, but this is not acceptable in our line of work."

"Who...who was this client?"

He consulted his notes and looked up. "A certain Clark Roberts."

I screamed in frustration, and blinked to find myself sitting up in bed. It had been a dream...or a nightmare, rather.

Damn you, Clark Roberts!

Naturally, the first person I saw when I went down to breakfast was Clark. He was shoveling eggs into his mouth while nodding at whatever my mother was saying to him.

"What's he doing here?" I snarled, narrowing my eyes at the scene.

My mother tutted and glared at me. "Be polite, Beth." If there was one name I hated more than anything, it was 'Beth'. Even Clark's 'Lizzie' was better.

"Mom, you named me Elizabeth. Please, stop butchering it." I scowled. "There are enough morons butchering it already." Obviously that was aimed at Clark.

Obviously, he chose to smile at me in response. "Good morning, Lizbeth." Whoopie, new nickname.

"You can take your 'good morning' and..." I caught the look my mother aimed at me and changed track quickly "...enjoy your eggs."

"They are absolutely delicious," he commented, beaming at my mother. Suck-up.

She giggled - yes, giggled - and swatted him on the shoulder. "Oh, it's nothing special!" She turned to me. "Lizbeth," (What, she's now calling me that too?) "there is cereal in the cupboard and milk in the fridge. I have an appointment with my optometrist in an hour, so I'll be leaving now. Clark came over to meet with your father about getting some contracting work done at his house - give him company until your father gets back from the bank." She strolled out of the kitchen as she called her instructions over her shoulder.

I glared at her back until it disappeared from my view. How come I didn't get any eggs?

"Want some eggs?"

I glowered at Clark and headed over to the cupboard to retrieve...eww, Wheatios? Who needed fibre anyway? I shoved the box back in its place and tried the fridge. A stalk of broccoli and a chunk of cheddar greeted me. What happened to the milk?

"How about some milk?"

Turning, I watched as Clark poured the remaining milk into his cup and took a sip.

"Are you here to hire my dad or clean out our fridge?" I demanded, pounding a fist onto the table. The perverse side of me enjoyed the slight jolt he gave at the sudden sound.

"Both," he admitted. "Plus one more thing."

"Which would be...?"

I hadn't realized he had stood up, and was surprised to find myself pushed against the counter, his arms on either side of me. "We still have to finish our deal."

"How about I give you a $50 - instead of the $2 you initially paid - and we can call it quits?" I was practically begging. "This is getting ridiculous...I'm even dreaming about it!"

His eyes darkened, but not in anger. "I've been dreaming too, Elizabeth." His voice was soft, and I was almost shaking with the lust that suddenly overtook me. What was it about him that brought out so many emotions in me?

"Clark..."

He smoothed down my hair - it must have looked craptacular, seeing how I had rolled out of bed and headed straight downstairs. "I've been dreaming for years now...but you're just so damn oblivious!" His expression became stony and he backed away from me.

I gripped the counter for balance. "What am I oblivious about?"

He whirled back to me. "See?" he shouted. "OBLIVIOUS!"

"I don't understand you!" I shouted back. "One minute you're being an ass, and the next you're...well, you're still being an ass, but you're cornering me against objects and kissing the hell out of me!"

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that."

Our eyes widened and we both turned to look at the door. My father stood there looking awkward.

"Daddy..."

"Mr. Masters..." Clark's eyes darted to the toolbelt slung around my father's waist and I wondered if he thought my father was going to attack him with the hammer. Fun thoughts.

"It's forgotten, remember?" He looked as if he'd rather be shot than discuss the topic. "Are you here about your patio?"

"Yes...my dad asked me to pick up some sketches from you so we can decide on how we want it to look."

My father nodded and motioned for Clark to follow him. The latter shot me a look as he passed me - a look that said we were not finished with our discussion.

Great, more Clark moments to look forward to.

"Elizabeth."

...

"Elizabeth!"

...

"LIZBETH!"

"Wha-? Oh...it's you." I pushed back my hair and scooted over on the park bench to let Clark sit.

After a long silence, he spoke again. "So?"

"So?"

"So...you called and asked to meet me," he reminded me.

"Yeah..." More silence ensued.

"Are you going to tell me why?" he asked, sounding a little annoyed.

"Um." I made up my mind and turned to fuse my lips with his.

He immediately froze up, but his body quickly relaxed and he cupped my face to maintain the contact of our lips.

When we came up for air, I quickly pulled back and tightened the grip on my purse. "Ah...bye!"

Cheeks burning with embarrassment, I jumped up and began hurrying away.

"Wait!" he called out, grabbing my wrist to stop me. "Where are you running to?"

"I...the deal's over."

"No, it's not."

My nose flared as I glared up at him. "I kissed you, like we agreed from the beginning. Exchange complete. End of deal!"

"What if I say I'm not satisfied with this one either?" he challenged, raising an eyebrow at me.

My eyes widened. "You wouldn't dare!"

Clark grinned. "I would. Care for another exchange, Lizzie?"

"No," I denied vehemently. "I refuse to let you mess with me like this. I can find plenty of guys who would be satisfied - very satisfied - with my kiss. You can't invoke an exchange without substantial reason!"

He nodded slowly. "You could find plenty of guys to back up your claims of being a great kisser," he said carefully, "but I will break their noses for laying their hands on you."

"What are you, a neanderthal? My dad? Or, better yet, Thomas?" Thomas is my older brother. Yes, the one whose Power Rangers I bartered at the start of my career.

"No, none of those," Clark said, using his grip on my wrist to pull me closer. "I'm the love of your life," I snorted at the words, "but you're just too stupid to realize it."

"I'm not stupid."

"Yes, you are."

"No. I. Am. Not."

He sighed and dropped my hand. "Do you remember what Mr. Anks said in his lecture last year about children's interaction with the opposite gender?"

Mr. Anks is a leading child psychology researcher who had presented a lecture at city hall. Technically, he was 'Doctor' Anks, but he claimed that he had no use for that title.

"What does that have to do with anything?" I demanded.

"Just answer me, Elizabeth."

I frowned as I thought back. "Um...he said something about the 'cooties' theory, and how it came about."

"Yes...and?"

"I don't know. How am I supposed to remem- oh, wait! Are you talking about the one where little boys harass the girls they're crushing on?" I smiled at the memory of all the boys groaning when Mr. Anks had announced that.

"Yes." Clark looked at me expectantly and, when I looked at him in confusion, groaned. "I don't understand how you can be so dense around ONLY me!" he declared. "Okay, let me spell it out for you," he continued before I could protest. "How did I treat you when we were kids?"

"You tortured me," I responded instantly. "You were an evil child."

He rolled his eyes. "And why do you think I did that?"

"Because...you were an evil child," I repeated.

"Jesus," he muttered under his breath. "Okay, I'm sick of waiting for you to get it!" he declared. "I love you."

I snorted.

"Elizabeth...I love you."

Another snort escaped me.

Clark grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me. "I. LOVE. YOU. Stop laughing!"

I couldn't help it. I placed my hands over the ones he had put on my shoulders and let loose a flow of giggles. "Oh Clark...and I'm the stupid one?"

"What?"

I stopped laughing to regard him with a small smile. "Do you really think I'd kiss you like that without having any feelings for you? Do you think I'd care about a stupid exchange enough to sell myself cheap?"

"Yes...no...no, you wouldn't," he said, shoving his hands in the pockets of his hoodie, "but I'm completely lost right now."

I moved to the bench and sat down, patting the spot beside me. "I didn't know if you liked me...never mind loved me. I mean, you're Clark Roberts - the guy that makes girls swoon by just looking at them!"

"Come out and say it, Elizabeth...don't build my hopes up to smash them down again." He sounded tired, and just a tiny bit hopeful, as he plopped down beside me.

"I love you too, Clark Roberts," I told him softly. "I think I have for a long time."

He stared at my face for a minute before pulling me into a tight hug. "Finally!" he muttered into my hair. "Took you long enough..."

I managed to elbow him hard enough to draw back. "Oh yeah? Why couldn't you approach me?"

"Because you're always walking around with your head in a sales-cloud. Why do you think I ended up buying things from you so often? Every time I approached you, I would lose my nerve and just buy something to cover up my real intent..."

"And, let me guess, you returned everything to get another chance to talk to me?" I leaned into his chest and sniffed his cologne.

He chuckled. "Not quite...I actually realized that I was going to go broke if I was being such a coward...so I had to return things to make ends meet."

Another bout of laughter overtook me. "That's hilarious...and very unromantic...but hilarious nonetheless!"

"Don't tell me you didn't enjoy arguing with me each and every time I returned something! I bet you looked forward to each time I bought something, just because you knew I'd be back later that week to return it!"

It was true, so I didn't bother denying it. "You know, Clark...we really have to thank Mr. Anks for this."

He stroked my hair. "And why's that?"

"I didn't start guessing at your real 'intent' until his lecture. I mean, I would never have guessed that you were torturing me because you wanted me to notice you."

"You only figured it out then?"

"Umm...no."

"Liar," he accused

"Okay, fine...yeah, I only figured it out then!" I snuggled into his chest. "Better late than never, right?"

"Elizabeth...if I hadn't stopped you today, what would you have done?"

I grinned up at him. "I was going to come after you in a few days and demand that you return the kiss because I had given you the wrong one. And then I was going to plant one on you so strong that you would never even consider leaving my side again."

"I'm not considering it now either, so I'm scared to think about how strong that potential kiss would have been." His arms banded around me tightly.

"Mm-hmm," I mumbled. "And one more thing," I said, my voice a little drowsy.

"Yes?"

"If I ever hear you say the word 'exchange' to any other person, I will have to hurt you."

Clark pressed kisses to the top of my head. "Trust me, love...the only person I want to have any kind of exchange with is you."

A/N: I have no idea where the idea for this came from...one minute I was inhaling ice cream, the next I was thinking about kissing booths and irritable boys.