PART ONE Michael stared across the counter at the girl as she filled his coffee cup. As usual, she avoided his eyes. She avoided everyone's eyes. When she was finished, she turned away and returned the pot without a word, then moved around the counter to check on the people in the booths. Digging into the pocket of his jeans, he pulled out a crumpled five dollar bill and tossed it on the counter. He knew what the tab was without waiting for her to give him the check. Actually, she never gave him a check for anything anymore. Breakfast - four slices of toast, quarter cut of cantaloupe, three eggs 'sunny side' up, four sausage links, one cup of coffee - $4.75. Usually he left the exact amount, but he didn't have any quarters, and he didn't want to sit around and wait for her to make change. He never tipped her. Spinning on the stool, he put his feet on the floor and started toward the door. He had his hand on the knob when he felt something pelt his shoulder. Before he had a chance to turn around, he heard the clang of a coin on the floor. The quarter rolled to a stop a few inches from the heel of his boot, so he stooped and grabbed it. Trying not to smile, he stepped out of the diner and walked around the corner to get his car. *** She watched through the front window as he roared past in his brand new SUV. Bastard. "Mrya," the cook barked behind her. How was it that he turned her name into a one syllable word? Sighing, she turned and picked up the two plates of pancakes to be delivered to the second booth. Murray's Diner. She was the only waitress in the whole place - not that it was big - five booths, five tables, eight stools. One Maria. Thank goodness mornings were never busy. After she dumped the plates off in front of the customers, she walked behind the counter to clean up after him. Craning her neck to the side until it popped, she glanced up at the ancient clock above the door, 8:15 a.m., wonderful - only thirteen more hours to go. *** He handed the valet a ten along with his keys. The kid flashed a knowing smile as he climbed in the driver's seat. "Punk," Michael muttered under his breath as he walked through the front door of the restaurant. He didn't have to say a word, they knew him. "Right this way, Mr. Guerin." She was at her favorite table by the window. It was probably her favorite because the sun hit her perfectly there, shining on her flowing blonde hair. A smile slid smoothly across her face, but didn't touch her eyes. Her perfectly manicured hand slid across the white tablecloth, inviting a touch from his own. He stared at it as he sat down across from her. "Michael," her voice was smooth, almost a purr. "Iz." The hand that was stretched toward him was slowly retracted, but in such a fashion that it looked completely natural. No one would have guessed what had really taken place. A waiter was standing beside him, waiting for an order. Ignoring the menu, he looked up at the man, "I'll take a cheeseburger." He enjoyed her slight intake of breath, the small frown that settled briefly over her beautiful features. There were no 'cheeseburgers' on the menu here, and he knew it. The waiter had been trained to accommodate, however, and merely smiled and nodded, moving away. More than likely they would have to send a busboy down the street to buy hamburger buns. "Do you have to do that?" she asked him, with a polite smile. He shrugged. She needed to know that he wasn't her trained monkey anymore. "How's New York?" he asked, leaning his chair back on two legs. This should get a reaction out of her. "Lovely," she said softly, glaring at him. Michael could almost hear her mind working, 'I taught him better than that', as if she had been his mother and not his lover. "What do you want?" he wished he could have met her eyes when he asked the question, but he didn't want to risk her seeing past his false bravado. "I miss you," she raised her eyebrows as though daring him to contradict her. "I'll bet," he curled his lips into a wry smile, looking out the window. "Things shouldn't be like this between us. We had too much for this to be all that's left," her voice was soft, and he knew she was being sincere. It was the strange thing about her. She'd be the cool ice princess, and then she'd show a little soft side. Isabel gave 'peaks' of vulnerability the way other girls would give a guy a peak of cleavage. This would be so much easier if he could hate her. "I don't want to be your friend," he said still staring out the window. They'd had this conversation before. There wasn't any reason to have it again. "I know," her tone was resigned. For a few moments they sat in silence. It wasn't uncomfortable. They'd known each other for too long. He wished there had been a clean break, but there hadn't. The last two years had been hell. If only he'd had the guts to walk away and never look back after he found her that night. Instead, they'd slowly pulled apart. She'd moved across the country a year ago, but they were still in touch, still having little meetings like this one. Salads were placed in front of each of them, and their eyes met. "I'm moving back," she said slowly. "Oh?" he was genuinely surprised. "Yes. I'm getting married." "Oh…" he didn't know what to say. He hadn't expected that. Don't crack, Guerin… "He's in software. I think you'd really like him," she glanced down at her plate and actually blushed. No, it was more of a flush. He couldn't help but stare. She looked happy. A million questions buzzed through his mind. Who was he? Where did she meet him? How long had she known him? What made this guy the 'one'? In lieu of those questions, he threw his napkin on the table, and angrily asked, "Is that why you brought me here? To tell me that?" She slid her hand across the table again toward him, her eyes pleading for understanding, "Yes. I wanted to tell you in person." Without another word he was on his feet and on his way out the door. Somehow she'd done it again, she'd managed to hurt him. Let her pay for lunch. Just like the good old days. *** "Do you want fries with that?" Maria smiled at the little girl. "Yes, please," the girl smiled in return. Winking at the girl's mother, she turned to give the order to the cook. Her feet were killing her, and she wanted a shower more than anything. It was 7:00. Only two hours to go. She tried to remember when she didn't measure the passage of time like that. A countdown. At work, it was a countdown to going home, and at home it was a countdown to going back to work. Her life was depressing as hell. The diner was packed as usual for dinner, and she and Liz buzzed around filling orders. She'd bitch about the fact that there were only two waitresses, but if there were more she'd lose out on all of the extra tips she needed. And, of course, it was good to be busy, time passes quickly when you're working your ass off. The dinner rush was over by 8:30 when the bell above the door sounded announcing a new customer. She didn't have to look up from wiping off the counter to know it was him. He had a presence. Sighing, she moved to stand in front of him. He always sat at her section of the counter. Even when she would switch with the other waitress on duty, somehow he knew and would move to where she was. She'd given up trying to avoid him. Grabbing silverware from below the counter she set it out in front of him and moved to get his Cherry Coke. He didn't even acknowledge her, just stared around the room at his fellow customers. She slammed the glass down in front of him, and pulled out her order pad, tapping it with her pen as she tried to remember what day it was. Uh…Let's see…Wednesday, chicken fried steak. Just as she started to write, he shook his head at her, smirking, "Actually, I want a cheeseburger." She shrugged and started scribbling on the order pad, making out his usual cheeseburger order: well done, no mayo, fresh tomatoes. That was the first time in over a year he hadn't ordered his 'usual' for a particular day. Not that he ate every meal there. It's just that when he did, he had a routine. Liz smiled at her as she handed an order in, "Aren't you about done for the day?" Maria nodded, "Yup, half an hour." Liz patted her cheeks and grinned, "You look sleepy, why don't you take off? I've got things under control." Maria smiled, "Nah. Don't wanna' miss out on the last few dollars of the hour. Besides, I might luck out and get another big tip from 'Mr. Happy' over there," she jerked her thumb toward the man at the end of the counter, "Did I tell you he left me a whole quarter this morning?" Liz laughed, "It's your own fault, Maria." "Yeah, whatever," Maria winked at her and moved to refill the salt shakers. It wasn't really her fault. Her first day working, he had come in, and she'd accidentally spilled coffee in his lap. Of course he'd been a huge jerk about it. Glaring at her when she apologized, and jerking the towel out of her hand when she'd tried to mop the hot liquid out of his lap. She'd tried to joke with him, to lighten the mood, "Hey, at least you don't have to tip me." He'd smirked at her as if that were already a given, and finished cleaning himself up. That day (and every time she'd seen him since), he left no tip. He knew what everything cost, and what his bill would be, so he always had exact change. Now that she thought about it, the tip from earlier and the change of his dinner order were extremely unusual. She studied him from a few feet away, maybe he was ill or something. Not that she cared. He was a jackass. Kind of a hot jackass, but still a jackass. She tried to keep herself busy, so that the time would move faster, but it seemed like an eternity before it was finally 9:00. Right on the dot, she headed into the back room for her coat and purse. Liz was standing in the kitchen. "Hey, could you handle 'Mr. No-Tip' for me? I'm off," she said quickly. "Sure," Liz smiled and waved, then blushed slightly, "tell Kyle 'hi' for me." Maria smiled over her shoulder and walked out into the diner. She and Liz had become good friends over the last few months, and she knew her friend had a little crush on Kyle. She passed behind him on her way out the door, and she was surprised when he stood and followed her. It was kind of creepy, so she paused just outside the door to make a show of zipping up her coat. He seemed not to notice her as he walked straight out the door and across the street. She knew he lived in that building, occasionally he would place an order by phone and someone would have to deliver to him. Not her though, she'd put her foot down the first time someone mentioned it. She watched as he walked in the door of the four story, then started to walk home. His expensive vehicle was parked just down the street, and as always she had to resist the temptation to take out her keys and run them down the side of it. All of that money, and the bastard couldn't even tip her. It wouldn't be such a big deal if it weren't for the fact that he ate there nearly every day. Tips from him would make a big difference. She thought about how much money she'd missed out on in the last eighteen months. Mind boggling. For a moment, she almost laughed out loud. Never in her life did she think she'd spend time dwelling on something as trivial as this. It was just another reminder of how lousy her life was. It seemed that she'd walked the three blocks to her building in record time, and she sighed slightly as she started up the stairs. Now, off to sleep just to turn around and do it all again tomorrow. "I'm home," she called as she walked in the door. "Hey," Kyle's voice sounded from the bathroom, "we're still bathing. Someone is taking forever." She smiled as she kicked off her shoes and hung her coat up. Picking up a teddy bear and a barbie on her way down the hall, she started to smile. "Hi, Auntie Maria," Abby sing songed from the bath as Maria peaked her head into the bathroom. "Hey, kiddo," Maria giggled slightly at the sight of Kyle. His shirt was soaked with bubbles. There were even some in his hair. He was balanced precariously on the toilet seat, with his legs sprawled awkwardly in front of him. For a moment she stared at the braces attached to his calves and thighs, they were the only physical remnants of the ordeal that had upset all of their lives. Throwing the towel he was holding at her he grimaced and reached for his crutches, "Would you mind?" Maria opened the towel and smiled, "Nope. Be my pleasure. You wash, I'll dry." He laughed as he moved past her out into the hall. "Ok, munchkin, time to get out," Maria smiled at her niece as she walked up to the tub. "Um, five more minutes?" Abby scrunched up her nose and looked up with puppy dog eyes. "No way, it's already past your bed time." "Ok, ok," the little girl grumbled as she stood. Maria wrapped the towel around her quickly and whisked her out of the water, cradling her in her arms as she sat on the lid of the toilet. "Oh, you're getting so big," Maria smiled down at her, "I wish you would stay a baby forever." "No!" Abby giggled and climbed off her lap. After about five minutes of struggle, Abby was dry and dressed, and Maria was trying to get a brush through her hair. Kyle had forgotten to use conditioner, again. "You've got to remind your dad about the hair conditioner, sweetie. Otherwise we get bad tangles." "I forgot." "I know, just remember next time. Ok?" Abby smiled and nodded, then winced as Maria made another brush stroke. Maria couldn't believe how quickly her niece was growing up, it seemed like she had just learned to walk, and now here she was four years old. When her hair was all combed and parted, Maria patted her on the head. "Go tell your dad you're ready for bed." "Ok." "Oh, wait, give me a kiss goodnight." Turning back from the doorway, Abby huffed a little, but complied. Maria walked into her room and grabbed her sweats and a t-shirt and a change of underwear and headed back to the bathroom. Time for that shower she'd been craving all day. Half an hour later, she emerged from the steam filled room and walked out to the kitchen to grab a snack before heading to bed. "Hey," Kyle said from the kitchen table. "Hey." "You look tired," he said looking at her worriedly. "Yeah, I am. No biggie though, sleep helps," she tried to smile reassuringly. He nodded sadly, and looked down at his hands. She knew he hated it that she had to work so much. When he'd had his accident, she'd been in her sophomore year at the university. The doctors were fairly sure he was paralyzed from the waist down, and he'd been in a coma. On the fourth day after he'd been in the hospital, Vickie had called and asked her to come over and babysit Abby, and had never returned. The tenth day, Kyle awakened, and his recovery since then had basically been a miracle. He wasn't paralyzed, but his legs were in pretty bad shape. It had taken over a year of surgeries and physical therapy before they'd even been sure he would walk again. Maria had been forced to quit school to take care of Abby before Kyle was even out of the coma, and she'd had to work hard to keep up with the bills. Thankfully he was fully covered in the medical arena, but there was a baby to take care of, childcare, a car payment, food, shelter - it all added up. She'd gotten the waitressing gig at the diner because it was so close to Kyle's apartment, and when Murray had said he was hiring another waitress she'd begged him for that job as well, they'd set up an 'under the table' arrangement for her overtime, and she was grateful for it. Although it had been tough, she hadn't complained. Kyle had done the same thing for her when their parents died when she was fifteen, quitting university to work construction so that he could take care of her. "I wanted so much better than this for you," Kyle's voice broke her out of her reverie. She sat down across from him with her little container of yogurt, and tried to joke with him, "Hey, my life's great. I've got the best brother in the world, not to mention the greatest niece." "Yeah. You work six days a week for fourteen hours a day. Your life is a bowl of cherries. I hate it that you have to do this," he looked forlorn. She hated it when he got depressed. It scared her. If her life was bad, his was horrible. He couldn't walk, he couldn't work, his wife had left him, he had major money worries…the list went on and on. "Nah. It's good for me. Builds character," she smiled, trying to coax him out of the doldrums. Noticing that she was worried, he put on a small smile, but she wasn't fooled. "I'm seeing the doctor tomorrow," he said staring at his hands, "he told me last time that he should have an estimate by my next visit - you know for how much longer it will be before I can get these damn things off." "Yeah," her voice was soft, "I remember." "It shouldn't be more than four months," he said. "I know, but you need to give it as much time as the doctor says. You just got on the crutches, you don't want to push it and end up in the wheelchair again," she said sternly, hoping he wasn't going to try to push himself to do more than he could. "Yeah, yeah," he whispered resignedly. "Well, I'm off to bed. See you in the morning," she kissed his cheek as she hopped up and headed down the hall toward her bedroom, thankfully able to close the door before the tears started. *** Michael barely heard the knocking over the sound of his stereo. Grabbing the remote he pushed the volume down as he walked to the door. Max. Of course. "Hey," he said leaving the door open for his friend as he turned to go back to work. "Uh, hey," Max said. Michael threw the remote onto the sofa and turned back to the large canvas he had hung on the wall. "So," he said, voice full of sarcasm, "let me guess why you're here." "She called me," Max said carefully. "Of course she did," Michael almost laughed. "I'm sorry, I wanted to tell you as soon as I heard, but she wanted to tell you herself." "Well, she did, so nothing to worry about. I'm completely 'in the know' now." "Michael, she's not trying to hurt you." "Who said she hurt me?" he asked, picking up a brush and swiping it angrily across the canvas. Black. He'd done nothing but paint in black all night. How cliché. "Look, I know you're upset. You can save the tough guy act for someone who might actually buy it." "Maxwell, why don't you just go back outside, get into your shiny car, drive back to your shiny neighborhood, with your shiny family and your shiny sister, and leave me the hell alone." "You need to let it go," Max said, obviously holding back anger. "Let it go. Yeah, I'll get right on that. Glad you figured it all out for me. Guess you can go home now," to emphasize his anger, he flung the brush in his hand at the canvas. "All right, I'll go. Just remember that at some point you're going to have to move on. It's been two years for crying out loud. The broken heart excuse will only work for so long." "Yeah, thanks again for stopping by. Next time I need some words of wisdom I'll know who to call," Michael called over his shoulder as he heard Max heading for the door. Get over it. Yeah. Just like that. Get over it. Max didn't understand. And, if Max didn't understand, no one would. They'd been friends for as long as he could remember. Max came from a wealthy, affluent family and Michael had been a foster care kid, but they'd always been the best of friends. Though Isabel had always attended private school, Max's dad had insisted that his son get a 'hard knocks' education, which included public school. Growing up, Michael had always envied Max his perfect life. So, when he was older he'd naturally gravitated toward Isabel. She represented everything he thought he wanted. After high school, he'd gone to university, mainly because he couldn't think of anything better to do. That was when he'd gotten close to Isabel. By the time he graduated, they were a full blown couple. She'd literally consumed his life. He'd even let her pull him into her world. Eventually he found himself dressing the way she wanted, acting the way she wanted. Even his career could be attributed to Isabel, she'd pushed him. Then, after three years together he'd walked into her apartment to find her in bed with another guy. That was when the pain began. It was the trust more than anything. He had trusted her, and she betrayed him. Smearing black paint onto the canvas with his bare hands, he smiled. There wasn't going to be another Isabel, he'd never be that stupid again. It wasn't like he'd actually loved her. He didn't believe in love. She'd just been a routine. PART TWO "Order up." Maria turned back to the window and grabbed the two plates. Liz was on a break, and she was handling the last of her dinner customers. One hour to go. "Hey, Mrya," the cook called through the window, "you're gonna' have to deliver this call-in." "Is it for the guy across the street?" she asked sweetly. "Yeah." "Not a chance in hell," she smiled. "Come on, Liz is out, there's only a couple customers, just run it over." Actually, she was a little curious about how the guy lived… "All right - but just this once." She ran in back and grabbed her coat, then picked up the brown sack with the guy's food. The door to the building was unsecure, and for the first time she realized that she didn't know his name or apartment number. She glanced around inside the entryway for mailboxes but didn't see any. Actually, now that she looked around she didn't even see any stairs. Just a short hallway with an apartment door at the end. For a moment, she debated going back to the diner to find out where he lived, but then decided it wouldn't hurt to try the door. This building couldn't have very many apartments, if it wasn't his, then the person would probably know him, and could at least direct her to the stairs. She walked up to the door and knocked. There was loud music emanating from inside. Some sort of hard rock. After a few seconds with no answer, she knocked again, this time a little harder. The music quieted considerably and the door was thrown open. This was definitely his place, and that was definitely him. Standing there, shirtless in faded old jeans. He had paint splatters all over his torso and his jeans. No drooling. He's a jerk, he's a jerk, he's a jerk… "Uh, delivery," she said holding up the bag. He looked a little surprised, and she was beginning to wonder if the cook had been trying to play a trick on her or something. "It's you," he said, looking at her sideways and narrowing his eyes. "Yeah…" she said slowly. This guy was weird. Hot, but weird. She held the bag out to him, eyeing the twenty in his hand. Maybe he didn't realize that if he paid her she would leave. "Oh," he said looking at the bag in her hand, "ah, come in, I've got to get…" She couldn't hear the rest of what he said, he'd started walking away from her. This had gone from weird to weirder, and although her instincts warned her against it, she followed him into the apartment. After about three steps, she stopped, dumbfounded. Now she knew why there weren't any other doors or stairs. The living room was huge and four stories high. The entire lower level was open, and in the corner she saw what could only be described as an artist's studio. Then, on the three upper levels there were open hallways with railings facing the room and at least four doors per level. The entire place was done in dark mahogany and metal, trendy and expensive. His apartment was the whole damn building. "Hey," she heard him say somewhere to her left. Turning, she saw him standing at his kitchen counter holding money out to her. "Oh, sorry," she said softly as she walked to him and grabbed the money and coins he held out to her and plopped the bag onto the counter. Looking down into her hand she almost smiled. Of course, $11.50, exactly what he owed. She glanced at the twenty he had left on the counter. So, if she'd been someone else she would have gotten a tip, and a good one. Shaking her head slightly she turned to walk out the door. "Can't you at least say good-bye or thank you or something?" he asked, his voice close behind her. She paused, without turning around and said, "Something." Then she walked out the door. *** He watched her walk down the hallway and out of the building before closing his front door. Weird chick. Maybe it was dumb of him not to just give her the twenty. Then again, maybe not. He remembered what she'd done with the tip he gave her the morning before. Yeah, she was weird. He had just started to eat his steak when he got a phone call. "H'lo," he said, chewing his meat loudly so that whoever it was would know they'd interrupted his meal. He couldn't think of a single person he wanted to talk to. "Michael," Tess's voice sounded through the earpiece. "Oh, hey." He could talk to Tess. "So, I just wanted to make sure I'm still invited to the opening tomorrow night." "Yeah, of course," he said, spearing his steak with his fork and lifting it to his mouth to tear off a piece with his teeth. Only Tess would think she was uninvited because he'd been rude to her boyfriend. "I heard about the Isabel thing…and the Max thing…" "Yeah. So?" "So, are you really all right?" "Yeah," he replied. "Good, because I think she's planning to go too." He nearly choked, "Oh?" "Yeah…" Figures, Isabel had never stopped being supportive of his work. She'd shown up at his last opening in New York a few months before. "Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow then?" he asked, not really interested in continuing the conversation. "Uh, Michael?" "Yeah?" "You don't know, do you?" "Know what, Tess?" his food was getting cold. "Max and I broke up." Awkward pause. "What?" he asked, not sure if he'd heard her right. "You heard me." So that's why she thought she wasn't invited anymore. "When did this happen?" "Last night, after he left your place." "Oh," he didn't know what to say. "We're still friends, aren't we?" she asked quietly. They'd been friends before she started dating Max, a little more than friends actually. "Yeah, I don't know why not," he said. "Ok," she sounded relieved. "Ok." "Well, see ya' tomorrow night. Oh, and break a leg by the way." "Yeah, thanks. Tomorrow." Hitting the off button on the phone he sat in stunned silence for a moment. Max and Tess broke up. They were practically married. She'd had the dorm room across from his senior year, and they'd sort of hit it off, it was before he and Isabel were officially together, so they'd screwed around a little. Then, one day they were hanging out in his room and Max had come over and the rest was history. Now they'd broken up. After five years. That was major. Wow. That had to be tough. Oh crap. He picked the phone back up and dialed her number. What an idiot. Not a word. No 'I'm sorry' or 'Are you ok?'… "Hello?" her voice sounded weak. "Tess? God, I'm sorry - I'm an ass. Are you all right?" "No," she started to cry. "Well, do you want me to come over or something?" he didn't really know what to say, he knew she didn't have many good friends and that she considered him to be one of the few. "Oh, no. I'll be ok," she sniffed. "I'm sorry. You and Max, that's a big deal." "Yeah." He didn't know what to say. Probably should say something about things looking up or…hell, he didn't know. "Yeah…" he wished he was good at the comforting thing. "Well, thanks for calling," she said. "Sure. Uh, hope you feel better." "Ok, bye, Michael." He hung up the phone and stared down at it. Then it rang again, the caller ID said it was Max. Great, more fumbling attempts at consolation by Michael Guerin. *** Kyle was sitting in front of the computer when she got home, a sure sign that Abby was already in bed. "Hey," he said, not turning around. "Hey. What did the doctor say?" "Five months," his voice was dry and flat. She watched him for a moment, and she was glad he had something to do. When he'd been in the wheelchair the computer and the television had been his only means of entertainment. He used to read a lot, he'd been a journalism major in college, but his eye glass prescription had changed considerably since the accident and she hadn't had the money to get him new glasses yet. "Oh, ah, there's a letter for you, Maria. Left it on your bed." "Thanks," she said as she made her way down the hall to her room. There was indeed a letter, a very official looking letter from a collection agency. Great. She needed to get $300 to her credit card company by the end of next week or they would take her to court. Super. It wasn't as if she'd meant to let the minimum payments go, but it had been a rough couple of months. What was she going to do? Re-folding the letter, she stuffed it into the drawer of her nightstand. Kyle didn't need to see it. He'd just worry, and worrying wouldn't get them anywhere. She'd come up with something. She always did. Glancing around the room, she wondered what she could sell. Her stereo and television were already gone, the ones she'd worked so hard to buy before she started her freshman year. Then she spotted her jewelry box, all pawned, even her grandmother's pearl earrings. Was there nothing left? Did she not own anything of value anymore? She might have to ask Kyle if she could pawn something of his. Not that he owned much anymore either. No, there had to be another way, something she could do on her own. Standing resolutely, she grabbed some clean clothes and headed into the bathroom to think and to shower. *** Michael sat in the corner and watched the people milling around the room. They were all dressed in that way that 'self-aware chic' sort of way, and they all had their little finger foods clutched with their cosmopolitans in their hands. On the sound system, some strange neo-jazz music was playing, it cracked him up that these people thought this sort of music inspired him - try Metallica. He watched them as they wandered around the room, admiring the slices of his soul he'd let someone hang on the wall. If he overheard one more person say, 'Ah, yes, I see what he's feeling here', he was going to puke. Instead of watching the pretentious ones, he decided to try to spot the girls. He knew they were here somewhere. Probably about a dozen of them. They'd be standing around, trying to catch his eye. Yep, there was a redhead across the room, definitely eyeing him. A nervous looking brunette stood a few feet away, pretending not to stare, yeah she was one too. Two blondes over by the makeshift bar, they didn't stand a chance, he hated platinums. Decisions, decisions, decisions. It was what he did at openings. Ever since his first hit a couple of years before. Isabel had been there, and all of his wounds had been fresh, so he'd grabbed some random girl, who had been more than willing, and did her in the back office of the gallery. Now, it was what he did to occupy his mind at these stupid things, he'd sit around trying to decide which one it would be. It wasn't a secret. People knew about it. Over the summer he'd even found a website about it, some of the girls had posted reviews of his 'work'. The redhead was in the lead when a tall, dark haired guy came and sat down next to him. "How's it goin'?" the guy asked. Michael looked at him for a second. He didn't look weird, probably just bored, "Fine." "You look like you got strong-armed into coming to this thing too," the guy said, pulling a stick of gum out of his pocket and stuffing it into his mouth. "Yeah, you could say that," Michael smirked. The guy didn't even know who he was. How refreshing. "I'm hiding from my girlfriend. She keeps asking me what I think, I'm afraid she's gonna' figure out that I don't 'think' anything," the guy laughed slightly. What on earth was this poor normal guy doing at this thing? Michael actually relaxed and sat back a little in his chair. "Yeah, I think I had that girlfriend once. Next thing you know she'll have you dressing like them," he said, giving the guy a knowing look, and gesturing to the milling crowds. "Yeah, no kidding. Since when is jeans and a t-shirt not good enough? I mean look at this," the guy waved his hand over his outfit, "I had to change twice before I got approval." Michael laughed, "Tell me about it, man." "Yeah," the guy laughed, "don't get me wrong, though, I love her. She's amazing. Like one in a million. Just wish I wasn't her 'project', you know?" Michael smirked and nodded. Then he spotted her. He'd known she was there, but seeing her was a little bit different than being aware of her. Beautiful, perfection. Perfect black dress, not a hair out of place. She was coming toward him. Great. "So, have you two met?" she smiled at him as she stared down with those liquid brown eyes. 'You two'? What two? He turned to the guy next to him who was staring at Isabel wide-eyed and shaking his head slightly. "This isn't…" the guy's voice trailed off while he pointed at Michael. Michael looked at the guy and then back at Isabel. Dammit. Be cool… "We haven't been properly introduced," he said, looking up at her, and wishing he was anywhere but next to her new man. "Michael, Alex. Alex, Michael," she waved her hand gracefully between them. Taking in a deep breath, Michael turned and held his hand out to Alex. The guy looked like he was sucking on a lemon, but he shook back. After a second of awkward silence, Alex stood up and Isabel snaked her arm through his. She was still smiling knowingly down at him. He hated it when she was right, but he actually had liked the guy. "Tess was looking for you," Isabel said. "She seems upset." "Wouldn't you be?" he asked. Then he smirked, no she probably wouldn't be. "I suppose you're the one we have to thank for a being awakened by a drunken Max at 4 a.m.? He was sitting in the kitchen with a carton of ice cream singing 'All by myself'," her tone was playful, teasing. For a second, it felt like the good old days, despite the fact that she was hanging on another man's arm, and he actually grinned, "Well, at least I drove him home." She laughed. Her laugh was rich, full, amazing. Alex was looking down at her and smiling. The guy had it bad, really bad, it was written all over his face. Then, she looked up at him and met his eyes. He'd never seen her look like that, never. For a few seconds he just sat there, staring at them. He'd never seen anything like this before in his life. They were beautiful. Searching each other's eyes, smiling. It was breathtaking…he couldn't take it, his chest felt like it was caving in. "Well, I'd better go find Tess," he said, getting to his feet. He looked Alex in the eyes, and had a feeling that something had passed between them, so he gave the guy a nod and received one in return. Then, he walked straight out to his car. *** One thought had been running through her mind all day… $300, $300, where am I gonna' get $300? There was no way. She knew there was no way for her to get the money. All day she'd been trying to come up with a way, now it was time to go home and she was no closer to an answer. It was hopeless. If she could just keep it together long enough to get home, long enough to lock herself in her room… "Maria…" Liz smiled sweetly. "Yeah?" she asked as she pulled on her coat. "Would you deliver this on your way home, please? Save me a trip?" "Not to the guy across the street, right?" "Oh, come on Maria, I heard you delivered to him last night," Liz's voice was bordering on a whine. "Yeah, that was a one time deal. By the way, why didn't you tell me that he tips you guys?" "I thought you knew. He tips big. And when he comes in late at night he always tips a lot too." "Great, so I'm the only one," she couldn't believe it, but there were tears stinging her eyes. So, she kept it together all day, and the fact that the jerk didn't tip her was going to set her off…Perfect. Liz started to say something, but Maria didn't want to hear it. She grabbed the brown paper bag and ran out of the diner, waiting until she felt the cool night air on her cheeks to release her tears. *** He was sitting on his couch staring at the vase of dead flowers on his coffee table. How fitting. There was a light on in the kitchen, but the rest of the place was dark. It should be. Why did she have to be there? He wished he could believe it was to flaunt her happiness in his face, but he knew it wasn't. She'd been there to support him. Because she cared. That only made things worse. Why couldn't she just leave things alone? Why did she insist on them having some sort of relationship? Couldn't she just cut him loose? She was madly in love, it was practically storybook. He had never seen anything quite like Isabel and Alex. It was the sort of thing that should make you happy, give you hope. Instead it depressed the hell out of him. There was no storybook for him, more like a fractured fairytale - he felt like he was the evil lord the princess's father tried to force her to marry before the handsome prince came along. Yeah, if his life was a storybook then he was the villain. The knock on his door disturbed him. Must be Max, probably still broken up about Tess. He wasn't in the mood to try to cheer Max up. Slowly, he stood and hooked his thumbs in the belt loops of his jeans. The door seemed to be miles away, and it felt like it took him years to reach it. When he finally flung it open he was surprised. It was her. Again. "Here's your food," her voice cracked as she thrust the bag into his face. "Uh, come in," he hadn't expected it so soon, he'd just placed the order. His wallet was still in the pants he'd been wearing earlier, so he left her standing in the entryway while he sprinted upstairs to his room. When he came out a minute later, he found her slumped on the floor with her back against the wall just inside the living room. Her hands were covering her face, and he could see her shoulders shaking. What the f*ck was this? "Um, what's wrong?" he asked, looking down at her. Maybe she was a drug addict or something. That would explain the perpetual bags under her eyes. He'd always figured she had some good-for-nothing guy at home who made her work all of those hours, maybe a couple of rugrats - but it looked like things were even worse than that. She hadn't responded to him. The light from the kitchen lit her body in strange relief, and he had to fight the urge to grab a sketchpad. There was a look of desperation about her. Yeah, she had to be a junkie. "Look, I'm sorry you're having a meltdown and everything, but is there any chance you could go have it on the street instead of on my floor?" For a moment her shoulders stopped shaking and she slid her hands down slightly to reveal her eyes. Soulful eyes, full of worry. No, she looked too coherent to be a junkie. He was starting to feel sorry for her, which pissed him off. Everybody has problems. Lowering her eyes, she stood shakily to her feet and took a swipe at her cheeks with the fingers of her left hand. Her jaw was clenched and she was biting her bottom lip, obviously trying to keep a handle on her emotions. She looked like a lost kitten. Why was he letting her get to him? She was just some girl. They stood for a few moments, just inches apart. Him staring at her while she stared at the floor. It took a little while for him to notice that her hand was outstretched, palm up. Oh, yeah, have to pay her. He opened his wallet, but for the life of him he couldn't remember what he'd ordered. She was affecting his concentration, and he hated it. Dammit, he couldn't tell her he didn't know how much it was. He always knew, and she knew that he always knew. She sighed and spoke, though her voice was tremulous, "T-bone, baked potato, dinner salad. $13.75." So now she was reading his mind. She wasn't special, she wasn't any different than anyone else. Why was she getting under his skin? "Yeah, I know," he said, irritated because she'd known that he didn't. "Look, I am having a meltdown, and I can't go home like this. Would you mind if I used your bathroom for a minute?" her tone indicated that she thought he would refuse. "Uh, yeah, I guess. It's upstairs, first door off the stairs." "Thanks," she mumbled as she turned and walked up to the second floor. He watched her as she moved away. She had an unassuming way of moving, her tread was light. It seemed as though she flitted up the staircase, he had an image of a bird taking light steps, ready to fly away if startled. Then, she tripped on the last stair, but recovered smoothly - indication that it happened often. Why was she so fascinating? After she closed the bathroom door, he plopped down on the couch. How did he go from obsessing about Isabel to watching the waitress as if she were the most interesting thing in the world? He was messed up in the head. Maybe he was just horny. He hadn't gotten laid. Yeah, that was the most logical explanation, she wouldn't have caught his eye if it weren't for that. She exited the bathroom and he watched her move down the stairs. Her hands smoothed her hair, which was pulling out of the bun at the back of her head. He stood, intending to walk her to the door. She stopped in the entryway and looked up at him. Somehow he knew she wanted to thank him. Her lips moved slightly, and her tongue snaked out to lick them. It did something to him, although he wasn't sure what. She sighed, and her chin trembled slightly as her eyes filled up with tears again. Quickly, she looked away and started to move past him. He didn't know why, but he moved to block her. She looked up at him, startled. Without thinking, he grabbed her face and kissed her. For a moment she pulled back, but then she leaned into him, placing her hands lightly on his chest. It was only a few seconds before they broke apart. Staring at one another in shock. Then, her eyes darted quickly from right to left and she stepped past him, practically running out of his door. PART THREE Maria carefully shut the door to her room and threw herself onto her bed. The best thing to do would be to forget about it. Pretend it never happened. Never happened. Never happened. Never happened… Why had she broken down like that in his apartment? And, how pathetic was it that kissing him made her feel more alive than she had in months? She couldn't bear the thought of it. It was too awful. Never happened. Never happened. Never happened. *** The steak was cold, and the salad had carrots. He hated carrots. It probably wasn't her fault, but he blamed her anyway. So, he threw the food in the trash and walked to the new canvas he'd hung on the wall. Before he knew it, he was painting. Really working. Creating. It wasn't Isabel he saw staring back at him, it was her. The waitress's eyes were glaring down at him from the wall. Green eyes, haunting. He'd been inspired by unusual things before, so it didn't really mean anything. When he was done, he stood away from the wall and looked at his own work, feeling pride for the first time in months. He actually liked what he'd done. Amazing. The clock on the wall read that it was midnight. Feeling slightly exhausted, he threw himself down on the sofa, and for the first time noticed the cash sitting on the coffee table. Sh*t. He'd put it there after she had gone to the bathroom, and he'd forgotten to give it to her after she came out. Well, he'd just have to run it in to her tomorrow. For some reason, the thought of seeing her made him nervous. *** Maria hadn't gotten much sleep the night before. Her neck ached, and her feet were sore. It was only noon, she still had nine hours to go. She was tempted to go home sick, but she really couldn't afford to. So far she'd been lucky, he hadn't shown his face yet, but knowing her luck he would at any moment. How could she face him? How could she have kissed him? Why had he kissed her? The thoughts tumbled through her brain as she moved mechanically through the lunch hour, and were still present when she realized he was sitting at the counter. She hadn't even noticed him come in. Never had she dreaded waiting on him as much as she did at this moment. He sat and stared at her as she brought him a Cherry Coke. "Uh, I forgot to pay you last night," he said, as he shoved a twenty across the table at her. For a moment she was lost. She hadn't expected him to speak to her. It took her a little while to process what he was saying, but when she finally did, she stared down at the twenty. Twenty. Not exact change. She grabbed it and walked over to the cash register and pulled out the $6.25 he was owed. She set the change down in front of him carefully, and she saw him staring at it. He pocketed the quarter, and then laid his hand solidly on the bills and moved them across the counter towards her. Glancing up at him, she raised her eyebrows and used her finger to push the bills back at him. Instantly he met her gaze, and narrowed his eyes into a glare. Dropping his fist onto the money, he shoved it back at her. Maria didn't know what had gotten into her, before she had been scheming ways to avoid the guy, and now she was locked in a battle of wills with him. Meeting his eyes again, she carefully picked up the bills and held them in front of his nose, then she released them so that they fluttered down into his lap. He looked enraged, but she was through taking his crap. Of course he wouldn't look down at the money, just continued to glare at her. Slowly she drew out her order pad and began writing. Saturday...lunch, tuna melt... "You don't know me," he said tersely, as if she had claimed that she did. "Whatever." "Take the goddamn money." "Not a chance in hell," she was amazed at the steel in her voice. "I don't want a tuna melt." "Ok, what do you want then?" He looked frustrated, and his brow was furrowed as if he was trying to figure something out. After staring at her a little longer, he let out an exasperated sigh, "Oh, just bring me the stupid tuna melt." "Fine." " Fine." She walked to the order window and handed in his order. *** "Hey Tess." "Michael," she said with a small smile as she reached up to hug him. This sort of thing always made him feel awkward, so he carefully patted her back a couple of times and then pulled away. Her smile was amused as she watched him. "Uh, where's your stuff?" he asked gesturing into the empty entryway. "Well, my bags are in the bedroom. The rest of my furniture and stuff is going into storage on Monday, I hired movers. Not that much of anything was mine," she laughed softly. "So, I'll just go get your things then," he said moving past her toward the bedroom in the back of the apartment. "Thanks, I'll have to help, there's quite a bit." He moved through the living room and down the back hallway, noticing that most of the pictures had been taken down. They were probably all hers. There were boxes littering the hallway, and in the bedroom, he saw several more. Break ups, they were all about dividing lives. Everything that had co-mingled during your time together had to be separated. He remembered the boxes he'd taken over to Isabel's. Things he'd found in his old apartment. Some of her CD's, a few pairs of underwear and bras, the espresso maker she'd insisted on leaving there, her running shoes, her umbrella… "Michael?" Tess's voice brought him out of his reverie. "Yeah?" he asked as he turned to see her standing in the doorway of the bedroom. "Are you sure this is all right? I don't want to get between you and Max. Believe me, if I had anyone else…" her voice trailed off as she sighed. "No, no. It's fine. I was just thinking. You know - about break-ups. Dividing stuff," he looked at her and shrugged. She nodded slowly, "Isabel…" Tess had been there through the whole Isabel ordeal. To begin with he'd had a hard time being around Max, because he was her brother. Really, it was Tess who'd spent the most time with him over the first few weeks. She'd helped. Michael remembered that at the end of the first week, during one of his real low points, she came over to his place while he was out and cleaned it up. He'd arrived home to the smell of something baking, she'd made him cookies. At the time the gesture had touched him very deeply. It was nice to know someone still cared. Did Tess need something like that? He wished he knew how to help her. It was Saturday night, maybe he should take her to a movie or out to dinner or something. "So…" he said, raising his eyebrows as he grabbed her largest suitcase and two of the duffles. She smiled as she grabbed what looked like a make-up case and the last duffle, "So…" "Uh, wanna' go?" he asked, not knowing what to say. "Lead the way," she grinned, and he walked out of the bedroom and down the hall. *** Maria couldn't help but smile when she saw the cute guy sit down at her section of the counter. He had dark hair and eyes, and was dressed nicely. She wagged her eyebrows at Liz and nodded her head toward the guy. Liz's mouth had formed an impressed 'o' and she'd grinned back at Maria. Too bad he had to wait until her shift was almost over to show up. "Hi," she smiled, "can I get you something to drink?" "Oh, ah, no thank you," he looked up at her as if he were confused, but then he smiled, "wait, what am I saying? Um, coffee. Please." Her smile turned into a grin as she got him a cup of coffee. Sunday mornings were generally busy, but it was half past 11, so things were calming down. Normally this was her day off, but Agnes had asked for someone to cover the 6-12, and she'd immediately stepped up - she needed to the money. "Here we are, one cup of coffee," she set the cup down in front of him. "Did you get a chance to look at the menu?" "Oh, no, not yet. Actually, could you tell me what would be fast? I'm sort of waiting for a friend." "Well, we could have an omelet ready for you in five minutes or less," she winked at him. "Ok, sure. Can you make it a Denver?" "Absolutely," she smiled again as she walked to the order window. God, he was cute. It had been so long since she'd flirted with a guy she hoped she could remember how. She moved back into his area and pretended to be wiping the counter. "So, have you worked here long?" he asked her. She smiled at him, "Uh, yeah, about a year and a half." "Oh. So is waitressing tough?" "Well, you know, it's work, but I like it. Get to meet a lot of interesting people," she smiled again. He seemed easy going, he had beautiful brown eyes…And, was it just her imagination or was he flirting back? No, surely not… "Do you do this full time? You look like a student." She was amazed. How could he tell that she wasn't a 'lifer'? "Well, actually, I'm not in school anymore. I'm going back as soon as I can though." "What were you studying?" "Oh, I hadn't declared yet - just was doing the req's, but I was leaning toward advertising," she blushed slightly, "I know it's corny, but there's a lot less math than business, so…" He laughed, "I'm in advertising." "You're joking," she gave him a grin. "No, I really am," he was grinning back. She couldn't believe it, for the first time in what felt like years she was having a conversation with a guy. The bell over the door jingled. Of course. Who else could it possibly be? She'd been enjoying herself, so naturally he would have to walk in. "Max," he said, looking at the guy in front of her. Oh, no. This couldn't be the 'friend'. The dark haired dream turned around to look at 'no tip', "Michael." Great. Naturally. She would be flirting with a guy who was friends with the wacko. The wacko she'd sort of kissed. Now he'd tell 'tall-dark-and-handsome' that she was a slut. *** Michael sat down next to Max, "Why didn't you just come in?" He looked up at the girl. She didn't work Sundays. Max glanced up at the waitress and then back at him, "Um, I was about to knock on your door when I heard Tess's voice inside. So, I decided to call and have you meet me over here." "Oh. Didn't she tell you she was staying with me?" "No," Max looked at him carefully. "Max, come on. I'm practically the only friend she's got, and she can't move into her new place for a week. She couldn't afford to stay in a hotel." "Yeah, I figured it was something like that. Sorry. Just didn't expect her to be there. How is she? Is she even upset?" Max asked, looking down at the coffee cup in his hand. "Of course she's upset. Why wouldn't she be upset?" Michael asked, glancing up at the waitress, wondering why she hadn't brought him his Cherry Coke yet. She was scowling at him, so he scowled back and pointed at the soda machine. She rolled her eyes and moved away. "What was that?" Max asked, gesturing at the blonde who was now standing in front of the soda fountain. "She's getting me a drink. So, why wouldn't Tess be upset?" "Well, she's the one that broke things off," Max said, still glancing between him and the waitress. "Really?" Michael said, genuinely surprised. "Yeah, didn't she tell you?" "No," Michael said, "nobody told me anything except that you'd broken up. You, I got drunk. Her, I offered a place to stay." The waitress slammed the drink down in front of him and crossed her arms. He ignored her. Max was looking back and forth between him and the girl with a strange look on his face, "I'm sorry about him," he waved his hand in Michael's direction, "he was raised by monkeys." The girl laughed. Michael couldn't help but look up at her. He'd never heard her laugh before. It sounded so free, as if she'd abandoned herself to it. She was smiling down at Max. "That's ok," she said lightly, "I know him." "Oh, really?" Max said looking up at her with a dumb grin on his face. She sighed and nodded her head, grinning back at him. Dear God, they were flirting. Max was flirting with the waitress. Michael slapped him on the shoulder with the back of his hand, "Geez, do you need to do that? Tess is right across the street. What if she were to walk in and see you flirting with the waitress?" Max didn't break his gaze from the blonde. She was actually looking him in the eyes. But, she never looked anyone in the eye. "I'm sure that - uh, what's your name?" Max raised his eyebrows at the girl. "Maria," she said soflty. "Right, Maria. I'm sure that Maria would agree with me that we were just having a very nice conversation," Max smiled knowingly at her. "Of course…" she replied with a wink. Michael was fuming, "Knock it off." Max looked at him and grinned. "Maria," the brunette waitress walked up to them holding a plate, "is this omelet yours?" Michael was fairly sure that the girl's name was Liz. She wanted to be a molecular biologist or a marine biologist or something. "Oh yeah, thanks Liz," Maria seemed slightly embarrassed, "it belongs to this gentleman." "Ok," Liz smiled slyly as she laid the plate in front of Max, then walked away. "Great job you're doing there," Michael said sarcastically, smirking up at the blonde. She narrowed her eyes at him. Max cleared his throat, and covered his mouth with his hand – but not before Michael caught sight of the smile he was trying to hide. ‘Maria’ walked away, and Michael glanced at Max, “So, what exactly did happen between you and Tess?” “I proposed. She started crying and said it would never work,” Max’s voice got soft and his eyes glazed over slightly. “Never work?” Michael asked, raising his eyebrows. “What does that mean?” “I don’t know. She just said ‘it would never work’ and that there really wasn’t any point in staying together any longer. So, I left. The strangest part was that I was sort of relieved.” “What do you mean ‘relieved’?” “I don’t know, Michael. I walked out the door, after she told me it was over, and I felt like this weight had been lifted off my shoulders,” Max shook his head as if to clear it. “Don’t get me wrong, I was upset, extremely upset - you saw me the other night – but, I was also relieved. It was so weird. One minute, I’m asking this woman to spend the rest of her life with me, and then I’m almost glad when she says she doesn’t want anything to do with me anymore.” Michael was a little stunned. He’d had no idea that Max had planned to propose. Of course, if he had known, he never would have guessed that Tess would turn him down. Or that Max would be happy about it. They’d always seemed so perfect together… “Maxwell, that is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” Michael said. “I know,” Max replied, taking a bite of his omelet. “So, you’re not going to try to patch things up?” he asked, genuinely curious. “No. She made it clear that it was over. And, like I said, I’m not really as broken up about it as you’d think,” Max shrugged as he took another bite. Michael couldn’t understand Max’s reaction. He’d always thought the guy was madly in love with Tess. Well, maybe not madly, but they’d always seemed to fit together. Weird. Five years. “You’ve got problems, man,” Michael said. “Yeah,” Max said sincerely over a mouthful of omelet. Out of the corner of his eye, Michael saw the blonde walk out the door. Her shift must be over. He noticed that Max was watching the girl as well. The brunette walked up to pour Max some more coffee. Max turned to Michael after the girl was fully out the door, “What was up with you and the waitress?” The brunette laughed and leaned on the counter, looking at Max, “Aren’t they something?” Nodding, Max turned to look the girl in the eye, “The minute he walked in the door, it was… electric.” Michael glanced back and forth between them. What were they talking about? “I know,” ‘Liz’ said conspiratorially, “customers are always asking me what their story is.” “ Really?” Max raised his eyebrows and glanced amusedly over at Michael. “Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Michael muttered angrily. Liz laughed, and jerked her chin toward Michael, “I tried to ask her about it once, and she reacted just like that.” Max was grinning now, “I’ve never seen anything like it. Is that what you call ‘chemistry’?” Liz nodded rapidly, smiling her head off at Max. They didn’t know what they were talking about. There wasn’t anything between him and the blonde - ‘Maria’. She wasn’t even his type. Max was now heavily in conversation with the brunette. Flirting again. He really must be getting over Tess. It sort of reminded him of Isabel. They were definitely related. Disgusted, Michael stood and tossed a twenty onto the counter, “See you ‘round, Max.” Max just watched him curiously as he left the diner. *** Damn him. Damn him and his stupid timing, and his lousy attitude, and his smirks and his not tipping… Her feet pounded the pavement on her way home. She knew she needed to have her anger vented by the time she got there. Maria walked into the apartment and found Kyle and Abby sitting on the couch watching cartoons. “Hey guys,” she said. “Hi,” they replied together, not taking their eyes from the screen. “Uh, what would you say to getting out of the house on this lovely Sunday afternoon, Abby? It’s not very warm, but the sun is shining. I thought we could head over to the park, maybe play on the swings?” “Ok, Aunt Maria,” Abby smiled. “Go get your coat, kiddo,” Kyle said. “We’ll be back in half an hour or so,” Maria told her brother. He smiled and grabbed his crutches. She watched him hobble over to his computer and sit down. Seeing him in front of it made her feel guilty. If she couldn’t come up with some money within the next few days she would have to ask him to pawn it. Of course she’d gotten an extra shift at the diner, but it wouldn’t be enough. “Ready to go,” Abby said behind her. “Good,” Maria smiled and reached out for her niece’s hand. Some time in the sunshine would be good for both of them. *** Michael didn’t really know where he was going. All he knew was that he couldn’t go back to his place because Tess was there. And of course he couldn’t go back to the diner. He just started walking aimlessly down the block, jamming his hands in the pockets of his jeans to keep them warm in the cool fall air. This was his favorite time of year. The weather was always unpredictable, and he liked that. Thoughts about Tess and Max were unavoidable. He didn’t know why their break up was bothering him so much. It wasn’t as if he believed in the whole ‘happily ever after’ thing. There was just something about the look on Max’s face…it was so Isabel. Was this what she’d said to people after their break up? That she was relieved? Of course she must have been relieved. She’d been f*cking another guy for crying out loud. As he crossed the street, he noticed that his shoe was untied and looked around for some place to sit down. There were benches in the little park on the next block, so he picked up his pace, heading for one of them. He’d just sat down when he spotted her, walking out of a building across the street. She was holding a little girl by the hand. Yep, he knew she had to have at least one. Her uniform was still on, and he wondered if she was cold with her legs bare in the chilly air. The little girl was cute, brown hair, big eyes. Didn’t really look like her, though. She was jumping up and down, pointing at the swings not far from where he was sitting. After a moment, the blonde followed the little girl’s excited motions with her eyes and she spotted him. No real emotions passed over her face. He knew that she saw him, but she didn’t really acknowledge him. It didn’t occur to him to get up and leave. He was fascinated. Watching her outside the diner. She sat the little girl down on a swing, and then she pushed her to get her going. There was a smile on her face. A happy smile. He’d seen polite and amused before, but never happy. Somehow it changed her looks, taking her from drab to bright. After the girl was pumping and swinging on her own, she moved over to the bench and sat down next to him. He wasn’t really sure why she did. Maybe she was just trying to prove that she wasn’t afraid of him. She’d been a little touchy lately. “Why are you here?” she asked, keeping her eyes on the little girl. “I was here first. Why are you here?” “I would think it’s perfectly obvious why I’m here,” she nodded in the direction of the swings. “Well, I don’t need a reason. I’m just here,” he leaned back on the bench, stretching out his legs and crossing his ankles while crossing his arms over his chest. It was the same cocky position he’d always assumed in high school when the teacher started picking on him. She looked over at him. Looked him up and down, head to toe. He almost shivered under her gaze. It was so probing. Sighing softly, she smoothed her hair back with her hand and turned back to watch the little girl. It took every ounce of strength that he had not to look at her. Instead, he watched the little girl. She really didn’t look much like the waitress. |
| PARTS 1-3 |