My eyes float up toward the wall clock like I don't already know that it's late, much too late to still be at the office. My schedule, however, is full. I haven't done much but sleep, eat and work for the last few weeks. I've been in my office or in a meeting or in court or in bed. And not even having any fun there.

I sit back in my ergonomic chair and drop my pen into the crease of the law journal I'm scouring, looking for something, anything to help me settle this case I'm working-another slimy landlord and helpless tenant. We're seeing more of these everyday and honestly, it's getting tiresome. My neck is tight from stress and from sitting, bent over a page, for days on end. I tip my head back and forth, working out the kinks. I hear the joints creak and pop. Gosh, I'm getting old.

A not-so-ladylike yawn roars from my mouth. Seeing that it is 1am has made me even more tired. I decide that I can't do much more tonight and a fresh pair of eyes in the morning would be so much more helpful. I also decide not to take anything home tonight, for the first night in weeks.

I hear a light taptap at my office door. I'm surprised that anyone is still in the building. Cautious, I reach into my purse and wrap my fingers around my keychain Mace dispenser.  

"Hello? Who's there?"

"Just me," I hear through the door, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

"Come on in, Ty." The knob turns and Tyler's buzz cut blonde hairdo, forehead and warm brown eyes poke into the room. Like his brother, I can tell he's smiling by his eyes. 

"Hey. Are we going home any time soon?"

"I am going home right now. I don't know about you. Why are you here? Who else is here? I thought I was alone."

He steps into the room, wrestling with the door to get to the spare chair. My office is so small that having the door open cuts it in half. I can't walk past my desk without closing the door.  He settles into the straight back chair and heaves a sigh.

"You almost were. I was here late, working on my new case. That's four, now." He holds up four stubby fingers and beams with pride. "Anyway, I saw your car still out there when I was leaving. Came back in."

I frown, feeling terrible. "Why didn't you come tell me? We have security patrol."

He shrugs, his cheeks developing a rosy glow. "Couldn't. I know you're busy, got a lot of stuff going on. I didn't want to disturb you but I couldn't leave you here by yourself. I just went back to my desk and worked on a few more things. I heard your mega yawn and figured you were about done. If you weren't ready to go, I was going to carry you out of here."

I laugh. He'd do it, too. I once got terribly, embarrassingly drunk and started a screaming match with JC in the backyard at the Chasez's. The next thing I know, I am being lifted up over Tyler's shoulder and carted toward my parent's house. He gently deposited me on the front porch steps and sat with me while I cried my eyes out.

That was back when JC would make me so furious I would cry. It's been a long time since that happened. In fact, I was so embarrassed at that incident that it hasn't happened since. I get angry. I don't cry.

"But it's Friday night! You should have been out with the ladies, not babysitting me."

He shrugs again. "All I'm saying is that I was told if I ever left you here by yourself, I would lose an important appendage. Permanently." He nods, his eyebrows high on his forehead. Then starts to laugh.

"Who said that? Greg?" I'm guessing it's one of the Firm partners. "He's kind of dad-like."

"Nah. Your boyfriend."

"My boyf-- ah, shit. Yep, it's time to go."

I rise from my chair and grab my purse. "Let's go," I say. "I can't get out of here with you in that chair."

We file out of my office and I lock the door. Tyler leads us through the hallways and out the back door to the rear parking lot. Behind us, the building secures itself, evident by the glowing red light on the card access panel. We crunch through the gravel toward our cars, parked just a few spaces away from each other. Tyler walks with me to my car, waits until I get my door unlocked and open and my purse has been deposited in the passenger seat. I expect him to wave and walk toward his car but he stands there in the space between his car and mine. 

"If you're anything like your brother, I know you're not going to leave until I get in my car and drive off."

He nods once, his hands stuffed into his pockets. "Mom and Dad taught us that. Never leave a woman vulnerable."

"Even if you can't stand her?"

"Especially if you can't stand her," he answers with a wink. "She will be safe to fight with you again."

"Interesting."

"Yup."

"He really said he'd cut your dick off if you left me here alone?"

Tyler looks surprised that I even know that word. "He didn't say dick, you sick fuck. He said important appendage. Man, I see where your brain is."

"Oh shut up. I haven't had sex in-"

"Lalalalala," he mumbles, fingers in his ears. "Things I don't need to know. TMI, thanks."

I'm laughing hysterically and he can't help but laugh too. I feel like I haven't really laughed in months. When we finally die down, he steps forward to give me an unsolicited hug, then a gentle push into my car.

I start the car and roll my window down.  "Thanks."

"No problem. I told you, I'm on a mission."

"I meant about my dad, too. Thanks for dropping by to see him. I know it meant a lot."

He smiles, showing a mouthful of crooked teeth, made endearing by the dimples that puncture each cheek. "It was my pleasure. Your dad sucks at poker. I took so much of his money."

Dad's been out of the hospital for a few weeks. His medications seem to have him back on track and for now, we're holding off on deep tissue stimulation, or as he called it, ‘electrocution'.  I've been stopping by the house a few times a week to give Mom a break and to visit with him.

I walked into the house one evening to find a rousing game of poker in progress. The green felt cloth was on the table, the multi colored chips were stacked in neat piles. There were snacks on the buffet along the wall--- chips and dip, pizza rolls and chicken wings-and even though he wasn't supposed to drink on his medication, Dad looked pretty content sipping from a bottle of beer.

At home, he often sits in a wheelchair. Not out of need, but so he can get from room to room with some kind of speed and efficiency. His chair is parked under the table and he is guarding his hand with the kind of secrecy one would lend to military launch codes.

Joining him at the table were Roy, JC and Tyler. Tyler and JC were chewing on unlit stogies. JC, in a straw Fedora and knee length jean shorts, leaned back in his chair, one foot resting on his knee. His sneaker-clad foot tapped in time to the tune of Pink Floyd wafting from the living room stereo.

"Hey, look who's crashing Guy's Night." JC nodded his head at me as he tossed a card toward the center of the table.

"Guy's Night? No one told me it was Guy's Night." I walked behind my dad to drop a kiss on his cheek.

He clutched his cards to his chest and tried his best to hold them there with twitching arms. "Don't give away my hand. These three are sneaky."

"I don't even know what I'm looking at, Dad."

"Good. Keep the mystery going."

"Where's Mom?"

"Shopping with Karen or something," he answered, his head rocking forward and back, side to side. "I kicked her out. It's Guy's Night."

I glanced at Tyler, who I'd seen in the office all day but hadn't said a word to me about coming over. He still lived with Roy and Karen so it wasn't so farfetched to see him there.

JC was the surprise. Even though he said he'd stop in on Dad, I didn't really believe that he would. Sure enough, when I got to the hospital the next day, JC was just leaving. His only words to me were, "I brought him a burger. He loves me like a son, he said. Like a son." Then he stepped into the elevator, let the doors close on my unimpressed gaze, and he was gone.

Now he was at the house, having arranged a poker game that Dad seemed pretty excited about. It honestly warmed my heart to see him smiling, laughing, eating, and having a good time with the guys. I slipped out the back door and let him have his fun.

"Well," I say to Tyler, "He still talks about that night. He had fun. I hope you guys can arrange it again sometime. His employees don't come by very often. All the friends he's made in the industry... it's like they don't know him now."

Tyler nods. "Yeah he said that. They uh... they don't like to see him sick.  But you know..."

He pauses, kicks around some gravel for a few seconds, marring the shiny finish on his shoes. I noticed that he's dressing better now that he's almost guaranteed to be in court every day. Our little Ty is growing up. "Once you're with him for awhile, you notice he's the same guy. So he acts a little different. He has some challenges. His mind is still the same. Still the same sense of humor. Still the same guy in the house two doors down."

I nod deeply, grinning at his words. Exactly, I think. He's exactly the same, with a few challenges thrown in.  And all I can hope for is that he'll stay that way for a long time.

"Well, I'd better head out. I don't want to keep you any longer. Good night." I wave to him as my window rolls back up with a squeak. I shift the car to drive and pull out of the lot, headed home.

****

The following morning, I'm at the office by 8am. I have a few things I want to get off of my to-do list because I have plans that night. Plans I'm oddly looking forward to. The wedding party, minus the bride and groom, are gathering at JC's place tonight to talk about pre-wedding parties.

JC and I have been shooting emails back and forth for weeks about the Bachelor/Bachelorette parties. He thinks we should combine them. I'm not sold on it. It's something older engaged couples do, since the majority of the attendees will be married couples. What are we single people supposed to do? Then it dawns on me that I will be the only single woman.

I've come to realize that after Morgan and Nick get married, JC and I will be the last of the single people. I just know the pressure for us to couple up is going to be strong. That's why I'm thankful that I have eight weeks until this wedding is over.

Eight weeks until I am JC-free. He's been so nice lately that I'm starting to second guess myself. Do I really want to cut ties with him? Now that we're finally getting along? He's doing good deeds and not on my last nerve... but then I think about the JC of the past and I know, at some point, he won't be able to help himself and we'll be back to hurling insults and cutting each other down. Better to stick with the plan.

Tonight, the six of us-me and JC, Jackie and Matt, Keith and Bridget will have dinner out on the patio and drinks around the fire pit. JC does not cook-I mean it, not even breakfast-so he's having dinner catered and since he is at an all day conference, I am in charge of setting everything up. I have to be at his place at six thirty to meet the delivery.

I fly through my list and rush home to change. I slip into a sleeveless pink sundress that just kisses my knees, run a brush through my wavy brown hair and leave it down. I add an understated gold watch to my wrist, a pair of tiny gold hoops to my ears and a thin gold chain to my neck.

I grab my purse and phone and get back into the car to drive the fifteen minutes to his house on Lake Conway. I arrive and get out of the car, pick up the key from its hiding place and open the front door just in time to see the caterer's van pull up into the driveway behind my car.

I watch as two women and one thin young man unload the van with enough food to feed an army. Pan after pan of silver trays covered with foil land on JC's kitchen counter. Soon, the house is full of the smells of a hot meal-fire grilled chicken and beef, roasted vegetables, diced potatoes, fresh baked rolls and a crisp green salad. They've thought of everything, even serving dishes and utensils and a pitcher of iced tea in a dispenser with a spigot.

I sign the invoice and see them out, then get to work transferring food to the serving dishes provided and setting them out on the table on the patio, which JC already covered with a white linen cloth. I lay the meal out with serving utensils and go back into the house to grab dishes, silverware, drinking glasses and wine glasses.

As I'm setting the table, I hear the security system beep and the click of men's shoes on Spanish tile. I look up to see JC standing in the opening between the house and the patio, dressed like he's put in a long day at the office-suit, tie, dress shoes. His jacket is off, flung over his shoulder and hanging from the crook of a finger. His shirt, even at 6pm, is wrinkle free, like he just put it on. His slacks, pressed with a crease so sharp you could cut yourself, are the flat front style that he likes. He says they show off his package the best.

The first time I actually heard those words come out of his mouth, I rolled my eyes so hard I had a headache later.

They do look good on him, though. For a millisecond, my body goes back in time and drudges up a response to seeing him that I haven't felt in so long I almost don't recognize it. My face feels hot; I'm sure my cheeks are nice and red. My heartbeat quickens, my nipples stand at attention and my panties are wet.

Fuck, girl. You need to get laid. Get a hold of yourself. It's just JC.

"Hey," I mutter, trying to mask my dry throat and heaving chest. I seem to not be able to breathe, for some reason. "Almost done."

I set the last few spots with silverware and glasses and step back, surveying my work. I'm pleased. It's classy and alluring and it will be nice to eat outside with the lake as a backdrop and the setting sun creating beautiful ambiance.

"I could get used to this," JC says, stepping out of the house. "Coming home to a pretty lady setting out a nice meal, I mean."  He circles the table, inspecting. My jaw clenches and I think that if he adjusts anything, I will stab him with the knife I set out to slice the beef.

His life is spared, however. He doesn't touch a thing. Instead, he turns to me and says, "This will be fun. I need to run up and change. I put some wine in the chiller this morning.  Would you grab a red and a white? Doesn't matter what year. We should let it breathe."

He turns on his heel and walks back into the house. Only when I can't hear his feet on the steps anymore do I move to grab the wine.

It's great that we're getting along, but...nice JC is freaking me the fuck out.

Jackie and Matt are the first to arrive with a bouquet of fresh cut wildflowers. I stare at the blooms, not knowing what to do with them. I poke through JC's cabinets and finally find a vase, cut the stems and arrange the flowers in it. I set it out on the table and it makes a pretty centerpiece.

Jackie is already picking at the food in the containers in the kitchen and she hasn't been in the house for five minutes.  "It smells perfectly sinful in here," she says, her mouth full of roasted broccoli.

Matt nods his agreement but he's less rude, opting to keep his hands in his pockets. "The next time JC needs anything catered let me know. I'm thinking of doing a little side business. Got a baby to pay for."

"Oh are you? We might be thinking of something for the engagement party."  

Jackie whips around to face me, her eyes round and open wide. She starts squealing and bouncing like she's about to start jumping up and down. Goodness.

"I need you to calm your pregnancy brain down," I say, before she can even ask. "JC and I are planning the engagement party for Nick and Morgan."

"Oh," she says, chewing and swallowing, decidedly less animated. She chuckles, her cheeks a little pink. "I guess I get overly excited."

"It's okay. You'll be the first to know if-"

"What's Jackie getting excited about?" I didn't hear JC come down the stairs, so the sound of his voice startles me and I nearly jump out of my skin. He slides alongside me and lays an arm across my shoulders. "She can't get excited; that baby will pop right out­­."

"Nothing," I answer quickly. "Jackie's just hungry. Let's go outside."

I slide out from under his arm and guide Jackie toward the patio. As she and Matt are seated, the doorbell rings and Keith and Bridget have arrived, bearing a bottle of wine. JC opens it and sets it next to the red and white that I opened and set at the bar.

Over dinner, we hash out the pros and cons of a co-ed Bachelor/Bachelorette party. Keith is a salesman and JC is an attorney. The volley across the table back and forth with points for and against is like watching Venus and Serena play each other. Both equally as skilled, neither really wanting to obliterate the other, but not wanting to lose either. They'll be satisfied to lose or win by one point.

"What if us girls want to do our own thing with Morgan?" Bridget says.

"Where? Chippendales? Morgan's not going to be into that." JC says.

"You're going to Chippendales?" Keith's head pops up and he looks around, trying to catch Bridget's eye. Though he's against a co-ed party, he doesn't seem keen on this idea.

"Wherever we want," says Jackie. "We didn't think Morgan was ever going to get married. This is the party we never thought we'd get to throw her. We're not sharing it with the guys that don't want us out of their sight."

"Exactly, Jackie. That, exactly."JC rolls his eyes and begins to protest my point. I giggle and sip from my glass of wine. "Besides," I add, "Don't you guys want to kidnap Nick and drag him to a seedy underground lounge and embarrass him with lap dances from a naked woman he doesn't know? Maybe she could pop out of a cake, or pretend to be the maid or something."

JC pauses and stares at me. "Watch less porn, Angie. Like, a lot less porn. Also, fewer 80's movies. Guys haven't done that shit in like 20 years."

"Well, excuse the fuck out of me. I don't go to Bachelor parties."

The patio erupts in a dull roar of six different voices trying to be heard.

"Okay, okay, okay." I stand up, tapping my knife against the neck of a wine glass.  "We'll be here until midnight having this argument. How about a compromise?"

"Like what?" Keith asks.

"How about we do separate parties... but we all meet up someplace around midnight or so and party together? Like a hotel or something so we can just get a block of rooms and crash."

I survey the table in the waning sunlight. The serving dishes are nearly empty; every plate is practically licked clean. Glasses of tea and wine dot the table and everyone is comfortable, and now beginning to nod in tentative agreement.

"So we can have separate celebrations, but couples can... couple up. You know the Engagement Party will be stuffy and formal and full of doctors and grandparents. That won't be our chance to party."

"I like that idea." Bridget is nodding. So is Jackie. JC doesn't look happy but he's half drunk so he doesn't have the energy to protest anymore. He waves a hand at me and mumbles, ‘whatever'. Matt just looks happy to be there, grinning and downing the last of the wine in his glass.

"So the guys will get together and plan Nick's party; the girls will plan Morgan's. Who's planning the end of the night party?"

The entire table looks toward JC and I. We look at each other and shrug. Of course we're going to get stuck with it. Bridget and Jackie grudgingly volunteer their services, but I know there is a reason JC and I are ending up planning this wedding... we're single. They think we have more time, time that isn't eaten up by children and family responsibilities. I decide to be angry about it after the wedding is over. Right now, we just need to get it done.

The party moves to the fire pit, where there is ample space to sit back and relax. Deep, plush couches surround the square marble pit in a U-shape. It's in a perfect spot to give us a dusk view of sparkling Lake Conway and the sun setting behind the hills on the other side. High above us is a canopy that envelops the space and makes it cozy.

JC plays bartender and DJ, filling drinks and running a Spotify playlist through the underground speakers. I feel relaxed, letting myself have a few drinks and take a deep breath. It's been a rough few weeks, with work and worrying about Dad. It's nice to take a break.

Matt and Jackie are the first to leave. At this stage of her pregnancy, she has two modes: hungry and sleepy. She cycles between the two on a constant basis. Keith and Bridget duck out a half hour later. They only have their babysitter until 11 o'clock. That leaves me and JC sitting in the most romantic spot in the house, with a view of the most romantic spot we could find as teenagers. I shake my head and chuckle at the irony.

"Are you thinking the same thing I'm thinking?"

He sits next to me and puts his feet up on the edge of the pit. I'm attempting to come up with a smart ass answer but nothing comes to me.

"Probably," I answer.

He gives one of those one breath chuckles. More of a ‘ha' than an actual laugh. "Those were good times."

Again, I want to say something mean and cutting and biting, but the words don't come. I can only nod.

"I haven't been out there since... since we..."

Surely he's joking. "Get the fuck outta here, JC," I say, laughing.

"I haven't," he says, quietly. And I stop laughing. I'm watching him, watching his face. I know him so well, still. I know when he is lying. He isn't. "That place was... that place was ours. I didn't want to... what's the word I'm thinking of?" He waves a bottle of beer in the air like it will jog his memory.

"Sully? Mar? Stain? Ruin?" I suggest words that I thought of when I remembered that he'd been there first with Stacey. "You're wrong, though. That was place was yours. Not ours."

"No." He shook his head. "It was ours. That spot. That place. I never took Stacey where I took you."

"Same lake, JC. And almost twenty years ago, as you pointed out to me when you told me to adjust my attitude. Does it really matter?"

"Does to me. It matters to me that you know that I never brought Stacey there.  Her brother brought us out here. He liked to hang out at his buddy's house. The guy's parents were never home. They lived somewhere down the lake, down that way."

He points downstream with the neck of his bottle. "Stacey had to have a chaperone. She was loose and her parents knew it. But they didn't know that when her brother chaperoned, he picked up his girlfriend and drove all of us out to that house down there. He went one way with his girlfriend, Stacey and I went another.

"She took me to the basement. Gave me some beer. We smoked a little weed. I had my first ‘E'."

I rear back at that. JC tried Ecstasy? Why did I never know this?

He takes a swig of his beer, finishing it off. "I was kind of out of it. Like I knew what was happening, and I remember it but it was like watching someone else do it. She told me that all the guys in my grade laughed at me because they knew I was still a virgin. She said you probably thought I was lame for it, too. She said you would never have sex with me because I was a virgin and wouldn't know what I was doing."

This is a story I have never heard before and I am listening with rapt attention, watching his face by the light of the moon and the flickering flame. The truth I never had the courage or strength to hear was coming right at me like a freight train and I was powerless to stop it.

"More than anything, I wanted to be with you, but you know how I was. Weak. Impressionable. You could tell me anything and I'd believe it. I didn't want to be rejected by you, so I let her... you know." He shrugged his shoulders. "Take me."

"Take you?"

"She was aggressive, as you can imagine. She stayed on top, drove the whole show. When she came, that was it."

"What about-" I pause. I know he knows what I'm asking about, the most intimate thing I ever let anyone do to me and hasn't felt as good as it did when he did it.

He shakes his head, rolling his eyes up to meet mine. "Never. She wanted me to, but I couldn't do it. Not with her."

"But she said-" 

"She was bluffing. I promise you. That...that I did with you first time."

I am incredulous, as I should be. He is about twenty years late in making me hear him.

He holds a hand up like he's taking a Boy Scout's Oath. "I have no reason to lie to you right now, right? I could tell you we did all kinds of things, but we didn't. We drank, we smoked some pot, we did some ‘E', and we fucked once. I never came. She fell asleep and I went back upstairs to wait for her brother to be done fucking his girlfriend. Her brother drove us home. I wouldn't go out with her after that."

His hand scrapes his cheek and chin. The stubble sends an earthy, scratchy noise into the quiet. It reminds me of when he was just beginning to grow facial hair. The summer before our senior year, he wanted to see if he could grow a full beard. If the hair on his arms was any indication, he shouldn't have had to worry about it.

After a few days, the poky, sharp edges of his beard softened. He would rub his cheek against mine and it felt surprisingly gentle, like a baby blanket. After he shaved for the new school year, I missed his beard. Sometimes he would grow a little for me, but he'd always shave it off.

"She definitely didn't like it when I started dating you. She'd call me or email me, saying stupid shit. Jealous." He laughed, shaking his head. "Not saying I was the world's greatest fuck or anything. I think she thought she could manipulate me. I finally told her to back off."

I'm quiet as I gather my thoughts, to wrap my brain around these words, this new information.  I turn my body slightly sideways so I'm facing him. "JC, you never told me any of this."

"You didn't want to hear it." His words are terse, his voice clipped. "And after awhile I figured I deserved your anger. You were right. I let you believe you were the first. I let you ‘waste all of your firsts on me'."

He parrots my words back to me with a bitter twist of his tongue. "When you asked me if I was a virgin, I didn't answer you."

"Yeah, you did. You said you wanted me to be the first."

"And I did." He let that sit there for a full ten seconds before he went on.

"I did really want that. But you weren't. I didn't think it was that big of a deal but I started to realize how important it was to you to think that. So I wanted to let you have that. I never thought... I never thought Stacey would...."

I watch him inhale a deep breath. The muscle in his jaw pops out, throwing a thin a shadow on his face. He blinks a few times and exhales.

"After that, I figured, you know, it wasn't meant to be. I gave up. I made myself into this guy that doesn't care about anyone anymore. A person is in my life right now but five minutes later, they might not be. And that's gotta be okay with them, because it's okay with me."

At that moment I know he's lying. I don't call him on it.

We don't say anything to each other for a long while. The fire is dying and JC doesn't move to stoke it or put it out. The sun has long since dipped below the horizon. The lakefront neighborhood and the hills across the way are wrapped in darkness.

"I miss us," he says quietly.

I hear him but don't respond.

"I thought I had it all, in my naiveté.  I had my life all mapped out. My girlfriend was my best friend. My folks were cool. I had a nice job and a car that ran. I had plans to graduate, go to college, move in with Angie, marry her, and maybe have like two or three kids. Then the bottom dropped out."

These plans all sound familiar to me. They were mine, too. He wasn't the only one that had to re-do the map for his life.

I hear him swallow. I feel him move closer to me. My heartbeat ramps upward and goosebumps wave across my skin when his arm lifts and lands on the cushion behind me.

"I know you probably don't think about me like this. You don't miss me. You don't even like me and I don't blame you. But I miss us. I miss hanging out with you all the time, talking to you. Being with you. We went from best friends one day to nothing the next. Like that."

He snaps his fingers. The sound startles me.

"I need to do this..."

One moment I am gazing at him with a modicum of pity. In the next moment his lips are on mine-soft and wet and gently pressing. It's a familiar feeling... like coming home. He lightly kisses me, feather soft for a few strokes and then presses harder, more urgently. His tongue works its way into my mouth and the kiss deepens. My breaths come in stutters and I moan into his mouth.

I feel his groan deep in his chest as he presses himself into me. A hand wanders from my neck to the curve of my breast, around my back, my hip, my thigh. Then back up, this time creeping up under my skirt-not too far, but far enough. He turns his head and assaults my mouth in a way I have never experienced and holy fuck.... I can't focus on anything but how good this feels.

How good he feels. It's been so long...

My head slowly clears and the wheels finally turn. Rational thought is fighting its way to the surface. I realize I am kissing JC.

Kissing JC.

JC.

Once my brain catches up with what my tongue is doing, I tear my lips from his and launch myself off of the couch. "I have to go," I say, running toward the house.

"Angie, wait!" I hear him get up and trip over what I guess is the edge of the fire pit.  I almost caught it myself. "Shit! Fuck! Ouch, Goddamn it!"

In the house, I'm searching for my purse. I knew I set it down somewhere-I check the kitchen and there it is, on the counter next to the refrigerator.

JC has limped into the house and placed himself between me and the front door. In the light, I can see his bloodshot eyes, his drunk-red face.  My mouth tastes like remnants of Bud light.

"Angie, please stay. I didn't... I didn't mean..."

"I know. You're drunk. Let me-"

"I didn't pour my heart out to you because I was drunk. I wanted you to know. Finally."

"Did you kiss me because you were drunk?"

"Did you kiss me back because you were drunk?"

"I'm not drunk."

"Neither am I."

I sigh, closing my eyes, clutching my purse to my chest. "Are you going to let me by, or do I have to spray you with Mace?"

The gaze on his face is emotionless. He doesn't look angry or sad or irritated. It's blank, but he's watching me like I didn't say a word to him. Finally, he steps aside, reaches out and turns the knob to the front door. It stands wide open, ready for me to walk through it.

Away from JC.  Why don't I want to walk out of that door right now?

Why aren't I running away, horrified that this man I cannot stand just gave me the best kiss I've had in years?

I force my feet to move, one in front of the other, until I make it to the porch and then the steps and then across the driveway to my car. I know he's standing in the door of the house watching me. I tell my feet to keep moving, not to turn around and throw myself at him.  

"You kissed me back." I hear it right before I get in my car and I stop for half a second.  "Might want to think about what that means."

He's got one thing right: I need to think.

I need to think about what it means when a man you claim to hate kisses you and you kiss him back. And what it means when your body completely betrays you, reacts so passionately to said kiss that five miles down the road, you pull over, yank off your uncomfortably wet panties, ball them up and toss them into your purse.

I need to think. About why I can't stop thinking about kissing JC.