#sillyrabbit81

You sigh, and fidget, dancing from foot to foot, pulling at your low cut, black satin top and drawing your faux fur lined coat closed.

“Shit,” you utter under your breath. Caroline must have gone out. You’re about to hang up when you hear the click and thunk of the line successfully connecting.

Music and voices burst from the receiver and you jerk your head away from the speaker.

“Hello,” you say cautiously, worried you may have dialled the wrong number in your numb stupor. “Caroline?”

“Hello?” says the voice. You exhale a held breath with relief as you recognise Caroline's voice. At least you had called the right number. “Hello, I can barely hear you.”

Even though it’s uncomfortable, you press the speaker to your ear and cup the receiver around your hand and speak loudly, looking around cautiously at the other people using the bank of telephones.

“Caroline. It’s me!” you say loudly, just shy of shouting.

“Hang on, I’ll grab the other line in my bedroom.” 

It takes Caroline a few moments and you dig into your purse, pulling out another quarter and dropping it into the slot. You hear her pick up the other line and she shouts something out and the call becomes blessedly quiet.

“Hey,” she says a little breathlessly, “you there? What happened to your date?”

“I ended it early. It sucked Caroline,” you sigh, “Do you think you could come and pick me up. I stupidly agreed to let him drive me.”

“Ah, shit I can’t,” she says, “My brother and some of his friends came over and, well, we’ve all been drinkin’.” 

It wasn’t unusual for her to have people over on the weekends, she was a bit of a party animal. In a way you were a perfect pair, you tempered her most crazy instincts and she brought you out of your shell. But right now, going home to her brother Sy and all his meathead friends was not what you had in mind. Especially not Sy.

“Fuck,” you mutter, “Sy’s there?”

“Yeah,” she says, “hang on, he drove here. He hasn’t drunk much I don’t think. Maybe he can pick you up. Let me ask him.”

“No, no, no,” you say quickly, “I’ll call a cab.”

But it’s too late, you can hear Caroline shouting for him and after an extended pause you can hear her relaying your request.

“Hey, Sugar,” Sy’s rich drawl echoes down the line and you bite your lip. 

“Hey, Sy,” you say shyly.

God, you hate that you aren’t completely over the crush you had on him in high school. You’re mostly over it; you don’t obsess over him like you did as a teen, but sometimes those old feelings rear their head again at the most inconvenient times.

“Need a rescue, huh?” he teases.

You smile, he likes to rag on you sometimes and you give it back, usually. You aren’t in the mood to reciprocate, but you appreciate his efforts. You almost tell him no, that you’ll just catch a cab despite the expense, you don’t want to put him out. But you also know Sy, if he didn’t want to help you, he wouldn’t have offered.

“Please?” you ask.

“Anytime, Sugar,” he says, warmly, “Now, where are ya?”

You see Sy’s blue truck about twenty minutes later. He pulls up in front of you, rolls the window down and grins.

“Hey, baby. How much?” He wiggles his eyebrows at you obscenely.

You shake your head and suppress a smile. Less than a second in his presence and he makes you want to laugh. Why can’t any of the guys you date make you feel like he does?

“You can’t afford me,” you scoff. 

He chuckles as he leans across the passenger seat and opens the door for you. You climb in, the truck is so high you have to stand on the side step then bend at the waist so you don't hit your head. Your top is so low, you are worried about flashing your tits at Sy with your body at this angle. You quickly glance at him and he’s already turning his head away. Feeling a little embarrassed, a ripple of heat works its way down your spine and you tug at the edge of your top to keep it from revealing too much. 

Sy taps the wheel in time to the barely audible rock playing through the stereo and waits until you’re settled before driving away from the curb.

“Thanks for picking me up, Sy,” you say.

“Like I said, anytime.” He glances at you and you smile back, but he narrows his eyes. “You ok?”

You shrug. “I guess.”

“Wanna talk about it?” he asks in that soft tone he has when he’s serious.

You sigh. You consider laying it all out for him, telling him about how frustrated you are. It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve unloaded your problems on him. But these problems were different, they were… a little too personal.

“I’m ok,” you lie.

Sy grunts. He knows you well enough to see that you’re not telling him the truth, but he accepts that you don’t want to talk.

You travel for a few minutes in silence and your date replays over in your mind. There was nothing wrong with it really. It had been a good evening, he had been nice, funny, and he was attractive. But when he kissed you during the movie, you had felt nothing. Not a tingle. Not a skipped heart beat. Not a single butterfly. You knew then and there, the relationship was going to go nowhere.

You had tried to be with guys you didn’t feel a spark with before, thinking that over time things would get better, but it never did. As soon as the movie was finished and you made your way back to his car, you told him you weren’t interested. He took it well; he wasn’t a dick about it and still wanted to drive you home. You refused, telling him Caroline was on her way to come and get you.

Sy stops at a set of traffic lights and placing the calloused edge of his finger under your chin, he turns your face to his. You inhale sharply at the contact. It's not fair that one touch from Sy makes you feel more than any guy you have ever dated. His lips tighten into a tight line as he looks you over.

“He didn’t hurt ya did he?” he asks in a voice that's as sharp as a knife’s edge.

“No, Sy,” you reply, placing your hand on his wrist and pushing it aside gently.

“Something happened,” Sy persists, “you look like you’re about to cry.”

“It’s not about him,” you say softly.

Sy looks at you for a long time, his lower lip sucked into his mouth as he studied you. You make yourself meet his gaze so he knows you’re telling the truth. The lights change and he inhales deeply through his nose before he turns his attention back to the road.

When Sy pulls up at your place, you see the number of cars and realise Caroline had invited more than just a few of Sy’s friends over. Your house was pumping with music and there were cars everywhere.

“God damn it, Caroline,” you mutter. 

Normally it wouldn’t bother you that there were people over, but tonight, you just couldn’t face it. Sy takes his seatbelt off and is about to open his door but you put your hand on his arm to stop him.

“Sy, can we… Can we just sit here a moment? I don’t want to go in yet.”

“Okay,” he says slowly, leaning back into his seat. He looks down at his hands, notices something and rubs at the skin of his thumb.

You close your eyes and lean against the headrest. Your mind is buzzing with thoughts, but they seem to fly through your head so quickly you can’t pin them down. Well except for one. 

You’re going to end up alone.

“Fuck,” you mumble as you angrily wipe at a tear that runs down your cheek.

“That’s it! You tell me what that mother fucker did to you and…”

“He didn’t do anything, Sy,” you say tersely. “I ended it, he was good about it… I just…” your chin trembles and you look away as more tears spill from your eyes.

“Oh hell,” Sy mumbles and he unfastens your belt and wraps his arms around you.

You cry harder as he presses you to his chest. You can’t stop. Each sob rips through you; your throat aches, your chest feels like it's going to burst through your ribs while your shoulders and stomach cramp awfully.

Sy lays the palm of his hand flat on your back and rubs big circles over you while he gently rocks you. No wonder you always had a crush on him; no man has ever made you feel as safe as Sy does. He drops his head low so his voice rumbles in your ear, “You’re good, baby, I’ve got you.”

You don’t know how long you cried for. By the time you stop crying, you feel a little silly, like you’re making a mountain out of a molehill. So this guy isn’t the one, what's the big deal really? There’s plenty of others out there. It's not like he dumped you, it was your decision after all. 

Sy doesn’t stop holding you even when you start to sniffle and your eyes run dry. You lift your head from Sy’s shoulder and although he relaxes his embrace, he doesn’t let you go. 

“I’m sorry, Sy.”

“Don’t be,” he reassures you, “Sometimes we’ve just gotta let it all out.”

“Can’t imagine you ever having a cry like that.”

“No, but you should see me trying to murder the punching bag during PT,” he grins.

You don’t think he means to put the thought of him shirtless, dripping with sweat, lip curled in anger and grunting as he takes his frustrations out on the leather bag, but it doesn’t stop the vivid image from being thrust into the forefront of your mind.

“Do you want to go inside yet?” Sy asks softly, “We don’t have to, we could go get a bite to eat if you need more time. I’ll give Carol a call when we get there and tell her to kick everyone out if ya want?”

“No, I don't want to ruin everyone’s good time because I had a shitty night.”

“Just wanna ruin mine, huh?”

“Sy…” you half whine and half laugh.

“How about we go eat then come back?” he suggests.

“I think I should just go to sleep. I’ll feel better in the morning. Just give me another minute.”

Sy is quiet for a moment then says, “I’ll take ya to my place. You ain’t gonna be able to sleep with all that going on. You can stay the night.”

“Sy thats sweet of you, but I don’t want to sleep in these clothes and your friends are all inside and—”

“My friend,” he says firmly, giving you a squeeze, “is right here. And you can borrow some of my clothes.” He finally lets you go and says, “C’mon, put your belt on. I ain’t takin’ no for an answer.”

It feels a little strange being in Sy’s apartment. It had been a while since you had been to his place. Years in fact. He’d been gone for so long, first to boot camp and other training, then later officer training and finally Special Forces selection and several deployments.

He was always in and out of your life and in a way you were glad. Because he wasn’t around to moon over all the time, it had made moving on from your silly crush easier. Plus, being reacquainted with him over the last few years had let your friendship develop beyond him being just your best friend's older brother and a guy to lust over. You got to know him, the real him and you valued his friendship.

Still, there were boundaries despite how close you two had become and being alone with him in his home wasn’t one you had crossed yet.

After placing your bag on a rack by the door, you take your heels off while Sy disappears into what you assume is his bedroom. He comes back a few moments later with an AC/DC t-shirt and some sweatpants. 

“Do you wanna take a shower or anything?” he asks as he hands you his clothes.

You consider it for a minute, but decide you can wait until the morning. “No, I'll just wash my make-up off.” Sy nods and leads you to the bathroom and gives you a towel to dry your face with. 

After you wash you assess the damage the crying had done. Your mascara and eyeliner are waterproof, so they’re mostly in place, but your eyes are puffy and lined with red. You know it's only going to be worse tomorrow, but there really isn’t anything you can do about it now. You dress in Sy’s clothes, and you pull the drawstring of the sweats tight so they don’t fall as you walk and you roll the bottoms up too so you don't trip. 

You take one last look in the mirror and sigh. You feel a little pathetic. You should have just gone home. Now you’re stuck at Sy’s place wearing his freaking clothes for God’s sake. You almost laugh at the irony of it all; a few years ago you would probably have killed to be in this position and now that you had gotten over your crush (mostly), here you are. You’re older now, realistic, you know nothing is ever going to happen between you and Sy. If it was, it would have already happened. 

You wipe under your eyes again and you recognise that you're stalling. You can’t put it off any longer, so, taking a final deep breath, you go back to Sy.

When you come out, you ask him for something to put your clothes in. He goes to his kitchen and returns carrying a small plastic bag. He holds it open for you while you carefully place your jeans and top inside.

“I called Caroline and let her know you’re stayin’ here so she won’t worry,” Sy says, hanging your clothes on the rack next to your bag.

“Thanks,” you say. “Is she ok with me staying here?”

“She’s a little worried about what happened to you, so expect an interrogation in the mornin’,” he says, rolling his eyes.

You half smile. That's not quite what you were asking but you decide not to question his response. “Of course.”

“Are you ready for bed?” he asks. “You can have my bed, I’ll take the couch. Okay?”

You nod, you know you should argue with him, insist on taking the couch, but you know Sy, he won’t change his mind. “Thanks, Sy.”

He dips his head, acknowledging your thanks then just keeps looking at you with a small smile on his face. You return his smile weakly, then turn towards his room.

“Come ‘ere,” he says with a soft growl, and he grabs at your t-shirt, drawing you into his arms. 

You can’t say how many times Sy’s hugged you like this, too many times. And like all the other times you're overwhelmed by him, by his size, his warmth, his strength, his scent and you melt into his embrace. He cups the back of your head, tilting it until you’re looking down and kisses you on the crown.

“Baby?” he murmurs into your ear.

“Yeah?” God, your voice is so hoarse you barely recognise it.

You hear him take a breath like he’s about to speak but then he exhales and swallows before speaking.

“You gonna be okay?” he asks in that low soothing tone he’s used all night. You nod and he lets you go. “You need anythin’, I’ll be here. Gonna stay up and watch some TV for a bit.”

You nod again and go to bed.

Sleep is elusive; you toss and turn. Sy’s bed is comfortable, and you’re mentally exhausted, but you just can’t relax. Not only are you caught up in replaying the disappointing kiss in the movie theatre, you can’t stop thinking about Sy. Surrounded by his covers, engulfed in his scent, you can’t help but remember the warmth of his body and the pleasant weight of his arms as he holds you.

It annoys you, frustrates you, and makes your heart ache. You remind yourself that you’re escaping into old fantasies, equating the feelings of your unrequited crush to your current sense of loneliness. You know you’re only thinking about Sy like this because of what happened on your date. Your romantic feelings toward Sy aren’t real, they aren’t based in anything tangible and are not reciprocated. You're his little sister’s best friend, of course he’d be nice to you tonight like he always was. It didn’t mean anything.

Eventually you get up. You’re just going to get a drink of water before trying to go to sleep again. You won’t disturb Sy, you’ll just quietly go through the family room to the kitchen and you’ll have your drink before going back to bed. That's it.

The TV is on with the volume turned down low. Sy is shirtless on the couch, he’s too big for it and his feet hang over the armrest, barely covered by the blanket he has over his legs. He has one arm raised and bent behind his head and the other is below the cover. Your eyes widen and heat floods your cheeks as you think of what else is under there.

Shit. 

You turn back to Sy’s room; it’s fine, you don't really need a drink. But before you can take a step, you hear his voice, “Sugar?”

Shit. 

You turn back and see moving into a seated position, pulling the blankets up with him.

“Can't sleep?” he asks. You shake your head. He gives you a sympathetic smile, “Me neither.”

You nod and look around the room, trying not to stare too long at Sy’s chest. He’s always had an amazing body, and he isn’t shy about it, frequently spending summer barbecues shirtless. But it’s different being alone in his apartment when he’s half naked and feels a little inappropriate. 

You peer back at him and he’s just staring at you, like he’s waiting for you to say something. You point to the TV. 

“What are you watching?”

“Armageddon. Have you seen it?”

“Yeah. Once at the movies when it came out. It wasn’t bad.”

“Wanna watch it with me?” Sy asks.

Shit.

“Sure,” you say hesitantly. Your mouth is suddenly a little dry. Maybe you should get that drink first.

Sy swings his legs off the couch and pats the cushion next to him with a small jerk of his head.

You swallow hard as you sit on the opposite end of the couch, curling your legs up under you and leaning your head on the armrest. He rearranges the blanket so you both have some and settles into his corner, putting his arm on the back of the couch.

For a while you watch the movie in silence, sometimes one or both of you chuckle at a joke, but mostly you are quiet. The movie is supposed to just be a popcorn flick, it's not supposed to be that deep, nevertheless, you find yourself invested in the love story. And while it's cringe inducing, the scene with Ben Affleck’s character playing with the animal crackers on Liv Tyler's belly hits you hard. You’ve never experienced that kind of intimacy with a guy and you’re starting to think you never will.

“Sy?” 

He hums.

“Do you ever…” you pause and shake your head, “Nevermind.”

“No, go on, Sugar.” Sy mutes the tv and turns his body to face you.

You look down at the blanket and play with the edge. “Do you ever worry you'll be alone forever?” 

He raises an eyebrow. “Askin’ the big questions tonight I see.”

You shrug. “I just… sometimes I think I'm never gonna find someone. I’m never gonna fall in love.”

His brows draw together, “You’ve never been in love?”

“That stuff you hear about in movies and books, the sparks, the skipped heartbeats, the butterflies, the constant yearning, the need to be with them all the time. I've never felt that really.”

“Never?”

“Other than silly teenage crushes,” you bite your lip, you shouldn’t have mentioned that. You quickly deflect. “You have, haven't you? With Anna?”

“Yeah,“ he says with a half smile, “Yeah I loved her.”

“Do you miss her?”

Sy inhales deeply and studies his hands a moment, taking your question seriously. He looks at you before he speaks. “It’s complicated. I miss the feelings, I miss knowin’ I had someone, someone to be with, but I dont miss her.”

“You miss being in a relationship?”

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “and the sex, I miss the sex.”

You giggle and look away. “I’m sure you have no problem getting sex, Sy.”

He smirks and shrugs, conceding your point. “Yeah, I could get sex, but… It’s different when you’re in love. Feels different. I miss that sex.”

“At least you’ve had it once. I never have.”

“Wait, you’ve never had sex?”

“I’ve had sex, just not that amazing, loving, the world disappears and its just the two of you, sex. It’s never been good,” you pause and look at Sy and you before you can stop yourself you add, “I’ve never even had an orgasm.”

“What? Ever?”

“I have… alone…” you squirm a little in the seat, berating yourself for even bringing it up.

“Assholes,” Sy says.

“It's not really their fault,” you explain and Sy raises his eyebrows, “I mean they tried, it's just that I can’t seem to… get over the line.”

“You mean you get in your head? You overthink it?”

“Maybe,” you say, “I start wondering if I’m too loud. Am I taking too long? If I taste—” you stop talking, suddenly realising what you’re saying and who you’re saying it to. Your eyes meet Sy’s and you can’t breathe; he's looking at you in a way you’ve never seen him look at you before. He’s biting his lip, his eyes are dark and hooded. You turn away. “Nevermind.”

Sy clears his throat and an awkward silence descends between you as you both stare at the television.

“So, that crush you had,” Sy glances at you, “Anyone I know?”

“It was in high school, Sy. And I’m over it.” Completely over it.

“I ain’t over my high school crush,” he says with a smirk.

“What? Really?” you ask surprised. “You… you dated all the time, and all the popular girls… Why didn’t you ask her out?”

“It was complicated,” he says, “she was sorta off limits.”

“Who was she?”

“She was a sophomore when I was a senior.”

“Wait. She was in my year?” you ask, surprised again by Sy’s admission. “Was she one of Caroline’s friends? Was that why she was off limits?” 

He nods. “She never actually said I couldn’t date any of her friends, but… Anyway, I never said anything.” 

You nibble on your lip, thinking back to who it could have been. “Was it Leanne Newman?”

Sy scrunches his face up, “No.” You open your mouth to guess again but Sy cuts you off. “I ain’t playing a guessin’ game with you.”

“You can’t tell me you had a crush on one of our friends and not tell me who it is.”

“Sure you wanna know?” Sy asks, his face is impassive and you’re unable to get a read on him.

“Well yeah, what does it matter now?” you grin and say teasingly, “Are you worried I’ll tell her? You getting shy on me, Syverson?”

He doesn’t smile back or take the bait. Instead he stares at you while he pulls his lower lip into his mouth. Then he shakes his head. “Now's not the time.” He puts his arm around your shoulders and tries to get you to lay your head on his chest. “Ask me another time.”

You push away from him and sit up, “Why are you being all weird about this? You were the one who brought it up.”

His jaw clenches. “Well who was yours?” he asks, his annoyance plain by his curt tone.

You shift uncomfortably. “It’s not important,” you throw the blankets back and stand, “I think I’ll be able to sleep now.” 

That’s a lie, but this conversation is heading in a strange direction and you’ve had enough for one night.

Sy stands too, the covers falling from his legs and you realise all he has on are a pair of boxer briefs. Your face heats, mortified that you had sat there all that time and all he had been wearing was underwear.

“So you’re not going to tell me?” Sy says, completely unperturbed by the fact he was nearly naked.

“You’re not going to tell me yours,” you fold your arms across your chest and try to focus on his face. He looks away as he runs his tongue over his teeth and you recognise it as a sign of frustration. You throw your hands up in the air, completely exasperated, “This is ridiculous, Sy. I can’t believe we’re arguing about this.”

“It’s you,” he says.

“Me?” you say, your voice rising, becoming shrill, “I’m not doing anything!”

“No, Sugar,” he says softly, meeting your eyes, “The sophomore. It was you.”

You take a step back and stiffen. You feel an icy chill weave its way up your spine. 

“That’s not funny, Sy,” you say, your voice quivering in disbelief. 

“Do I look like I’m joking?” he says soberly as he takes a step closer to you. 

You have to admit, he does look serious. You shake your head as you drop your gaze to the floor, unable to look at him. You can’t believe him, no way; he’s never even hinted his interest in you.

“Sugar,” he says gruffly, “I told you mine, are you gonna tell me yours?” 

His hand cups your cheek and the contact makes your skin tingle all over as if you can feel his touch everywhere. You gasp as he runs his thumb over your cheek, then over your lips and jaw before tracing your throat to the hollow at the base of your neck.

“Or am I gonna have to guess?” he asks, with a cocky smirk.

“How do you know?” you ask, your voice weak with breathlessness, “How do you know it was you?”

“I had a hunch.” His pink tongue slips quickly between his lips, making his lips shine with the reflection of the tv screen. “A hope that maybe you feel the same way I do. I wasn’t sure.”

“But I’m over you,” you say more to yourself than to him.

“That's a damn shame,” Sy says in a tone so low you barely make out the words, “Cause I ain’t ever gonna get over you.”

He licks his lips again and his eyes trace the path of his thumb as he caresses your jaw. Then he meets your eyes and he takes a half step closer, your bodies almost touching. His lips part, his head dips and his eyelids start to close.

Oh God. He’s going to kiss you.

This can’t be real, there is no way after all this time that tonight he’s going to confess that he’s had feelings for you. Since high school no less. 

Why now?

What changed?

You gasp and firmly hold his shoulders, stopping his advance. You know why he’s saying it and it makes your stomach clench.

“You’re just saying this because of what I said,” you accuse and Sy’s eyes fly open and his head snaps to attention. “You feel sorry for me don’t you?”

“Feel sorry for you?”

Frustrated you push away from him, tears threatening again as you head to his kitchen. You thought Sy was better than this, a man that would never use your feelings against you like this. Did he really think you’d fall for it?

“I don’t need a pity fuck, Sy.”

“A pity fuck?” Sy says, incredulously as he follows you.

“Are you just going to repeat everything I say?”

You lift the receiver on his wall mounted phone and start dialling.

“Sugar, what are you doin’?” Sy asks, sounding confused. “Who you callin’?”

“A cab,” you say roughly, “I’m leaving.”

“You’re leaving?” he says, sounding offended.

“Stop repeating everything I say!”

“Sugar, I just laid my heart out and you…”

Your head jerks up and you see bewilderment in his pinched brow. He keeps advancing on you, hesitantly, as if at any moment he expected you to tell him to stop. And you want to. You open your mouth to tell him so, but the look in his eyes gives you pause.

He leans into you, trapping your body against the counter. His hands cover your cheeks. “Baby, I mean it, I ain’t lyin’ to you. I feel somethin’ every time I touch ya. Every time you smile at me I feel like I’m about to break out in a sweat. When you cry it makes my chest ache and I...” His arm coils around your back and he rests his weight against you, “If you don’t want me, fine, okay; I’ll let ya go and you can call your cab. But I don’t want you to leave thinkin’ I lied to you.”

“Why haven't you told me this before?”

“Baby, I wanted to. So many times,” he chuckles bitterly and lowers his head. “I thought I was over you, we were kids, and I was gone then you were gone. But every time I came back and saw you,” his voice lowers to nearly a whisper, “I knew I was never gonna stop wantin’ to be with you.”

God, this is too much. This is crazy, just crazy. And you just can’t deal with it.

“I want to go home, Sy,” you manage to rasp as tears well in your eyes again.

Sy doesn’t move for a moment, and you think maybe he won’t let you leave. Then he sniffs and takes a step back, without looking at you. “Okay,” he says, “Yeah, okay.”

A piercing pain strikes your chest at the dejected sound of his voice. “I’m sorry, Sy. I…”

He holds a hand out to you, gesturing you to stop. “It’s ok, you don’t gotta explain,” He rubs his hand over his head and down his face, “I’m uh… I’ll let ya make your call,” he says as he turns away and leaves the kitchen.

You call the cab company with shaking fingers. You think you’re going to have to call out to Sy to get his address, but you discover a few bills stuck to his fridge. After you hang up, you find some tissues, bundle them up and stick them in the pocket of your pants, certain you’re going to need them for the ride home.

Shit.

You are wearing Sy’s clothes. You go to the rack by the door and grab your bag, intending to change before you leave.

“You don’t have to change,” Sy says, from behind you. You turn to him and notice that he’s put on a t-shirt, sweats and some shoes. “Keep ‘em. Or give ‘em back another time.”

God, he sounds so broken, so hurt, and awfully resigned. 

“Sy, I…” you start to cry again; you can’t stop the tears.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Sy draws you into his arms, “Easy now, it’s ok.”

You shake your head into his chest. It's not okay. It won't ever be okay between you again. You know that. You know your relationship has changed forever. You feel like shit. Here you are rejecting him, telling him you’re not interested and he’s the one holding you while you cry. No matter how good it feels to be in his embrace, you can’t take comfort from him anymore. It's not fair to him.

Taking a deep breath to compose yourself, you slide out of Sy’s arms. You slip your shoes on, feeling utterly ridiculous in your heels and put your coat on. Sy reaches for his coat too and when you’re ready to leave, he opens the door for you and walks you out.

When he opens his building's front door, the icy chill of the night air slices through Sy’s t-shirt and your thin coat, taking your breath away. You start to shiver immediately.

“Sy, it’s freezing. You don’t have to wait with me.”

He just shakes his head and walks you to the street. “How long did they say they’d be?”

“Ten minutes,” you tell him.

He nods and sticks his hands in his pockets and you put yours under your arms, stepping from foot to foot trying to keep warm.

“Think it’ll rain later?” Sy asks looking up at the cloudy night sky.

“Sy, you don’t have to do this,” you say, “you don’t have to pretend that everythings okay.”

“I’m just talkin’. Ain’t we able to talk now that I’ve made a complete fool of myself?” he grins, making light of the situation.

“You didn’t…” Sy glances at you out of the corner of his eyes, and you shake your head. “Not a complete fool.”

“Just a li’l bit then,” he surmises.

You shrug. He really hadn’t misinterpreted anything. You look down at your feet, curling your toes in your heels, trying to keep them warm. You don’t want to think about it, you don’t want to think about him, you just want to go home, have a cry in your bed and try to sort out your mixed up feelings. 

“Cab’s here,” he says.

You look up and see that he’s right. The driver pulls up, winds his window down and says your name, confirming the car is for you. You nod and for a moment you’re stuck, unable to move.

Sy places a gentle hand on your lower back and you can feel his warm breath as he kisses your temple.

“Go on, Sugar,” he murmurs.

You close your eyes. Your chest tightens, and a lump forms in your throat. You reach a hand out to him but he’s already moved away, walking back to his apartment. You feel sick, you can’t work out what’s wrong with you. Why does it feel like your heart is breaking?

“Miss?” the cab driver calls to you, “You coming?”

You’re trembling and not just from the cold. You take a step back from the cab and shake your head.

“I made a mistake,” you tell the driver. He looks at you with raised eyebrows but you don't have time to explain.

Pivoting, you run back towards the building. Sy has already gone back inside and you see him at the stairs. You knock frantically on the door, he stiffens and turns around, his eyes widening momentarily in surprise. He comes back down the stairs in a little jog, and opens the door with furrowed brows.

“Did you forget somethin’?” Sy asks.

You shake your head, unable to get the words out.

Sy looks over your head, “Hey, your cabs leaving, what—”

Standing on your toes you put your arms around his neck and pull his mouth down to yours. 

Sparks. Skipped heart beats. Butterflies. Yearning. Need. 

You feel it all as Sy groans and wraps his arms around you. His lips are as soft rose petals as they move over yours, stroking lightly at first before building pressure. You feel something hard against your back and you barely register that he's brought you inside and pinned you against the wall.

“Sy,” you whisper, drawing away to take a ragged breath. 

“Baby,” Sy says, his hands moving over your body as if confirming that you’re really there, “you came back.” He states the obvious and if you weren't closing in on the edge of a pure mental meltdown yourself, you would have laughed. 

His lips are on yours again, his beard feels so soft as his whiskers slide over your lips. He lifts your shirt, his hands are cool and your skin feels like it's burning as they brush your trembling belly. He grasps your waist, his fingers dig into your flesh as his kiss becomes firmer.

“Want this… Want you… So long… Always…” He murmurs between kisses.

His lips move down your neck, his kiss is rough, wet and scorching. His hands move higher, squeezing at your ribs as if he wants to crush you. You close your eyes, your body arching, your hips slotting against his and you moan.

His thumbs caress the curve of your bare breasts beneath his shirt. Your hands seem to move by their own volition as they glide down his neck and under his jacket. You slide it off his shoulders feeling the tension held in the bulging mass of muscles beneath his shirt.

His hands leave your body while he throws his coat off like it's on fire and he drops it uncaringly to the floor. Then he leans hard into you, hips circling you and you can feel him, growing hard, so fucking hard, against your belly. His hands move under your shirt again, but he withdraws them quickly.

“Upstairs,” he breathes and he bends down to grab his coat.

Wordlessly, he takes your hand and walks you towards the stairs. You get the feeling if you weren’t trotting after him, he’d drag you anyway.

He turns to look at you as you reach the first landing, his eyes are blue fire as he bites his lip. You don’t know what he sees when he looks at you, but you know you must be reflecting the same vehement expression. Now that you’ve kissed, there’s no way to hide your feelings. He takes the stairs blind, like he’s bewitched by your face and won’t even look where he’s going. You aren’t much better, seemingly trapped by the same force that keeps his eyes on you.

As he opens the door to his apartment, his heavy silence and heady gaze finally gets the better of you. Closing your eyes, you turn away from him slowly, taking your bags off and placing them by the door.

Sy hums as he moves behind helping you take your coat off. You step out of your heels, using the movements to put some distance between the two of you.

“I think we need to talk about this before it goes any further, Sy,” you say looking at his cream coloured carpet.

His feet enter your field of vision and he lifts your chin. 

“Shoot,” he says in his deep gravelly voice.

You swallow hard. God, he radiates sexual energy, raw, primal, and seductive. You haven’t felt that from him before, never to this extent at least. His hand moves down your throat and slides to the side of your neck. Your body hums, vibrating from somewhere deep inside.

“I’m listening,” he prompts.

He seems so composed now, so in control, earlier he had been as wild as you. Now you feel like you’re about to spontaneously combust and he’s as cool as ice.

“I uh… What are we going to do?” you ask flustered and uncomposed, your eyes sliding shut as he tugs gently on your ear with his thumb and forefinger.

“Now or tomorrow?” His breath is hot on your neck as he dips his head and nuzzles into you. His beard pleasantly brushes over your skin and you feel it in your spine as you shiver with pleasure.

“Now? Both?” His silky lips skim over you, the potent cocktail of sensations is doing you in and you can’t think. “Sy stop, please.”

Leaving you with one last kiss he breathes in deeply before taking a step back. He crosses his arms over his chest and your eyes slide over his body, lingering on the bulge between his legs. You drag your focus to his face and you see that you were wrong, he’s not composed, he’s as aroused as you are.

“Oh fuck it,” you say, and grab his shirt in your fists.

A fleeting look of shock crosses Sy’s features before his blue eyes flash with lust and he grins like a cat who got the cream. He captures your face in his hands and meets your lips with his.

His hands roam everywhere, kneading at your hips, your breasts, and your ass. You can’t keep your hands off him either, running up his thickly muscled arms, to his neck and down his strong back. Your fingers dive into the scruff of his beard finding it surprisingly soft and your nails scratch gently at his cheeks and jaw.

“Couch or bed?” he growls with a raised eyebrow. You know what he's asking, he wants to know how far you want to take this.

“Bed,” you say determinedly. You want it, you want him, why are you questioning it?

“Oh fuck yeah.”

Without letting you out of his arms he walks you to his bed, awkwardly trying to toe off his shoes as he keeps trying to kiss you.

“You can let me go, Sy,” you tease as he grunts and he finally kicks his shoes away.

“Can’t do that, baby,” he says with a smirk, “I ain’t ever lettin’ you go.” He grabs your ass and lifts you onto his hips and you yelp. “I’m gonna bundle you up and take you with me everywhere. Might get some side eye at work, but it’ll be worth it.”

“You’re so cheesy, Sy,” you giggle, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty when you laugh, Sugar,” he says without the slightest hint of amusement and your laughter dies.

An intensity settles between you as Sy takes the last few steps into his bedroom. He leaves the light off and turns on a small lamp that bathes the room in a soft warm glow. Then he lowers you to your feet.

You turn to look at the bed, the covers are still pulled back as you left it when you got up to get a drink. Sy walks around the other side and climbs in and you slip between the covers and meet him in the middle of the bed. There is a weighty anticipation and part of you wonders if you’re moving too fast. Maybe you should have picked the couch.

If you’re honest with yourself, your trepidation comes from more than that. Now that the moment has arrived, now that you’re in bed with the man you have wanted to be with for as long as you can remember, you fear disappointment.

You know you shouldn’t get caught up in your head. Kissing Sy was already a better experience than you’ve ever had with any man before. But somehow that makes the ball of anxiety in your gut grow even heavier and more onerous.

And worse than all of that is the question: what if you had it wrong all the time? What if you’re the one who is a disappointment? What if sex was always bad for you because you aren’t any good at it?

“You okay?” Sy asks as he strokes your cheek with the back of his fingers.

You shrug. He rubs his thumb between your pinched brows as if to soothe away your worries. He looks away for a moment and stares off into the distance, then he brings his eyes back to you.

“Are you thinkin’ ‘bout some of the things you told me about earlier?”

You drop your head and quietly curse.

“Don’t think about that, baby. Just feel me,” he says.

“I can’t help it,” you whisper.

“Let me help you then,” Sy says with a grin and throws back the covers. 

“Sy…” you whimper softly.

“Hush,” he says, brushing mouth against yours.

His velvety soft tongue flicks teasingly at your lips before his hands travel down your sides. He lifts your shirt, and moves down your body until he is kissing your belly.

“Jane’s Addiction,” Sy murmurs as he nuzzles into your tummy.

“What?” you ask, completely thrown by his out of left field comment.

“Jane’s Addiction was playin’ on the radio the first time I met you.”

“You remember the first time you met me?”

He nods solemnly, “Few days into senior year. It was rainin’ and Carol begged me to drive her and her new friend home.”

“Oh I remember that!” you say. You laugh and run your hand over his buzz cut, “Your hair was so long and curly.”

“Yeah, it was,” he breathes and you gasp as his hands reach your breasts.

You bite your lip as he lifts your shirt higher and his eyes grow wide as your breasts are revealed. He keeps raising the hem and you lift your arms. With a quick tug you’re topless and before you even have a chance to feel self conscious, he rises to his knees, reaches behind his head and he is swiftly shirtless too.

He lays over you, his weight is heavy but welcomed and warm. His lips are at your neck, his hand cupping your breast, caressing, rubbing, squeezing.

“You sat in the backseat, and I kept looking in the rear view mirror at you. I couldn’t stop.” 

His kiss moves to your nipple, his tongue slips between his teeth, circling before drawing you into his mouth. The gentle suckle makes you moan and you ache for more as the throbbing between your legs borders on unbearable. His azure gaze is intense and hungry as he lifts his head.

“You wore a green strapless dress to my 21st birthday and kept stealin’ my tequila shots,” he continues, “You wore a pink cardigan with cherries on it when you came to my homecoming after my first deployment,” his voice gets low as he adds, “You kissed me that night, just my cheek, but I’ll never forget it, or that your hair smelled like strawberries.”

“Sy…”

He rises to his knees again, licking his lips and tucking the bottom one into his mouth. His broad chest is puffing hard as he looks at you and hooked his fingers into the waistband of your borrowed sweats. 

“You cut your hair to look like some actress when you came to visit me with Carol after I made it through selection,” he glances away long enough to untie the draw string.

You cover your face in your hands, reliving the painful six months it took for the cut to grow out. “Oh God, that haircut was awful.”

“It was,” Sy chuckles, then he’s quiet as you feel the sweats slide down your thighs. You peek through your fingers. “But you were still so fucking beautiful,” he says and his body covers yours. He removes your hands from your face and cradles your head in his hand, “You are beautiful.”

You shake your head, but you smile, warming with his compliments. “You remember all of that?”

“That and so much more,” he says as he dips his head and kisses you.

You kiss him back with a slightly parted mouth and you slip your tongue past his lips. He groans wrapping an arm around your waist while yours encircle his neck. He breathes hard into your mouth as he kisses you, and you have no doubt you’re breathing just as hard.

“Gonna go slow, okay?” Sy murmurs. His eyes sweep down over your nearly naked form and he chuckles, “Gonna try anyway.”

“You don’t have to,” you say.

“I want to,” he insists, “I wanna take care of you, make it good for you.”

He kisses you as he places his hand on the inside of your thigh and exertes slight pressure. You let yourself open for him, so eager for his touch you can’t stop trembling. His kiss grows deeper, harder as his fingertips dance up your thigh.

His hand cups your clothed centre and he groans as you gasp and instinctively close your legs. He holds your thigh and guides it open again with a gentle yet firm touch. The heel of his palm presses against your clit and your body surges, heat radiating as he moves in tight circles.

Your heart starts to pound, your breath shudders and your thighs won’t stop shaking. You recognise the feeling and it's good, better than good; every stroke of his hand, every brush of his lips and flick of his tongue at your mouth takes you higher until your entire body throbs.

Sy lifts his head, his mouth hovers just above yours. He stares into your eyes while his fingers delicately trace the edge of your underwear. 

“Gonna take ‘em off,” he says, pausing until you nod, lifting your hips and he drags your panties down your thighs.

With a gentle nudge he guides your thighs open again and his hand strokes your body, from your hip to your breasts, he leaves a trail of goosebumps on your skin. He bites his lip as he looks at you then he lowers his head until it rests next to yours on the pillow.

“I wanna make you cum,” he says as he caresses your shoulder then traces an invisible line down your arm.

He laces his fingers between yours and brings your joined hands to your core. Your hips roll, spine arches as he dips your fingers into your slick and sticky wetness.

“Fuck,” Sy groans and presses his forehead into yours, “Show me what you like, show me what feels good.”

You shake your head, “I don’t think…”

“There ya go thinkin’ when ya should be feelin’,” Sy says, his voice a little teasing.

Guiding your joined hands he slides your fingers over your folds and spreads your wetness all over you.

“Close your eyes for me,” he murmurs, “Just feel what I do, listen to what I say. Can you do that for me, baby?”

You don’t respond, you can’t, so you close your eyes and try to focus on his touch.

“Put my hand where you want it,” he urges hoarsely.

You nod and take hold of his wrist and using your other hand you cover his. You guide him over your slit letting his whole hand glide over you, the friction of his skin against your folds makes you moan.

“Your pussy feels so good, baby,” he breathes into your ear, “love how soft ya are… delicate…”

You whimper as your nails dig into his wrist and your body heaves. A warm rush floods your core, you’ve never been so aroused by a man in your life. “Oh God, Sy.”

“So wet and puffy and warm, bet ya taste real good too.”

Molten hot liquid seems to flow through your veins and heat blooms deep within your gut. You raise his fingers to your clit, placing them right where you need them and you guide his movements for a few seconds. His hand moves passively over you until he seems to catch your rhythm and you feel the moment he takes over. You let him go and try to keep breathing as torrid jolts of intense pleasure wreak havoc on your nerves.

“I wanted this for a long time. Wanted you here, in my bed, wanted to touch you like this,” he says as his beard grazes the side of your neck and his lips capture your earlobe. “And that you wanted it too, that you wanted to be here, with me.”

His confession makes you open your eyes and turn your head towards him. He’s looking down at his hand between your legs, his brows are low and his eyes are narrow. He bites his lip and you watch stunned as his teeth drag over his soft flesh.

“Fuck,” he says under his breath, so softly that if you hadn’t seen his mouth moving you don’t think you would have been able to make out what he said. 

His eyes sweep up your body and he catches you looking at him. Through your moans, you smile shyly at him and he makes a low growling noise in his throat.

“You look so beautiful like this,” he rumbles, and he leans over you. 

Your lips meet in a sordid clash, it's wet, sloppy and uncontrolled. You grab at his arm clawing and clutching, your legs won’t stop shaking, and you can’t stop your moans turning into cries.

You squeeze your eyes shut and fall back into the pillow, concentrating on the tightness between your legs. Your whole body feels taut, pulled tight like an elastic, ready to snap at any moment. This is where it stops for you, where you get caught, where you take too long, where he gets bored, where he…

“Sy, I don’t think I can, I…” you say, turning him, panting and exhausted.

Sy takes your hand and holds it against his sweats. You feel him underneath, hard as steel, pulsing, and thick.

“Oh shit,” you cry.

“Feel that, baby?” Sy groans, “That's what touchin’ you does to me. If ya want me to stop, I will, but don’t ask me to stop cause you think I don’t wanna do this. ‘Cause you’d be dead wrong.”

You gasp and whine, mewling as you melt into his gaze. An animal hunger and primal need is naked in his stare, but so was his enjoyment. There is a subtle curve to his lips as he starts to rut against your hand and you can have no doubt of his desire.

“Don’t stop,” you say. 

Sy voice reverberates in his chest as he rests his forehead against yourrs forehead, his eyes holding yours as with a gaze that would be predatory if he wasn’t simultaneously panting as if he’s trapped too.

The tension within you builds again, faster now and it takes you no time to flirt with the edge of release. Your body becomes unhinged; clenching, desperate, writhing. You cry out as you fly apart and for a moment you hang there, floating in bliss as your body undulates, riding out each scorching wave of euphoric pleasure.

When you come back down and can start to think coherently you feel Sy’s nose rubbing gently against yours. His hand is flat covering your core, slowly dragging up and down over you, as if he really is touching you for his own enjoyment. His mouth drifts lazily over yours, kissing your top then bottom lip.

Your hand is still against his cock, your fingers caging him as your palm presses flat. You move your hand, and you feel the rush of air from his lungs against your lips in a ragged exhale. You do it again and his hips jerk.

“Baby…” he drawls.

You roll onto your side so you're facing him, and rest your free hand against the centre of his chest, your fingers sinking into his coarse hair.

“Sy…” you hum back as you slide your hand down his torso until your fingers find another patch of hair and your fingertips dip teasingly into his waistband.

“Wanna touch me, huh?” he asks in a low, gravelly tone. 

“Yes,” you say.

“Fuck, that word has never sounded so good,” Sy grins.

You giggle softly then bite your lip, you probably shouldn’t laugh at a time like this.

Sy caresses your cheek with the back of his fingers, “I love it when you smile, Sugar.”

Your lips stretch wide, you can’t help it. Sy hums, still grinning and leans in to kiss you. You move your hand lower into his pants and finding the elastic of his boxer briefs, you slip your fingers beneath those too. Your heart pounds and your fingers tremble as you feel the tight soft skin of his cock. With the softest touch you can manage, you wrap your hand around him.

Sy sucks in a breath with a hiss, “Gonna take my pants off.” You nod and relax your hand, but he puts a hand on your wrist. “Don’t let go.”

You suppress another giggle as Sy awkwardly lowers his pants around where you’re joined. But he moves fast and quickly he settles onto his back and draws you close under his arm.

Looking down, your eyes widen as you take in the sight of him. Your body warms again as you watch your hand move slowly over him. You feel Sy’s body twitch, moving slightly as you work him with a slow easy rhythm. 

Then as if he couldn’t hold it in any longer he lets out a low groan and his whole body heaves. His arm tightens around you and he lifts your chin before covering your mouth with his. His tongue sweeps over yours as he kisses you firmly, ferociously, demandingly. Then he falls back again, his head dropping into the pillow.

You kiss his shoulder, his muscles pulling taut below his skin as he tightens his arm around you. Encouraged, you move your mouth along his collarbone to the base of his neck. You want to kiss him there but you’re too far away, so you move onto your belly, almost climbing over his huge form until you’re half on him, half on the mattress. Without stopping the motion of your hand, you nuzzle into his neck. His skin is so hot beneath your lips, humid as he breaks out into a sweat.

“Fuck,” he groans, and he holds the back of your head to him as his body rolls under you. Despite how small his size makes you feel physically, the way he moves, the noises that he makes, and the way he touches you, makes you feel powerful. You love knowing you’re making him feel good and you want to give him more.

You move down his body slowly, leaving a trail of kisses as you go. When you reach his hip, you look up at him and his eyes are already on you.

“Baby?” he asks.

You look at him in your hand briefly then look back at Sy and lick your lips.

“Wanna put me in your mouth, huh?” he whispers, his chest is pumping hard, his cock is pulsing and becoming unbelievably thick in your hand. He reaches down and rubs his thumb over your mouth. “Pretty li’l lips.”

“Yes.” You part your lips and without breaking the rhythmic motions of your hand you take him in your mouth.

“God damn…” He cradles your head in his warm hands, fingers caressing your neck and throat, tracing the curve of your jaw. 

“Look so good, baby… feel so good…” 

He groans and his hips move in a slow, gentle rocking motion, his body arching as he moves within your mouth. His tenderness is not what you’re used to; he essentially fucking your mouth, yet you feel as though he’s completely surrendered to the moment and to you.

Sy isn’t quiet, and you quickly discover what he likes by watching and listening. You find a nice rhythm, sucking and massaging with your tongue while he pumps into your mouth. He’s careful not to go too deep at first, but soon you see his starts to become erratic, tensing his thighs hard and he seems to grow harder in your hand. You take over, moving over him steadily increasing his pace.

“Gonna make me cum, baby,” he grunts out his warning, “Oh fuck! Gonna fuckin’ cum in your mouth.”

His eyes close tight, his head rolls back and his whole body seems to elongate. His groans turn into growls before he roars your name and begins to fill your mouth with long, thick, and warm jets.

“Fuck, fuck,” he mumbles as you slow down your movements, gently licking within your mouth until he shivers with a hum and pulls his hips away.

You sit on your knees, unsure of what to do. Now that it is over and both your passions are sated, you wonder what is going to happen. You have fleeting images of awkward interactions, perhaps never talking about this night again.

You place your hand on his still trembling thigh. You like the feeling of his sparsely haired skin under your palm, and you try to commit this moment to memory, in case it never happens again. He’s so attractive; his shoulders, arms and forehead are covered in a light sheen, his mouth is curved into a soft smile and he has a hand on his chest as he breathes heavily and steadily while he comes down from his high.

“Whatcha doin’ all the way over there?” Sy asks as he lifts the hand off his chest and beckons you to him.

Hesitantly you lay next to him, positioning yourself into the crook of his arm with your head on his shoulder. He lifts your chin and kisses your mouth with a tender stroke of lips and tongue.

Sy pulls away humming and asks, “You need anythin’? A drink or somethin’?”

You shake your head, “No. Thank you though.”

Sy chuckles a little and kisses you on the top of your head. “Want to sleep?” He asks, his beard tickles your forehead as he adds, “With me?”

“Yeah, I do,” you say softly.

He leans down to bring the covers up over both of you. He hums again. He sounds content and happy, and starts to stroke your arms with his fingers. 

You start to think that maybe… maybe this thing with you and Sy isn't just a one off.

When you wake in the morning, you find yourself alone in bed. 

Your heart sinks into your gut and your throat seems to want to close up. You quickly take hold of yourself rationalising that you’re in his bed, surely he couldn’t be so desperate to avoid you that he would leave his own house and make you find your own way home.

As you raise your head to sit up, you notice a piece of paper on Sy’s pillow. Nervously, you reach for it and see that it’s a quickly scrawled note.

Gone for a run.

You looked so pretty sleeping, I didn’t wanna wake you. 

I put the coffee on. Make yourself a cup if you want. 

Sy

The mild panic you felt begins to wane as you read over his note again. He hasn’t just left you, he’s coming back and he still thinks you’re pretty. Smiling stupidly, you flop back onto the bed and give a little squeal into the pillows.

Before Sy returns, you get dressed in your clothes from last night. The top you wore felt scandalously low in the light of the early morning, but your coat would cover most of it. You wash your face and rub some toothpaste onto your teeth and rinse. You think about looking for a brush, but you don’t want to go searching through Sy’s bathroom cabinet.

Just as you’re finishing pouring yourself a coffee, Sy returns. He hasn’t noticed you yet, so biting your lip you take the time to really look at him as he toes off his sneakers. Sy is spectacularly attractive wearing an army PT t-shirt, a pair of running shorts, iPod earbuds in his ears, dripping with sweat and humming. He seems to ooze a raw, primal, brutal sexuality in his walk as he heads your way.

When he finally notices you, he grins and pulls the earbuds out and lays his iPod on the kitchen bench. He comes close but keeps some distance between you as he lays a hand on your hip before leaning in to kiss your cheek.

“Mornin’, Sugar,” he says. He takes a step back as you reach for him and you feel disappointed. It must have shown on your face because he quickly continues, “I’m all sweaty. Gonna take a shower, okay?”

You smile and nod, “Okay.”

He returns your smile and takes half a step to move away, before changing his mind and turning back to you.

“I liked comin’ home to you,” he says. His eyes wander over your clothes, and he runs a finger down your exposed chest. “You look good.”

Feeling a little timid by his suggestive touch, you look to the ground and make a joke. “You like my walk of shame outfit?”

“I ain’t ashamed, baby,” he says, sweaty or not, he takes you in his arms, “you ain’t got nothin’ to be ashamed of neither. I don’t regret what happened last night. Not one bit.”

You meet his eyes and see how open his stare is and you believe him. You see the unasked question as he peers at you. “I don’t either, Sy.”

“Good,” Sy grins, “‘Cause I wanna do it again.” You laugh a little and look away and Sy chuckles too. “No, I mean… Well yeah, that. But I wanna take ya out. On a date.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” Sy says firmly. Then his eyes light up. “Wait here okay? Wanna show ya somethin’.” 

He doesn’t wait for your reply and leaves the kitchen coming back moments later with an envelope and hands it to you.

“Last night, you asked why I hadn’t said anythin’ about how I felt,” he waits for you to nod before he continues, “Well, I was planning on askin’ you to come with me. Ask you out, I mean.”

Turning the envelope over, you lift the flap and pull out two concert tickets to Jane’s Addiction.

“Sy, I…” you look at him feeling overwhelmed, “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll go with me.”

“Of course I will,” you say.

Sy draws you into his arms, kisses you and doesn’t let go.