Gina woke up with a headache. She groaned holding her head, rolled over, and bumped into something. Someone, she thought, moving her hand to feel the lump next to her.

Gina sat up quickly and turned to look.

Mouse was lying next to her sound asleep. He'd taken off his shoes and tie. His white dress shirt had about a hundred wrinkles on it.

She tried to remember what had happened. Gina remembered being at Doyle's party, remembered drinking punch. She didn't remember drinking anything else.

Gina didn't remember leaving the party or coming home. She certainly didn't remember Mouse getting into bed with her. She sighed a big sigh of relief that both he and she were fully clothed. Mouse had only removed her coat and shoes. Gina held a hand to her head again embarrassed and in pain.

She slid down and put her head back on the pillow and closed her eyes sleepily. Gina smiled thinking how nice it was of Mouse to stay with her. She opened her eyes and rolled over to she watch him sleep.

He was so cute. Mouse's dark eyelashes flickered as he slept. She wondered what he was dreaming about. Maybe about the night before and any embarrassing things she may have said or done.

Mouse's eyes flickered open and he glanced over at her and smiled sleepily. He stretched and then turned over on his side to look at her.

"Morning," Gina murmured.

"Morning. How's the head?" he asked, lifting a hand and stroked her hair.

"Killer. How'd I get wasted?"

"Doyle's famous special punch. Emphasis on the special part," he grinned.

"Oh, no, the punch," she groaned, putting a hand to her head. "And I was trying to be good and not drink."

"He should have told you. You're new to the group," he said, switching his hand to stroke her hair with the other.

"How badly did I embarrass myself? And you for that matter?"

"Not at all. We made a quiet exit."

"Did you have to carry me?"

"No, you walked. Clumsily, but you walked."

"Thank you for helping me; and for staying," she said, looking into his eyes.

"You're welcome."

"Mouse?"

"Yeah?" he asked with a yawn, covering it with his arm.

"Did I say anything?"

"Huh?"

"Did I say anything at the party? Or after?"

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Anything potentially embarrassing."

"If I told you that you did then you would be embarrassed. If I don't tell you anything you have nothing to be embarrassed about."

"Nice philosophy but it sounds like I said something. What did I say?"

"It doesn't matter."

"It does. I don't want to lose you as a friend."

"That'd never happen. No matter what, ok?"

"But..."

"Gina, what was said or not said doesn't matter. You were drunk and would have never had said them if you weren't. I know that and I respect that. I'm not going to say anything to anybody about what was said. Everything will be kept to myself."

"Did I say anything about... us though?"

He sighed. "It doesn't matter what was said. You were drunk."

"Oh, God, I did. What'd I say, Mouse?"

He shook his head. "Don't worry about it, Gina."

"Do you hate me?"

"I wouldn't be here if I did, would I?" he asked, stroking her cheek.

"Thank you for staying."

"You're welcome." Mouse ran the back of his hand along her jaw line. His eyes looked into hers.

"Mouse?"

"Yeah?"

"You ever going to kiss me?"

He moved his hand to the back of her neck and leaned in and kissed her gently on the lips. Gina moaned at the contact and he pulled her in deeper, his tongue reaching for hers in a flurry of passion. The taste of him was intoxicating on its own. She wanted more.

His hands slid down her bare back, his fingers caressing her skin. Mouse pulled away from her mouth and moved to her neck, kissing it with his soft lips and running his tongue in soft caresses over it.

"I've been dying for months to do that," he whispered, moving back to her lips.

"Me too," she sighed, wrapping her arms around his neck.

He smiled. He looked at her and stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. "I have to go."

"Don't go."

"I have to work," he argued, kissing her lightly.

"Call in sick."

"I'm going to Paris."

"Paris?"

"Yup."

"With Tessa," she pouted.

"Jealous?"

"Yes."

"Don't be," he said, kissing her nose. "You have no reason to be."

"She's so pretty."

"You're prettier," he insisted, kissing her again.

"You're so sweet."

A cell phone rang. Gina felt herself being pulled out of a deep sleep. She felt a shifting in the bed and groaned. She'd been dreaming.

"Yeah?" Mouse's voice grumbled. "Oh, hey, mom," he said with a yawn.

"Mouse?" Gina asked, leaning up on an elbow not believing he was actually there.

"Hold on, mom," he said and put the phone to his chest. "Sorry to wake you."

"No, it's okay," she said holding her throbbing head. It had been a dream. Yet, Mouse lay there in her bed just like in it. What the heck had happened? What was a dream and what was real?

"Are you alright?" he asked concerned.

She groaned, "No, I'm going grab some aspirin." Gina attempted to get up.

Mouse took her arm and helped her up. Her head felt like lead and her body felt like she was walking through the deep end of a swimming pool.

"Can you make it?" Mouse's gray eyes narrowed in concern.

Gina turned on the water and splashed some on her face. She groaned remembering bits and pieces of the previous night. And of Mouse. He had been so sweet. She had gotten sick several times during the night and he had held her hair back as she leaned over the toilet. Mouse had splashed cold water on her face.

Gina groaned again, remembering she had told Mouse that she loved him. And she did, as more than a friend, she admitted to herself. She hoped that he thought she was talking about as friends. Gina would die of embarrassment if Mouse didn't feel anything remotely in the same way as she felt for him.

She would rather Mouse never know that she was in love with him than to have him know and then lose him because he didn't feel the same and things became too awkward between them.

Gina quickly brushed her teeth and her hair and headed back into the bedroom.

Mouse was lying on her bed as in her dream, wrinkled dress shirt open at the collar. His tie and coat lay carelessly on the chair in the corner of the room. His shoes just as carelessly kicked under it.

Mouse's sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and he laughed at whatever his mom was saying on the other side of the phone. Gina could get used to that picture real fast.

He looked up and winked at her. "My mom doesn't believe I'm in bed with a beautiful woman."

"I'm up now," Gina said blushing and walked towards him.

"Barely," he teased. Mouse held the phone out to her, "Here say hi to my mom so she believes me."

"Is that really your mom?" she asked in disbelief as she sat on the bed next to him.

"You women are so untrusting. Say hi," he insisted, shaking the phone at her. "Please," he batted his eyelashes.

"Anything for the Mouse man," Gina said with a sigh and took the phone from him.

"Hello?"

"Ignore my son. He thinks he's a comedian," a kind woman's voice answered.

"Oh, I know that. I figured that out the day we met."

"He really stayed over with you?"

"It's embarrassing really. I accidentally had too much to drink and Mouse was kind enough to watch out for me. He's a sweetheart."

"Hey, don't ruin my rep," Mouse said, grabbing the phone back from her. "See? You thought I was making her up," he said into the phone.

Mouse put an arm around Gina's shoulders and pulled her into him. She leaned her head against his chest for support. Gina felt so protected in his arms, if she could stay there forever she'd be the happiest person on earth.

"I will. Yeah. Oh, when?...Can't. No, I have to work, mom. I don't know. Maybe Christmas Eve. I know, ma. Talk to Corbin. He's got me booked solid. I'm off for Christmas Day. I don't know. I'll be home, I swear. I don't know. Probably her family.... Mom! Alright, alright."

Mouse looked down to Gina. "My mom wants to know if you would like to come over for Christmas, if you don't already have plans."

She smiled flattered, "I wish I could. I'm going to my folks though."

Gina saw a flash of disappointment cross his face before he quickly masked it and put the phone back to his ear. "Did you hear that? I tried. Yeah, yeah. I know, mom. Okay, I got to go. Mom. Mom. I'll call you when I get there. Okay. Yeah, I love you too. Bye," he turned off the phone and sighed deeply.

"Sorry for the interruption," Mouse kissed the top of her head.

"It's okay, I was dying to brush my teeth anyway."

"How are you?" Mouse ran his hand up and down her arm.

"Horrible," she groaned, turning her head into his shoulder.

He laughed. "You have to go to work or anything today?"

Gina shook her head. "Ow."

Mouse pulled away and slid the bedspread and sheets back. "Get back in. Take it easy today."

"I can't move," she muttered, putting her hand to her head.

He slipped an arm under Gina's legs and the other around her waist, picked her up, and set her gently down into the bed. He pulled the covers over her.

"Thanks."

"No problem." Mouse knelt down next to her. "Anything I can do for you?" He stroked her head lightly.

"You've done too much already. Thanks so much, Mouse. Really you've been so sweet to me."

"Hey, that's what friends are for, right?" he asked with a light smile.

"Yeah." Gina tried to smile back at the word 'friends'.

"Um, I got to go for a little bit. Will you be okay if I leave you alone? Do you want me to call Anna or something?"

"No, I'll be fine," she told him. "Really," she squeezed his hand in reassurance,"I'll get some more sleep."

"Okay, but call me later and let me know how you're doing," he said, getting up.

"I will."

"Eat something."

"Don't mention food," Gina held her stomach and groaned.

"You have got to try. You need something in your stomach. It'll help with the hangover. Do you want me to make you some toast or something before I split?"

"No, thanks, I can't think about eating right now. I promise that I'll get something later. Are you going to work?"

"Yeah, I got some pictures that I have got to work on; I've got to get them turned in tomorrow."

"Okay. Go. Get your work done," she told him waving to the door. "Thanks for the invite to your folks by the way."

"I didn't invite you. My mom did."

"She's nice."

"Yes, she is," he said, looking down at her, studying her face.

Gina waves him off. "Go, go. I'll be fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes! Thank you Florence Nightingale. Just go, will you?"

Mouse leaned over to kiss her on the forehead. "Get some rest. And call me later."

"I will."

*****************************

Mouse rubbed his face as he waited for the elevator to go up. He was exhausted. He needed a shower. He needed time to think.

The previous night was brutal. Gina had been drunk and sick. She said things she probably didn't mean; like thinking that she might be in love with him. Both hims: He as Oliver with the notes and the flowers, then him as Mouse, the friend.

Gina was torn between the two of them, she had said. How could she choose? She loved them both. One of whom she had absurdly never met. How could she be in love with someone she had never even met? Gina had demanded. How could she be in love with her best friend? She had asked. Of course, that was before she passed out again.

He hadn't meant to keep his name a secret. It just happened. All of his friends called him Mouse. And the ones that had originally called him Oliver or Ollie usually ended up calling him Mouse since pretty much everyone did.

Even Corbin had been calling him Mouse now and he had flat our refused in the beginning. Corbin had insisted that Oliver was a much classier name to advertise professionally than Mouse. So, Oliver was his name on the photos in the magazines, but in person everyone called him Mouse.

The notes between him and Gina just kept going and Mouse found that he could easily tell her what he was feeling on paper rather than in person.

It was not until after several notes, and after they had become friends, that Mouse figured out Gina had no clue it was him writing to her. So he continued the notes upping the flirting as there was no fear of her laughing in his face. And if she didn't like what he had to say all she had to do was throw out the paper. And she hadn't. She continued to write him back. Did she really love him or was that a drunken rambling?

Mouse stepped out of the elevator and pulled out his key to open PH4. It was really looking more like a home. He decorated it so that it was classy place to live in the living room, kitchen, and dining rooms, which would suit Oliver's high society fashion magazine and photographer friends. And the family room, bedrooms, office, and dark room all suited Mouse's tastes which were comfortable and cozy; a place to kick your feet up and not having to worry about messing anything up.

He took a quick shower and pulled himself together. Mouse had some work to do and needed to get started on his Christmas shopping. He was leaving for the Bahamas the following Sunday for a photo shoot for a bathing suit ad.

Mouse sat down to tie his shoes. He would have to make a decision about Gina as sooner or later she'd remember what she had told him whether it was true or not. People said stupid things when they were drunk and Gina was either going to be embarrassed about it or upset that he hadn't said anything back about it. Mouse didn't want her to be either.