A/N: The positive reviews of last chapter certainly surprised me. I thought you were all going to have your panties in a twist because I didn't make the 'i love you' scene all passionate and exciting. I'm glad you enjoyed it regardless.

I woke up alone on my couch, all signs of Marky abandoned. Deciding that I had to pee, the first challenge I choose to faces instead of the fact that I'd told Marky I loved him and now he's nowhere to be found, I sat up. The rush of blood to my head effectively slammed me like a hang over and I fell back down onto the couch. I didn't have to pee that badly, I thought with as much of a shrug as I could muster while limply laying down. I flipped over apburtly to have the smell of pancakes attack my nose. I slowly rose, to avoid the rush or blood, and walked into the kitchen.

My heart skipped a beat at the sight of Marky making my favorite colorful pancakes in my kitchen with his back turned toward me. He normally never makes them because the food dye is messy and he doesn't like to stain everything in sight. I smiled, that was so sweet of him.

"Stop staring at me," I heard him say and I jolted up in the air in surprise.

"I'm just shocked you're here. What's a girl to think when someone isn't there once she wakes up," I shrugged jokingly. I walked around my marble counter top island to stand next to Marky.

"Huh, maybe the girl shouldn't wait until one to wake up. I got hungry," he informed me while flipping a bright green pancake.

"So, none of those are for me," I bit my lip and stared up at him with big eyes.

He cracked a smile and decided to play along. "Not a single one."

I whinned shamefully, "But you made my favorite."

"Don't pout. You can have some. Set out two plates," he chuckled.

"Beautiful!" I exclaimed, grabbing two plates. I leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. Halfway through the turn around to walk to my dining room table and set up the real gravity of what I'd just done sunk in. It was different when Marky and I didn't have feelings, or at least didn't make our feelings known to one another, but now I'd kissed him on the cheek and we were in love and he admitted to wanting to fuck me last night.

I set the plates, forks, and knives down on the table and slipped into a seat. I didn't have to wait long before Marky was setting down the pancakes in front of me. He even took the time to put them in rainbow order. I had to physically restrain myself from swooning.

"Looks good," I commented weakily, but it was enough to get him to smile and the awkward tension to deminish just a little.

"So what have you been up to?" he asked.

"Um, well I told you how I took a dance class, right?" He nodded, but I hadn't been actually waiting for the his validation of that sentence anyway. Even if I hadn't told him he obviously could've gathered. "The owner, Kelly, offered me a job there teaching dance."

He laughed, "Sierra, you haven't danced since fifth grade graduation. Who was it? Billy Diaz? Whatever his name was, looked at you and you discovered boys. That was the end of that."

Hearing him say that stung more then I liked to admit. He wasn't all that wrong, but it wasn't only boys who'd driven me away from dance and art and music. It was preteen angst that happened to carry on until about age twenty-two. Pathetic, but true. I stayed quiet out of lack of something to say and he took that as a hint, although I didn't intend it as one.

"Oh, I didn't mean it like that," he insisted, "It's not like you didn't have other things going on..."

"Hey, Marky," I shut him up to ask a real question that'd been haunting me this whole conversation. "Why are we friends? We have nothing in common. God, in high school the only reason you even left the house until you got a job acting was if I dragged you out. You sleep at night, I sleep all day. You spend about fifty percent of your time trucking it back to New York just to see me between jobs, when we both know  New York doesn't hold that much for you. You're not a fan of the night life like I am."

His eyebrows pulled together with a furious look, but his voice was gently when he spoke. "What exactly are you asking?"

"I know we said... what we said last night, but do you think us together could ever really work? Look at us, we're so different. I know how it'd play out; we'd fight all the time and then have great make up sex and then fight again and the whole thing would become one vicious cycle," I sighed, "I've been done that road before, a lot-."

He interrupted me by sticking his hand up. "Stop. Don't compare anything that we have going on to anything with your old dickheads."

I groaned, "That's another thing. You're so quick to judge all of my past relationships when, no matter what the outcome, I really appreciated all of them. They're a part of me. And when were having sex you're going to be thanking those dickheads for the skills I picked up from them," I laughed.

His face, for the first real time in the conversation, fell. He pushed his chair back from the table a little bit. "Now we can never have sex."

"What? Come on," I exclaimed.

"No, anytime I could even think about sleeping with you I'm going to picture you and those other guys. 'Where'd she learn that from?' is a question that us guys have from time to time," he scoffed, "Except I know where you learned all that stuff from."

I rolled my eyes, "I know where you learned all your stuff from too. It's not like you're Mr. Celibate. You don't hear me complaining. Get off your high horse, man." I folded my arms over my chest and decided I didn't know how to feel. It was equal parts sweet and annoying that Marky had such a problem with my sexual history.

"I'm like a monk compared to you, let's be honest." He crossed his arms over his toned chest with a serious face. I narrowed my eyes and sent him a glare. Stratch that equal parts shit. He was being annoying and the sweetness of it all fell like the Berlin Wall.

"Don't forget you flung a fling this summer," I reminded him aggressively. He pouted like he didn't have a response. That's right, Marky, I remember.

"That's different," he mumbled and looked away from me down at the floor.

"Oh please," I scoffed, "Double standard much?"

"It's not a double standard," he mumbled again. He slumped in his chair.

"This is what I'm talking about. It's okay to have this back and forth in our friendship, but as a relationship? Marky, that would drive us insane until we eventually break up." I whispered the last part.

"Is that really what you think? That we couldn't handle a relationship with each other?" he asked and I nodded. "I guess you're right then, we shouldn't date."

I looked down at my pancakes and resumed eating. He did the same. I finished a purple pancake and chew slowly on the last bite. I was perparing to mumbled, "I'd blow your god damn mind if we were having sex, I'll tell you that much."

His head shot up from his pancakes to look at me with fire in his eyes and with the most serious voice I've ever heard him use, he replied, "Prove it."

We both instantly shot up to make our way to each other. He immediately grabbed my butt to pick me up and I straddle my legs around his waist. I'd always figured him to be a bridal style carry, but he must've guessed I wasn't into that. I grabbed his face and pulled him towards me for a kiss, which sent another fire through us and Marky was quickly stumbling up the stairs with me still in his arms.

We'd barely made it to the bed when he dropped me back onto my mattress with a little gasp from me. His hands that were dyed from food coloring slowly unzipped my dress from last night while purposely dragging his hands along my back.

"Marky," I groaned. He was taking too long.

He rolled his eyes and paused with his hands just above my ass. "Oh my god. Shut up and let me do this, Sierra." I smiled, of course we'd still be arguing.

"It's just-." He roughly yanked down my dress, effetively interrupting me. I kicked it the rest of the way off when he suddenly became preoccupied with peppering kisses along my breasts. I gently pushed him off so I could unbotton his white dress shirt with surprisingly steady hands compared to what I was feeling inside- it was well passed butterflies. He shrugged it off and I moved down to undo his pants.

We mirrorly bit our lips and stared at each other. Neither of us wanted to be the first one naked. "Take off our underwear on three?" I suggested. He nodded and rolled off of me. "One, two, three." I said and we both raced to dispose off the rest of our clothing. We looked over at each other. It was safe to say there was no turning back.

After the obligatory cuddling, which oddly enough didn't feel so obligatory this time, I rolled over to my side drawer on my end table. Truth be told I didn't really want to move away from Marky at that moment, but I couldn't help reaching into my draw for a cigarette and lighting up. I rolled back off to him and took a drag.

He grabbed it from me and leaned over me to put it out on my ashtray. "Jeez, Sierra, that's fucking disgusting."

"It's like my after sex thing, what do you want from me?" I asked him rhetorically.

He took the request seriously however and answered, "Not to give us both lung cancer. Aside from that it's like kissing a fucking ashtray." I smirked. It looked like Marky's after sex thing was dropping the f-bomb.

"It can't be that bad," I laughed. I decided now was not the time to point out that other guys didn't seem to mind that much. It was a nice moment and I didn't want to ruin it yet.

He scoffed, "Yeah, you're not the one who has to kiss you. And it comes out your pores. My dick's going to smell like nicotine."

I laughed, "Even if that was how it works the condom would stop that scenerio dead in it's tracks."

"Whatever, quit it with the smoking, okay? It's gross." I felt him unconciously begin to rub circle on my upper arm and smiled.

"I'll try, but I'm not promising anything," I joked.

"All I'm asking," he mumbled and squeezed me to him so he could kiss the top of my head.

I bit my bottom lip. What were we supposed to do now? Marky was staying, that much was obviously. I had just slept like seventeen hours straight so sleep was clearly out of the question. I'd never had this delimma before. Marky was a gentleman and quite frankly I didn't know what to do with that.

He looked down at me. "You're trying to figure out what normal people in relationships do after sex, aren't you?" He asked with a laugh playing in his voice.

I smiled, but was slightly worried that he used the word relationship. Despite the fact that I loved him and we just had great sex, I stood by my statement that it would be impossible for us to actually date. I forced a laugh that sounded convincing enough to me. "Yeah."

After a beat of silence he shifted and sat up. "I'm going to get something to drink, want anything?"

I shook my head and leaned back on to bed. Once I was sure he was gone I let out of sigh. What did we just do?

A/N: Writing this made me feel so much better. I just discovered that my brother's best friend constantly makes fun of me to people because he thinks I'm fat and ugly, which I guess I am, but he's a dick for constantly talking about it. How much of a prick do you actually have to be to do that? Especially to your best friend's little sister. Wow. Well anyway I decided that I could either sit in my room and cry (which I did until I fell asleep last night) or be productive and get a chapter out. Besides my motivation for writing, what did you think of the chapter? Good? Bad? Are you mad that you know they slept together, but you don't know if they're going to date? Comment, vote, and fan!