(A/N: the pic for this chapter is from the Rose Bowl 9-13-14. There is a second music showcase is in this chapter, the focus is on Harry's band. Their set list will be Little Black Dress, Why Don't We Go There, Right Now, Through the Dark, and Happily. Remember, in this world, Harry primarily writes the lyrics, while Louis and Liam compose the music. These are the words he's written since meeting Maddie... <3 oh, and there's some smut, so if you don't like that, um, you might want to stop reading this story... Please vote and comment and share )

I finally get to the music room on Friday to meet Harry and the guys for our Halloween plans. I slide through the door quietly, catching them during a song I haven't heard before. Harry is singing, just a bunch of oh-oh-ohs. But, god, his voice is so deep and lovely. When he sees me standing there, his singing fades out and his smile spreads. He sets down his bass and holds me instead.

"Hello, love." He kisses me, and the other boys snicker. I roll my eyes at them. "How long have you been here?"

"Just got here. I liked what I heard of that song." Liam beams at me.

"What did you hear?" He looks slightly panicked.

I answer in monotone, "Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh," smirking. Zayn, Louis, and Niall are cracking up.

He laughs, "it sounded that good, huh?"

I offer a one-shouldered shrug. "Are you guys ready? Lou and Becca should be getting to my house soon."

They pack up their guitars and music, and we head out to my car. As we drive home, I tell them about Jessica, the fan who struggled with depression, and Harry keeps glancing at me, like he wants to make sure I'm okay. My encounter with her shook me up, for sure. And it made me terribly sad to think of her little brother. What he would lose if he lost her. But I am okay.

Lou and Becca are already waiting in my driveway when we get there. The plan was originally for all of us to get costumed and make-upped here, then meet Mitch and Jenna down in West Hollywood, but I argued it would be too fucking packed to find each other, so Mitch and Jenna are coming here in about an hour. "Sorry we're a bit late," I hug them both.

"No worries," Lou says.

I introduce everyone. Lou has her makeup kits in hand, and Becca grabs a set of garment bags from her car. Louis takes them from her and carries them to my door. The guys all separately emailed me what they wanted to be, and I forwarded their sizes and preferences to Becca. All of the costumes will be a surprise. Except my "Turning Pages" team and I planned ours to match. Harry doesn't even know his own costume.

"Your house is so nice," Zayn says. "I really like how it's so... Chill."

"Thanks," I smile at him. "I'm sorry it took me so long to invite you guys up."

"How long have ya lived here," Niall waves his hand around the tv room. "It looks like a magazine."

"Um. Coming up on three years."

"You live here alone?" Louis asks, and Liam smacks his shoulder.

"Enough with the fucking interview," Harry cuts in. "Go, get dressed."

I lead the four guys to the two guest bedrooms and bathrooms. Harry and I go with Lou and Becca to my room. He changes in the bathroom, and his laughter echoes off the marble tile. I guess he likes his costume. Lou braids my hair and does my make up quickly while Becca lays out all the components of my costume. Then Becca goes to check on the guys, and Lou heads in to my bathroom to add some special effects makeup.

The detail on my Pinocchio costume is incredible. I have tan stockings with hinges painted on at the knees, high-waisted red shorts, a little yellow hat with a red feather, and a tight long-sleeved yellow t-shirt that makes it clear I am not a boy. There are hinges drawn on at the elbows, and a cricket pinned to my shoulder. I tie a blue ribbon around my neck with a large bow. My make up is pale and simple with a circle of deep pink blush on each cheek. I have a very phallic liar's nose that I can carry or wear, depending on how I'm feeling.

I'm so sick of people calling me a liar. Accusing me of using my brother's death for publicity. And I am trying to be real. A real girl. What better costume is there than this?

There is a quick knock on my bedroom door, and I call to come in. Liam's Batman costume fits perfectly, and he truly is adorable. I grin at him, "Mr. Wayne."

He chuckles. "This is amazing. Thank you." His eyes dance up and down my body. "Interesting," he finally says.

Zayn is hovering in the hallway, his Hulk costume still lacking the green makeup on his face and arms. I wave him in. "Lou's almost done with Harry, and then she'll turn you green." His tongue rests on the back of his bottom teeth as he grins at me. He and Liam high five and start talking to each other about their superhero costumes.

Harry steps out of the bathroom in his boxer costume, and he looks fucking hot, in just satin shorts and a robe. His long hair is pulled into a tiny ponytail, and the faint bruise from last week's fight has been darkened, with fresh fake blood. Lou squirts baby oil onto her hands and runs some through the loose bits of his hair. She reaches her hands toward his bare stomach, and I take the bottle from her hand. "I'll do it." Harry smirks at me as I run my oiled hands over his torso. He kisses me delicately, trying to avoid smearing his makeup with mine.

"You're such a smartass," he murmurs, gesturing at his costume. I grin up at him. "I love it." My heart races at the word, and I just nod.

Liam shrieks when he sees Louis, who is dressed as a spoon. I don't get it. Louis doubles over in laughter when he sees Niall dressed as a carrot. I don't get it, but the two of them are dying.

I must be wearing that elusive look of confusion because Harry whispers into my hair, "I'll explain later."

"You look hot. All the guys down in West Hollywood are going to be hitting on you," I tell him.

"Don't worry," he wraps his arm around my waist, "I'll just tell them you're my boyfriend."

"Hmm," I bite my lip. "Pedophile."

"Liar." His eyes light up, and I can tell he wants to tickle me. "Cheeky, cheeky liar." It is a threat. But he doesn't carry it out.

Lou and Becca come out in their black cat and goldfish costumes, respectively. They are the Figaro and Cleo to my Pinocchio. Jenna rings the bell, and I open the door to her. "I wish that I were a real boy." She bops my head with a star-shaped wand. Mitch, in his saggy pants and suspenders, follows her. My blue fairy. My Geppetto.

After another round of introductions, we caravan down to the celebrations. Santa Monica Boulevard is packed already. We wander among the tents and eat a lot. Louis and the girls drink beer. Harry frowns at them, but I assure him that I'm fine. Beer was never my thing. For the next few hours, we lose ourselves in the music, the crowd, and the fun. Just being young. My favorite part of the night is when Harry and I dance during the performances. We are both terrible, but we laugh, and move our bodies awkwardly against each other, and kiss. We're pretty good at that.

We are photographed repeatedly by the media, especially the Turning Pages cast and crew together: Gepetto, the blue fairy, Pinocchio, Figaro, and Cleo. And Harry is, as expected, a huge hit, guys asking him for pictures all night. He says it's because of all the shit in the news, but I assure him it's his oiled-up abs.

Jenna and Mitch are the first to bail, and I wonder if there's something going on there. When Lou and Becca head out, Harry breathes into my ear that we should go too. He goes to collect his band, who are eating more fried food.

"Hey, Maddie!" A very drunk guy in very little clothing stumbles over to me. "I fucking love you. Take a pitch, a pick-chure with me?"

"Sure, dude." I laugh. "What are you supposed to be?"

"A close to naked as possible," he slurs. "I fucking love your costume. Can I see your nose?" I hand it to him. He wraps his mouth around it, sucking it like... What the ever-loving fuck? He hands it back to me. "I understand, you know. I get it. Liar." He stares out at the crowd then falls to the ground laughing.

Harry is standing about 10 feet away, looking as gorgeous as ever. I reach down to help the guy up.

"Is that your boyfriend? The one who beat the shit out of Jonas Burton? Dressed as a boxer?" I nod, amused. He doubles over laughing, and I'm afraid he's going to fall again. He lifts his phone out in front of us, leaning in close. "Get it, Maddie! You get it, girl." Harry patiently stands through a series of photos with Drunk Guy too, including a few where the guy grabs his ass and tries to kiss his cheek. And finally, we are on our way. We drop the boys off at the duplex, and Harry and I return home.

After we're both showered, we snuggle into bed, my head on his bare chest. "Tonight was fun," he says sleepily.

"It was." I trail my fingers down the center of his stomach. "You looked so hot tonight. I told you all the boys would want you."

He nudges my hips with his. "Even Pinocchio?"

"Especially Pinocchio."

The next day, Harry finally returns to his weekend shifts at Sal's. The paparazzi have mostly abandoned their post there, and he can sneak in the back to avoid the few who remain. He brings me a tuna sandwich for lunch, and promises to bring more for dinner. I use the time to catch up on schoolwork that has been ignored for too long. I decide to start over completely with my screenplay, abandoning the entire plot. I write out a short script for Turning Pages instead. That's probably what the fucking professor wanted in the first place. Shit, it's probably what she expected. Jonas' character is murdered by an angry student, someone who accuses him of bullying. He is shot first in the knee. Then the wrist. Then the balls. He is left to bleed to death. It's dark and twisted and so very me.

When Harry comes home at 6, he looks shaken. "What's wrong?" I stand and put my hands on either side of his face.

"The cops came to the deli."

"What did they want?"

"To ask me questions about Jonas," he sighs.

"What did you say?"

"That I couldn't answer anything without my lawyer present. They asked me to come in to the station with him."

"When?"

He shakes his head, "they didn't say."

"I'm so sorry, Harry, I'll call Jack, and we can go do it right now."

"He won't be able to come right now."

"Why not?"

"It's Saturday night. I'm sure he has other plans."

"I'm paying him enough. He'll come." Harry's eyes widen. I know this is about the money thing again. "Don't," I run my fingers through his hair.

"You can't pay for my lawyer," he says shakily.

"Yes, I can, and I am. This is my fault. So just leave it, Harry." I might have said that last bit a little harsher than I meant to.

I turn away and grab my phone. But before I can call Jack, Harry wraps his arms around me, spinning me back to face him. His lips brush mine so softly it almost tickles. I crane my neck to kiss him back, to press our lips together with enough force to show him that I love him, even though I can't say it. To show him I'm sorry, even though I don't say it. He holds my face between his hands and fixes his eyes on mine. "Thank you," he finally says, adding one more kiss.

I call Jack, and as I said he would, he agrees to meet us down at the police station. I wait in an office alone, and they try to ask me questions a few times, but I refuse. When Harry and Jack finally leave the interview room, they shake hands with the officer, who must be a captain or something because he wears regular clothes, but his badge is clearly on display on his hip. I mean, that has to be good, right? Eager to know what's going on, I trot down the hall to them. Harry slides one arm around my waist and thanks the cop.

"Miss Turner," the cop turns to me, "we'd like a brief official statement from you, if you don't mind." I look at Jack, who nods. "You can just write something quickly, summarizing what happened."

An older uniformed officer hands me a form, and I fill it out quickly, starting from when Jonas raised his hand to me. I'm not going to admit in writing that I hit him, even though I'm pretty sure they've all seen the pictures. "Sign there," the guy says.

"Is everything okay?" I ask Harry.

Jack answers, "it's fine, Maddie. This was a formality that we knew was coming." I nod, but I can't stop the fear twisting in my gut.

"Um, Miss Turner," the cop who took my form puts his hand on my shoulder awkwardly. "I'm sorry to ask you this, but my daughter is a huge fan of yours. Do you think I could get your autograph?" I haven't been asked for my autograph in years. Everyone wants a picture now.

"Oh. Sure. We can take a picture, too, if you want." Harry graciously snaps picture after picture, using the guy's camera, and all the cops around us decide they need a picture. And then I sign a few autographs.

As we get to the parking lot, Jack says goodbye, adding, "nice touch Maddie." I frown at his departing back. I wasn't signing the fucking scraps of paper to keep Harry out of jail. I didn't even think of that. I was just being nice to fans, as I always am. Fuck, Jack, I'm not sure I like how you see me.

"Let's go home," Harry says, and I am distracted from my bad mood by the fact that he calls my house home.

The rest of our weekend is uneventful. We both work on stuff for school, and on Sunday night, I tell him I have to leave early again this week. He decides to stay. "Can I just sleep here until it's time for me to go to class?"

"Yeah, um. I'll leave you the deadbolt key, and get it from you when I see you in the afternoon."

Monday morning I wake early and slide into jeans and a sweater. I kiss Harry's bare shoulder, his neck, his cheek, which is slowly crinkling into a smile. I stick my tongue into his dimple. It's everything I thought it could be.

"Eeauggh," he wipes at his face, his eyes still closed. "Did you just lick me?"

"Goodbye, love. I'll see you at school later," I kiss his cheek again, just barely darting my tongue out into his dimple. Again. He tries to grab for me blindly, but I am already at the door.

I'm nervous to be back on set today. This is the first time I will see most of the cast and crew since the incident with Jonas over a week ago. Most of them regard me with looks of concern, as if I might break more shit. But many just smile and say hi like it's a normal day. Today we are doing a read-through of the new script. Jonas will not be there. Jonas will never appear on the set again. And Jonas will certainly not ever appear on this show again. The pages are good, though I'm a bit disappointed by how they kill Jonas. And I have to cry about it. I guess I should have seen that coming.

When we're done for the day, I ask Mitch when I can bring Harry and the guys down to set. He says that they can come any day, as long as they sign non-disclosure agreements. "He seems like a great guy, Maddie," Mitch takes my hand in his and pats it with the other one. "I'm so happy you found someone who loves you so much."

I. What? "I... Do you...do you think he loves me?"

"Duh," Lou says as she strolls past us. My face is all rainbows and wide eyes.

"I think it's pretty obvious," Mitch smiles. "Now, go on, I don't want you speeding to class and dying on the side of the road." I roll my eyes at his reference to the episode.

My classes go by quickly, especially the film class, where Andre and I have started planning out our project. We decided to make a group of two, since the rest of this fucking class spends too much of their time talking about my fucking life. Like, get your own, please, bitch. I am genuinely pleased with the collaboration, and I walk towards my car with a bit of a bounce.

"Hey. Maddie, wait up," Brandon calls me. I stop at the gate to my parking lot. My fucking parking lot. Sometimes I worry about my ego. "Do you want to do the showcase again?"

"Oh, I don't know. When is it?"

"Friday. I guess they do it the first Friday of every month."

"I think we better wait for the next one. I have a big project for class, and we just don't have time to get anything together. But you guys should feel free to go on without me, if you want."

Harry walks up as I'm talking and puts that tattooed arm around me. "Hey, Brandon, right?"

"Yeah, good to see you, man. All right, well I'll tell Dave and Leah we'll do it next time." He waves awkwardly and leaves.

"Do what?" Harry asks as we get in the car.

"That showcase at the Gypsy Tavern. I guess there's another one this week."

"Shit," he says, pulling the car out of the lot. "I meant to tell you about that last week, but then everything was so crazy."

"Oh? Are you guys performing again?"

"Yeah." He drives toward home. "Do you want to go sit in an actual restaurant to eat?"

"Sure." I direct him to a little Italian place near the movie theater. "You know, I was so freaked out at the last one, I don't even know the name of your band."

He grips the steering wheel tightly as he leans forward to laugh. "One Direction."

"And you guys have been together for two years?" He nods. "Have you guys ever recorded a demo?"

Again, he nods, as he pulls into the parking lot. "We recorded a few songs back in England, financed by our families. But it didn't really go anywhere. We have a few youtube videos that have done pretty well, though." I'm going to need to google that later.

The restaurant is quiet and dimly lit, and very romantic. And very expensive. Harry cringes at the menu. "I chose the place. I'll pay," I say. He looks uncomfortable but nods.

After we've ordered, he places his hand across the table, reaching that tattooed arm for me. I put mine in his, caressing the tattoo of the cross. "You know," his voice is so deep, so low I can barely hear him. I lean forward, and look into his eyes, which glitter in the candlelight. "Friday will be a month. Well, four weeks."

"Wrong," I say, smirking. "Friday marks four weeks since you rudely kissed me in the creepy hallway of a bar. Saturday is a month."

His quiet laugh shakes his whole body. "Actually, technically, if we're going by the book, Ms. Turner, you didn't upgrade me to boyfriend until almost a week later."

"Okay, Friday is four weeks," I happily give in. The food is amazing, the company even better, and when I drop him at his duplex, I am so fucking happy. Shit, I almost forgot to tell him about visiting the set.

"Harry," I call through my window, and he turns back to me with that smile, the one he pinches between his fingers. "Tell Liam that you guys can come down to set any day this week." He shakes his head, and turns back to go inside.

He has already texted me by the time I get home. He wants to go tomorrow.

Okay, I answer. I'll pick you guys up at 4:45.

H: AM?

Me: Obviously.

H: He says he doesn't want to go anymore.

Me: Liar. What time do you have class tomorrow?

H: We all start at noon.

Me: See you in the morning. I add a bunch of hearts. Then I send the kissy face with hearts. Then the one with hearts for eyes.

He sends back the sleeping face. I google "one direction" and watch videos of them at 16. They were so small. Was I that much smaller at 16? Harry is just as beautiful. And funny. God, they're all really fucking funny. Especially Louis. He's a clown. Zayn asks Louis what he likes in a girl, and he says he likes a girl who eats a lot of carrots. I mean, gross. His innuendo is not lost on my inexperienced mind. Liam says he has a fear of spoons, and now Halloween makes a lot more sense to me. There are a few videos of them performing in small clubs, and they were good. Really good.

Their visit to the soundstage the next day is so much fun. They really are all fans of the show, and they walk through the various sets in awe. Liam looks like his whole world finally makes sense. Like he has never been so happy in his life. Harry and I disappear to make out in my trailer for awhile, leaving the boys with the other cast to get pictures. I sit on his lap on the small couch, breathless from so much kissing. "The people you work with," he says quietly, playing with a bit of the curly hair Lou clipped into place earlier, "they really love you, you know?"

I smile and nod. "Yeah, I do." Everyone keeps telling me that someone else loves me. What about you? I scream in my head.

"You better be dressed!" Mitch opens the door. He puts his hands on his hips. "Come on, kid, we gotta film some shit today. You ready to cry?"

"Ugh, I guess." The guys watch as tv Maddie learns that her tv love has been killed. I cry. The director tells me to be sadder, and I roll my eyes. But I look at Harry and imagine it's him instead of Jonas, and I'm a wreck, full on sobbing. And then I'm released for the day. The guys, including Harry, babble about the experience the whole way to campus. And I just smile.

The rest of my week is tame when compared to the last few. No fist fights, no tabloid headlines, no shattered phones. Just great times at work, burgeoning creativity at school, and Harry at home. And Friday comes so quickly. Four weeks. So much has happened in four weeks. I pick the guys up at the duplex, wearing a t-shirt I asked Becca to make. It's a Union Jack with One Direction stamped across the chest. I can't wait for Harry to see it. Lou and Becca are coming to watch the show, too. I totally ship Becca and Louis. I mean, he flirted with her like crazy at Halloween and when they visited set. And she flushed red each time. It was so cute, like honestly, I loved watching it. When I get out of the car at the club, Harry gawks at me, his eyes glued to my chest. I smile shyly as he strides over to me. "I watched your youtube videos."

"Did you? So you're the one?" He is beaming at me as I nod.

I whisper, "I'm a fan." His kiss envelops me, overtakes me. I am just lips and hands and heart. Bursting fucking heart.

One Direction is last to go on again, so we all just sit and enjoy the show. Dave and Leah perform on their own, just the two of them, and I think love must be in the air. It's fall, but we're acting like it's spring. The other performances were entertaining enough, but all I can really focus on is Harry's arm around my back, his fingers making circles on my shoulder. His breath against my neck when he leans in to kiss my cheek. His slow, deep voice when he tells me how beautiful I look tonight.

And then they're on, and Dave and Leah join my table. The first song has some serious electric guitar. "Little black dress just walked into the room," I can't help but think of my short black and red just-harlot-enough dress. Musically, the song reminds me of the 80s. Not synth pop; more like hair metal. "I wanna see the way you move for me, baby...Little black dress who you doin it for?...I won't do you no harm. It's all right 'cause I'll take you home." And Harry looks so fucking sexy up there in his too-tight black jeans and gray and black striped shirt. I am biting my lips, first the bottom then the top, running my tongue across them in my mouth, thinking of his kisses. The muscles in his arms ripple as his fingers pick the strings of his bass, his veins like vines. And I love his hands. He is captivating. I am captivated.

The next song starts with Harry singing, and he looks away from me. "I know you want, know you wanna take it slow, but think about all the places we could go." His voice is higher than usual, and a bit shaky, but then it gets deeper as he continues, "if you give in tonight, just let me set you free..." The whole song is like, let's have sex, wrapped up in a metaphor of driving somewhere, and Harry still won't look at me. My hands shake as I take a sip of my diet coke. I like the line, "I don't want you to be the one that got away," because I don't want that either. But then I feel this pressure. Like, I'm running out of time with him.

I have a hard time focusing on the next song, I'm so wrapped up in my own mind. I thought our relationship had moved so fast. I mean, he's sleeping in my bed four nights a week. But I guess maybe that's the problem. We're sleeping. I wonder how long normal people wait to have sex. Am I ready to have sex? I can't even think straight right now. But I do hear Zayn's melty voice repeating, "right now, I wish you were here with me." And now I can't seem to look at Harry. I'm afraid I might cry, and I don't want to cry.

Lou leans over, "you all right, Maddie?" I nod. But I'm not.

"I didn't really like what that last song said," I say into her ear.

"It's probably not about you," she answers. I nod. Right. Right. Only some of them were about me. But if it's not about me, then who the fuck else does he want to "go there" with?

Liam thanks the crowd and says into the mic, "this next one is called 'Through the Dark,'" and the rhythmic strumming from Liam and Louis shakes me from my dark thoughts. It reminds me of Mumford & Sons. In a good way. I glance at Harry, who looks frustrated, a deep frown line marring his features. But when he sees me staring at him, he gives me that slow smile that just makes me want to crush his beautiful face between my hands. I try to bite back my smile, but I fail. As Liam begins to sing, "you tell me that you're sad and lost your way," Harry mouths the words along. "I know you were only hiding, and I just wanna see ya." He looks ridiculous, and I can't help but laugh. He continues until he actually sings at the chorus, "oh, I would carry you over fire and water for your love. And I would hold you close and hope your heart is strong enough. When the night is coming down on ya, we will find our way through the dark." As Zayn continues the next verse, Harry again mouths along, moving his eyebrows for extra effect. The best part is the bridge. Zayn sings, with Harry beside him lip synching and looking straight into my eyes. "And you don't need to run. And you will see it's easy to be loved. I know you wanna be loved." I really do.

The last song starts with Harry on bass and vocals alone. "You don't understand, you don't understand what you do to me when you hold his hand. We were meant to be, but a twist of fate made it so you had to walk away." This is obviously not about me. But I wish it were when I hear the chorus. "You know I wanna be the one who holds you when you sleep. I just want it to be you and I forever... So come on baby be with me so happily." And I recognize the section of oh-oh-ohs, which Harry sings with a sarcastic look on his face, making me laugh again. When the song is over, we all stand and applaud. He jumps off the stage, just like last time, and walks right over to me, taking my face in his hands and kissing me.

"Get a room!" Louis shouts from the stage, and I flip him off.

"Are you all right?" He is breathless and raspy.

"Yeah."

"Maddie. I know you. What's wrong?"

"It should be, 'I just want it to be you and me forever,' not you and I," I smirk.

His expression is a mixture of amusement and worry. Amusement wins, for now. "Poetic license," he breathes into another kiss. "Did you like the last song?"

"Um. Yeah. I really like the oh-oh-ohs." I raise my eyebrow at him.

He laughs. "That was the song I was going to use to ask you to be my girlfriend." I gasp. But. I. What? "Before you prematurely upgraded me, that is."

"I wouldn't throw the word premature around so casually, Mr. Styles." He gapes at me, blushing. I laugh, shaking my head, and my expression darkens. "I don't see how that song is about me, though."

"Are you serious?" I nod. "The part about holding his hand, and that you were with him at 4 am were references to your former costar. You had to walk away, to New York. Before we could have our second date, and therefore be dating." I am shaking my head. I am dying. I am in love. "I don't care what people say, like the media--" I kiss him. I kiss him with my whole soul.

"Yes, I will be your girlfriend," I say when we finally pause to breathe. "Happily."

"Jesus, Maddie," he whispers my name. I love how he does that, how he exhales my name like he's praying to both me and Jesus. "Let's go home."

We say our goodbyes to Leah, Dave, Lou, and Becca, then head out to the car with the guys. I drop them at the duplex, and they whistle and sing "baby be with me, so happily," as they unload their equipment. Harry covers his face and asks me to ignore them. When we get home, he goes to take a shower, and I pull off my jeans and bra, crawling into bed still in my fan t-shirt. I don't think I've stopped smiling since I realized he really wrote that for me.

He slides into bed beside me and holds that tattooed arm out. I shuffle closer, throwing one leg over his, and rest my head on his shoulder as he closes his eyes. His left hand cradles the back of my head, and his right pulls my hand to the tattoo on his stomach. I kiss his shoulder, his neck, his ear. He hums deep in his chest and pulls me tighter to his body. I kiss his chest, his collarbone, his jaw. He opens his eyes and gazes at me with glassy green eyes.

"Don't start something you can't finish."

I pull back as if slapped. I sort of feel like I have been. Word slapped.

He is wide awake now, his eyes scanning my face cautiously. "I'm sorry. It was a joke. Come back to me," he pats his shoulder. But I stay where I am.

"That song, 'Why Don't We Go There,'" I hesitate. Should have just been called, Why Don't We Fuck Already.

He winces. "I wrote that before I really knew you."

"But it was about me?"

"They all were." He pulls me back to him.

"So, does it bother you, then? I mean that we don't...go there?" My heart is racing. Pounding. Cracking.

"No," he shifts onto his hip and claws his fingers into my hair. His eyes move over my whole face, assessing my mood. He smiles, a soft smile. Not the deep-dimpled smile. "I mean, I want to," he grinds his hip against me, and I can feel him hard against my thigh. "But I know you're not ready. I want the first time to be because you're showing me, because we're showing each other that we... how we feel, not because you feel some obligation." I nod, close to tears. "Do you feel obliged?"

"Sort of," I whisper. "I want to, too," I grind my hips against him. "I wish I had something to poke you with so you would know I want it too." He laughs, that loud explosive laugh that shakes his whole body. He drapes his upper body across my hip, just rumbling with laughter. When the wave of humor subsides, he kisses me gently and lays on his side again, running his fingers along my arm and staring into my eyes. And I think this is what love looks like. What it feels like. "You're right, though, I'm really not ready. I'm barely getting used to such regular affection. But I'm scared that what we do isn't enough."

"I like what we do," he asserts.

And now I feel so shy. "Me too."

"What do you like?"

I can feel the blood rushing to my face, and... other parts of my body. "Everything."

"There's that word again. You and your everything. Is there anything you haven't liked?" I shake my head. "What about in the pool? You nearly had a panic attack."

"I did not!" I move to smack his chest but he grabs my wrist. "I just got a bit breathless. And cold. And overwhelmed."

He is making fun of me. Dammit.

He releases my wrist, "do you like it when I touch you here?" He runs his hand up the side of my leg. I nod and pull his body closer to mine by hooking my knee over his hip. He moves his hand to my ass and squeezes gently. "Here?" I nod, my hips moving against him involuntarily. His hand slides up my back to my shoulder and down the front to my breast. "Here?"

"Yes," my voice is heavy from too much blood in my brain. Or not enough. And I am grinding into him again.

He rolls onto his back, his head and shoulders propped on the pillows, and pulls me with him so I am sitting on him, on him; the only thing preventing sex right now is the thin fabric of his underwear and mine. His hands massage my breasts, and I moan, feeling his erection twitching beneath me. He tugs at the sleeve of my t-shirt. "Can I take this off?" I shake my head, too shy, despite all that we are doing. "Can I touch you, under it?" I look into his pale green eyes, so earnest, and nod. His right hand slides up into my shirt and gropes my breast. "So," he breathes against our kiss, "fucking," tongues twining, "soft." My hips begin to move again, and he uses his other hand to rock them in a steady rhythm. This feels...so good. So fucking good. I move faster, and he sucks at my neck, the skin burning from his force. "Oh, god, Maddie." He groans and stops my hips.

He kisses me, pulling my bottom lip with his teeth. I am panting, sweating, aching deep in my belly. His hand slips out of my shirt and down to the band of my panties. I freeze.

"Do you trust me?" I do. It's trusting myself that's the problem right now. I want to feel him, all of him inside of me, but that scares the shit out of me. "Maddie?"

I nod, kissing him softly. "I trust you," I swallow, my throat dry and raw.

"Lay on your back." I slide off his lap and lay back against my side of the bed. His fingers dance across the skin of my cheeks, neck, arms, thighs. He moves his hand between my legs, cupping my panties, and I clench my legs shut. He kisses my neck. "I won't hurt you. I promise. This is for you." I relax a little. His fingers begin to rub, sliding up and down. "You're soaking," he murmurs.

"This is what you do to me," I say, and he laughs low in his chest.

"Open your legs," he urges me, spreading his fingers out against my thighs. My body betrays my panicked mind by obliging. He loops his leg over mine, pinning it in place. "I will stop if you want me to, Maddie. Just tell me." Nothing is happening. I open my eyes to see him staring at me. "Okay?" I nod. He slides his finger under my panties and into the wetness collected between my legs. He groans, moving his fingers up higher. I gasp. It is that ache. That uncomfortable ache in my belly. His finger moves in a slow circle as he kisses my neck again. I am alive with sensation, as if someone has connected my body to the power lines over my house. His hand moves lower again, one finger moving deep into me. It pinches, and I jerk a little. He stops and looks at me. I nod shakily. But he moves back up, finding that sensitive spot again. The more vigorously he rubs, the more my whole body starts to shake. "Come on, baby. Come for me."

I moan, almost a wail, "I don't know how." Almost a whine.

"Just let go," his circles faster. He bites my nipple through my t-shirt. "Let go."

And moments later, I do. It is a sweet, pulsing release. That ache is satisfied, and I lay there, lifeless, unable to move. My whole body is twitching with electricity. I am drifting off to sleep when I feel the weight on the mattress shift. No. Where are you going?

"Come back," I whimper.

"I'm just going to rinse off."

"Please don't leave me." I open my eyes to find him standing at the end of the bed.

"My pants are filled with... I'm a mess." Same.

"You've just touched me in the most private way, and I'm feeling...vulnerable. Please. Please don't leave me."

"Okay. Let me just put on clean pants." He turns away to his duffel bag, sliding his boxer briefs down and pulling on an identical pair. His ass is so cute, I think sleepily.

As he wraps himself around me, I drift between sleep and consciousness, muttering. "Please don't leave me. Don't ever leave me. I need you. I..." Sleep.