Telling the Truth
It was never like this before; it'll never be this way again. The thrill of that moment, masquerading as love, and pretending to be devotion. But he was devoted to her. In his way. Clearly she was devoted to him, though she fought it with every breath. Wilson had spent the day trying to convince him how great this could be for him. Cuddy wrote it off as an emotional moment. She was thankful it went no further. She was wrong about him though. It wasn't a human moment that made him lean into her, pull her lips to him and consume her. No, it was a selfish moment. He went to her home that night because he wanted her. He didn't care if it was wrong or made no sense. He didn't care if she didn't want him. Stupid Wilson. Almost had him fooled. Why else would he be here, riding his bike down her street, stupid red roses tucked into his jacket. What would he say? I love you. I want you. No, nothing trite. I can make you happy? Did he really believe that? She could probably make him happy. Want to have dinner? Want to make out some more? Want to take a shower with me?
I think we are ready this time. That would be closest to the truth. Or closer to the words he had been wanting to say to her for twenty years. He stopped the bike a couple of houses down, so she wouldn't hear him approach. He moved up her drive, and passed her window. There she was. Beautifully oblivious. The urge to bang on her door, whip her up in his arms, and take her straight to bed surged through him so that he had to force himself to stay where he was. She took a sip of coffee (coffee at ten o'clock at night—she would have French vanilla cream, no sugar). He felt guilty watching her this way. Yes, go to her door, and take her again. Though this time they wouldn't have an emotional moment to fall back on. This time they would have to tell the truth. This time he could even be happy. If he let it happen.
He watched her for another moment before dropping the bundle of roses in the shrubs at his feet and turning back to his bike. Inside the house Cuddy looked up when she heard the roar of a motorcycle in time to see a single light rip by her window.