I'm entirely too aware of the feel of his arm around me. More aware of the slight touch of his fingers on my bare shoulder than I am of my tears, my throat still warm from scotch, the laughter he teases out of me. He lifts his hand to make a point, to make me smile, but it keeps falling back on my shoulder. His leg is pressed against mine, his thumb smoothes circles into my skin, and suddenly the thought of a cab ride home alone is unbearable.

Do you want to come to my place?

I'm not thinking of anything past the cab ride when I say it. All night I had felt sad and pathetic. I had thought I had grown, that I was going to win, but I was still the loser standing outside the van. With Ted, Lily and Marshall around, I could smile and laugh. But now I actually feel safe. Now, I actually feeling comforted. I don't want to lose that during a lonely cab ride.

I was thinking of the cab ride, but I don't know what he was thinking. His hand on my skin? My breath probably smelling of booze? How he would get out of this awkward half hug to go score with that redhead at the bar?

When his gaze starts to wander, just a bit, I realize I want to tempt him. I want to be the awesome person he claimed I was.

There's a video you might want to see. It...sparkles.

I know he's hooked. I know he'll come home with me. I don't know why I want him to, or at least why I want him to as much as I do, but I know he'll leave with me.

The cab ride is easy. The driver is quiet, as am I, and he just keeps talking about the video. What am I wearing, do I dance. He's being careful not to say Simon's name, just asking questions that I can laugh at or answer quickly. I don't want to talk, I said too much already.

He keeps touching me. A quick touch to the arm to prove a point, a poke in my side to get me to laugh, once, a slight touch to my thigh as he asked about the nudity level. It's not anything different than the bar really, except that he keeps touching me, and I keep noticing this new "Barney is touching me" thing that's going on.

But it's easy to be with him. As I start to laugh and talk a little more, as we cross the bridge to Brooklyn, I push down the part of me wondering what the HELL are you doing?

When we get out of the cab, he stops touching me. At first I don't know if it's deliberate or now, but as his laughter gets louder and his jokes worse, I realize he's a little freaked out. And for the first time all week, I start to feel a little bit powerful.

This kind of power, to make a guy like Barney (Oh my God, this is Barney) feel nervous is a bit of a head rush. I know he's checking out my ass as I unlock my apartment, and it almost makes me forget about Simon.

We sit on the couch, further apart than is necessary. After the first time we watch the video, Barney leans forward to get the remote, and when he sits back he's a little closer than he was before. Between rewinding, pausing, and watching my boobs in slow-mo, somehow our legs are firmly pressed together and we are both resolutely staring straight ahead. Because this is not why I invited him here. I was lonely and a little drunk, that's all. I definitely did not mean to end up sitting thigh to thigh with my friend – my ex-boyfriend's friend – in my too quiet apartment.

Or maybe I did.

Thanks for trusting me with this.

I want to reply with the expected sarcasm, but his voice is low and oddly serious. The sarcasm doesn't even come close to escaping.

Thanks for coming over.

When I look at Barney, he's already staring at me, video forgotten. I know that look on his face. I know he wants to kiss me.

But here's the thing about Barney, the thing I sometimes forget. He's a good guy. He wants to kiss me, and I'm pretty sure he knows I want to kiss him too, but I'm vulnerable and his best friend's ex. He's not going to make the first move, however easier it would make things for me. He's a good guy.

But thankfully, he's not that good.

I look down as I take his tie in my hand, fingers running over the smooth silk. Some part of me is yelling that I'm an idiot, that this is a very bad idea. But that small voice of morality goes silent the instant I pull his mouth to mine. His surprise lasts maybe a moment longer than I thought it would, but then his arms are around me and he's kissing me back.

I should have known he'd be a good kisser. He'd have to be, to sleep with even half the women he says he has. And while there's no denying that he has the technicalities down – just enough tongue, no knocking teeth – there's something more. Maybe it's his hand on my neck, tracing shiver-inducing circles, or the barely there sigh of relief that makes me thing he's been wanting to do this longer than I though.

He starts to turn my so I'm pressed against the couch, and I pull away. Force myself to pull away really, because I don't want to think and it's suddenly really easy to avoid while I'm kissing Barney. I know I should tell him we shouldn't do this and convince myself that I don't want to. But I really, really do.

So when Barney says Sorry, and starts to stand up, I realize I'm still holding his tie, so I stand up with him and use the tie to pull him toward me again.

Bedroom.

He grabs my face in his hands and kisses me, hard.

Thank God, he mumbles against my lips, and we stumble towards my bedroom, only knocking one lamp over on the way.