I.

Thought…. after thought….. after thought, flew through her head like wildfire. If only she could stop it, turn her mind off. She felt sick to her stomach, off balance, like her heart had been ripped out, twisted, stomped on, and then put back into her chest. Why was it that he, only him, was capable of doing this to her? She had done what she thought was right. Done what she said she was going to do. Decided, based off of the save me performance. How literal that felt now, 'save me.' Had she made a mistake? Did she do the right thing?

That look he gave her. If looks could kill. She couldn't shake his image. His eyes boring into her soul, that icy glare so full of hate…. And more importantly hurt, like she had just done something unspeakably wrong. Unforgivable.

She quickly changed into her sweats and grabbed her purse. She had just finished doing post show press. He wouldn't speak to her, wouldn't look at her, refused to even be in the same room with her. As the show was ending, she had gone up on stage. His hand was resting on Drew's back while his eyes shot daggers at her. She put her hand lightly on Drew's back, touched his hand. He moved his hand to Drew's shoulder and took a few steps away, leaving her to stand there by herself.

She prayed she wouldn't be seen as she left the studio. She wanted to be invisible, didn't want to see or speak to anyone, didn't want to continue pretending to be all right.

Once home, she showered, threw on her nightshirt, grabbed a glass, and a bottle of wine. She needed to numb her mind, to stop the constant flow of unwanted voices in her head. She settled on the couch and flipped on the television. She was upset, hurt, sorry, and angry as hell. He had no right. It was he who was wrong, not her.

She had told him time and time again to change things up, to have Drew sing something fast, upbeat. He had even admitted it was his fault that he hadn't done it. And what about how he had treated her? He trivialized her emotions when it came to her groups. He trivialized her emotions when it came to pretty much everything. She had put her all, her everything, into mentoring them. He had told her originally that she was the only one who was good enough to mentor them. It was more difficult. She would be working with so many, while each of the other judges would only have three. He said only she could handle that, and he felt it would suit her, that she could showcase her choreography skills. What a joke after what he had said to her last night. The reason he said all her groups were gone is because she had put too much emphasis on the dancing. Ha! He had hurt her badly when he said that and he knew it. But anyways, she had felt important. He had made her feel important. Worthy. Needed. He built her up, made her feel good inside again. Because he had trusted her to do it. Only her. "It is more than you being my best friend.", he had told her. "Truly, only you can do it. And if you don't, then I won't be able to do it at all. There will be no show without you."

And so she had agreed. Agreed to it all. And she had been so happy. It was like old times, before they had screwed everything up with their try at a relationship years ago. They had almost destroyed each other. And it had almost broken them both. Almost, and for a while did, kill their friendship completely. It had taken a long time to work through, but they had finally gotten back to where they had started, best friends. She was so happy to have him back in her life again. They were kindred spirits. He was an integral part of her she never wanted to lose again. And even though she still thought about him, in much more intimate ways than one thinks of their best friend, she knew it was better this way.

He wasn't good at romantic relationships. Whenever he was with someone in that capacity, it was like he put up a wall. Closed himself off. However, as best friends, they just clicked. He was warm, caring, protective, passionate, and loving. Well…. most of the time. He was everything she had ever wanted. Introduce sex into it however, and it was like Dr. Jekyll turned into Mr. Hyde. And so friends it was, they had both agreed. Life turned back into what was almost heaven. Playful joking, long and intimate conversations, and incessant flirtations dominated each and every day.

Their 'friendship' was confusing, not only for her, but it seemed, for everyone. People she didn't even know, and those she did, insisted they were perfect for each other. Were they together? If not, why weren't they? Everyone who knew him told her he was different when it came to her, he was different when he was with her. His ex-girlfriends even noticed it. And she secretly believed she was the cause of the demise of two of his 'serious' romantic relationships. She had come to accept their relationship as non conventional. And things were perfect. They were the eternal newlyweds, minus the sex.

She put her hand to her forehead as she was feeling more than a little dizzy, and set the wine glass down. She looked at the bottle on the coffee table. It was three quarters empty. What time was it, anyways? As she got up to go bed, the buzzer on the intercom went off. Her stomach lurched. She knew immediately whom it was at her gate. She didn't have to look at the monitor. She could feel his presence in her bones.

II.

She pressed the button on the intercom and opened her mouth to speak, but nothing would come out. It was deathly silent for what was only a few seconds, she was sure, but seemed like years.

He saved her the trouble of speaking. "Let me in. Now." He didn't scream it, didn't sound too irate. If anything, his voice lacked any aspect of emotion or meaning at all. No inflection in it. Monotonous. And scary as hell. She had a lump in her throat and felt it grow seemingly larger as tears sprung to her eyes. There had only been one other time she could remember when he had been this upset with her.

Her voice wavered as she spoke. "Simon, please. N.. tonight. We jus…"

"Open the damned gate up. Now."

She pressed the button to open the gate and listened as she heard it open, heard him drive through, heard it shut. She wiped her eyes and ran a hand through her hair as she checked herself in the mirror before opening the door. She didn't want him to know how much he had upset her, didn't want him to see the impact his behavior had on her.

He strode straight past her as she held the door open, not bothering to acknowledge her at all. He walked briskly through the foyer and to her bar in the living room, where he grabbed a glass and a bottle of whisky. As he poured with his back turned to her he spoke. "How could you?" She walked over to where he was, pulling her t-shirt down as she went, as the shirt barely grazed her thighs and she had nothing else on.

"Simon." She spoke softly and put her hand on his shoulder.

He spun around, as her hand fell back to her side. Those angry eyes, that glare, still present if not worse than before completely disconcerted her. "How could you do that to me, Paula? You knew I screwed up. I admitted I screwed up. And you refuse to give me the opportunity to fix it?" As he was speaking his eyes travelled up, and then down her body and she thought she saw disgust change to….. well, … lust maybe? She didn't know what. But for an instant, the expression in his eyes was different.

She grabbed a glass and filled it up with the same whisky he was drinking. She knew, she would regret it tomorrow. But right now tomorrow didn't matter. Right now, she cared only about getting through tonight, the next hour, the next five minutes. She took a long swig of the whisky and set the glass, not so lightly, on the table. With intoxication came anger, and she was way ahead of him. Intoxication wise. She found her voice again as the lump in her throat disappeared. "Simon, I did what I thought was right. I listened to them sing tonight. Marcus was better. That is it. I did my job, what y…."

"Your job? Your job?" His voice was rising as he spoke, not as monotonous as before. And then he laughed. "Is that what you call it? I'll tell you…. I'll tell you what I call it, Paula. Complete and utter incompetence." He drank all of the whisky in his glass, slammed it down on the table, as to outdo her she thought. And poured another glass.

She knew that he knew exactly what he was doing, how to push her buttons. And it was working. She was mad. "Incompetence? Incompetence…. ha! That's really funny, coming from you Simon. Because the way I see it, it was your incompetence that caused Drew to go home tonight. Not my decision to send her. As a matter of fact, you admitted your incompetence on national television. And just expect because you are you, that it makes it all better. That you snap your fingers and things will be ok. You will get another chance. Well, let me tell you something Simon." She was fuming as she grabbed his shoulder and turned him to face her. "Let me tell you Mr. Everything Always has to be My Way and My Way Only…. that the rest of us…. we don't get second chances. Want to talk about incompetence? What about you passing Melanie up? Then you come to us, begging us, I've made a mistake, you have to let me have four. You, Simon Cowell, are not only incompetent, but you expect the rest of us to accommodate each and every one of your mistakes. You are the most arrogant, the most self obsessed person I have ever known!" She was on her tip toes, in his face, screaming. She had forgotten about her clothing, or lack there of. She had forgotten about everything. And all feelings of being sorry for him had gone straight out the window.

A strange, smug, half amused smile crept across his face. But she knew he wasn't amused. Just as he knew how to push her buttons, she knew exactly where his were too. "Then I guess that makes us a perfect team then, doesn't it, Paula? Because we both know, we both know the reason… the real reason….. you voted Drew off, don't we? You were jealous. Jealous, I still had all my acts. Jealous yours were all gone. If you can't get mad, get even, huh, Paula? Is that how you do it?"

They were standing face to face, with barely any space between them. Her eyes sparkled with anger. "It had nothing to do with my groups Simon."

"I think it did."

"Did not."

"Did so."

"Did. Not."

"I beg to differ my sweet, jealous, Paula."

She took a swig of her drink. "This….. is what you do Simon. Take all your problems, all of your issues, all of your mistakes, out on me. It's what you did last night when you said the reason my groups were gone was because of too much dancing." She shook her head. "When you know damn well that with groups there's got to be a good routine, it's why you wanted me to do the groups in the first place you hypocrite!" But THAT is what you do Simon, that is how you do it, isn't it?" She felt her eyes filling with tears. She knew at any moment one would escape and she didn't want, couldn't stand for him to see her weakness. So she turned and walked to the door, wiping her eyes on the way and opened it. "Get out."

The look on his face was incredulous. Like he had never been asked to leave by anyone before in his life, like he couldn't comprehend what she was saying. "I said, Get out."

His answer was short and simple. "No."

She exhaled deeply to try and maintain composure. "Get. Out. Now. Simon."

He finished what was left of his drink, and casually strolled to the door. She couldn't wait for him to just be gone. But he didn't leave.

Instead he grabbed her hand from the doorknob, keeping hold of her wrists, and pushed her backwards…. backwards, until her back had shut the door.

His hands slid slowly….. seductively from her wrists up her arms and to her shoulders. She could feel the electricity at the sensation of his hands on her skin and shuddered. Her back was against the now closed door and he let go of her shoulders as he pressed his body close to hers, not hurting her, but with his weight against her she wasn't going anywhere. There was no mistaking what his eyes were telling her now. She had seen that look before. Many times. His breathing was ragged as he spoke, almost whispered, "I don't want to leave."

III.

She felt her heart plunge to the pit of her stomach. Her arms were slack at her sides, her knees buckling. She had no control of her muscles, her mind, her heart, her soul. If it weren't for his body, his body that felt so good, pressing up against hers, she would have been on the floor.

She wanted him to leave. She wanted him to stay. She didn't know what she wanted. She didn't understand what was happening. A few minutes ago he had been ready to kill her. And now…. and now…..

His lips on hers interrupted her thoughts. His lips….. so firm, full of confidence, demanding, and a little angry. Hers….. soft, insecure, and unsure.

She had been completely taken aback. She was confused. He was upset, wasn't he? Yes, she could feel it in his kiss.

And she was angry too. Wasn't she? Was she? She didn't know. When it came to him, there was not too much that she did know.

She felt his tongue slide into her mouth, questioning her, imploring her for a response.

As her tongue involuntarily began seeking his, he withdrew, tracing with his tongue her lips….. so lightly, so gently.

His teeth found her lower lip and bit down… softly at first, but then with increasing pressure. He pulled back slowly, her bottom lip still in his teeth. Right before letting go he bit down a little harder, pinching her lip, causing her to yelp.

She felt pain. She felt pleasure. She felt him. For that is what he was….. always had been, to her. He was black, and white. He was right, and wrong. He was pleasure, and pain. He was rapture, and misery.

"Paula.", he whispered. "Paula?" He lightly placed his fingers under her chin, tilting her face up, so that they were eye to eye.

Her lips were still slightly parted. She felt as if she were a lump of clay, as if she were shapeless. And she knew that he was the only one whom could mold her. The only one whom had ever, could ever, have any power over her, to shape her….. into whom she wanted to be. Whom she knew she could be. Whom she was, only….. when she was with him.

"I remember." He spoke so softly. His voice mesmerized her. "I remember how you do it. Now, I remember." He ever so slightly tilted her chin up…. just a little more, to his lips, kissing her lightly. "I thought I had forgotten. It's been a while. So I had to make sure. But now….. I remember."

She drew her arms up, ever so slowly, as she didn't have much strength. Up, up….. up. The contours of his stomach, to his shoulders, till her fingers laced around the back of his neck.

She pulled him down to her, where she was. And kissed him. She reveled in the feeling of his lips on her lips. Not too dry. Not too moist. His kisses were perfect.

"Mmmmmhhhh." She sighed. "I remember too, Si. I remember exactly…. how you do it." She bit his lip, in reciprocation, from the pinch his teeth had given hers… a little harder, at least she thought, than he had bitten.

He pulled back involuntarily. "Ouch! That hurt Paula." He sighed. "But it felt so good." He stepped back to look at her, take all of her in.

She knew what he was thinking, knew what he was feeling, knew him. She knew she had him, that he belonged to her. "There's a little blood Simon. Let me help you."

And she pulled him close to her again. She placed her hands around the back of his head, and pulled him close to her. Kissed his forehead….. his nose…. She traced his lips with her tongue and the metallic taste of his blood filled her mouth.

"God, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that." She felt so bad that she had hurt him.

He kissed her deeply…. with his lips, his tongue, with his body. It was as if between them there was no beginning and no end. They were one. He murmured to her as he spoke. "I knew you were Paula. I knew you would see it my way. The right way. And God, I'm glad this happened, because I have missed you so much."

And as he kissed her she felt it. That indescribable feeling which she could only equate to love….. but knew she was not allowed to define as such. No one else could make her feel this way. And she had never felt this way about anyone else.

So what if she couldn't call it love? So what if they couldn't be together in a traditional, conventional way? Wasn't this worth it? This? What she… what they…. were feeling right now?

His hands moved slowly, ever so slowly down past her shoulders, over her breasts, and to her thighs. She felt his fingertips, the combination of silk and sandpaper, on her skin. Every sensation, every feeling, she had ever felt or had not, she felt now in his fingertips as they travelled down, farther and farther.

Slowly, very slowly, her mind began catching up to her body. It was as she was waking up from the most incredible dream. Or was it the most despicable nightmare?

She abruptly pushed him away. "What do you mean, your way? What do you mean, the right way? What are you talking about?"

IV.

Had she heard him correctly? Was he being serious? Had he been purposely seducing her, just to get her to say she was sorry?

He was exasperating! She couldn't believe it. He was bullheaded. Completely unreasonable. He just couldn't let it drop, couldn't let anything go. Not only did he have to be right about everything, he had to rub it in, by demeaning her. "Answer me, Simon. What did you mean by what you just said to me?"

He stood in front of her, a perplexed look on his face. His breathing was heavy, as the make out session that had just abruptly ended had left him quite aroused. "I don't know. I mean, who cares? You said you were sorry and so…. and so I just figured….. Just don't worry about it. Who cares? Let's get back to what we were doing a moment ago."

He reached out and cupped her face in his hand. "My God, you are so sexy." And he moved in to kiss her.

She placed her hands firmly on his shoulders and pushed him away. "No." She shook her head. "No, no, no. We need to clear this up. I did not just apologize to you for casting my vote to eliminate Drew. I need you to understand that. Because that is not what I meant when I said I was sorry."

He groaned in discontent. "Ssshhh! You talk too much Paula. You are infuriating!"

He ran his hand through his hair, frustrated. "I don't care. I really don't care right now….. what you meant…. or what you are trying to say… if you are sorry. Anything about the damned stupid show or Drew for that matter!"

His eyes sparkled mischievously as his hand moved underneath the sleeve of her night shirt, caressing her arm lightly. "What I do care about is continuing on, with this… this refresher course you have been providing me. You were in the midst of instructing me…. reminding me, how you do it. Remember? Really, I'm trying to be a good student, but you are making it difficult."

She couldn't help but laugh at him. The sparkle in his eyes, the lopsided grin on his face. "Simon!" She laughed again as he playfully pulled up at the t-shirt around her thighs. She fought him, pulling down, trying to keep her bottom half covered as there was nothing underneath.

"Simon, stop! Really, I'm still mad at you," she spoke with weak resolve as he tickled her, trying to distract her enough to accomplish his goal of getting underneath the t-shirt.

"And I'm still mad at you too." He kissed her nose lightly and continued.

"If you think that this is…. well, you know… what we are doing…. and we ARE going to finish what we are doing, Paula, " he teased, placing his index finger lightly on her bottom lip.

"If you think that this argument that we've been having is over, you are sorely mistaken. However….. Mmmmmm Paula… however you could try and make me forget about it..."

As he droned on and on she opened her mouth, allowing his finger entrance. She circled around it, slowly, provocatively, with her tongue.

Until she heard him speak a word that caused her to lose it immediately. She burst out laughing, and it only got worse as the confusion seemed to mount in his eyes…. the perplexed expression on his face.

"Have you gone mad Paula? What is the matter with you.?" He shook his head in amusement and couldn't help but laughing in spite of himself. He had no idea what was so funny and he wasn't sure if maybe he had just done something really embarrassing. But watching her lose it, well it was making him lose control also. "What Paula? What?"

Tears ran down her face as she had been laughing so hard. "HOWEVA," she said through fits of giggles. "HOWEVA you could possibly make me forget. Howeva….. Howeva…. Howeva….."

He snickered. "Stop it," he implored as she continued mocking him. "Seriously, stop it. It's not funny."

He couldn't stop himself from continuing to laugh along with her. "It's the way that I speak and I believe it is quite sexy and sophisticated thank you very much," he went on as she didn't even pretend to be regaining any semblance of control.

"That's it. I'm serious Paula. Dead serious. I'm going to kill you," he jested as he mockingly placed his hands around her neck like he was getting ready to strangle her. "I mean it. I'm going to kill you Paula. I'm going to make you sorry."

She pulled him in close to her, her hands behind his head. And kissed him. Hard. She felt his hands relax and then drop down from her neck. Yes, she hated him sometimes. Yes, they fought like cats and dogs. There had been times she had wished him dead. But she had never had so much fun in her life either. Her life had been boring as hell before him. And she wouldn't change a thing that had happened since she had met him. The good. The bad. The happy times. The sad ones. They had something special. And she wouldn't trade any of it…. and she wouldn't trade him or anything about him, his redeeming qualities or his negative ones…. not for the world.

She gasped with pleasure as she felt her t-shirt rise, and then his hand slip inside. "Mmmmmhhhh. Mmmmmhhhhhh Simon….. a minute. Just a minute. Let me take this shirt off."

Her statement elicited an ear to ear smile on his face. "With pleasure," he stated as he stepped back.

She gradually, haltingly…. stripped her t-shirt off. As she stood in front of him, naked as her name day, her eyes shining with desire, she tossed the t-shirt to him.

"You want to kill me?" she spoke as she circled out from behind and around him. "You want to kill me, you're gonna have to catch me first!"

She grinned. She turned. And took off up the stairs as fast as her small legs could carry her, with Simon hot on her heels.

End Note: And that is the end of the story. Or at least, the argument over Drew's dismissal. Because we all know, when it comes to Simon and Paula…. there is never really an end. Is there? As for what happened after she ran up the stairs with Simon following her. Well, use your imagination! I'm sure you can figure it out! ;)