He's never been a hard drinker. Tonight, though, there's a buzz in his veins and the booze are flowing. It wasn't even his idea to come here, but he's far from complaining. His birthday was three days ago, so tonight's not even a celebration. It's just an excuse for fading into oblivion. By eleven thirty, he's fading all alone, his friends all having ditched him for one bullshit excuse after the next.

Norman doesn't mind because it's after Richard and Emma and the others leave that he sees her. He's heading back to the bar from the corner booth, desperate for a refill and she's at the counter, wearing a tight black dress and making conversation with the bartender. Blonde hair that falls to her shoulders, blue eyes that shine even in the dull light and a figure women half her age would kill for. She's in that purgatory between thirty and forty, but Norman couldn't care less. She's a fucking goddess framed in the dank world of this shithole bar and he can't stop staring. An unknowing moth to an unknowing flame.

Somewhere in his gawking, he manages to find his manners. "Hey."

Her gaze flicks over to him. Not drunk. Not even close. She's nursing a Coors Light slow as she can go. Norman isn't sure if that's good news for him or not. Either way, she sends him the same smirk she sent the bartender. Friendly, not irritated. "Hi."

For some reason or another (that's probably related to his inebriation), her voice brings up the image of lapping ocean waves. Strange, soft, and melodic. He feels like if he closed his eyes, he'd drown in it. He wants to. Drown in it, that is. He didn't want to close his eyes; he wanted to keep looking right at her. "Any particular reason you're here by yourself?"

The bar isn't loud; the crowd's tapering off. It's a Wednesday night. And really, Norman wouldn't have cared if the world outside this place were coming to end, he would stay right here with this woman who baffled and intrigued him.

"Probably because my husband's about to become my ex-husband." Her words are matter of fact, free from bite or bark. Norman's glad. She looks him up and down. His messy brown hair that fell just short of his sparkling blue eyes. His drunkenness is obvious, but it doesn't necessarily turn her off. He seems to have enough wherewithal to understand what he's doing. Tall, lanky, but not a complete stick. She can make out an outline of well-defined pectorals beneath the navy blue dress shirt he wears. The top two buttons are open, exposing a small expanse of bare skin. She licks her lips. "What about you?"

He shoves his hands in his pockets and shrugs. Childlike. "My friends are lightweights. Couldn't miss their imaginary curfews."

The woman laughs and it's such a pretty sound that Norman momentarily loses his bearings. "How old are you anyway?"

"Twenty five." Okay, so really, he's twenty one, but if he tells her that, he has a feeling he'll strike out before he's seen a pitch. He holds out his hand. "Norman."

Her eyebrows furrow as she takes it. "Norma." Another laugh, this time in shared disbelief. Their hands separate, but electricity still tingles up and down his veins. He swallows to alleviate the sudden rush of nerves.

"That's quite the old-fashioned name for someone so young." She says.

He wants to drop a line here (I could say the same to you), but somehow he knows that that would lose her. Instead, he nods. "What can I say? My mother has a strange sense of humor."

She shifts on the bar stool. Whether it's discomfort or unwanted attraction, Norma can't really be sure. This kid was doing something to her that was impossible to label. It's new.

"What are you doing hitting on a woman fifteen years older than you? Surely your mother didn't teach you that."

"Because you captured my attention and kept it. Age is a number, Norma. If it really bothers you, just keep reminding yourself that I'm perfectly legal. And single."

That earns him a flirtatious giggle. "Good to know."

It shouldn't happen, but it does. She drags him back to her apartment and pulls him into her, mouth to mouth, body to body. They're barely through the door before she's popping buttons on his shirt and shoving it from his shoulders. His moan bounces off the silence in the room and falls onto her, turning into heat that trails down her skin. She breaks the kiss. His hands get a firm hold on her hips and tug her closer. Her fingers trace over his bare chest. He's all toned, lean muscle beneath his good boy clothes. Absolutely gorgeous. A seductive smirk lifts the corners of her mouth as she leads him backward into the blackness of her bedroom.

Later, she's cuddled into his side, lazily touching him because she couldn't seem to stop. His nails are scraping at the slope of her back, so apparently, she isn't the only one. Somewhere inside, there's nothing aside from a blaring warning. This wasn't a good idea no matter how good he felt under her hands.

Her cotton sheets afford him the slightest bit of modesty. They're draped over his waist, hiding his more intimate areas from view. Norma hadn't bothered to cover herself before she'd collapsed into his arms. His presence was keeping her warm enough. She raises her head so she can look into his soft cerulean eyes.

"You're something."

His whole body shakes when he laughs. "Thanks. And, uh, likewise." The hand that isn't sending shivers up her spine comes up and slides a stray piece of hair behind her ear. "You're incredible. Really." Its part disbelief and part awe. Her heart melts into a puddle. Drops of it run down her ribs and fall onto the wings of the butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

She leans down and kisses him, moaning contentedly against his mouth. When she pulls away, her expression takes on a playful quality. "Next time, we're meeting somewhere that isn't a low class bar."

"Okay, so a high class bar. I can do that." A light slap falls across his chest. "Ow." He feigns, then loosens up. "There'll be a next time?"

"Yes. Is that all right with you?"

"Definitely." Another kiss and Norma's falling faster than she's ever fallen in her whole life. This was dangerous territory. She couldn't feel anything for this kid. Nothing good could come from it.

"Listen, I'm free all day tomorrow." She glances over at the clock that sits on the bedside table, boasting red numbers that portrayed early morning. "Or today, I guess. Do you want to hang out here for a while? We can have breakfast."

"That depends on whether or not you're the kind of cook my mother is. In which case, I'd have to say no."

She slaps him again. "Shut up, I'm a good cook. My husband and my son never complained."

"You have a son?"

"Yeah. Dylan. He's almost eighteen." Her pallor whitens. "That's not a problem, is it?"

Norman shakes his head to hide the uncertainty bubbling within him. A son. A son that was barely younger than him. Relief unties the knot. He's glad he lied about his age at the bar.

"No, of course not. It surprised me, that's all. Are you two close?"

A heavy sigh. "Used to be."

"What happened?"

"Divorce is a tricky thing, Norman. Children have the outsider perspective. They see what they want see and believe what they want to believe."

"Oh." Sympathy floods through him. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

"Is he your only kid?"

Norma goes stiff in his embrace. Her gaze shifts away, desperate and uncomfortable.

"Hey, you all right?"

It seems like entire lifetimes pass before Norma comes back to him. "Yeah, I'm okay."

He rubs the tension from her shoulders. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No. I…" She inhales a sharp breath and lets it go. "I had another son. I gave him up. I'd only been seventeen at the time and I hadn't…" Tears start falling. Not sobbing. Just quiet sadness that drops an anvil on Norman's chest.

"It's okay. Every one's done something they're not proud of."

Her head drops to his chest. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm telling you this. I guess I feel comfortable with you."

"It's fine. You don't have to apologize. I want to know you. This is as good a place as any to start."

She sniffles and wipes at her nose. "What about you? Siblings?"

"Nope, just me. My mother couldn't deal with any more. My dad's a hot shot businessman, so she practically raised me on her own. He's a good guy, though, don't get me wrong. He just isn't around much."

"She did a good job with you."

He grins at her. "I'm sure she'd love to hear that. If you ever meet her that should be the first thing you say. Good way to break the ice. You raised your son well and yes, I am having sex with him. You should know he's good at that, too." Mischief colors his features.

Her eyes roll toward the ceiling. "You're insufferable."

"I am. But, you like it."

"I do."

"God, Norman." There's cold tile against her back and he's on his knees in front of her with his face between her thighs. She watches him intently, her eyes hooded, her hand planted at the back of his head. The water pouring from the shower head has long since gone cold, but neither of them feel it. A whimper falls from her lips when he gets her the right way and he hums his approval right into her.

It vibrates through every nerve ending. "Norman." It's breathier now, maybe four feet closer to the cliff's edge.

She has one leg draped over his shoulder, her calf warm against his back, the heel of her foot pressing into his spine. Her knee's bent beside his cheek. His hand grabs at her thigh, rough and unforgiving. Another whimper as his mouth shows no mercy. His tongue, his lips, his teeth. God.

Norma falls over the edge and Norman takes her for everything she's worth.

"Jesus." She mutters, still breathless. Norman slowly rises to his feet. Her essence glistens on his mouth and he's hard. The way he licks his lips is fiendish.

She tugs her bottom lip between her teeth. In her daze, she manages to find the knob for the shower. It squeaks in protest but obeys. She opens her arms for him and he comes to her, kissing her deep. She's still on his tongue. A groan lets itself loose against his teeth. Two of his fingers press to her clit.

"Damn it." She rips herself from him. "You're out of your mind."

"Maybe. Or maybe I just know not to waste the attention of a beautiful woman."

He watches her comb her hair. It's graceless. After all, he distracted her in the shower. So, now, her hair is already half way dry and matted in places. She could kill him for making this so difficult. And, she could kill him for laughing at her awkward tugs at the hairbrush.

"It's your fault." She says. "If you hadn't…"

"I didn't hear you complaining. Unless the new word for stop is Norman. If that's the case, I sincerely apologize." It's good-natured. He's decided he likes getting on her nerves.

"Oh, shut up."

A laugh tumbles out of him before he can stop it. "Sore loser."

"What makes you think I lost anything? I seem to recall you doing all the manual labor."

His arms trap her and pull her close. He's barely a breath away. "And I seem to recall you reaping all the reward."

The brush falls from her fingertips and lands on the bed behind them, forgotten. "That's right."

"Well then, I hardly think I did you a disservice." His mouth finds her pulse point.

"You did not." Her grip folds into his short hair. She sighs as his teeth nip at her skin. "In fact, you are allowed to perform that particular service any time you like."

Lust twists and bends inside him. "Fuck."

She jerks his head back with both hands and kisses him hard. He almost has trouble keeping up with her passion. God, this woman. One hand trails down his body and dips into his jeans. She strokes at him until his flesh is throbbing in the small circle of her grip. He spins her around so she's facing the bed. Her hand comes loose and the kiss tears at the seams.

"Bend over." His voice is ripe with arousal and need. She shivers as she does what he tells her, pressing her palms into the mattress. Her panties fall to her ankles and there's a rustle that signifies his jeans doing the same. The groan he lets out when he pushes in almost rips her to pieces.

"Fuck, Norma." He bows his head and closes his eyes, his movements in and out of her gentle and deliberate.

She lifts herself up, reaching one hand back toward his neck so she can kiss him. He obeys her silent command. A helpless moan sounds. He doesn't know who it was. Her teeth settle on his bottom lip, biting down and tugging outward. He takes her harder. Her hips absorb and come back to meet the assault. His forehead falls to her shoulder.

He feels the warmth of her fingers thread into his hair and the warmth of her body close in around him. "Come for me." It's a heated whisper let go against the crown of his head. Her breath is a slow gust of wind.

Norman falls apart.

"Favorite color?"

"Blue."

"Favorite movie?"

"Strangers on a Train."

"Really?" She looks at him like he's a space alien.

"What? You think I'm too young to appreciate old movies?" He sips at his orange juice and gives her a stink eye over the rim of the glass.

"No. That's just a strange answer. Favorite record?"

A knowing smile crosses his face. "Abbey Road."

"Wow. You're a connoisseur of the older genre, aren't you?"

"I hope you're including yourself in that."

She ducks her head to hide the blush creeping up in her cheeks.

"What about your son? What's he into?"

"Nothing as old as Abbey Road, that's for sure. He was a grunge kid for a time." Nostalgia hits her hard for a moment. She has an image of Dylan at thirteen trying his hardest to be brooding while still being a mama's boy at heart. That sure didn't impress his friends. "Didn't last long. He's a good kid. Gets good grades, steady job, nice girlfriend. All that despite the shit John and I put him through."

"Is he going to go off on his own after the divorce is final? There isn't going to be a custody battle, right?"

"No custody battle. He's already moved in with his girlfriend. She's got her own place."

"Good for him. Better for me." He stands and takes his empty plate to the sink. The kid's got manners and charm. A double whammy if she's ever seen one. She's on her feet, too, and then she's right beside him, running warm fingers down his neck and kissing his cheek.

"Yeah, maybe."

"What do you mean 'maybe'? This way, I get you all to myself."

"You sound so sure."

"That's because I am."

Norma falls asleep at four in the afternoon. Norman kneels beside the bed, observing her closed eyes and peaceful smile. He runs soft fingers through her hair.

"Norma, baby. Hey." Her eyes flutter back to life.

He goes on. "I'm going to go home and change. I'll pick something up on the way back here. Chinese sound good to you?"

"Mmhm."

His lips press to hers for a moment. Her hand holds him in place. "Norma. Come on." The words are said into her mouth. She doesn't stop. "Norma."

They separate, but stay mere centimeters apart. "I like having you here." She whispers.

"I like being here. Believe me. Just give me an hour. I'll even stop by the video store and get a couple movies. You won't be able to get rid of me." She pulls him back to her.

The pad of her index finger rides his jawline. "Bye, baby."

His smile is warm. "Bye, beautiful. I'll be back soon."

He rents Strangers on a Train, but it hardly keeps his attention. Norma's the cause for that as she nestles into his side on the couch, one arm over his waist and her head against his shoulder. Her legs are bent underneath her, her knees pressing into Norman's left leg. That isn't the only reason why he's distracted. He's thinking. His thoughts are composed of her and how he's known her for twenty four hours and somehow feels the deepest connection he's ever felt to another human being. It's like he's found what always be meant to complete him. He has no clue what that means and even worse, he doesn't how Norma feels.

That scares him more than anything. What if he was only a distraction for her? What if the connection stopped with him and his overactive thought processes?

Carousel music from the film's soundtrack seeps through his haze. Norma hides her face in his neck.

That makes him chuckle. "Oh, come on. It's not scary."

"Yeah, it is." She replies. Her hot breath shoots up his pleasure sensors. "The guy's a freaking lunatic."

"Well, of course. That's the whole idea. The seemingly normal tennis player gets caught up with the psycho and people die. It's great." He presses his lips to her forehead. "You've never had such unpleasant feelings for someone that you've wanted to kill them?"

Her bright eyes find his. "Hasn't everybody?"

"See? That's what this movie is about. That feeling. Hating somebody to the point where you'd go to any measure to rid yourself of them. It's about hitting your limit and going a little mad, you know?"

"Yeah. You don't think that's a little scary?"

Norman scoffs. "It's the scariest thing there is. That's why you're so uncomfortable."

She nuzzles into him again, her eyes away from the screen. His fingers stroke at her spine. "I can turn it off if you want."

"No, don't."

Norman taps his finger on his chin pensively. "Hmmm." He licks his lips. Her eyes follow his tongue across. "You ever had sex in a public place?"

Blue widens. "What? Come on, Norman."

"Don't even try to evade the question." He's still holding her. The movie's long over, but the sofa's still occupied. Norman's on his back with her flush against him, one knee pressing suggestively into his crotch.

"All right. Airplane bathroom. And maybe a movie theater once."

His tongue moves to the other side of his mouth. "Remind me to buy a couple plane tickets. Where do you wanna go?"

Norma's eyes roll melodramatically. She isn't surprised by his reaction. "Have you ever had sex in a public place?"

Norman responds with what can only be described as a haughty chuckle. It trembles through him and into her. "I had this girlfriend in high school who coaxed me into making love on the football field during lunch period."

"I'm sure it didn't take much persuasion on her part."

"You would be correct." His eyebrows rise to his hairline. He looks away, longingly into nothing. "Damn, I miss her."

Norma hits him hard across the chest. "Screw you."

"Anytime you want, baby. Anytime you want." His head turns toward the clock on the wall above her bedroom door. "Holy shit." He's been here for thirty six hours.

"What?" Norma's lips trace the tendon in his neck. His skin carries the scent of the lilac soap that sits in her shower.

"I've been here a while. Do you want me to go?"

"Not unless you have to." The smirk she wears heats him up. Her knee presses harder between his legs.

"Hey, hey. Stop that." Soft hands cup her ass. "I'm not going. Even if I had somewhere else to be, I'd still want to be right here."

"I know."

He leaves a gentle kiss on her temple. "I feel something for you. I can't even really explain it, but it's there. A connection, you know? I feel like I've known you forever. Or maybe that I was always meant to meet you."

She stares at him and he watches the confusion etch itself into her face. "I'm sorry. That was weird, wasn't it?"

"Yeah. But, I feel the same way. There's something here, isn't there?"

"I think so." His arms enclose around her, tightening and keeping her against him. Beethoven's fifth breaks the comfortable silence. Norma jumps.

"What the hell's that?"

"My ringtone." The corner of his mouth perks up. "Let me get it." He doesn't go without kissing her on the mouth. It lasts for all of half a second, but it turns Norma to putty. His form disappears into the dark bedroom and the music comes to a halt.

"Hey." He steps back out, his phone glued to his ear, exasperation evident in his slumped posture. "I'm sorry. I was out. With Emma and Richard and all them, mom…I'm not home." A heavy sigh breaks past gritted teeth. "Mom. I said I was sorry. Okay, I didn't mean to worry you…Where am I?" Frightened eyes find Norma sitting up on the couch, staring back blankly. She shrugs. "I'm in the city with a friend." He winks at her. "You don't know her, mom. Yes, she's very nice." Norma suppresses a giggle behind her hand. "Okay, mom. Yeah. I'll come by tomorrow, I promise. I love you, too." He blows a kiss into the phone and everything inside Norma melts. She stands up as he disconnects the call.

Her face reads like a book of romance and adoration. Her arms circle his waist. "That was really sweet." It's warm and heavy and it burrows into Norman's body and leaves him aching.

"You think so?"

"I do."

He laughs at the heat in her eyes. "You know, you could be the only woman I've ever dated whose actually turned on by my mama's boy status."

"I'm not turned on. I'm endeared." Her hand cups him between his legs. His breath hitches. "I might be a tiny bit more turned on now."

He frames her face with his long, elegant fingers. "Come here." The kiss is intense, desperate and it's so consuming that he doesn't even manage to get her back to the couch. He lowers her to the floor, settling over her before she can protest the location.

She doesn't really seem to mind, anyway.

He's gentle this time, clearly wanting to make it last. Norma traps him with her body, arms and legs all the way around him while he pumps his hips in a steady rhythm. Broken breaths caress the skin at his neck. She can feel his eyelashes flutter on her cheek as he closes his eyes.

"You feel good." The arousal on her breath shakes him to the core. His hips pick up of their accord.

Norma throws her head back and Norman groans at the feel of her pulling him in even closer.

"Don't stop. God, Norman, don't ever stop."

"What are you thinking about?" Norman's head shoots up, his eyes colliding with Emma's curious gaze.

"Hmm?"

"You've been staring off into space for five whole minutes. You all right?"

It, of course, wasn't anything bad. He'd been thinking about Norma. Again. What she was doing, how she was, if her days seemed to drag without him the way his did without her.

"I'm fine, Emma. Really." He's having coffee with her in a Barnes and Noble. For ten minutes, she'd been ignoring him for her laptop, her keystrokes constant and soothing. Now he's caught in her crosshairs which is decidedly the same place he always seems to end up in.

"Okay." Her oxygen tank sits beside the small table and he watches her hand close around the handle, the blood draining slightly from her knuckles, casting them a lighter shade than the rest of her.

The laptop snaps shut. "I have to go find something for my paper. I'll be back."

"All right. I'm going to walk around."

He doesn't really mean to stumble into the poetry section, but he does. He sifts through collection after collection, letting the words of devotion seep into his eyes and his mind and his heart. Giving any of this over to Norma after only two weeks of being together would freak her out. Or maybe it's that Norman's too afraid to admit he might actually feel something so deep for her after such little time. That couldn't end well for him. She'd run from him, call him a creep and slam the door in his face. The fear is cold. He wouldn't screw this up. He couldn't lose what seemed so…epic.

He cringes. God, now he's freaking himself out.

He doesn't even hear Emma come up behind him, though he should. The wheels of her oxygen tank creating friction on the carpet made a sound that could've woken the dead.

"What are you doing?" She's looking over his shoulder, studying the page he's got the latest book open to. He slams it closed, louder than an atomic bomb going off.

"Nothing."

He turns so he can look at her and immediately decides that it was a really bad idea. She scrutinizes him with those big doe eyes, seeing through the fissures inside, trying to find the new piece that made everything come together and change him.

"You seem different."

"What do you mean?"

Her eyes fall to the 1,000 page volume in his hands. "Well, for one thing, you're reading poetry."

The handle of her oxygen tank squeaks under the pressure her fingers inflict. Norman has to hold back the urge to walk away from her. She always got this way when he went into one of these love struck phases.

"I like poetry." He replies.

"No, you don't. You whined about it when we studied it in school."

"Maybe I'm developing a taste for it."

"Or maybe you're trying to win over some defenseless girl. Again."

They lock eyes. Norman's stone faced. Emma's expectant. He gives in. "Okay, I met someone. But, I swear it's different this time. This one will last."

"I'm sure." Sarcasm drips off the edges of her tone.

"Whatever."

Norma tries to stay away. She really does. But, her thoughts never stray too far from him. He's stolen her; taken her over and left no logic or rationality behind. The word love bounces itself back and forth across her cerebellum and she has to laugh at herself. Love wasn't possible after ten rolls in the hay and a handful of phone calls and face to face conversations. Was it?

Her romance with John lasted seventeen years. She'd met him when she was twenty three and had fallen for him rapidly. His charm and his deep brown eyes and his devotion to being a father to an unplanned child. It hadn't taken much to own her, just as it wasn't taking much with Norman.

Maybe it's just how she falls. Quick with no parachute or destination. John had betrayed her, but Norman seemed genuine. Enamored. And she even more so with him.

And she tries to stay away. But, he stays with her. His touch, his voice, everything that came with it.

She dials the number and doesn't even allow herself to back out. He answers on the second ring.

"Hi, beautiful. How are you?"

Stupid. Norma's heart sways and folds in on itself. Her feelings tighten in her chest, suffocating her. She couldn't beat them down if she wanted to.

"I'm all right. You?"

"Better now. What's going on?"

The smile splits her lips without a conscious thought. "Not much. I miss you."

A heavy sigh travels the line. "I know what you mean. I've been thinking about you since I woke up this morning."

"It's only been two days since we've seen each other."

"I know...so you want me to come over?"

"I have to see the divorce lawyer at 8 tomorrow. I can't afford the distraction. And by distraction I mean the marathon sex."

"It's the only way to go really."

Her bottom lip ends up snug between her teeth. "So, I was wondering if you'd meet me for lunch afterward? The beach is a short drive from my apartment. We could take a walk."

"Is there an Oceanside motel, too? Cause if you're gonna be wearing a bikini, I'm going to have a problem that'll need immediate attention."

She laughs. "Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah. Seriously, I'm having a problem just thinking about it."

She imagines him alone in his room, his eyes casting downward to his need for her. The image of his long fingers wrapped around his own cock, working himself into frenzy dries her throat and steals her breath.

"Norma? You still there?"

"Yeah, I'm here." Her words are quick. He could practically reach out and touch her arousal.

"What were you thinking about?"

"You touching yourself to the thought of me."

Norman's breathing trips over itself. "Shit. You liked it?"

"Yeah, I did."

"God, let me come over." Hurried, breathless.

Norma whimpers. "Norman."

"Please. Or you can come over here if you want. You don't have to stay too long. You can't leave me like this. It's cruel and unusual."

"Give me ten minutes."

His place is a bachelor pad. There's a pool table and a tiny kitchen and an upstairs that's nothing but a wide platform that holds his bed. A room to the left of the bed is dark and unused.

She smirks at her lover. "It's exactly what I expected."

"Shut up. You want a beer?"

"Why not?"

He retreats into the kitchen and she watches him bend down to retrieve two cans of beer from the very back of the bottom shelf. When he hands one over, their fingers brush each other and Norma's forced to suppress a shiver.

"So," Norman takes a long sip. "What's under there?"

She's wearing a beige trench coat that's closed tight. On her feet are a pair of black two inch heels. Norman licks his lips. She holds his gaze as she unties the coat, opening it with a grin.

Underneath is a red negligee. Sheer, made with as little material as possible, stopping at the midway point of her thighs.

"Good God." He comes to her, diving to her neck and leaving kisses like raindrops on her skin. His hands make quick work of the trench coat and soon soft fingers are sneaking under the nightgown. He touches her through her panties where wet heat is intensifying.

"Norman."

"Yes, baby?"

"Make love to me."

She goes home after she meets with the lawyer. More bullshit from John's side that Norma wasn't even slightly prepared to deal with. Evidence against the numerous affairs and a sworn statement. He wasn't going to let her out of this easy.

The clock mocks her. Norman would be here any minute to pick her up for lunch and she wasn't even dressed yet. With a sigh, she digs through her top drawer, pulling out a sky blue bikini that was guaranteed to drive Norman out of his mind.

She puts white short shorts and a white tank top over it and works to clear her brain of all the shit.

There's a knock on the front door.

His car smells of stale pizza. She wrinkles her nose. He gives her a side eye and squeezes the hand that rests on his thigh.

"What's that face for?"

"How many college kids have been in this thing?"

It's an off white 1999 Impala, a gift from his father. "A good number. A few of my friends haven't graduated yet."

"I can tell from this stench."

"Hey, careful, you'll hurt her feelings." He taps the dashboard with an open palm. "She didn't mean it."

"Oh, my God. You didn't strike me as the in love with my car type."

"I love Ingrid and she loves me. You don't understand our deep connection."

Norma bursts out laughing and leans over the console so she can kiss his cheek. "Okay. Since I can tell I'm the third wheel, I'll just keep quiet."

He takes his eyes from the road to address her. "Trust me, baby, Ingrid's the third wheel here."

It's eleven thirty on a Tuesday, which means the beach is decidedly less crowded than it usually is. Norma's glad because it also means fewer glances in their direction. Norman towers five inches above her anyway and with his baggy grey t-shirt and his black swim trunks, he easily passes for mid-twenties.

She wishes she could say the same. Maybe she could pass for early thirties, but she thinks even that's a long shot. Yet, Norman stares at her when she lifts off her tank top and deposits it into her tote bag. The fire in his eyes as they travel from her face to her belly button heats her up in all the right places.

She plays it cool. "Jesus, Norman. It's a damn bikini top."

"It's not the top. It's what's underneath it." He winks and puts his arm across her shoulders, tugging her against his side and pulling her forward along the sand.

"How'd it go?" His thumb rubs soothing circles on her shoulder. "With the divorce thing, I mean."

"It was all right. John's denying the affairs and his lawyer brought evidence to discount them. The man will fight, but he won't show up for the damn proceedings."

"I'm sorry." Norman doesn't know how to comfort her. Despite his dad's frequent business trips, the relationship his parents have is solid as it's ever been.

"It's okay. I expected it to be like this. It's over as far as I'm concerned. I don't need a piece of paper to make it real. I'll never take him back."

"You shouldn't have to. If he treated you like that, he doesn't deserve a thing from you."

Norma stops dead in her tracks, causing Norman to stop with her, confused. "You're right." She says. "He doesn't. You do. I want to focus on this, on us. I don't want you to think that I'd give this up to hear him out. You've made me feel better than I've felt in years. I'm happy when I'm with you. Believe that."

"I do." Their lips meet and the world around them fades into the distance. By the time Norman lets go, Norma's out of breath.

The waves crash in around his feet. He hardly feels it as he looks into Norma's clear blue eyes. He loves her. Two seconds, two minutes, two days, two weeks, two months, it didn't matter. He loves her right here and right now. Time is a formality. Norma is an exception to every rule he's ever made for himself.

"I love you, Norma. Honestly, I do."

Eyes are turning in their direction. They sear into Norma's back and out through the other side. It scares her, but it doesn't last. She doesn't care. He's changing something inside her, opening her up and looking in and refusing to look away. Her darkest pieces and her heartache and her bitterness. Norman's seeing it all and doing nothing aside from caring for her on the other end.

She has no doubt that he means what he says. Love is present in every move he makes. That rips into her and lifts her into a place where nothing matters anymore. Just him and the knack he has for making the world disappear.

"I think I love you, too."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."