Stay and watch the stars come out

And then the sun as they all fade away

I'll sing you every song I know if it will make you want to stay

And then I'll say that I missed you

And these words, they'll convince you…

((Mayday Parade, "Your Song"))

Delilah

They're sitting together in the hallway, his eyes on her.

"Alex, what are you looking at? Are you looking at my hands?"

He cocked an eyebrow. "Why would I be looking at your hands?"

"Because I have man hands."

"You do not have man hands."

"I do. Even my mom told me I have man hands. That's the first thing she said to me when I told her I wanted to be a surgeon. 'But honey, you have man hands.'"

"No wonder you don't talk to her."

"Shut up."

He grins. "I can prove you don't have man hands."

"Really?"

"Yes. Hold out your hand – up, like that. Yeah."

"Alex, what are you doing?"

He reaches out and presses his palm against hers. The pads of her fingers touch the second joint of his fingers and he curls the tips for emphasis. "See? Yours are smaller than mine. Just like they should be." But he doesn't move his hand away and soon they're both staring at the image of their hands pressed together. "Iz—"

"You're warm."

He shifts his hand and curls his fingers around hers so that their hands are intertwined. She opens her mouth to say something when her pager goes off, and her eyes glance over apologetically as she lets him go. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

She curses the pager as she walks away.