Gah! Yes, I know I'm working on two other stories, and I will update About a Girl soon. But, damn Dandy! I can't get over you! So, here's a story I wrote to deal with their latest breakup. Obviously, the lipstick being left behind was a mistake, I mean Danny wouldn't let Mindy leave a toothbrush at his place! Seriously though, I'll probably write a story where Mindy time-travels from that awful night on Christmas back to the beginning of season one. But let's just see how this goes first, because my OC, Selena, is majorly awkward and too sweet for words. I almost want to rewrite the show and pair her with Jeremy. Okay, it's almost eight in the morning and this show has my creative juices flowing so read this and let me know what you think. I'll come back and fix it later with a clear head.

Danny didn't make a habit out of doing this type of thing, but Selena was cute. She didn't dress provocatively, she still wore her suit from work, but she had a sweet, easygoing smile and she flirted with subtle touches and glances that made him grin despite himself. She wasn't that much younger than him, maybe Mindy's age with tan skin and dark, straight hair. Her eyes were dark brown.

His eyes were sometimes drawn to her pouty lips, painted a shade he instinctively knew Mindy would love.

He'd been so distracted, he'd asked her to come back to his place and she'd accepted, replacing hesitation with her brightest smile yet. He hoped she didn't mistake a one-night stand for something more serious.

They made it back to his place while chatting amicably about Leo and her record collection which apparently covered an entire wall of her living room. Her grandfather had left her a gramophone when he'd passed so she made a point to use it at least once a week. Thankfully, they made it back without her asking about Mindy.

"So, you're Puerto Rican?" he asked just to keep the conversation going.

"My mom was born in Puerto Rico, my dad was born in Cuba."

"And you were born in New York?"

"Actually, I was born in Puerto Rico, but my Spanish still sucks so it doesn't matter. What about you? How's your Italian?"

"Decent, I guess," he shrugged. "I speak to Leo in Italian all the time since that's what my ma used to do for me and my brother."

"Huh, don't know what I'll do when I have a kid. It's gonna be kinda tough to teach them Spanish when I can barely speak a word of it myself."

"It's never too late to learn," he assured her. "I had a friend who's Indian and she can't speak a word of Hindi."

"I wish I could speak something as cool-sounding as that," Selena commented. "Instead, I just know a bit of French from some classes I took in school."

"Where did you go to school?" he asked as the elevator reached his floor.

"Fordham, you?"

"Colombia."

"Wow, getting it on with a nerd tonight," she joked.

He tried to ignore how that sounded like something a certain someone would say. He also tried to ignore how similar she looked to Mindy from behind. Even the curves of their bodies looked similar. He wondered if she would mind doing it doggy style when they reached his door. Her sweet smile up at him made him feel guilty.

"So, we've reached your place," she said nervously. "Should I just go or...?"

He knew this was his cue to kiss her, but instead he unlocked the door and let her in ahead of him. She turned a slow circle in the living room and took off her blazer, carelessly tossing it on the couch. He watched her take in the furniture and the view before sitting on his piano bench and playing a few keys.

"You play?" he asked.

"Not even a little," she sighed. "Tried learning guitar one summer, gave up after a month. I suck at sticking to things."

Like her, he thought, but he shook his head and found a bottle of wine his mother had given him as a gift. "You want a glass?"

"I'm a lightweight," she said, embarrassed. "Don't hold it against me."

But he did, and he hated himself for it. Mindy could drink like a sailor. The wine in his glass was gone in seconds. "I won't."

She looked at the glass before looking back up at him. "You sure you want me here? In my experience, guys who want to get laid don't get drunk, they get the girl drunk. So, if you want me to leave—"

He stopped her with a light kiss on the lips, more of a promise than an invitation, and took her hand to pull her away from the piano and back to his bedroom. He left the wine and glass on his kitchen counter, but she held her purse tightly to her chest. I'm actually going to do this, she thought. Have sex with a stranger. Cal eat your heart out.

But the sight of the bed made her waver.

"Can I freshen up, maybe take a shower first?" she asked.

"Sure, bathroom's through there."

"Thanks, I won't be long," she said.

The first thing that startled her was the sight of her own wide eyes in the mirror, wide as saucers with the little makeup she'd decided to wear that night already smudged. The suit she'd worn from work was one of the few outfits she wore that didn't make her look fat, and she'd really only chosen to wear it because she hadn't been actively looking to hook up. She'd chosen to let God take the wheel, and had actually found a decent guy.

Her only problem was the question of whether she was ready. She'd packed a few condoms, of course, along with her birth control, but was she ready emotionally? She'd only broken up with Cal the month before over his addiction to cocaine, and she was already sleeping with somebody else? This guy was decent, but she was the type of girl who waited at least three dates for this stuff.

She pulled her lucky tube of lipstick out of her bag and put it on just to have something to do with her hands. She opened his medicine cabinet, and put it on the bottom shelf next to the toothpaste while she looked for something damning that might change her mind. Her friend, Rachel, was always telling her that nerves were never a good excuse. But morphine could be, right? Or weight loss pills? But she didn't find any.

There was nothing wrong with the guy himself, so she was desperate to find something wrong with his lifestyle choices. The box hidden under his sink was a stroke of luck.

"Danny," she said, coming out of the bathroom.

"Yeah?" he was just sitting on the bed, literally twiddling his thumbs when she came back out with the box.

"Who is this?" Selena asked, holding up a picture of Mindy wearing one of her favorite dresses and leaning up against the piano.

"Oh, that's Leo's mother," he replied, hoping to God she hadn't seen all of the pictures. "He misses her when he's away from her too long. I kept that picture for him."

"In a box, under your bathroom sink?"

He nodded. "Yeah, you know, closet's full."

"What about this one?" she asked, holding up a photo of Mindy completely naked with her legs spread wide open for the camera. "I guess you just wanted to remind Leo of the place he came out of?"

"Um, no, look, I'm sorry. These were pictures I took of her after she gave birth to Leo. I wanted to convince her that she was still beautiful. We were together than, we're just co-parents now, I've been meaning to throw those out for months, but I never got around to it."

"You're completely over her?" she asked. He nodded. "Then why did I find this one at the top of the pile along with a letter to her dated yesterday?"

This one featured Mindy on her knees, looking up at him through her lashes as she gave him a blow job. "Okay, I'm not over her! But it's not just a sex thing, even if that does play a huge part."

"I got that," Selena said. "This letter mentions a lot more than just her body."

"We were friends before I ever let myself tell her how I felt," he told her. "And now I'm wondering if that whole relationship was a mistake."

"Don't even think like that," she scolded him lightly. "That relationship gave you Leo."

"Yeah, but breaking up with her was ten times worse than breaking up with my ex-wife, because now we have a kid who's gonna grow up like I did, wondering why mom and dad don't live together."

"That's not the only reason it was worse, and you know it."

"You're right, I respected her more than I ever did Christina, I still do. She never cheated on me, she left because she wanted to keep working.," he said, rubbing his eyes. "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to keep going on about my exes."

"No, it's good that you did," Selena said with a sad smile. "To tell the truth, I've never slept with a guy casually, it's always had to mean something. But my friend, Rachel's been pushing me to leave the apartment so I thought 'what the hell?' Unfortunately, I don't think I'm right for this kind of thing. I'm the type of woman who bakes cookies for her neighbor when her dog dies."

"So, you're leaving then?"

"You think I'm going to stay after noticing how much I look like her? I'd rather not risk you calling me by her name."

"Fair enough," he said, following her out of his bedroom and helping her with her blazer. "At least let me pay for your cab."

"You do ow me that much," she joked. "Hey, tell me more about this chick."

"What do you want to know?"

"Why did you break up?"

"I wanted her to quit working and stay at home to raise our kids," he answered. At her raised eyebrow, he raised his hands. "My mom worked all the time, and I had to raise my brother almost by myself. I didn't want that for Leo."

"Do you think you'll ever get back together?"

"We still sleep together."

She slapped him on the shoulder. "You do not! And you're looking for other women in bars?"

"What's the big deal?"

"If she slept with somebody else, would you be jealous?"

He imagined her with somebody else, maybe Jeremy or Jody, and anger was his first reaction. Maybe it's too soon, he tried to rationalize, but it would always be too soon.

They got on the elevator, and she pulled the strap of her purse over her arms as she counted down the floors to the lobby.

"So, what's your story?" he asked.

"Who says I have one?"

"We all have pasts."

She waited until they reached the lobby to start. "He was an addict, in and out of rehab. He couldn't remember my birthday, but he could remember his dealer's. We've broken up and gotten back together over and over again since high school. He wasn't my only long term boyfriend, but I've always thought of him as 'the one.' Silly, right?"

"No way," he said, as a cabbie pulled up on their side of the street. "I just hope you meet someone better than that guy soon. I mean, I know we've only just met, but you seem like a good person who deserves more than that guy."

"Thanks," she said. "I know tonight didn't end the way you hoped, but I think it's better this way. Stop sleeping with her if you're going to sleep with other women, and stop sleeping with other women if you're going to sleep with her. Just some advice from a single romantic. If you really respect her as a person, stop screwing around."

"Alright," he said, shifting awkwardly. "Anything else?"

"Yeah, don't be afraid of being hurt again. Don't even be afraid of her hurting you again, because if your relationship survives this, it can survive anything. Living means being hurt as much as it means being loved so find someone. It doesn't necessarily have to be her, but if you're still hung up on her after a year, give it another go."

"I think I understand why you keep giving this guy a chance. You're an optimist."

"Which is exactly why this city doesn't deserve me," she quipped. "Remember what I said."

With that, she kissed him on the cheek and left. She was halfway home when she remembered the lipstick. But the text from Cal saying he'd gone back to rehab and her own tears were enough to distract her.