"Hey, Babe," Shawn greeted Juliet, grinning as he slid into the booth across from her.

She glanced up at him, raising a single eyebrow.

"Babe?" she repeated over the noise of the pizza parlor around them, her nose wrinkling in obvious distaste as she spat the word back at him like luke-warm soda. "Seriously, Shawn? Babe?"

"What?" he asked, blinking defensively. "No good?"

"No," she snorted, folding her arms across her chest as her clear blue eyes locked with his. "No good. You're going to have to come up with something better than that!"

"Okay…" he shrugged, ready to try again. "Hey…there lonely girl?"

She rolled her eyes and gently smacked his arm.

"No."

"Hey…Jude?"

"Shawn!"

"What?"

"Those are just song titles!"

"Yeah…" Shawn agreed, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Classic songs! How about Na-Na-Na-Na, Hey-Hey-Hey, Goodbye?"

"That doesn't even sound like a pet name!" she scoffed, dropping her arms back onto the table as she leaned forward.

"Pet name?" Shawn's forehead wrinkled in apparent confusion. He leaned back in the booth, cocking his head to the side curiously. "Is that what we're doing? I thought we were playing Name That Tune and you were just losing…"

She laughed and shook her head, her hand resting on top of his.

"I don't think we're playing Name That Tune," she murmured.

"Really? Are you sure? Because I was winning, like, 97-to-zip."

"Shawn."

"Okay…no songs," he agreed finally, playfully lacing his fingers through hers. "How about classic movies?"

"Like what?" she sighed, already regretting giving him the opening.

"Star Wars?" he began, counting the titles off the fingers of his free hand. "Mad Max? Sybil? Rocky? Rocky III? Any of the Sylvester Stallone sequels involving either Rocky or Rambo?"

Her jaw almost hit the table as the barrage of truly horrendous names washed over her.

"Are you serious?"

"That depends…" he answered carefully, gauging her reaction. "Are you actually considering any of them?"

"No."

"Then I'm totally joking!"

She sighed and rested her hand on her chin, drumming her fingers on the table impatiently.

"Well, you better come up with something, Shawn," she informed him. "Because I'm not a 'Babe'."

"Are you kidding?" Shawn gushed. "You're a total babe!"

"You know what I mean!"

"Okay, okay," he sighed, rolling his eyes in defeat. "No babe…no songs…no movies…how about random adjectives combined with random foods?"

"What?" she laughed, looking at him like he was insane.

"You could be a gooey chocolate chip cookie," he offered. "Or a fruity, raspberry tart."

"Did you just call me a tart?"

"Uh…" he cleared his throat quickly, deciding it was probably wise not to answer that question.

"Try again, Shawn."

"Hot, buttery popcorn?" he squeaked, rapidly running out of both foods and adjectives

"No foods!" she snapped, smacking his arm again.

"But what else is there?" he demanded, spreading his arms pleadingly. "I don't know what else to call you! You're…Jules!"

She smiled softly as the word fell off his lips, sounding almost melodic in her ears.

No one else said her name like he did, with that playful and yet utterly sincere intonation.

No one else made that one syllable sound exiting and new every time, and yet kept it as worn-in and comfortable as an old pair of sweatpants.

She didn't know how he did it, but there wasn't a word in the entire universe she would rather hear every day for the rest of her life than her own name spoken by Shawn.

"Then, why don't you just call me Jules?" she asked quietly, her eyes meeting his once again.

"Really?" he blinked. "That works?"

"It's better than Hot, Buttery Popcorn or Rambo."

"I don't know, Jules," he grinned, leaning back in the booth. "I do love hot, buttery popcorn…"