NOTE: Lyrics to the song "An Unusual Kiss" by Melissa Etheridge are featured in italics before the beginning of the chapter. I do not own the song.

"Was it the talk or the drink or the dance that led to this?
Was I so naive presuming the innocence?
Well, it's 1:54
And it's such an unusual kiss."

1:54 am

Wait a minute. Just stop yourself, she thought. She moved away from his touch to the foot of the bed, a wave of guilt, a wave of conscience, taking her under. His shirt was on the floor—she had tossed it aside after she slipped it over his head. Her blouse was unbuttoned—Will's handiwork once he realized he had the green light. It was when his fingers ran over her skin that she fully realized what was taking place, that she made the move to stop it.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

She shook her head in a way that she knew wouldn't ease his mind. But right now, she wasn't necessarily concerned with his. It was her own that would not stop running.

Look at what you're doing. Look at who you're with, for god's sake. What button did you press that suddenly made this okay? How did we get here? Not the most opportune time to figure this out, but he was here now. She didn't get those few moments to herself to regroup. When else was she supposed to do it?

Was it the talk? God, she hoped not. Will didn't say anything about it, but when Karen was asking him to stay for the dance, she couldn't help but feel that she exuded desperation. The last thing she wanted this to result from was pity. But all of that seemed to be forgotten once they were out on the dance floor. True, she opened up to him, no matter how slightly. Inch by inch, she had let her guard down, and he seemed to relax and warm up to this new side of her. But maybe it was too new; so new that they didn't know what to do with it.

If this is what happens every time she lets her guard down, maybe she should rethink doing it in the first place.

The drink? No. This couldn't be it. True, Karen won't turn down a drink. And she'll even admit that she consumes more than others—call it a coping mechanism, call it a crutch, call it whatever you want. But even under the influence, she knew what she was doing. She couldn't blame the drink. She was completely in control. On some level, she had to have wanted this.

The dance? This is what she'd put her money on. The way he kept her in his arms as they swayed under the spotlight; it was gentle and light, but secure. And when he locked his eyes with hers, they were filled with the light of his smile, and it was genuine. And then the kiss…that was what threw her. He swore it was only so the onlookers had something to gossip about the next morning. But she felt something else in his lips. Sincerity. Want. And she hadn't felt that in anyone in a long time.

She may not be sure what caused it, but she sure as hell knew what the result was.

"Are you sure you want me here?"

Karen was seated at the edge of the bed when she looked back at Will on the other side of the mattress, his lips tinted red from her lipstick. Did she really think nothing would happen? There was truth in what she told him; he was the only one she could depend on. Which was why she figured they would just get through the weekend, return to Manhattan, and get on with their lives. Maybe it was a little naivety creeping around in her.

The look on his face showed genuine concern. She could tell he wanted to be here. She could tell he wanted to be with her. She tried to lighten up, no matter how feeble an attempt it actually was.

"Will, if you were going to ask, the right time would have been before I brought you up here."

He laughed, made a move towards her to grab her hand. It was so simple yet so foreign. So loving yet so terrifying. She knew she was the one to bring him up to her bedroom; after their kiss—it was such an unusual kiss—Karen lingered in his arms for a moment, trying to process what just happened while at the same time taking in her surroundings in order to preserve this in her mind. But it only hit her now exactly where they were. The same room she spent countless nights with Stan. The early years of their relationship when he'd wait until he told her he loved her to close his eyes. The middle years when she could still press up against him as she slept and he didn't mind it. Recently, it wasn't the same. But there was still something sacred in it.

But now, it's been months since she shared a bed with him. Now, it was beginning to feel like she had always slept alone. Was it really so bad to let someone else in? she thought.

"Karen, I don't want you to do anything you don't want to."

She couldn't believe him. For four years, she had done nothing to him to make him think she was a decent person. She called him every name in the book, and when she ran out of ideas, she started the cycle all over again. She crossed him at every chance. But now, it was as if none of that had happened. As if the last four years didn't take place. As if they had just met under different circumstances, and it turns out they'd like to stick around a little longer. Karen didn't know what else she could do.

She moved towards him and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressed her body up against his.

His fingers traveled up her spine, against the fabric of her blouse. He gave her chills. He wrapped her in closer as she whispered to him.

"Why are you being so good to me?"

It was a question that shocked even her when she let it slip. She closed her eyes as she laid her head against his shoulder. Maybe he didn't hear. Maybe he won't respond. Just let them stay like this a little while longer before she wrecks it completely. Because she's bound to wreck it completely.

"Because I think we need each other tonight more than we know."

She looked into his eyes. Karen was surprised by his admission. She had been so concerned with her own neurotic needs tonight, her own frantic reasoning, her own guilt about it all, she never once thought that something might be plaguing Will. It never occurred to her that he might need her; she merely figured that she was the vulnerable one and he was just there by default.

It cast him in a new light.

Nothing more was said. Nothing more needed to be. Karen brushed her lips against his. Their first kiss was an unusual one. This one still had that air about it, but this time it felt different. Against her better judgment, against what anyone else would say if they found out, it felt right.

Karen felt his lips travel from hers, down her neck. To feel someone scouting out the curves of her body, and to know that it was genuine, meant everything to her that moment.

The talk.

The drink.

The dance.

She didn't care anymore.

All that mattered was that he was here tonight.