Arizona shook off her memories of that night four months ago, and rooted herself in the present. She should stop touching Callie.

Now.

Arizona knew it.

She shouldn't allow the memories of their first night to play over and over again in her mind. And she sure as hell shouldn't keep on holding Callie's arm, sliding her thumb over Callie's pulse. Just to make sure Callie was as turned on as she was. As affected by this as she was.

But Arizona kept on touching her anyway.

That was the story of their entire ill-fated affair.

After that first night, she shouldn't have gone to the bar on Friday nights at ten, knowing she would find Callie there, hanging out against the wall nursing a beer, her large, luminous eyes scanning the crowd for her. She shouldn't have texted Callie to find out if she was free for a couple of hours. Shouldn't keep Callie's number in her phone at all.

When Callie had shown at her door looking guilty and scared and turned on all at the same time, at eleven at fucking night, she shouldn't have let her in.

Yeah, that was the constant refrain in Arizona's brain over those months she was involved with Callie. But it always came down to one thing.

She should. But she didn't want to.

Bottom line, Arizona wanted Callie a hell of a lot more than she wanted to be right. And the same was true now.

Of course right now the entire town—at least all who patronized the coffee house were staring at them. And they were probably confirming a few things that the citizens of Watertown already suspected.

Well. They might have suspected that another man was involved in Callie's decision to back out of her wedding to Mark Sloan, but nobody would have ever guessed it was woman, Watertown's infamous sinner Arizona Robbins. Arizona Robbins was beneath Callie. About as far beneath her as it was possible to get. And somehow Callie had spent two months beneath her as well.

Arizona had given up trying to work it out. Really, the fact that Callie would had sex with her at all was the most surprising thing about their association. That their association was more about their connection on much deeper level then Callie identifying her suppressed sexuality. But the fact that once the road had been cleared and Callie had actually been able to be with Arizona-once Callie's engagement had ended and there had been no obstacle in their way— Callie had decided to leave Arizona, that was the least surprising.

"Why don't we… Why don't we go talk?" Callie asked.

She didn't want to talk. Arizona could tell by the way Callie's pupils had expanded. The way her breath had quickened. Of course, Callie was probably married to the fiction that they would talk if they went somewhere private. Arizona understood that. Because their entire association had been built on fictions like that.

That Callie was just going to the bar for a drink, not to look for Arizona. That she was just going for a drive, and not heading to Arizona's place.

Because one thing Callie Torres could not do where Arizona was concerned was admit to herself that she just wanted Arizona.

"Sure," Arizona said, releasing her hold on Callie. "We can talk."

Callie looked around. "Not here."

Arizona looked toward the door at the back of the coffeehouse that she suspected led upstairs to her apartment. "After you."

"Not through that door," Callie said, blazing a trail out of The Grind and to the main street.

"Well, I can't be seen going up to your place," Arizona said, her tone dry.

"What would the point be?"

Callie looked…genuinely confused by the thought that Arizona might not care if anyone saw them together. If anyone suspected what was between them. "Does there have to be a point?"

"There's a point to everything," she said, turning and walking toward the side of the row of buildings, to a narrow alleyway.

"Not everything," Arizona said. "Some things are just about doing them."

Callie stopped and treated Arizona to a sharp glance. "Not for me."

"I seem to recall you did something just for the sake of it. Because it was me."

"Well. That wasn't the plan."

"Right," Arizona said, following her around to the back of the building and inside, then up a narrow staircase. "The great Calliope Torres plan. Marry the prince, live happily ever after."

"If you ask me how that's going, I'm going to knee you in the pussy"

Callie leaned on her front door and unlocked it, and they stepped into an apartment that was nicer than the ranch house Arizona lived in. Big, open space, exposed brick. Definitely a downgrade from the near mansion Callie had grown up in and the place she'd been living in with the man she had almost married.

"That was a pretty unsophisticated threat," Arizona commented.

The corner of Callie's mouth turned down, then she lifted her hand and extended her little finger. "Should one lift their pinkie when they threaten to knee a woman in?"

Arizona laughed in spite of herself, in spite of this whole ridiculous situation. "Couldn't hurt. Would definitely be the fanciest pussy injury I ever received."

But then, Callie was about the fanciest thing to ever touch her body, so she supposed it was fitting.

"We shouldn't be here together," Callie said, clasping her hands in front of her and picking at one perfectly manicured nail.

Which made Arizona remember what it felt like to have those fingernails scraping down her bare back.

The way Callie had sounded when she hit her peak. Always holding back her sounds of pleasure. Always so uncomfortable with the loss of control. The first time they were together, Callie had been… Well, she had been upset that she'd had an orgasm.

After a little bit of digging, Arizona had discovered it had been her first one. Which had led to a discussion that was pretty damned frank in nature. The kind where she had confessed to never having one with anyone else. But then, it was because she considered Arizona nothing more than a diversion that she could have it with her. Arizona wasn't a part of her real life. And Callie had never treated her like she was.

"But," Arizona said, almost in rebellion to her thoughts, "here we are. Just like always."

And it was how it always would be, unless one of them left town. There just weren't enough streets, or enough people cluttering them up. It was inevitable that they would run into each other somewhere.

In part because Arizona kept trying to run into Callie, no matter what she told herself. Patronizing The Grind had never been anything more than an attempt to run into her. Because it seemed like the kind of place she might go.

Arizona was angry at Callie. Rightfully so, in her estimation. But that didn't mean she had forgotten her. It didn't mean Arizona had stopped wanting her.

"No," Callie said, shaking her head. "It's not going to be just like always. We should talk. We should try to…fix this."

"There's no fixing it. Because there's nothing to fix."

"That's not true. At least it wasn't true for me. Arizona...I told you things that I never told anyone else. I did things with you that I've certainly never done with anyone else."

A pang slugged Arizona's gut. "So, you want to give me some hush money so I won't tell anyone?"

"No," Callie said, her voice like acid. "I just wanted…"

"Sweetheart, I know you're not about to suggest that we should be friends. Because let me tell you something, we can't be friends." And with that Arizona took a step toward her, wrapping her arm around Callie's waist and drawing her against her body.

Finally. Finally Callie was in her arms. "Because no matter what, no matter our intentions, there will always be this."

And then, even though it was a terrible idea, Arizona bent down and kissed her mouth.