May 28, 1995
Tony stared from the kitchen as she plopped another bag next to the door, finally finished hauling their stuff out of his guest room. Peter was pulling the car around.
He wouldn't say it, but he didn't want them to leave. He'd found something in both of them…something that was the closest thing to friendship he'd ever had. He would be alone again. His world would be quiet once more. At the beginning of the week he'd been annoyed by their presence, but now he just wanted them to stay forever. He was so dependent and he didn't even know it. He found something he liked and latched onto it, and kicked like a child if he was forced to let it go.
She swung around to face him, brushing her bangs out of her eyes. "Phew. I think that's all."
He didn't comment, heedless of what to say. He just stood in the kitchen, beer in hand.
Since their—almost—kiss a few night ago, he had completely avoided anything that had to do with the subject, and had spent not a single moment alone with her. He always made sure someone else was around when she was present. He couldn't do a summer romance. That just wasn't him. It was too much like a romance novel. As cute as she was, as sweet and perfect, he couldn't do the long distance thing. He'd screw it up somewhere down the road, he just knew it. His insatiable appetite would overcome him, and he'd screw around with some other girl and break her heart. He was destructive. He couldn't subject her to that.
"Thanks for letting us stay, Tony. Really. I appreciate it." She smiled. Even her teeth were perfect. He had to look away.
"Yeah. Well its no problem."
"So…you think you might visit North Carolina this summer?" she asked, still grinning when he looked back at her.
"I might," he whispered.
She nodded, and her smile faltered just a bit before she looked down at the counter, her fingers coming up to drum against it just so she would have something to do with her hands.
Her hands were small, quite petite, there were even slight dimples at her knuckles. He wondered briefly how she managed a basketball with such childlike hands. He didn't hold himself back when his hand moved on top of hers.
Her crystal eyes flickered to him. Her lips were parted just slightly, as if she wanted to speak but didn't know what to say. He saw on her face how much she wanted to tell him the truth. How much she wanted to admit she needed him too. But it wasn't appropriate. It wasn't logical to get tangled up in him. There were too many things wrong.
But instead of retreating like he should have, his hand came to her waist, and she boosted herself on tip toes, her breathing hitching in her throat. His dark brown eyes stared into hers, but hers weren't as bright blue as usual. They were indigo, almost navy, darkened with her own ache for the things she couldn't say. Her hand rested on his shoulder, and her warmth radiated through his plain t-shirt, reassuring him. His fingertips tipped her chin up til their lips were level.
"Hey, you ready Gin?" Peter burst through the door, and they two sprang apart. She combed her hair behind her ears. "Um…yeah." She cleared her throat and hurried to help him with the bags.
-O-O-O-
May 29, 1995
Rosa had found the note when she was cleaning the bedroom. She'd saved it, saying she thought it might be important.
In perfectly straight penmanship, Virginia had written, "Hey you, I thought these might come in handy." Her phone number and address were written below.
He'd been turning the paper over his hands for the last two hours since Rosa left. He hadn't moved from the couch.
What was happening to him? He couldn't get her face out of his mind. That smile, those freckles. That fiery red hair; the way she would try and wear it down, but it would inevitably end up in a ponytail anyways. How she wrinkled her nose when she was disgusted, or laughing. What had she done to him? Usually, he'd go for blonde and busty, but he'd fallen for what he once considered a Plain Jane. But looks weren't the only thing. She was funny, and snarky, and she knew just what buttons to press when she wanted to. He figured girls flocked to him because he was attractive, because he was rich, because he could help them jump through a few hoops at MIT. Never had it gone any deeper than that. Never had he told anyone about his parents, at least not a girl. Never had he been with any woman who he wanted more than a night with.
But she wasn't coming back. The chances of him actually calling her were slim. He just couldn't bring himself to. He knew of only one way to forget, and that was alcohol. He needed a drink.
-O-O-O-
By midnight, he'd lost count of how many drinks he'd had. The lights of the bar blurred as he tried to focus. A gentle hand slid around his waist, and a brunette slid onto the stool next to him, saying something he didn't quite catch over the music, but he recognized her vaguely. Victoria? Right, that was her name. There were too many women with names that started with V, he mused, before leaning in to kiss her.
-O-O-O-
May 30th, 1995
A slender hand sliding up his bare chest jolted him suddenly awake. His head turned to look at the woman lying next to him, sheets tangled around her otherwise naked body. Her hair was too perfect, her arms too thin, and her hand felt out of place against his chest. It was all wrong.
He pushed himself up, leaning on his palms, and in turn she stirred.
"Mmm…Good morning," she purred, lifting a hand to his hair.
He just stared back in response, his face blank. He backed away from her touch.
"What's wrong?" she laughed, leaning her head on her elbow.
Mute, he stood from the bed and tossed the sheets back. On the floor, her clothes were indistinguishable from his own, strewn around the room in the commotion of the past night. So instead, he spotted her black stilettos by the door. He scooped them up, and set them on the mattress. "Its time to go," he said softly.
"What?" she asked, sitting up, holding the sheets around her chest.
"Leave," he said, emotionless. He snatched his jeans from the mess on the floor and slid them on.
She rose from the bed and began picking up her clothes. "But I don't…"
He turned for the door, leaving her to collect her things. She was gone before his coffee had even finished brewing.
-O-O-O-
June 2nd, 1995
Dean rambled on, but Tony had lost interest minutes ago. He just nodded passively when appropriate and answered affirmatively when asked a question. Otherwise, his gaze was occupied elsewhere. A petite red head sat among a group of girls a few tables away. Every so often, her head would get thrown back in laughter. He watched intently, and by now he could time just right when she would laugh at something he friends had said. He waited patiently for a glimpse at her face.
He knew it wasn't her, but he just wanted to see her face. To see if she was even half as pretty as her. He imagined it was her. He imagined her, thousands of miles away, sitting with her friends at a similar diner. Just to give himself a bit of comfort that somewhere in the universe, she still did exist.
When the group stood from their table, he saw that she was much too old, and had too much makeup on. She was trying too hard. There were no freckles, and her hair wasn't at all the right shade of red.
-O-O-O-
June 5nd, 1995
He lifted his safety goggles and leaned back from his work. He'd been cooped up in his garage for days, working on his cars or working on new prototypes for this year's robotic competition. He liked to get a head start, not that it was really needed.
He'd only been out of the shop to sleep and eat. He had Darwin down here to help him, keep him company. But a robot with a very limited vocabulary was poor company, and now Darwin laid in pieces on his work bench. He'd decided to update his software, but was so easily distracted, springing from project to project without completion. So for now Darwin had been abandoned. Perhaps he would do away with the robot altogether and do something more simple. An AI? Yeah, that'd be cool, and less meddlesome. He could just mute the thing whenever he wanted. It would be like having a friend without having to deal with their physical presence. But for now, he tucked the idea in the back of his mind and leaned back under the hood of his Corvette.
Work kept him busy, kept his mind away from other things. He could use the distraction more than ever these days. At least it was productive. More productive than drinking himself into unconsciousness, though that sounded promising too, at the moment.
-O-O-O-
June 10th, 1995
His resolve had broken. He couldn't do it. He couldn't stay away. His fingers curled and uncurled around the leather armrest of his first class seat as he tried to keep himself calm. To his right, the business man next to him had fallen asleep after losing interest in Tony when he wouldn't give up the juicy news about the new missile his father was producing.
Otherwise, he was ignored by the other passengers except for being turned down by the flight attendant when he asked for alcohol. Apparently his fake ID didn't fool her, and he noticed later that she sat in her jump seat reading a gossip magazine. Obviously she'd heard of him.
He couldn't stand to have one more dream about her face. Couldn't handle one more dream about seeing red heads in class, or at restaurants and realizing they weren't her. He hadn't slept in almost two days because eventually seeing those obnoxious, gorgeous freckles in his mind every night was too much, and he'd tried everything he could to combat sleep.
They began their decent into North Carolina and he braced himself. He had a hotel booked for a week. Hopefully she let him stay that long and he wouldn't have to fly back early. Things could either go horribly wrong or fall perfectly into place, and he was hoping it was the latter. He always got what he wanted, and that was a fact. And what he wanted was her.
-O-O-O-
He'd gotten a car, and followed the address she had left him on the paper. He wandered around town for nearly an hour before he found the correct community. The place was filled with quaint little houses, all very old-fashioned looking, and none too small. Obviously her parents were pretty well off. Her house was the last one on the street, near the dead end. It wasn't very small, but not the Long Island mansion his parents owned. She and her brother were playing basketball in the driveway, and he could hear them heckling each other as he pulled up. She dodged around him and made a flawless jump shot, throwing her hands up in victory. Peter pointed to the car pulling in the drive, causing her to turn.
She was wearing very little makeup, and her hair was pulled up in a ponytail, her bangs swept off her face. She wore a plain grey tank with basketball shorts. Never before had Tony found a woman more attractive.
He slid out of the car. Assuming the game was now over, Peter picked up the forgotten basketball and disappeared around the side of the house to the shed.
"Well, well. Look who it is," she said, smiling, hands on her hips.
He shrugged and ran a hand along the back of his neck. "I just…" he sighed, dropped his hand and shrugged again. He gave her an anxious smile, hoping that would suffice for his lack of words.
The corner of her mouth quirked up. "Well, are you going to kiss me, or what?"
Needing no further instruction, his hands found her hips and pulled her to him. He bent to press his lips to hers. Her arms wound around his neck so she could pull herself closer. She responded eagerly to the kiss, stealing several more, not wanting to break off so quickly. Her fingers tangled in his hair when he pulled away, forcing him to keep some sort of contact.
She smiled up at him and let out a little laugh.
"Weird?" he asked.
"No, its not weird." She smiled.
"Ok. Run that by me again." He bent down for another kiss.