Jane stares at him with eyes the size of saucers.
"Excuse me?"
He tugs nervously, at the collar of his shirt, "You heard me."
"I think that I misheard you," she admits.
"You didn't."
"Oh. So how long has that been going on?"
"A long time," he answers.
"How long?"
"How long have we known each other," he shoots back.
"I don't understand. Why?"
"Do you have to ask why, to everything?"
"Yes," she nods.
"Jane you're not the only one who has secrets."
"And what is your secret, Barry? Wait... let me guess, you like to put your feet on the coffee table," she mocks.
"Mock all you want."
"What is your secret?"
"Actually, come to think of it, mine is more of a lie, than a secret."
"A lie? What did you lie about? Your name isn't really Barry?"
"That really is my name."
"So what then? You're a Yankees fan? You like figure skating?"
He is unable to keep himself from blurting it out, "We slept together."
"What are you talking about? You mean you slept at the foot of my bed, last night? That's not a secret, or a lie. I already knew that," she tells him.
"I wasn't talking about last night."
"Then when?"
"The other night," Barry responds.
"You slept in my bed, the other night?"
"I didn't sleep there," he admits.
"What are you saying?'
"He had sex."
"You said that nothing happened."
"I lied," he admits.
"Why?"
"I panicked. I didn't know what else to say."
"Why would you lie?"
"I didn't want for you to think that I took advantage of you, when you were in a vulnerable state."
"I don't think that. I do, however think that I would like to kill you right now."
"That's nice, because there is more."
"More? What else could there possibly be? You have confessed your love for me, and told me that we slept together. What else could you add to that? What else, do you feel needs to be added to that?"
"You're on birth control, right?"
She raises an eyebrow, "Why do you ask?"
"Yes, or no. It's a simple question."
"Why does it matter?" she wonders growing more concerned with each passing second.
"Answer my question first, please," he begs.
"Why?"
"Just humor me."
"No," she replies.
"No you won't humor me?"
"No," she shakes her head.
"Or no, you're not on the pill, or the shot, or the ring, or the patch, or something."
"Yes."
"Yes, you are?"
"No."
"No to which one?"
"All of the above."
"Which question?"
"I'm not on anything," she clarifies.
"Why not?"
"Because I am not with anybody."
"But you could have a one night stand with somebody."
"I don't usually do that."
"You've never done that?" his cheeks begin to redden with nervousness.
"I have."
"You have?"
"Once," she reveals.
"You're sure, it was only once?"
"Yes," she nods.
"Maybe you just don't remember," he suggests.
"I don't leave the bar with anyone."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't want to wake up in the morning, with someone whose name I can't remember. That would be embarrassing."
"Yes, it would," he agrees, growing more anxious, with each passing second.
"What were you asking me?"
"What do you mean?"
"Why were you asking me about birth control?"
"Because of a hypothetical situation."
"What hypothetical situation?"
"If you did have a one night stand, or..."
She cuts him off, before he can continue, "I would use protection. I have done a lot of stupid things, but I'm not reckless. I wouldn't do anything, without a condom."
"Right," he nods.
"Why?" she inquires.
"No reason," he lies.
"Wait, back up."
"To what?"
"We had sex?" she recalls what he's just told her.
"Yes."
"Why are you asking me if I'm on something? Why does it matter?"
"Because you're..." he begins.
She cuts him off, "Because I'm a thirty seven year old woman, who is married to the job, and doesn't bring anyone home?"
"Right," he nods.
"Frost, why are you squirming?" she asks, noticing that he is fidgeting.
"Jane, we had sex," he tells her.
"You said that, already."
"The other night, we had sex, and..." he stops abruptly.
"And?"
"It was unprotected."
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me."
"This is un-flippin-believable. You can't be serious. You're just testing me, right?"
He hangs his head, in shame, "No."
"No?"
"We definitely had unprotected sex."