A/N: Thanks for the reviews, everyone. I love this story and hope you are too. I had a lot of fun writing this chapter and like my other update, it ended up being WAY longer than I'd first anticipated, but I hope you enjoy it and reviews are love. :)


Stephanie dipped her French fry her ketchup and then dipped it in the mayonnaise she'd put next to it. Chris cringed. She still liked her fries with ketchup and mayonnaise. He thought it disgusting when they were dating and he thought it disgusting now. He'd never seen anyone eat their fries with mayonnaise before and since he wasn't a huge fan, he'd never understood her love for it. She looked over at him and he was staring at her so she took a big glob of mayonnaise on her fry and ate it, making a soft moaning sound to demonstrate how good it was. He nearly gagged at the sight and she giggled.

"Chris, how many times do I have to tell you, it's just like thousand island dressing," Stephanie told him.

"But it's not, it's ketchup and it's mayonnaise," he told her.

She laughed and ate another fry, "So don't watch me eat, go back to your meal."

He looked down at his plate of mozzarella sticks and buffalo wings. Even though he'd eaten earlier, Stephanie had insisted that she would not eat alone unless he ordered something. He'd eaten and had dessert so he decided to just get an appetizer. Stephanie was picking off his plate anyways and he'd eaten only a couple of the sticks and three buffalo wings. There wasn't really anywhere else to look but at Stephanie. She had a little dab of ketchup on the side of her mouth that she hadn't yet wiped away and his hand twitched in its urge to reach across and gently wipe it free and make her face perfect again.

"I'm not really hungry."

"That's too bad," she said, grabbing another mozzarella stick and dipping it in the ranch dressing it had come with. "I am starving tonight and I don't know why, so I guess it's lucky for me that you aren't that hungry?"

"Are you pregnant?" he asked innocently and he wasn't quite sure where the question came from, but he asked it anyways, something to break his eyes away from that ketchup on her face, just next to her lips. It wasn't that he missed kissing them or anything, it was just, he had kissed those lips. He remembered them well and it was odd now, after all these years, seeing them again and knowing that he wasn't allowed to kiss them.

Stephanie nearly spit out her food, which would not have been pretty because Chris didn't need little bits of cheese to stick in his hair. "Chris! That's not the kind of question you ask a girl," she told him. "You can't just go and assume that every girl is pregnant because they're hungry."

"I don't know, you said you didn't know why you were starving and I know you're not single right now…"

"I'm not pregnant," she said good-naturedly. "I'm just hungry. I guess that water balloon fight really took it out of me. But no, Chris, I'm not pregnant nor have I ever been pregnant, for the record."

"I wasn't prying," he protested.

She laughed and took another of his buffalo wings. "Of course you weren't. How many girls did you sleep with while you were away?"

"Not many," he admitted. Usually, if he were with the guys, he'd blow that number out of proportion. It was just something you did. Some of the guys, sure, he believed they bedded every woman who gave them a second of bedroom eyes. They were usually the married ones, which was sad enough as it was, but then there were the guys who exaggerated their conquests, who would high five and talk about the cute blonde chicks they banged the night before and then left without a care in the morning. He fell under that category. He never slept with as many women as he said, but sometimes you had to keep up, to put up a farce.

"Really?" she asked. "That's not what I've heard."

He chuckled. "So the wrestling gossipers are at it again, are they?"

"You know how lips move around here," she said. "So you are just exaggerating all the sex you had been reportedly having? Because I happened to hear a rumor that while you were gone, you pretty much left a wake of sexed up women behind you."

He laughed now, picking up one of his mozzarella sticks and taking a bite, chewing on it slowly. "Nah, I didn't leave much in my wake. You just kind of have to say it to not look like a pansy around here."

"I understand," she told me, nodding her head a little. They fell into a comfortable silence then, the only noises those coming from the television and their chewing. Chris dipped his mozzarella stick in the marinara sauce it had come with in addition to the ranch dressing and then popped the last bite into his mouth, pushing the rest of the plate towards Stephanie. She took the last one and dipped it before she ate and he just watched her. She still had that little glob of ketchup on the corner of his mouth.

He wondered if there had ever been any rumors about them swirling around like fog while he was gone. It was no secret that they were friends, but he wondered, however briefly, if anyone had figured out they were more. They were certainly affectionate while they were friends and then her thing with that guy, man, he had even forgotten his name now. Brian, he thought it was, had he suspected with the way Chris looked distrustfully at him. Her parents had known of her crush, his mother had figured out their relationship (and had been relieved when it ended), and maybe Shane had suspected something, but were their rumors? He wondered.

"Do you think anyone figured out about us?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. "I would have heard about it if someone did. Nobody knew, we were really good about hiding it."

Chris was kind of relieved and kind of not relieved. "It'd be nice though, if we could talk about our relationship and not have to do it behind closed doors like we're still sneaking around."

She shrugged. "I don't really care. I liked that our relationship was secret, not that I didn't love being with you or love you or anything, but it means it's just ours, you know, something that we get to carry around. Like when someone wears a locket and you always kind of wonder what's inside, but you never really get to take a peek, we're the ones with the locket and everyone wishes they could take a peek inside and see what happened, but they can't because it's ours."

"You've always had a way with words, you know," he told her. "I can't believe that you didn't do something like Creative Writing in college. I think you would've been amazing as a writer. I remember the poems and stuff you used to write and show me."

She blushed, her face turning almost as red as the ketchup still clinging to her skin. "Oh God, you know, I was reading this book of familiar essays and one of them, the author was talking about how she used to write sonnets as a teenager and at the time she thought they were the best writing anyone had ever seen and she'd be published for her sonnets and win prizes. Then, when she got older, she found one of them and read it and realized it was horrible and trite. I think that's what would happen if I found any of my old writing, I'd be mortified."

"I happened to like it. I think you could've been amazing at writing."

"I'm not saying I did everything because my father told me to, but he definitely guided my decision to do something in business, I'm not unhappy, so I guess it worked out."

"Still…you should get involved in writing storylines. I think you could write some really great stuff."

"Thanks, Chris," she said. "You've always believed in me and I don't know where that comes from."

"Just from knowing you."

Then he just had to reach out and he brought his thumb to the corner of her mouth, where that ketchup was probably now drying and he ran his thumb down slowly across her skin. How many times had he done this gesture? Not to remove any unwanted food or condiment from her face, but just because he had to touch her skin, had to run his finger across the softness of her bottom lip before his mouth sought out that softness, needing to test it himself. She didn't gasp nor did her breath stunt, hell, she didn't even look like this surprised her, like she'd known all along about the ketchup and had been waiting for his fingers to find her face. How could she react like that? How could she be so cool when his own heart seemed to be pounding so hard it would burst from his chest and walk over to her and hug her?

Finally, with great difficulty, he pulled his hand away and showed her the sticky tomato concoction that was clinging to his finger now, before he wiped it on his napkin. "You had a little ketchup on your face?"

"Thanks," she said brightly, "for nothing!" She laughed. "How long have I had that on my face and you're just now wiping it off? Now I'm embarrassed."

She wasn't though and he knew it, but he laughed anyways. Maybe she could sense him tensing up and needed to do something to lighten the mood. "I was seeing how long you could go without noticing that it was on your face. You went a pretty long time."

She smiled at him, crookedly. "Well thanks, at least we weren't out in public." She pushed her plate away and leaned back in the chair she'd been perched in, one leg underneath her. "Okay, I don't think I could eat another bite, I am absolutely stuffed to the brim. Pretty soon your clothes will actually fit me."

"I don't know about that," he said.

She pulled the shirt away from her and there was a lot to pull because it was so large. "Okay, so maybe I'd have a long way to go before that. Here, help me push the cart outside so they can pick it up."

"Let me do it," he said, getting up. She watched him as he pushed the cart towards the door. He could tell because he could feel his eyes on her. He knew her eyes and it was strange that even after so long, he knew her gaze. He remembered it from days gone by, when they'd be at shows and couldn't be with one another and she'd just look at him from across the room and he'd know she was. In the years they'd been apart, he hadn't felt the gaze, he would have known if she'd been anywhere he was and she wasn't. Now he was back and her eyes had picked up where they left off. That gaze still piercing.

When he came back inside after situating the cart outside the door, she was on the couch, flipping through the movies that you had to pay for. "Are you thinking about spending my hard-earned money on a movie?"

"I will make sure they add an extra 10 dollars to your next paycheck," she told him. "Oh, Notting Hill! Oh my God, I love this movie! I made Tim take me to see it twice in the theaters, it's such a great movie, let's watch this one, have you seen it?"

"Is it a romantic type movie?"

"Yes, but it's funny too," she told him.

He groaned. "No, I don't want to watch any stupid, romantic movies. Besides, you just said you've seen it twice, which means you've seen it enough. Give me the remote, I'll see what there is."

"But I want to watch this one," she whined.

"It's my room, I get to decide," he said, snatching the remote from her and sitting down next to her on the sofa. Unconsciously, or what he figured was unconsciously, who knew, maybe she was doing it intentionally, but either way, she scooted closer to him so there was no space between them on the couch. She was leaning over him a little so her hair brushed his shoulder, reading the movie descriptions on the screen. "Okay, here we go, The Mummy, this is what we're watching."

"Chris, I don't want to watch this!"

"Why, are you scared?" he asked playfully.

"No," she laughed. "I just have no desire to watch this movie. It looks boring. Oh, we go on a dig and there's a mummy and it wants revenge, ooh, spooky, I'm shaking in my boots."

"It's my room, I make the choices, if we were in your room, we could watching your stupid Snotting Hill movie."

"It is not called Snotting Hill," she sneered, pushing in the shoulder. "It's a good movie. Hugh Grant is so cute in it and he's so funny and how can you not like him, he's a great actor and the accent is sexy."

"Well, he likes prostitutes," Chris joked.

She shoved him again. "That was a long time ago."

"Yeah, so long," Chris said, rolling his eyes as he bought The Mummy. "Oops, my finger slipped, we're watching The Mummy now, so unless you want to leave right now, then you should probably leave, you can leave my clothes behind."

"So you just want me to go out there naked, is what you're saying?" she asked.

"Hey, I'm not the one that got involved in a water balloon fight that rendered my clothes utterly useless…"

"Fine, I'll stay her and watch your stupid mummy movie," Stephanie said, settling down into the couch. Then she made a little yelp sound and got up, turning off all the lights so they could see the TV better. "There, that's better."

She came back and sat down next to him, again, giving him no room to breathe. He wondered if she were doing it on purpose, but she didn't seem to be aware of what she was doing so he figured it was just something she was doing and not something she was thinking of doing. The movie started and they both shut their mouths and just watched. Even though she was against it at first, Stephanie was into the movie. Or at least she was for a while. Chris, who had been engrossed in the movie, didn't notice that Stephanie had fallen asleep against him at some point. Leave it to her to fall asleep during an action movie. He also didn't notice he'd been running his fingers through her hair, threading it through her fingers as they watched.

The movie ended and he finally realized she was breathing softly against him. When had his arm gone across her shoulders and had he really pulled her into his body. She was tucked so neatly against him that her rhythmic breathing felt like his own. He turned off the TV and yawned. It was after midnight now and he was getting tired as well. He nudged Stephanie in the shoulder, but she just kind of snuffled and kept laying against him. He nudged her again and she groaned and then nothing.

"Steph," he whispered. "Steph…"

"What?" she asked, more alert than he expected.

"It's late, did you want to go back to your room?" he asked.

"No, I want to sleep," she said, mumbling now.

"Okay, let me help you to bed then," he said. He could just crash on the couch. He slowly got up and she started to fall against the couch. He slid his arms under her legs and then under her upper back. She instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck and he kind of threw her higher into his arms. He wasn't sure how it happened exactly but his hand landed on her breast and his first thought was that she'd really filled out in their time apart. His second was that his hand was on her breast and he quickly shifted his hand so it was more towards her waist.

He brought her to thee bed and laid her down, pulling the covers down and then shifting her legs so she was on the sheets before pulling the blanket over her. He dared a chance to brush the hair out of her face and she smiled in her sleep. He just watched her for a moment and then he turned to leave, but her hand was in his before he could think properly. He turned to look at her and her eyes were open just slightly. They were two slits staring up at him and her hair falling in her face again.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm just going to crash on the couch."

"This is your room, I can't let you sleep on the couch," she told him. "Just get in bed."

"Yeah, bad idea, bad, bad idea."

"Why?" she asked innocently.

"Well, you have a boyfriend, I have a girlfriend, they're not here, this is a bed, things can happen in bed."

"Chris, I'm not naked, are you naked?"

"No…" He failed to see her point though.

"So what's the problem?" she asked. "It's just sleeping. That's all, it's just sleeping."

"Steph, it's just not such a good idea, that's all," he said, finding himself sitting next to her. "I mean, it'd be weird, don't you think?"

"No, I don't think so," she said and he was glad he could still see that innocence in her. He knew it was in there, had seen glimpses of it, but here it was full force and it just reminded him that she was still just Stephanie. She would always be just Stephanie to him and he liked that she held that title. "It's just sleeping."

He scoffed. "But you're not Jessica and I'm not Tim."

"It's just sleeping," she repeated. "It won't hurt you to sleep. I can't have you sleeping on the couch, that couch isn't even big enough for you. I don't want to put you out, so come on, I'll sleep on my side, you sleep on yours and it's just sleeping."

She was right, it wasn't like he'd get in bed and then just ravage her uncontrollably. Wait, when had he laid down. He was surprised to find that he was already in the bed. How had that happened? When had that happened? He looked to her and she was already asleep on her back, her head falling in his direction and her mouth open slightly. She'd just fallen asleep like it was no big deal that they were in a bed again. The last time they'd been in bed they'd just woken up from one of the most memorable nights of his life. Now here they were, friends, and just sleeping and she was already asleep and breathing noisily. Had she always slept like that? He tried to wrack his brain, trying to remember every last detail of that night, but he'd been so wrapped up in her, her body, her essence, everything that he hadn't noticed the little things, didn't know if she had slept noisily that night. Hell, had they even really slept or just drifted off every now and again when their passions had been satisfied for a short while, before their sleepy, tired bodies gravitated towards one another. He was probably not going to sleep well on this night either, not with her right there, sleeping next to him again. It was then he came to the startling and stomach-punching realization.

She was completely over him, that's why she didn't care if they slept in the same bed, why she hadn't flinched when he'd wiped the ketchup off her face, why she didn't care about falling asleep on him or any of the other moments. All her feelings were gone and she truly viewed them as friends. That's all they were now and the past was just that, the past, nothing more, nothing less, just another part of her life that was gone.

He wished he could say the same.