Note: okay, I think I might as well change the rating of the story from pg 13- to R altogether. For the mature themes and the language on cynthia's POV.


In the darkness of his bedroom, david was left alone with his thoughts. Save for his little brother les' snoring and occassional bursts of sleep talk, it was quiet enough for david to immerse himself in serious contemplation. Despite pagan's none too thrilling reaction, david decided to confess his feelings for cynthia the next time they see each other, at her next gig. i love this woman, he thought, as his heart started beating triple time, like his veins were suddenly injected with a sickly sweet serum. This woman...not girl, but woman! Pagan's words echoed in his brain...isn't she a little too old...?

David turned over and punched his pillow in annoyance. Who cares what pagan thinks anyway? And for that matter, who cares what anyone thinks? He just pictured himself with cynthia and it just seemed to make sense. There was no mistaking the chemistry they had when they were together. It didn't take a genius to read between the lines...

No matter how much a secret needs to be shared with a friend, there would always be some kind of detail (usually the most important one) that would be left out. That precious detail you want to save only for yourself because saying it makes the whole thing less yours. It would take pack of wolves to tearthose details from david.

Details about how cynthia's hair had tickled when she leaned on his shoulder on the trolley n the way home, how the scent of her soap sometimes stuck to his shirt, how her eyes sparkled moments before she handed him those little slips of paper with a poem she's written, how she swept the hair out of his eyes. Gestures that make the people around them assume they're in love.

Would she want to be my girl?

An ache, a longing filled his chest. He wanted cynthia to be with him now. He wanted towake up in the middle of the night and find her arms around him. He wanted her scent to fill his senses.

I'm a fool to want you, cynthia, he thought. god help me, but I do.




Somewhere in the heart of the east village, cynthia bluecloud snapped her second pencil. Watch it, she said to herself. Pencils don't grow on trees you know. She'd been writing a song because she couldn't sleep. Writing songs usually got her through the night, but this time, even that failed to soothe her.

She looked at what she's written so far. Crap, she decided, crumpling the page and flinging it to the other side of the room. On the floor of her apartment, in various locations were scattered balls of paper. I'm living a cliché, she thought. Classic writer's block due to a starving heart. Starving heart! That's a good one! She rushed to get it down on paper.

The window was open, yet it felt like a hundred degrees in her room. Humidity clung to her skin like a dirty veil. Pacing around didn't help any. It was her own restlessness and trapped energy that was keeping her awake. She grabbed a folded up section of an old newspaper to fan herself with. A pape, she thought, smiling. Get a grip, cynthia, she told herself, flinging her weight on her unmade bed. Everything seemed to remind her of david lately.

Let's see...how old am I? How old is he?

Swearing, she stumbled out of bed towards her guitar. I could mever touch him, it would be wrong, she thought.

Finding the silence unbearable, she kicked a stool to its side and allowed herself a scream. Fuck the neighbors! She thought. To hell with them all!

On the one hand, it felt like betrayal. David was spot's friend- she wouldn't have met david if it weren't for spot. She'd always considered spot somewhat of a little brother, which made her feelings for david a bit incestuous to some degree. This perplexed her to no end.

On the other hand, she had been waiting so long to be with someone like david. He may be young, but god knows david is more of a man than most jerks she's dated. Pure, that's what he was. Her thoughts continued to bounce off the ceilings of her stifling room.

Dear lord, she prayed, crossing herself. Am I taking advantage of him? Am I?

If people could be jailed for the thoughts they had...I'd definitely need a good lawyer. Hell, I probably would have ben executed by now.haha.

Tea. I'll make some tea.

What would his mother think? Cynthia felt sorry for david's mother already. She's probably a wonderful lady to have raised david. I would never fit in her plans for him. What mother in her right mind would allow her son to run around with women like me? I'm a boyfriend's mother's worst nightmare: I live alone, I sing for a living, I don't believe in marriage for cryin' out loud or that silly idea that a woman's place is in the kitchen! David's mother would want a nice girl for him, and I am not a nice anything. I might even end up hurting him... david. Oh baby...baby! Yes, that's right, you cradle robbing...

I'm a fool to want you, david. But being a fool would be the least of my crimes.