He turned the ignition and pulled away from the curb. We drove for twenty minutes until we were at a lookout over a lake, picnic tables lining the area; he jumped out of the car sitting on the hood, staring down at the water. We were alone. This uncomfortable silence between us is strange; it feels like the first time that we met, in my room. The night he wanted to sneak out and walk around. I realize that this maverick friend of my, this once, smoldering dark, morose, strange, complicated human is still just as complicated, I still feel the need to sneak into his mind and dig around piecing together every bit of information that he's ever processed. It was the same need I felt looking at a dictionary or encyclopedia, a new book. I glanced around waiting for him to say something. His jaw line, straight, normal cheekbones that didn't make his cheeks look sunken in, but high enough to be considered good looking. The curve of his neck tense, he looks thoughtfully annoyed and the pissed off at the world look is back. If I'd brought something out of him he'd tucked it away in the back of his mind, unreachable to anyone, least of all, me. "You're right, this isn't just about the journal thing." I decided it was best to stay quiet. "Paris came to talk to me." I raised my eyebrows surprised…. Yet…. Not amazingly perplexed. "She's a smart girl." I nod tossing a rock over the edge of the lookout watching it skitters down to a horrible rocky death. "Aren't you going to say anything?" He asks, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye, noticing that I caught the glance, it wasn't exactly conspicuous.

"Actions speak louder than words," I whisper softly like the breeze, the peaceful moment passing like the warm sun on a cold winter day.

"You aren't making this any easier," he stated evenly no expression in his voice, I realize that he's drawn himself back inside, the unreadable expression is back and a wave of sadness passes over me.

"It's not supposed to be easy."

"Stop throwing clichés at me." His tone his angry, but I can tell that he isn't.

"You make it to easy." He pauses for a minute, smoldering on the outside, but I can tell that there's something else inside.

"So you drove up here, and I'm supposed to do the talking."

"In an ideal world, that'd be the case, yes." We sit silently, timeless. That moment could have been eight minutes, thirty seconds or an hour. I'll never know but it was the longest wait I'd ever come across.

"I was scared." He says quietly making a point of not looking at me.

"Of what?" He's quiet, thinking, I know the face, the thoughtful look that he wears whenever he's reading or thinking or daydreaming. Times spent on the bridge splash back to me like waves, calming and serene. Our entire relationship flashes through my eyes as we sit here, trying to salvage our relationship, keep it together, live the life we'd been living a month ago, happy, together.

"You." The thought of someone being afraid of me… is a bit too much for me to comprehend.

"I've been working on my intimidating face lately."

"Don't mock."

"Sorry."

"It's just meant… I was afraid of hurting you. The longest relationship I've had lasted a week in the second grade. I didn't know what to do, but this was different. You were different.

"Good different of bad different?" I ask.

"Both."

"I'm a big girl, I can deal with pain."

"I'm a big boy but I don't think I could deal with hurting you."

"If you want big rewards, you gotta take big risks."

"You did not just quote Summer Catch."

"Ha! And the boy admits to seeing that movie."

"Only to see that chick in the skimpy bikini, the one on the Priest Show."

We both laugh and everything feels normal again, we feel normal. My smile is so big that it hurts by cheeks, I try and stop it by biting down on my lip but it manages to escape my teeth. My cheeks stretch and I can feel a pink tinge in them as we sit hunched on the front of a Mercedes, together. I notice his staring at me, his head tilted sideways. He's smiling and we sit there, together smiling like idiots for a long time. His smile is different, his real smile, he used to try and hide it pushing his lips together but the smile is so open. so free of consequence that it ruins his cover. If anyone ever saw that smile they'd know he wasn't the pain-in-the-ass sarcastic, cynical, jerk that everyone thought he was. They'd see the person that I see, carefree, happy as a clam with a book and a coffee. Music acting as a bonus. We continue to sit. Just sitting, not speaking words, watching the sun go down. Eventually I turn to him. "I was scared too." He silences my statement with a soft kiss, warm shivers running up and down my skin. He pulls away, looking at me with an odd look in his eyes.

"Did you feel that?" I nod smiling again.

"It felt like the first." After a pause I began speaking again. "Listen, maybe me started this whole thing too fast. Let's just go back, we can start over. From the beginning, just you and me." He nods, smiling at me.

"The first thing we do when we get back, we read that journal." I smile and get into the car beside him the air so much warmer than before and I feel so giddy that I giggle for no reason and flip the radio on perusing the stations. Then I realize whose car we're in. The realization hits me like the icy cold feeling of being out in the winter in pajamas.

" I think we'd better go find Paris first."

**Uhoh…just when things were getting good, Paris spoils the moment. Where the hell is Paris** Find out after you review of Course!**