Part 2
The television glowed silently, ignored, the word mute displayed in small red letters in one corner of the screen. Willow stared at Oz incredulously.
"I can't believe Devon said that."
"Everything Dev says or does is unbelievable. It's part of his rock god image."
"You know, I still think of the god of rocks every time I hear that." Willow smiled at Oz and was delighted when he smiled back. "Hey, Oz?"
"Yeah?"
Willow leaned over and kissed him on the lips. Oz froze for a moment, then propelled himself away from her with such impetus that he slipped off the couch, landing on the floor. Willow winced.
"Sorry," she exclaimed. "Sorry. I shouldn't have done that."
"I just don't think—" Oz began.
"I was out of line. I'm so…"
"Stop," Oz said firmly. "You're fine. Really. It's nothing personal. I'm not upset," he continued, looking up at her from the floor. "I just don't think it's a good idea for us to become involved romantically."
"Right," Willow agreed, much too hastily. "I couldn't agree more."
"I care about you, Willow. I wouldn't be here if I didn't, but our relationship has always been somewhat self-deceptive. That isn't the best thing for either of us."
"Self-deceptive?" Willow echoed, hurt.
"I'm sorry," Oz said genuinely. "I can't stay. The Dingoes…we have a gig tonight in LA. You should come. We can talk afterwards."
"I'll be there," Willow promised without enthusiasm. She watched sadly as Oz picked himself up off the floor.
"Will…it's okay," Oz assured her. "I'll see you tonight. We'll talk. It'll work out." As he left, Willow had a sense that he was trying not to hurry.
*~*
"Man," Devon greeted Oz as he entered. "You are late."
"Sorry," Oz muttered, hurriedly taking his guitar out of the case and beginning to tune it.
Devon frowned at him. He wasn't great at reading emotions, particularly Oz's emotions, but he had the feeling that something was bugging his buddy. "What's up?"
Oz drew in a deep breath, a tremor racing through his chest. "Willow."
"I thought you guys were friends?" Pete said.
"She kissed me."
"That's…I would've said that was good but you don't seem to be happy," Jimmy remarked.
"I thought she and I could be friends. I thought that was the best thing and it was what I wanted. Now I don't know what I want."
"You want her," Devon teased.
Oz shook his head. "I don't want to talk about it."
*~*
"Willow? Willow Rosenberg?"
Willow turned in response to the sound of her name and was confronted by the sight of a slim, beautifully dark-eyed young man. She furrowed her brow for a moment at his familiarity and his face fell a little.
"You don't remember me," he observed. "We went to Sunnydale High together. It's all right, I'm…"
"Michael!" Willow exclaimed, her memory triggered by the sound of his voice. "It is Michael, isn't it? You were friends with Amy…"
"Before she turned herself into a rat. You do remember." He smiled warmly at her. Michael glanced at the stage. "Are you and Oz still together?"
"No," Willow said quickly. "No. We haven't been together for a long time. We're just friends now." She stole a furtive, guilty glance at the guitarist. "What about you, Michael? Are you seeing anyone?"
"No, not right now. I actually just got out of a pretty serious long term thing. It, uh, it ended pretty badly but I'm all right."
"Oh," Willow said lamely. "Well, I'm sorry it ended badly but it's good that you're okay. I had a relationship too…"
"Not Oz?"
"No…Tara. It was sort of on-again-off-again for a while. Just when I thought we were on again for good…there was an incident. She was killed." The words felt so strange, foreign and vaguely hollow as she spoke them.
"Oh," Michael stammered. "Wow. I'm so sorry. Are you okay? I mean, I know that's a stupid question but…are you okay?"
Willow nodded. "I really am. I miss her…so much, and it still hurts a lot that she's gone. I'm doing a lot better than I was."
"I hate to spout clichés but you'll always have her with you. People die but love doesn't."
"Thanks." Willow smiled. "And thanks for not having any reaction whatsoever to the fact that I dated a girl."
"I wouldn't have guessed, based on what I knew about you in high school, but people change. They grow. And, besides, my ex's name is Karl, so I'm not about to judge you."
"Really? I was under the impression that you and Amy, pre-rat, were, you know, an item."
"We did date for a while, but we didn't get along that well at the end. She wanted to dabble in the dark arts, I wanted to date men…"
Willow laughed uncomfortably. "Well… I never realized Amy was into such dark magicks. I guess I should talk."
"I'm sorry," Michael said abruptly. "I heard about your…power. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."
"Not at all," Willow assured him. "I really messed up. I know that, but I can't change what happened."
"Well, maybe you could but I wouldn't recommend it," he responded. "From what I've heard, the word 'can't' has no place in your vocabulary."
"Right. More of a 'won't' or a 'shouldn't.' I have to learn from my mistakes."
"That's a very mature attitude, Willow. You're miles ahead of Amy on that front." Michael just looked at Willow for a moment, studying her face, her neck, the shadows playing across her collarbone. "May I buy you a drink?"
Willow's eyes widened in surprise but she quickly regained her composure. "Yes, thank you."
Michael laughed easily. "Don't take this the wrong way but…do you come here often?"
Willow giggled. "No. I still live in Sunnydale. I'm here to support the band."
"What a coincidence, I am too."
Willow furrowed her brow, trying to decide whether Michael was teasing her. He saw the expression and looked down into his cup shyly. "I'm serious," he said. "I…I've actually had a crush on Devon for a while…"
"Really? He really doesn't strike me as your type. I mean, you've always been such a sweetie and he's such a…"
"Dick?"
"Yeah."
"Nice eyes though."
"Great smile," Willow added. "He's not really my type either but he's hard not to notice."
Michael nodded. "Help me take my mind off my hopeless crush on the straight musician?"
"If you'll do the same for me."
It was Michael's turn to furrow his brow, though he did it with a hint of a smile.
"I don't think Oz wants to get back together with me," Willow explained.
"Ah." Michael nodded. "And what do you want?"
"I…I'm not sure," Willow confessed. "I thought I wanted us to be friends, which we were, except that every time we were together…"
"You wanted more."
Willow nodded, running her finger around the lip of her cup.
*~*
"Oz. Oz," Willow said firmly, resolve face in place. "I want to talk about why you don't think we should have a relationship."
Oz sighed. "At first, I thought it was because things were different. That we weren't who we used to be. But you are the same girl I knew in high school. And that girl never loved me."
"How can you say that?" Willow demanded shrilly.
"How can you deny it?" Oz was calm.
"I have changed. I don't know what kind of weird denial-verse you're living in, but I've changed so much I hardly recognize myself. The only thing that hasn't changed is how I feel about you. I want to be with you."
"Until something better comes along."
"Until the day I die," Willow said seriously. "It'll be different this time. No Xander. No Veruca. No Tara. Just you and me."
Oz looked at her dubiously.
"Unless you don't want this. Do you, Oz? Do you want to work it out? Do you even want to try?"
No matter how many times she broke his heart, he always thought she was worth it.
"Yes." Oz smiled at her faintly, the corners of his lips shifting a millimeter upwards, tiny crinkles of crow's feet forming around his eyes. Mostly, the smile was something in his eyes, his pupils dilating a fraction, the light seeming to reflect differently, and an overall softening of his expression. "I want this." His fingertips glided across the smooth skin of her cheek and sent tiny, delightful chills through her.
"So…it would be okay to kiss you now?"
"It's pretty much expected."
He did pull back, just a little and slowly, as Willow kissed him. Oz wrapped his arms around her, pulling her with him as he leaned back against the van. Willow placed her palms against the van's side, pushing away from Oz and looking into his eyes with a mischievous smirk.
"You know, all the time we were together, we never really took advantage of the fact that you drive a van."
"We used it to transport a rocket launcher…"
"You know that's not what I meant."
"I didn't think your first time should be in the back of a van."
"What about my second? Or third? Or…"
"It just doesn't strike me as romantic."
Willow sighed. "Romantic. I'm talking about sex in the back of your van, right here, right now. You're complaining that it's not romantic."
"Not complaining. If it's all right with you…"
Willow gave him an incredulous look. "It was my idea. But this conversation is kinda ruining the mood."
"Besides, there's a bunch of stuff for the band in there right now," Oz admitted. Willow stared at him for a moment then burst out laughing.
"The fates are against us."
"Let's just go back to Sunnydale, I can drop off the stuff at the house, we can go somewhere."
"For…that? Not much spontaneity. But talk about romantic," Willow teased.
"I was thinking more along the lines of for a drink, for a bite to eat or even for coffee…"
"I'm not getting any touch tonight, am I?" she complained, only half joking.
"You never know," Oz replied coolly.
"Tease."
"I'll see you in Sunnydale."
*~*
Willow parked on the street in front of what Devon always referred to as "El Casa del Dingo." The bandmates were already unloading the van and Willow helped as best she could. She couldn't lift the heavier equipment but she held the door of the house open for the guys. Once everything was inside, she followed Oz back out to the van.
"So…drink? Bite to eat? Coffee?" Willow asked.
Oz didn't answer, simply opened the passenger side door for her. She stood on the driveway.
"You're not going to tell me where we're going?"
Oz circled to the driver's side and got in. "I'm being spontaneous."
Willow smiled and shook her head, climbing into the van. While Oz drove, Willow listened to the radio and watched the light from the streetlamps play off his pale skin.
After a while, she began to wiggle in her seat but Oz kept his eyes on the road. "The band sounded good, especially since it's been a while since you guys played together."
"Thanks," Oz replied. "We've been practicing a lot since I got back."
"Oz."
"Yeah?"
"Pull over," Willow said.
Oz glanced at her and did as he was told. He had just put it in park and cut the engine when Willow dropped something into his lap. Brow furrowed, he picked up the satiny fabric. His eyes widened as he realized what he was holding and he looked at Willow in surprise.
"I've missed you," she said softly.
"Spontaneous."
"Combustion," Willow concluded.
"Right. You know, spontaneous combustion doesn't happen. There has to be some sort of catalyst. Like tossing your undergarments in a guy's lap."
"Just wanted to get your attention."
"You've got it."
"Undivided?"
Oz nodded, realizing for the first time that she was dressed as she was for him.
Willow smiled. "Good. Follow." She slipped into the back of the van. Oz unbuckled his seat belt and pursued. Willow kissed Oz passionately, drawing him into the darkness in the back of the van.
She felt his hand on her naked thigh but he stopped when the hem of her skirt brushed against his wrist. Her heart was pounding as their lips parted. Willow's fingers were cold against his skin as she pulled his t-shirt up. The tips of her nails raised goosebumps as they scraped gently over his back. She tossed the shirt aside, draped one arm over his shoulder, wrapping her hand around the back of his neck and pulling him closer; her other hand passed over his bare chest, the tip of one finger circling his nipple. He could feel her lips tremble against his ear but her voice was so soft, she seemed far away. "Keep going," she murmured, her breath warm and moist against the inner labyrinths of his ear.
As Oz moved closer, her legs encircled him, her hand slipped down to unfasten his pants. When he kissed her, he could feel her teeth behind her lips. Breaking from the kiss, he stripped her of her shirt and fumbled for a moment with her bra. She reached behind herself to unhook it. "Let me," Oz objected. "I liked your hand where it was."
Willow smiled and leaned into him so he could look over her shoulder and see what he was doing. Her hand crept back down between his legs. He unhooked the bra and slid it down her arms; she freed her wrists from the lingerie. Oz bowed his head, nuzzling her breasts. Her fingers gripped him as his lips closed over one of her nipples.
"Oz?" she breathed.
"Hmm?"
"That's nice," she whispered, barely audible. Aloud, she added, "Protection?"
He pulled back. "In the glovebox." He disentangled himself from her legs, holding up his pants with one hand. He stretched across the front seat while Willow occupied herself with untying his shoes. He drew back into the back, twisting to face Willow again. "Now. Where were we?"
"I think I was about here…" Willow replied, crawling into his lap.
*~*
Willow collapsed on top of him, panting. She closed her eyes and rolled to the side. She felt his fingers in her hair and then his mouth pressed against hers. She sighed softly, smiling. "Any guy would be crazy not to want you," Michael murmured. Willow didn't reply. It had been three weeks since the night they met in LA. She had slept with Michael twice, not including what had just happened but she hadn't told him that she and Oz were together.
Willow sighed, feeling guilty about misleading him.
*~*
She knew she should end it with one of them. She looked at Oz, sleeping beside her, and she thought about Michael. It was only a matter of time before one or both of them found out. If she let that happen, she would lose them both. Willow rolled onto her side, cuddling up next to Oz and trying to fall asleep. The harder she tried, the more awake she felt. The longer she stayed awake, the more she thought about Oz and Michael. By morning, she felt like crying but when she heard Oz stir, she pretended to be asleep.
The television glowed silently, ignored, the word mute displayed in small red letters in one corner of the screen. Willow stared at Oz incredulously.
"I can't believe Devon said that."
"Everything Dev says or does is unbelievable. It's part of his rock god image."
"You know, I still think of the god of rocks every time I hear that." Willow smiled at Oz and was delighted when he smiled back. "Hey, Oz?"
"Yeah?"
Willow leaned over and kissed him on the lips. Oz froze for a moment, then propelled himself away from her with such impetus that he slipped off the couch, landing on the floor. Willow winced.
"Sorry," she exclaimed. "Sorry. I shouldn't have done that."
"I just don't think—" Oz began.
"I was out of line. I'm so…"
"Stop," Oz said firmly. "You're fine. Really. It's nothing personal. I'm not upset," he continued, looking up at her from the floor. "I just don't think it's a good idea for us to become involved romantically."
"Right," Willow agreed, much too hastily. "I couldn't agree more."
"I care about you, Willow. I wouldn't be here if I didn't, but our relationship has always been somewhat self-deceptive. That isn't the best thing for either of us."
"Self-deceptive?" Willow echoed, hurt.
"I'm sorry," Oz said genuinely. "I can't stay. The Dingoes…we have a gig tonight in LA. You should come. We can talk afterwards."
"I'll be there," Willow promised without enthusiasm. She watched sadly as Oz picked himself up off the floor.
"Will…it's okay," Oz assured her. "I'll see you tonight. We'll talk. It'll work out." As he left, Willow had a sense that he was trying not to hurry.
*~*
"Man," Devon greeted Oz as he entered. "You are late."
"Sorry," Oz muttered, hurriedly taking his guitar out of the case and beginning to tune it.
Devon frowned at him. He wasn't great at reading emotions, particularly Oz's emotions, but he had the feeling that something was bugging his buddy. "What's up?"
Oz drew in a deep breath, a tremor racing through his chest. "Willow."
"I thought you guys were friends?" Pete said.
"She kissed me."
"That's…I would've said that was good but you don't seem to be happy," Jimmy remarked.
"I thought she and I could be friends. I thought that was the best thing and it was what I wanted. Now I don't know what I want."
"You want her," Devon teased.
Oz shook his head. "I don't want to talk about it."
*~*
"Willow? Willow Rosenberg?"
Willow turned in response to the sound of her name and was confronted by the sight of a slim, beautifully dark-eyed young man. She furrowed her brow for a moment at his familiarity and his face fell a little.
"You don't remember me," he observed. "We went to Sunnydale High together. It's all right, I'm…"
"Michael!" Willow exclaimed, her memory triggered by the sound of his voice. "It is Michael, isn't it? You were friends with Amy…"
"Before she turned herself into a rat. You do remember." He smiled warmly at her. Michael glanced at the stage. "Are you and Oz still together?"
"No," Willow said quickly. "No. We haven't been together for a long time. We're just friends now." She stole a furtive, guilty glance at the guitarist. "What about you, Michael? Are you seeing anyone?"
"No, not right now. I actually just got out of a pretty serious long term thing. It, uh, it ended pretty badly but I'm all right."
"Oh," Willow said lamely. "Well, I'm sorry it ended badly but it's good that you're okay. I had a relationship too…"
"Not Oz?"
"No…Tara. It was sort of on-again-off-again for a while. Just when I thought we were on again for good…there was an incident. She was killed." The words felt so strange, foreign and vaguely hollow as she spoke them.
"Oh," Michael stammered. "Wow. I'm so sorry. Are you okay? I mean, I know that's a stupid question but…are you okay?"
Willow nodded. "I really am. I miss her…so much, and it still hurts a lot that she's gone. I'm doing a lot better than I was."
"I hate to spout clichés but you'll always have her with you. People die but love doesn't."
"Thanks." Willow smiled. "And thanks for not having any reaction whatsoever to the fact that I dated a girl."
"I wouldn't have guessed, based on what I knew about you in high school, but people change. They grow. And, besides, my ex's name is Karl, so I'm not about to judge you."
"Really? I was under the impression that you and Amy, pre-rat, were, you know, an item."
"We did date for a while, but we didn't get along that well at the end. She wanted to dabble in the dark arts, I wanted to date men…"
Willow laughed uncomfortably. "Well… I never realized Amy was into such dark magicks. I guess I should talk."
"I'm sorry," Michael said abruptly. "I heard about your…power. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."
"Not at all," Willow assured him. "I really messed up. I know that, but I can't change what happened."
"Well, maybe you could but I wouldn't recommend it," he responded. "From what I've heard, the word 'can't' has no place in your vocabulary."
"Right. More of a 'won't' or a 'shouldn't.' I have to learn from my mistakes."
"That's a very mature attitude, Willow. You're miles ahead of Amy on that front." Michael just looked at Willow for a moment, studying her face, her neck, the shadows playing across her collarbone. "May I buy you a drink?"
Willow's eyes widened in surprise but she quickly regained her composure. "Yes, thank you."
Michael laughed easily. "Don't take this the wrong way but…do you come here often?"
Willow giggled. "No. I still live in Sunnydale. I'm here to support the band."
"What a coincidence, I am too."
Willow furrowed her brow, trying to decide whether Michael was teasing her. He saw the expression and looked down into his cup shyly. "I'm serious," he said. "I…I've actually had a crush on Devon for a while…"
"Really? He really doesn't strike me as your type. I mean, you've always been such a sweetie and he's such a…"
"Dick?"
"Yeah."
"Nice eyes though."
"Great smile," Willow added. "He's not really my type either but he's hard not to notice."
Michael nodded. "Help me take my mind off my hopeless crush on the straight musician?"
"If you'll do the same for me."
It was Michael's turn to furrow his brow, though he did it with a hint of a smile.
"I don't think Oz wants to get back together with me," Willow explained.
"Ah." Michael nodded. "And what do you want?"
"I…I'm not sure," Willow confessed. "I thought I wanted us to be friends, which we were, except that every time we were together…"
"You wanted more."
Willow nodded, running her finger around the lip of her cup.
*~*
"Oz. Oz," Willow said firmly, resolve face in place. "I want to talk about why you don't think we should have a relationship."
Oz sighed. "At first, I thought it was because things were different. That we weren't who we used to be. But you are the same girl I knew in high school. And that girl never loved me."
"How can you say that?" Willow demanded shrilly.
"How can you deny it?" Oz was calm.
"I have changed. I don't know what kind of weird denial-verse you're living in, but I've changed so much I hardly recognize myself. The only thing that hasn't changed is how I feel about you. I want to be with you."
"Until something better comes along."
"Until the day I die," Willow said seriously. "It'll be different this time. No Xander. No Veruca. No Tara. Just you and me."
Oz looked at her dubiously.
"Unless you don't want this. Do you, Oz? Do you want to work it out? Do you even want to try?"
No matter how many times she broke his heart, he always thought she was worth it.
"Yes." Oz smiled at her faintly, the corners of his lips shifting a millimeter upwards, tiny crinkles of crow's feet forming around his eyes. Mostly, the smile was something in his eyes, his pupils dilating a fraction, the light seeming to reflect differently, and an overall softening of his expression. "I want this." His fingertips glided across the smooth skin of her cheek and sent tiny, delightful chills through her.
"So…it would be okay to kiss you now?"
"It's pretty much expected."
He did pull back, just a little and slowly, as Willow kissed him. Oz wrapped his arms around her, pulling her with him as he leaned back against the van. Willow placed her palms against the van's side, pushing away from Oz and looking into his eyes with a mischievous smirk.
"You know, all the time we were together, we never really took advantage of the fact that you drive a van."
"We used it to transport a rocket launcher…"
"You know that's not what I meant."
"I didn't think your first time should be in the back of a van."
"What about my second? Or third? Or…"
"It just doesn't strike me as romantic."
Willow sighed. "Romantic. I'm talking about sex in the back of your van, right here, right now. You're complaining that it's not romantic."
"Not complaining. If it's all right with you…"
Willow gave him an incredulous look. "It was my idea. But this conversation is kinda ruining the mood."
"Besides, there's a bunch of stuff for the band in there right now," Oz admitted. Willow stared at him for a moment then burst out laughing.
"The fates are against us."
"Let's just go back to Sunnydale, I can drop off the stuff at the house, we can go somewhere."
"For…that? Not much spontaneity. But talk about romantic," Willow teased.
"I was thinking more along the lines of for a drink, for a bite to eat or even for coffee…"
"I'm not getting any touch tonight, am I?" she complained, only half joking.
"You never know," Oz replied coolly.
"Tease."
"I'll see you in Sunnydale."
*~*
Willow parked on the street in front of what Devon always referred to as "El Casa del Dingo." The bandmates were already unloading the van and Willow helped as best she could. She couldn't lift the heavier equipment but she held the door of the house open for the guys. Once everything was inside, she followed Oz back out to the van.
"So…drink? Bite to eat? Coffee?" Willow asked.
Oz didn't answer, simply opened the passenger side door for her. She stood on the driveway.
"You're not going to tell me where we're going?"
Oz circled to the driver's side and got in. "I'm being spontaneous."
Willow smiled and shook her head, climbing into the van. While Oz drove, Willow listened to the radio and watched the light from the streetlamps play off his pale skin.
After a while, she began to wiggle in her seat but Oz kept his eyes on the road. "The band sounded good, especially since it's been a while since you guys played together."
"Thanks," Oz replied. "We've been practicing a lot since I got back."
"Oz."
"Yeah?"
"Pull over," Willow said.
Oz glanced at her and did as he was told. He had just put it in park and cut the engine when Willow dropped something into his lap. Brow furrowed, he picked up the satiny fabric. His eyes widened as he realized what he was holding and he looked at Willow in surprise.
"I've missed you," she said softly.
"Spontaneous."
"Combustion," Willow concluded.
"Right. You know, spontaneous combustion doesn't happen. There has to be some sort of catalyst. Like tossing your undergarments in a guy's lap."
"Just wanted to get your attention."
"You've got it."
"Undivided?"
Oz nodded, realizing for the first time that she was dressed as she was for him.
Willow smiled. "Good. Follow." She slipped into the back of the van. Oz unbuckled his seat belt and pursued. Willow kissed Oz passionately, drawing him into the darkness in the back of the van.
She felt his hand on her naked thigh but he stopped when the hem of her skirt brushed against his wrist. Her heart was pounding as their lips parted. Willow's fingers were cold against his skin as she pulled his t-shirt up. The tips of her nails raised goosebumps as they scraped gently over his back. She tossed the shirt aside, draped one arm over his shoulder, wrapping her hand around the back of his neck and pulling him closer; her other hand passed over his bare chest, the tip of one finger circling his nipple. He could feel her lips tremble against his ear but her voice was so soft, she seemed far away. "Keep going," she murmured, her breath warm and moist against the inner labyrinths of his ear.
As Oz moved closer, her legs encircled him, her hand slipped down to unfasten his pants. When he kissed her, he could feel her teeth behind her lips. Breaking from the kiss, he stripped her of her shirt and fumbled for a moment with her bra. She reached behind herself to unhook it. "Let me," Oz objected. "I liked your hand where it was."
Willow smiled and leaned into him so he could look over her shoulder and see what he was doing. Her hand crept back down between his legs. He unhooked the bra and slid it down her arms; she freed her wrists from the lingerie. Oz bowed his head, nuzzling her breasts. Her fingers gripped him as his lips closed over one of her nipples.
"Oz?" she breathed.
"Hmm?"
"That's nice," she whispered, barely audible. Aloud, she added, "Protection?"
He pulled back. "In the glovebox." He disentangled himself from her legs, holding up his pants with one hand. He stretched across the front seat while Willow occupied herself with untying his shoes. He drew back into the back, twisting to face Willow again. "Now. Where were we?"
"I think I was about here…" Willow replied, crawling into his lap.
*~*
Willow collapsed on top of him, panting. She closed her eyes and rolled to the side. She felt his fingers in her hair and then his mouth pressed against hers. She sighed softly, smiling. "Any guy would be crazy not to want you," Michael murmured. Willow didn't reply. It had been three weeks since the night they met in LA. She had slept with Michael twice, not including what had just happened but she hadn't told him that she and Oz were together.
Willow sighed, feeling guilty about misleading him.
*~*
She knew she should end it with one of them. She looked at Oz, sleeping beside her, and she thought about Michael. It was only a matter of time before one or both of them found out. If she let that happen, she would lose them both. Willow rolled onto her side, cuddling up next to Oz and trying to fall asleep. The harder she tried, the more awake she felt. The longer she stayed awake, the more she thought about Oz and Michael. By morning, she felt like crying but when she heard Oz stir, she pretended to be asleep.
