Five

I barely took two steps from my desk before running into Sara - literally. She stumbled back a little, no doubt because of my hefty weight compared to hers. I was relived when she looked up to see who had caused the collision and smiled.

"Matilda," she said. "I was just coming to talk to you."

"Oh, yeah?" I wanted to get to Greg quick, but it was just as important for me to work on other relationships at work, sexual or otherwise.

"Do you mind if we go somewhere private?" she gestured with her thumb to an empty interrogation room, and I shook my head yes. I hoped she wasn't going to put me under a burning light and assault me for taking that last donut on Tuesday. Hey, it's not like donuts belong to specific people, ya know? She who gets there first gets the donut...or something like that.

The room was so "Law and Order", it was scary. The walls were blank and grey, and the only pieces of furniture in the room were some harsh, cold silver chairs and a battered table. The single light overhead buzzed at us as I sat across from Sara. She folded her hands around each other like a disappointed parent does, and I braced myself for the worst.

"How's everything going?" she asked.

"Alright, I suppose," I was a little shocked at her calmness. Wasn't this the part where she pointed a finger two inches from my eye and said "I know you did it, Swanson."?

"I know this place can be stressful, but it's every bit worth it."

"Oh, I know," she didn't need to tell me how lucky I was to work in a place like the crime lab. "This job is one of the best things that has ever happened to me. I've met so many new people, and I've really discovered this independence I never knew I had." Corny, yes, but true.

"Like Greg?" Again, for the second time that day, I was caught off guard by the mention of Greg.

"Sorry?" I batted my eyelashes rapidly, trying to look clueless.

"Well, it's just that you two have been spending a lot of time together," she said, leaning forward with her elbows on the table. I suddenly felt a little threatened by her tomboyish demeanor and sat back in my chair. Was she a jealous ex-girlfriend?

"It's not like that, Sara," I tried to explain. "We just go to movies and do dumb stuff like that."

"Matilda, it's fine," she laughed at my obvious discomfort. She sensed my fears and relaxed into her chair, trying to seem friendly and approachable. For a moment, she was the Sara I saw on the first day. The vulnerable one. "I'm not an ex-girlfriend or anything," Whoa. Freaky ESP.

"Sorry. I didn't know." I blushed the same bright pink as my sweater.

"I just wanted to let you know how important Greg is to all of us here," she said. What did she think I was going to do? Stuff him in a trash bag and drop him into Niagra Falls? "You see, when you work with someone for such a long time, you're almost like a family. I know I speak for all of us when I say that Greg is a major part of this family."

"Of course," I gave her my full attention, like a scared student.

"All I'm trying to say is that he is a wonderful, smart, funny guy," she paused, gathering her thoughts. "Just don't do anything to hurt him, okay?"

"Of course." That was all I could think to say. Did Sara really think I could hurt Greg, physically or emotionally? To be honest, I couldn't even hurt a fly. I mean, I've tried, but those damn little bugs are fast.

Sara got up to leave, but my end of the conversation wasn't quite over. I figured Sara had opened up to me about caring for Greg, so I could do the same to her.

"Sara, wait," I said. She turned around, ready for whatever I was about to say. "So does everyone in the crime lab think that Greg and I have, well, a thing going on?"

"Nah," she brushed off my question. "Let's just say I used my women's intuition to figure it out."

"Oh," I smiled, trying to make it seem like I was satisfied with that answer, even though I wasn't. "Just in case, I was on my way to talk to Greg about it before he heard from someone else."

"Well, you'll have to wait until tomorrow," she replied. "Greg's at home, sick as a dog."

"Oh my gosh. Is he okay?"

"Oh, he's fine. It's probably just a hangover." She said, laughing to herself. I could tell she was getting lost in her thoughts for a moment, but she came back down to earth and looked over at me, like a brilliant idea had just hit her in the head. "Maybe you could go see him after work. I'll bet that will make him feel better."

I thought the idea was harmless enough, so I got Greg's address from Sara and headed to his apartment after my shift was over. Being as paranoid as I am, I thought that maybe Greg would find my visit a little stalker-like. But we had been seeing each other nonstop for the past few weeks. I was only being a good friend, right?

His apartment building was substantially nicer than my place, with all of the fixings of a paradise-in-the-desert resort. There were potted tropical plants on the stairs, and Mediterranean style tiles on the walls. I could have lived in the hallway of this place. I found his door, and fixed myself up before knocking. Just the usual chap stick and smoothing of the hair. Nothing out of the ordinary. The sound of my fist against the door echoed in the hallway and made a hollow thud. I heard someone stumbling around inside, the various locks being undone, and the door opening a crack to let in only a sliver of the outside world. When Greg saw that it was me, he opened the door all the way and I saw him standing there in his ratty T-shirt and boxers, his hair sticking in twenty different directions, which is nothing new. The inside of his apartment was dark, and he squinted into the daylight.

"What are you doin' here?" he asked before letting out a gigantic yawn.

"I heard you were sick, so I thought I would come by and see how you were doing," I felt my face getting warm, and realized that this was the first time I had ever been nervous around Greg. I was standing outside of his apartment, the place where he eats, sleeps, goes to the bathroom, has sex, everything. And there he was, in nothing but boxers and a T-shirt.

"Aww," he joked. A goofy smile spread across his face, and he gestured for me to follow him inside. He flicked on a light switch, and I took the opportunity to observe the male in his natural habitat. His apartment was huge, with posters and framed pictures of art and family members on the walls and the shelves. His furniture had a modern edge to it, but it wasn't uncomfortable or unbearable; it was just hip. There were stacks of magazines and books on his coffee table, not that they got much use. For in front of the coffee table hung the largest flat screen TV that I have ever seen, with numerous video game systems plugged in and cords spread all over the floor.

"Greg, I had no idea you had a kid," I teased, pointing out the X Box, the Playstation, the Willy Wonka Time Machine, and whatever else they name those video game systems. He grinned before opening a door off of his living room. I barely had time to think before a giant brown dog came running towards me, tackling me to the floor and wagging his tail vigorously. I heard Greg telling the dog "no" and "get down", but I didn't mind all of the affection. I had lived with dogs my entire life. It was only when I moved to Vegas that I wasn't allowed to have a pet. I was beyond jealous of Greg and his superior apartment.

"Oh, he's fine," I managed to shout between a scruffy face give me repeated licks on the face. Still, I felt the pressure of the dog lessen, and realized that Greg was pulling him off of me like a parent pulls their child off of a Mickey Mouse mascot at Disney World.

"Sorry about that," Greg apologized. "Henry gets a little overzealous when he meets new people." I stood up and tried to brush the dog hair off of my black coat. Yeah right, like that was going to work.

"Are you kidding? I love dogs." I said, bending over to rub behind Henry's left ear. His back paw started kicking in pleasure, and Greg stood there dumbfounded for a moment.

"No one can ever get him to do that." he said. I straightened myself back up and met eyes with Greg, who was staring at me just like he did that first night we went out together and my ear was a bloody mess.

"It's no big deal," I tried to brush off his slight amazement, but let myself gloat for a minute, thinking that maybe the dog prefers me more than anyone else. I do seem to attract dogs - canine and human. "Your apartment is unbelievable. Tell me again why we never hang out over here." He let go of Henry, and thought about my question.

"I don't know," he answered. "I guess we just met up that first night at your place, so that was kinda easier to go to."

"Yeah," I agreed. "But this is like Buckingham Palace compared to my apartment. I may have to come spend the night sometime." I was only joking, but I surprised even myself at the frankness of my comment. I gave him a sly smile, and he returned the look.

"You're welcome to." His response caught me off guard, and we stood smiling bashfully at one another, the sexual tension so thick, you could cut it with a knife. What was different about today? Why had I been completely normal around Greg every other time except now? I quickly changed the subject.

"So, how are you feeling?" I asked, running my fingers over a stack of magazines and planting my butt on the black couch.

"Oh, I'm fine. I just had a little headache."

"Sure ya did," I responded, tilting my head back and acting like I was drinking out of a bottle. There was so much booze in Vegas, there were alcoholic air waves. It was like second hand smoke - you could get a buzz off of it. Second hand drunk. He smiled slightly, but then went to a pensive look, squinting his eyes as if he were confused (like George Bush does.).

"You didn't have to come over to check on me," he said.

"I know," I replied. "I actually came over to talk to you about something else." Courage, don't fail me now.

"What?" he asked, sitting next to me on the couch. We turned towards each other, our knees touching. I could see the dark circles under his eyes and feel the warmth of his breath as he exhaled.

"Well, some of the people at the lab have been talking," I began. I tried to play it cool and laugh like the idea was absurd. "They think that we're not just hanging out together. They think we have something going on." Greg laughed nervously at this, too. We were both on the same page, trying to play off whatever it was that was happening between the two of us. I began to realize that maybe Greg had been feeling the same way about me that I had been feeling about him. He stopped laughing and looked me square in the eyes, licking his dry lips.

"Do we have something going on?" he whispered. I focused in on his eyes. At that moment, they seemed so clear, so fluid. I couldn't think straight.

"I don't know," I managed to push the words past my teeth and out of my mouth, barely audible.

"Do you want something to go on?" he asked, inching closer to my face.

"Yes," I answered, and he began to slowly shake his head.

"Me, too." And with that, Greg leaned in and kissed me gently on the mouth, hesitating before he slipped his tongue past my lips. We pressed our faces closer together, putting pressure on one another's bodies during the climax of the kiss. When we parted lips, my eyes were still closed, but I knew that Greg had opened his, and was staring at me. I didn't want to open my eyes. I didn't want that feeling to be an illusion or a dream. I wanted everything in that moment to be real: the apartment, the dog, the feeling of Greg's hand on my thigh.

When I finally found the courage to part my eyelids, I saw Greg smiling at me like a fool in love. It was real, and he was real. And the sound of the dog peeing on the carpet was real.

"Henry!" Greg shouted, rising to his feet and stomping over to the scene of the crime. This was my fairy tale, and the man sponging up the dog urine was my Prince Charming.