A/N the title of this chap is a Latin phrase that means "In Wine, Truth" which is quite fitting for this chapter.
She was staring down at the table, at the array of beer cans on it, and he could almost see her stomach lurch as she tried to think while completely trashed. "You know how we kissed, sorta in the nightclub?" She asked him, and he nodded, the memory of it still made his hair stand on end. "There was something about it, something different, exotic, it made me want more, but I don't want to push things, I don't want things to be awkward, I don't want to lead you on to wind up telling you, oh, sorry, forget about you, I've got Woody." She leaned back and rested her head against his shoulder, and he gently stroked her hair. "You're too good a friend to me, I couldn't do that to you, besides, I don't deserve a guy like you, you don't need someone like me, I've got too many problems."
She seemed on the edge of breaking. She got up suddenly, and bent before him, kissing him gently on the lips, a soft, sweet taste, but she was out the door before he could process what happened. He watched her all but stagger away, down the street. He lept up as best he could and chased after her, breaking into a quick trot. "Jordan-" he called after her, feeling more sober now than he had before.
He caught up to her, and gently grasped her arm, trying to pull her close. "Jordan-" He started again, and she pulled her arm away.
"Just leave it, Garret, just leave me be, I'm not worth it." She stalked down the path towards the beach, walking towards the huge sprawling dunes where he had sat two nights before rather than getting a good nights rest.
"Jordan, quit being a mopey drunk." She smiled at the commanding tone in his voice as he refused to let her leave him behind, but the smile quickly faded.
"Garret, just don't bother." She said as she collapsed on a dune.
"Jordan, I'm not going to let you do this to yourself. Woody's going through a lot right now, don't let that get to you, don't let him get to you. You're letting the fact that he's feeling miserable about himself get to you." He sat down next to her, considerably more composed. The fact that he had a larger frame helped, the alchohol didn't affect him as badly. "What happened to Hurricane Jordan that would let nothing get to her?"
"We both know that's not true, I never was that person, I may have tried to be, may have acted like I didn't have a care in the world but we both know that I let everything get to me. I'm not Hurricane Jordan, and I never was."
He stared into her eyes, dark and deep meeting dark and deep. "You are, or you would be if you'd just stop doubting yourself." She got up and turned around, walking away. "Jordan," He called after her, an almost desperate tone in his voice. "Don't do something you're going to regret when you're sober." He shouted as she walked away, leaving him alone.
He sat there, staring out at the ocean for a long time, his thoughts a mess. Why had he asked her that? It was a question he had wanted to know the answer to desperately, but it was something that should have been asked sober, he had gotten far more than he had expected, he hadn't expected her to be blunt, he had expected her to sidestep the question like she always did. But then again, it was he who had thought of In Vino Veritas, he should have expected what he got.
He thought about what she had told him, that she didn't want to lead him on to wake up one morning and realize that it really was Woody she loved. He didn't want that either, but he'd rather have that than nothing at all, he'd rather have her for a little while before she turned away from him.
But she had a point about the awkwardness, but it was already there. He stared up at the sun, receding back slowly to the west, lengthing shadows ever so slowly. The people were starting to leave the beach, the lifeguards would be following shortly thereafter, leaving the beach deserted and quiet.
He began to regret agreeing to this, agreeing to going along with her to the beach, regretting being her shoulder to cry on. He had been content with that before, it had been more than enough for him, he had always thought their love to be platonic, the love of best friends, people who would die for each other and support each other through thick and thin, but over the past two days he had begun thinking about would could happen between them.
It had started after she turned down Woody with his ring, Charlie had only been a passing fling, another dark haired woman to fill a void within him. He laughed as he realized what all of his past girlfriends had been. All of them since Maggie were so similar, headstrong, dark haired, willing to do what it took, just like her. It wasn't a funny laugh, it was a laugh at how pathetic he had been.
The bartender had been right, he had been hopeless for her for so long, and he had told himself that he would never have her and thus contented himself with just her as a friend, but after he had seen her turn away woody, the one man he thought she truly loved, he felt something inside of him change, a part of him click back on that told him that she was perfect for him and having a week alone with her, with nothing but her, no work, no other people, without Woody, it just magnified his feelings.
It was a long time before he went back to the house and he found her sound asleep on the bed. He gently covered her with the quilt, tucking it around her before climbing into the cot and turning in for an early night, and fell into the easy sleep of the drunk.