Topanga sat on Stewarts bed, panting while he dug through the top drawer of his dresser.

"Uh, I feel so out of shape," Topanga breathed. Stewart's apartment was on the 12th floor and his building didn't have an elevator.

Stewart laughed, "Don't worry about it. A month in New York and you'll be able to make it up to the top floor without breaking a sweat."

"This is a really nice place though," Topanga said looking around his bedroom.

"Thanks" Stewart laughed. He grabbed an ATM envelope out of his drawer and sat next to Topanga, not quite so that they were touching, but close enough so that he thought he might be able to feel the warmth from her thigh on his, "But it's not exactly the Ritz."

"Well, you know a little paint would do this place wonders. Maybe a rug. You could cover that stain with it," Topanga pointed toward a large brownish splotch on the carpet by the bed, "What is that from anyway?"

"Um, that was there when we moved in. We hope someone spilled coffee, but we think someone might have been murdered," Stewart said. He could smell her shampoo, it was sharp but fruity, "But hey, it's an affordable two bedroom in the city. The skeleton could've still been lying there and we would have signed the contract." The stain was actually grape juice. He had knocked a pitcher over and never gotten the stain out, but he wanted to impress her. She laughed and looked at him for just a moment too long before looking around the room as though appreciating it again. Stewart began to count out a little more than she needed for cab fare.

Topanga could feel the heat of his thigh on hers and couldn't concentrate on anything else. She forced herself to look at her wedding ring. The symbol of her marriage to Cory. The man she'd been in love with since she was 11 and had kissed him against a locker.

Or was it since she had been 6 and they were catching fireflies?

Or since they were 2 and they were best friends?

Her heart skipped a beat when she suddenly realized that Cory had told her all three of those beginnings and she had never questioned the discrepancy. Why didn't he remember when he'd fallen in love with her? Why couldn't she remember falling in love with him?

"You've been in love with him forever," She told herself silently. The same voice that had been suddenly awakened earlier tonight whispered to her again. "Just because you've always been together doesn't mean you've always been in love,"

She'd been with him forever, and something about tonight was making her wonder why.

"Here."

Topanga tore her eyes of her ring, which she'd been staring at with a sort of horror, and looked at Stewart. He was holding out the money for the cab. She held out her hand but instead of handing the money to her he took her hand in both of his, and an honest-to-god jolt like she'd never felt before shot up her arm, through her stomach and down her thighs.

"Topanga," Stewart said quietly, staring at her hand (Topanga found herself dully thrilled that it wasn't the hand with the ring on it) "I'm so glad I ran into you tonight."

"Yeah," she agreed stupidly. He started to slide his hands off hers slowly. Her whole body was already pins and needles when Stewart put a burning hand on the back of her neck and kissed her.

The incandescence of stars exploding in her mind as - after a nine or fourteen or maybe even eighteen year relationship and a few months of marriage - she experienced her first truly impassioned kiss instantly melded into an electrifying heat in her entire body as Stewart leaned further over her and she folded under him.

Topanga hadn't been raised to believe that sex belonged only in marriage. Her parents hadn't married until she was a toddler and while she didn't' know for sure she was fairly certain that it had been an open relationship for at least a little while. She and Cory had waited until they were married because Topanga had decided that was what she wanted, and while Cory had harassed her about it on occasion he had never protested seriously enough for her to reconsider. So at 20 years old she had only been with Cory. And it was... nice. It wasn't what she had heard about from other girls, but she was sure they'd been exaggerating.

But now, she felt like a perfectly made harp that had been taken from a novice and placed in the hands of a master bard. Instead of hands mechanically fumbling over the strings for a lifeless formulaic tune, a song was pouring out under the effortless caresses and coaxing of a virtuoso. This was a symphony of fire and sweetness, desire and delight and in the final crescendo Stewart leaned over her and kissed her deeply before moving off of her. But instead of rolling to his own side of the bed and falling asleep, he nestled against her and carefully swept her golden hair away from her face before kissing her again, softly this time.

"You are so perfect," was the last thing Topanga heard before falling asleep with Stewart holding her.

The first thing Stewart heard when he woke up was the sound of Topanga crying. She was sitting on the floor at the foot of the bed, fully dressed, but with her hair still a mess, crying softly into her knees.

"Topanga? Topanga are you okay?" He asked anxiously. He wrapped the bed sheet around his waist and hopped down to sit by her.

She didn't answer. He put an arm around her and she knew she should push it off but she didn't.

"What's the matter?" He asked trying to be as soothing as possible but convinced he was royally mucking it up.

She turned her red splotched face to him and let out a truncated sob, "Stewart, I'm married."

He had no response to that. None.

"I'm married to Cory. We've been married for a couple months and I'm driving back to Philadelphia to pick him up today. We're subletting my sisters apartment." Topanga was so grateful that he hadn't taken his arm away when she told him this.

Stewart was crushed. He felt like he had to say something now but couldn't think of anything except, "Oh."

Topanga sniffed and moved closer to Stewart and hugged him tightly. He held her for a few minutes, not sure what to ask or say.

Finally Topanga said "I really should leave. I have to be in Philadelphia in time for supper," she let him go and reluctantly he loosened his hold on her, "Thank you so much for the cab fare, I'll pay you back as soon as I can," she said. Stewart was a little hurt at the polite formality in her voice.

"It's not important," Stewart said waving his hand in a dismissive gesture, "Topanga, does this mean I won't see you any more," He grabbed her wrist. He was so grateful she didn't pull away from him.

Topanga knew she should say that they should avoid each other, this was a one night mistake that she should answer for the way she'd made Cory answer for kissing Lauren and this was ten million times worse than what he had done. But she couldn't because she understood now.

She understood what it was to realize that it wasn't undeniable fact that she and Cory were meant to be together.

She wasn't sure who she was anymore, it was too much to pick who she should be with. It was painful to watch Stewart staring at her. She put her free hand over his and tried to put her almost suffocating confusion into words. She failed and simply sobbed, "I have no idea."

He jumped up, grabbed a notebook off of his tiny desk, feverishly wrote something inside, ripped out the page and handed it to Topanga.

"Here, this is my phone number and address, please, please call if you need anything. Anything."

"Thanks," Topanga sighed. She took the paper from him, folded it carefully and tucked it in the back pocket of her jeans. Before she walked out the door both she and Stewart had impulse to hold each other one more time but both thought it was a bad idea, and both regretted that they hadn't done it anyway when the door closed.