26 November 1988

He had to admit that she had been right. Coming out dancing at that jazz club was fun. The bossa nova band playing that night could take any song and make it sultry and steamy.

It was during a particularly spicy song that he had dipped Layla, and her neck had curved so seductively that he took a chance he probably shouldn't have.

He kissed her.

It was just an innocent little touching of the lips. She had pulled away from him so quickly, though, that he thought he must have imagined that brief moment where she kissed him back.

Wide-eyed and mortified, heels clicking against the tiles, red skirt swishing around her knees, she ran out onto the veranda. Her breath was coming in shallow, raspy spurts. 'Not possible,' she told herself. Despite the unseasonably warm evening, she felt a chill course through her. 'Get it under control.'

House's hands came to rest on her shivering shoulders, prompting her to turn.

"I can't believe you did that," she whispered.

"I - I'm sorry, Layla," he murmured.

Her eyes bored into his. "Do you regret doing it?"

He could've lied to her, said it was an accident, or stumbled over some other such nonsense. Instead, he merely shook his head. He couldn't lie to her. Not to Layla. He was a madman, but he was not an idiot.

She nodded her head once, then let out the breath she'd been holding. "I th- I think we should end our sessions. I know someone - I went to Hopkins with her - who -"

"I don't want anyone treating me but you," he interjected abruptly. They were both startled by the harshness of his tone. "Sor- I just . . . You're the only one who really knows me. You see through - " An idea struck him. "What if our counselling sessions were all over the phone?"

She turned to watch the sunset. "It's really beautiful, isn't it? The sweep of colours over the lake?" 'You can't be in love with him. He's your patient. He's House. He's not a nice man.'

He hadn't even noticed anything around them in his worry over having driven her away. "Yes." He reached out to hold her.

Leaning back into him ever so slightly, she sighed happily. After a moment's peace, she finally whispered, "We should go back inside."

Reluctantly, he pulled away from her and waited as she readjusted her dress. As she headed for the door, he could swear she were hiding a smile. Six months he'd waited before even trying to kiss her. He could wait another six months before admitting his feelings for her and asking if she felt the same way.