A/N: All the usual: I'm not so awesome, cyko and Bobo are, I don't own Danny and Lindsay. Even though I totally should.
February 14, 2007
I made a decision.
I'm going after her.
And no, it's not so she'll find her "comfort" in me, or whatever. As a friend, I want to be there for her.
So here I am, on an early flight to Bozeman. I haven't talked to her in three days, which is really weird. In the sixteen or so months that she's been in New York, the longest that we've gone without speaking was a day. So you could say that I'm going through Montana withdrawal.
We're about to land, I think. Here I go.
---
She doesn't look happy to see me.
"Danny?" she says in disbelief, coming outside. "What are you doing here?"
"I wanted to be here for you," I say. I know this was unexpected and all, but why does she sound so unhappy to see me?
"Danny, you didn't..." She takes a deep breath. "I appreciate this. I do. But you flew all the way to Montana to be here for me? You ever hear of a phone?"
"Yeah," I say lamely. "But...I wanted to be a good friend to you, and - "
"Danny!" she yells. "A good friend would call me. You know who goes to the other side of the country to 'be a friend'? Guys looking for a girl who's broken, and just begging for a guy for a guy to 'comfort' them."
"Lindsay," I say, heartbroken, "that's not what this is about."
"Of course it is!" She's still yelling. "For over a year, you've made it painfully obvious that you like me. Even after I told you that I wasn't ready for a relationship, you kept flirting with me, and wanting to spend more time together, so you could try and get me to go out with you, regardless of the fact that I wasn't ready. Who kissed who on New Year's? You've always made the first move, Danny, and this is just another move you're making."
It feels like someone ran over my heart with a truck. "No it's not, Lindsay," I say, stepping closer. I reach for her arm. "Just listen to - "
"Don't touch me!" she yells. She turns to go back inside. I grab her arm.
"Lindsay, please listen to me," I plead. She fights to get her arm back.
"Let me go. Danny, let me go."
I see the vulnerable look in her eyes - I know why I came here. It wasn't for sex. But Lindsay doesn't know that. And it doesn't seem like I'm going to convince her.
I let go. She storms into the house.
I open my suitcase and find the package. I take it and set it against the door, along with a card.
In the package was a jazz CD and a book on how to cook bugs. Reminders of our first "dates." The card was simple - blank on the outside. Inside, all it said was "Happy Valentine's Day."
I close my suitcase. Time to go back to New York.