Author's Note: A little language warning. Not much, but a little. And this one is a little short, but if I had included the next scene with it, it would have been way too long. So happy reading – thank you! 😊

December 29, 9:10 am

Holiday Inn, Room 213

Jane sat up with a start, her heart pounding so hard and loud she feared it would either explode or burst right out of her chest. It felt like she'd screamed, and maybe she had. She was in bed, still in the clothes she'd worn yesterday. She tried to calm her breathing.

In, out. In, out. Breathe, Jane. In, out. In, out.

"Jane?"

This time she was sure she screamed. The male voice came from inside the room, from a chair in the corner, and she pulled the bedcovers up to her chest as she pulled her knees up to her chest and backed her body up to the headboard. The man looked familiar. She knew him, and yet, she couldn't remember who he was. "Who are you? What are you doing in my room?"

He stood up, slowly, holding his hands out in front of him and didn't move toward her, which helped ease some of her panic. "It's me, Schwartz. Uh, Paul," he said. "Paul."

Schwartz. Paul. Hazy memories of what must have been last night began to fill her head. Sitting at a bar with him, drinking two or three Old Fashioned's, and then a few – or five – shots of Paul's favorite whiskey. Talking about the old times, and Paul told her about Ralphie and Ralphie's father. Her cheeks began to flush as she remembered laying her head on his shoulder.

"You, uh, you fell asleep on my shoulder, so Flick called a cab. I came with you, you know, just to make sure you got here okay. And then you…you didn't want me to leave, so I just…"

"Slept in the chair?" Jane let the covers at her chest fall to her lap. Her body began to relax. Her head ached like it never had before. Throbbed, really, and she wanted to cry. "I'm sorry, Paul. I don't…I don't normally drink like that."

He smiled. "Funny, I do." He shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I guess that's not so funny. Pathetic, really."

"No." She studied him. He stood there with his hands stuffed in his pockets, looking down at the floor, shuffling his right foot just a little bit. He seemed almost lost, almost hurt, but from what, she wasn't sure. She slowly moved to the edge of her bed, her entire body screaming with the ache of hangover, and stood up. Pain shot through her forehead, temple to temple with each step she took, but she forced herself to go the entire way to him. She reached out and wrapped her hand around his wrist. "Thank you. For getting me here, and for staying, and for…" She smiled and lifted a shoulder. "For not taking advantage..." Her cheeks burned even just thinking of it.

He met her eyes, and his smile was so shy. "I would never do that." He chuckled, but it seemed to Jane to be less humorous and more defensive. "I'm pathetic, yeah, but I would never, ever do that. To anyone."

She pulled on his wrist until his hand came out of his pocket and she held it. Squeezed it. "You don't need to convince me of that." It surprised her, this easy trust that she felt for him. Especially considering Ken. And yet, she couldn't deny it. Maybe it was because they'd been kids together. Grown up together. Lived in Hohman for so many years together.

"You hardly know me, Jane. I mean, it's been twenty-five years."

"I know. But I can just tell."

They stood there together and said nothing. He didn't pull his hand away, and she didn't pull hers away. His hand was much larger than hers, larger then Ken's and softer. "You said you're a mechanic?"

He stared down at their joined hands. "Uh…well, I used to be. I mean, I am, but I'm kind of in between jobs at the moment."

"Just…your hands are so soft."

"My mother makes me use all this lotion…." Now he pulled his hand away, and he walks over to the window. "You must think I'm the biggest loser ever. Lives at home with his mommy and lets her take care of his hands. Jesus."

"She's blind, right? Didn't you tell me that last night?"

"She's got glaucoma, and they couldn't get it under control before it did too much damage. I mean, she's not completely blind, but just about."

"So you take care of her."

"Yeah, I guess. I do what I can. My sister helps, but she's got her own family. But really, Mom gets along pretty well even if I'm not there." He shrugs. "And usually, she tells me to get out of the house."

Jane wanted to walk over to him and wrap her arms around him, to hug him until he stopped feeling the need to call himself pathetic. But her nerves kept her rooted in place. Still, she could at least say something to him. "I think you're the sweetest man I've ever met, Paul Schwartz."

He turned around, smiles slightly, but she could tell he's not convinced.

"I'll keep telling you that if I have to. Until you believe it."

He swallowed and looked away, then looked at her again. "You laughed a lot last night. I really liked…." He looked down. "I mean, I really liked hanging out with you."

She expected panic to rise up inside of her. Clearly, he was working his way up to asking her out, and God, she hadn't been on a date in ten years. Not really. But there was something disarming about the way his cheeks were turning red, the way he ran his hand through his hair once, and then again. The way he couldn't seem to stand steady on both feet.

"I was kind of hoping you'd be there again tonight. At Flick's, I mean."

She got the feeling that he might be a little reluctant to venture outside Flick's Tavern, and for a moment, she felt a little disappointed. It wasn't even really an invitation for a date. Even so, he obviously wanted to see her again. And that made her tummy turn over with butterflies. "Yeah. I think I will be," she said. "Although I probably won't drink the way I did last night."

He smiled, the widest one she'd seen yet, or at least that she could clearly remember. The most beautiful one she'd ever seen. "You and me both."

A few minutes later, she watched out the window as he started walking back toward downtown Hohman. He hadn't wanted to call a cab, hadn't wanted her to drive him. He'd wanted the fresh air, he'd said. He turned back just a handful of steps into the parking lot and looked up toward her window, and she grinned. Busted. She waved.

He waved back.

And there was that smile again.