Thanks everyone, for reading and for all the great responses! Here's the next chapter. :)
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"I thought I made it clear that I don't need your pity!" Betty danced around Daniel, trying to get her finger on the next highest floor in order to escape.
She was shorter and smaller, so she could weave around him, but he was faster, slicker; and somehow managed to end up cornering her. She prayed someone would get on at the next floor – he'd have no choice but to let her go, unless he wanted to make a scene. His body was mere inches from hers.
"We need to talk about this," his blue eyes stared into hers as he slammed the Stop button.
She had to get out of that corner, otherwise she knew she'd lose all ability to think straight and end up surrendering to his will; teasing herself with something she couldn't have – not for real, anyway. She ducked under his arm and moved to the other side of the elevator.
"About what? I don't know what 'this' is," she threw her hands up.
"Us! This! This thing between us," he gestured his hand back and forth through the space between them.
"There is no 'us', Daniel. And whatever happened this morning was a mistake. We both know it," Betty tried to hide her true feelings.
Daniel tried to mask his disappointment and frustration. Why did she keep pushing him away? He knew she didn't mean it – he could see it in her beautiful chocolate eyes. Why did she have to see him with Amanda like that? He knew she had gotten the wrong impression. It was obvious she wasn't standing outside his office for nothing. She must've come there to talk to him, maybe even say she wanted to see where things went with them? Why did he always end up screwing things up?
He tried to do the right thing – by Betty and by Amanda. Couldn't she see that it was just an innocent hug and a peck on the cheek? Couldn't she tell by now how he felt about her? If he didn't care, he wouldn't have broken it off with Amanda. But he did – because he wanted her – there was something about her that was lacking in all the other women he'd been with. She even made Amanda seem dull. He had to make her understand . . . give them a chance for something. He slowly inched toward her again.
"I don't believe that – and I don't think you do either," he said, his lips making their way towards hers.
For a moment, Betty almost lost all inhibition and leaned in to meet him halfway. But she resisted before making contact. She turned away and pushed the Stop button again, starting the elevator.
"You can't read my mind Daniel!" she angrily told him, even though he just had.
She hated how well he knew her.
"Well you can't just assume you know what I'm thinking either!" Daniel fired back.
"From witnessing that – whatever it was - with Amanda, it's a little obvious where you really want to be," Betty says, perturbed.
"Betty –" Daniel began.
"No – you don't have to say anything. It's a good thing – going back to her. She's definitely more your speed. I'm happy you found someone," she feigned a smile.
"Don't do that," Daniel told her.
"Do what – be happy for you?" she was purposely obtuse.
"Lie to me. Don't lie to me! It doesn't work – I can see right through it, always have . . ." he trailed off.
"Sorry if my counter-productiveness annoys you," she said, sarcastically.
"Would you just talk to me? Like normal?" he quietly pleaded, gently taking hold of her hands.
Betty stayed silent, still trying to maintain her anger. His touch and those puppy dog eyes were hard to resist though. She hated how he could simply stand there in the same space as she was and make her forget anything else but the desire to kiss his lips and run her fingers through his hair, feel his breath on her neck . . .
When did it get like that? For almost four years she had managed to pretty much stay immune to his blatant good looks and irresistible charm. Sure, there was a part of her that had been attracted to him since they met, but it was like being attracted to a celebrity – she couldn't help but notice and knew it was only skin-deep. It was never an issue. She had always cared about Daniel and even came to love him as a friend – more than that after a while.
She had seen a change in him over the years. He was more mature . . . didn't feel the need to sleep with a different woman every night, wanted to be a father to DJ, even seemed ready for a commitment when he married Molly. And when Molly died, it was like their connection with each other became deeper than ever before. Betty had never seen Daniel fall apart like that . . . be so vulnerable . . . cling to her as if she were his only lifeline.
She was closer to him than anyone else – even Hilda. She'd do anything for him and knew he would do anything for her. She knew the cult had screwed with his mind and that he was having a hard time moving on. But now it looked like he was back with Amanda . . . and he was hitting on her at the same time. After talking with her sister, she was almost positive she wanted to see where things with Daniel would lead - if he felt the same.
Only now, she had just caught him with Amanda and was pretty much convinced he had reverted back to being a man-whore. She wasn't about to get romantically involved in that kind of a mess. She'd been trapped in too many triangles - or almost triangles - before. How did a simple kiss between friends turn her life upside down? She gazed up into his eyes and despite her better judgment, she felt herself gravitating toward him; her hand reaching for his face, when the bell dinged and the doors opened.
"Coming through, people! Don't just stand there gawking at each other – move it or lose it - I've got a fashion emergency, here!" Marc barked, shoving his way through, breaking the connection.
Betty took it as an opportunity to high-tail it out of there . . . a sign that they were interrupted for a reason, that her intuition was right. She just hoped Marc was too self-involved to see what was written all over her face.
"Betty!" Daniel started to run after her again, but stopped himself.
He'd let her go – for now anyway. Give her time to cool off; time enough to listen to reason – but not too much time.
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"What's up with Curvy and Pasty? Is she still on his flat ass for not saving her the last raisin bagel this morning or something?" Marc asked Amanda, after he resolved his minor crisis.
"Daniel has a rockin' ass – believe me, I've 'smacked that' more than a few times . . . Mmm!" Amanda fondly recalled, correcting Marc.
"Eww . . . Fine. Whatever. That wasn't my point," he huffed. "There are some really strange vibes going on between What-Not-To-Wear and Dumber-Than-A-5th-Grader."
"W-What you mean? They still seem like total Besties to me – not at all weird or complicated . . ." Amanda couldn't look at Marc, afraid she'd let Daniel's secret slip.
"I just saw them in the elevator, and our little Churro looked like she was either gonna kiss the Boss Boy or smack him again. I was sensing . . . heterosexual tension." Marc cringed, but was still intrigued by his findings.
"I think all those Botox injections have gone to your brain. And there's no way Betty would slap Daniel again – not after –" Amanda covered her mouth, catching herself.
"What? Not after what?" Marc's eyes lit up like crazy.
Amanda tried to escape from her desk, but Marc grabbed hold of her arm.
"Aww . . . come on, Mandy! Don't deprive me of my hourly gossip – I'll go into withdrawal . . ." he whined.
"Maaarrc . . . I promised I wouldn't say anything!" she whined back.
"So you do know something!" he gasped. Amanda panicked.
"Know what? Did you hear something? Hey, how about that Meagan chick? Did you know she gets her nails done at – a discount superstore?" she gasped, frantically tried to distract him.
"Not surprised, bet she gets half her wardrobe there too . . ." he scoffed. "Wait – that was last week's juice – get back to the watermelon!"
"What watermelon – is somebody preggers?" Amanda asked, semi-oblivious.
"No . . . Focus, Mandy-Tans. Focus! Betty -" he tried again.
"Betty's not a watermelon - sure, she's a little on the pudgy side, but I wouldn't call her -" she started to comment.
Marc interrupted her with an extremely loud and irritated sigh.
"Betty and Daniel are the watermelon! FYI, they're gigantic mouth-watering gossip! Now give me the juice, Woman!" Marc demanded.
"Orange or apple?" Amanda got up from her desk, heading for the cafeteria.
"Amanda Tanen Sommers if you don't tell me what in the name of Giorgio Armani is going on here, I swear I'll give that Louis Vuitton bag you wanted to one of those little minions! Someone who's never even heard of the name before, much less knows how to accessorize properly. And you know editors outrank assistants during The Closet's cleaning seasons," he threatened.
Amanda gasped.
"You wouldn't dare! You would, wouldn't you? . . . Ok – no wait – I – I can't – I promised – gorgeous bag or not," she sighed.
Marc looked defeated, until the wheels started spinning in his head.
"What if I guessed and you just gave me signals?" he suggested.
"Well, I guess technically it wouldn't be my fault if you figured it out on your own. It's not like I said anything . . ." she contemplated. "But you have to promise me you'll keep quiet, and won't even hint to anyone else about it - if you figure it out."
"Mmmhmmm . . ." he slyly grinned and nodded eagerly.
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A couple of weeks had passed and she was still avoiding him. They'd both shared stolen glances and a few brief pleasantries; had spoken professionally about deadlines and what was to be written for the following issue. But not all of her was really there. He couldn't bounce ideas off of her . . . listen to her thoughts for the issue . . . watch her jump up and down and squeal every time she got excited about a new lead or another hit on her blog . . .
He couldn't hear her infectious laugh . . . flirt with her just to see her get all flustered over nothing, her cheeks turning that certain shade of red, causing her to shove his chest in mocked protest . . . ask her about her day . . . have coffee or share a bagel with her . . . have lunch or eat takeout while watching a movie or having a late night at the office . . . just be alone in the same room with her for more than thirty seconds . . .
He was lost without her. He'd waited long enough – he needed to talk to her. He was about to explode from keeping everything inside. She had to know straight-out how he felt. At least then he'd know where they stood. He called the car service and went to her apartment, his heart pounding the entire time. He took a deep breath and knocked on her door, expecting to see her face, when instead he ended up seeing her father's.
"Mr. Suarez . . . Hi!" Daniel said.
"Daniel, what brings you here? Oh, sorry - sometimes I forget this isn't my home. Come in - I'll go get Betty," Ignacio greeted him, with his apron on.
Daniel smiled and entered her apartment to find books, papers, pots and pans, eggs, flour, curling irons, blow dryers, makeup, and piles of clothes everywhere. Justin and Hilda were in bathrobes, their faces covered in green goop, cucumbers over their eyes.
"Hey, Grandpa, who's at the door – you can't let them see me like this!" Justin protested.
"Hey, Justin – it's Daniel," he answered.
"Oh. Hi, Daniel! Thank god it's only you! Grandpa would've let Shakira in here and not have warned me first," Justin joked.
"I heard that!" Ignacio said.
Daniel chuckled. Hilda removed the cucumbers from her eyes.
"Hey, Daniel! Why don't you have a seat on the couch? It's sooo comfortable I could just fall asleep on it . . ." Hilda gave him a secretly satisfied look.
He had no doubt in his mind that Betty had told her everything. But he shouldn't have been surprised. She was Betty's female version of himself – when they were having problems or there was something woman-related, he knew she usually turned to her sister.
"Subtle," he smirked.
"I have no idea what you're talking about . . ." she claimed innocence and winked at him.
Betty walked into the room.
"Daniel! What are you doing here?" she feigned cheerfulness.
"I just thought I'd stop by and . . . chat," he quickly came up with an excuse.
"Well, why don't we 'chat' outside," she suggested, rolling her eyes at him.
She closed the door to her apartment and looked at him.
"Okay, that was lame," he admitted.
"You think?" she said sarcastically. "What are you really doing here, Daniel?"
"I had to see you, ok? Ever since the elevator you've been avoiding me - for weeks. I had to know you were alright," he explained, trying not to scare her off right away.
"Well, as you can see, I'm fine. And it's not like I don't show up for work . . ." she stated matter-of-factly.
"Yeah, but we don't really talk. I don't know what's been going on with you? I know we swore we'd never utter that word again, but your apartment looks like a tornado hit it!" he laughed.
"Yeah . . . well, that's because one did – twice - the Suarez Family tornado. As you can tell, my family's pretty comfortable in there right now," she said.
"What happened?" he asked.
She sighed.
"You know how Fashion Week I featured a new designer who presented the slightly charred look?" she asked.
"Yeah . . . Betty, those were brilliant! You did an awesome job finding her. I'm so sorry Wilhelmina took the credit for her," he told her.
"Thanks. Well that look was actually an accident. Hilda's salon caught on fire and the designer's pieces were in there," she explained.
"Oh my god! Betty, why didn't you tell me? You're okay? You're family's okay, right?" Daniel started freaking out.
"We're fine. We've been fine – we're fine, Daniel. Thank you," she assured him. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but I didn't want to worry you with something else. I could tell you were busy enough as it was and after you found out about Tyler, there was no way I was going to put my problems on you."
"Is that why you kept insisting we go to my apartment to hang out - until that last weekend when we . . .?" he asked, finally understanding.
Betty nodded.
"There were too many people at my place. Too many questions would've been asked about what was going on with you and I knew you didn't need that," she told him, remembering how upset he had been about his family.
"But that's why you saw them camped out in my apartment just now. They stayed with me while the house was being fumigated, and there was this complicated inspection thing and dealing with the insurance . . . They went home when it was up to code again, but now that we finally got approval from the insurance, construction's in process so they're back . . ." she trailed off.
"Do you know who started it?" he asked.
She slowly held up her hand.
"Guilty as charged," she admitted as she slumped down on the floor, her back against the wall.
"You?" he said in disbelief and joined her on the opposite wall.
She nodded.
"Yeah, I was using the curling iron, trying something different with my hair and I forgot to turn it off before I left," she admitted.
Daniel was finding it hard to imagine Betty using a curling iron; the first time he met her it seemed as if she barely even used a hair brush. Things had definitely changed.
"Wow. So you and your entire family are holed up in your tiny apartment . . . again?" he asked.
"Yep . . ." she said.
"Betty, let me help you out. I feel horrible! There you were listening to me whine and complain about Tyler and Mom, while you were having your own family crisis. Let me book them a suite – anything. You must be so stressed out – I heard about the Lady Gaga presentation mix-up and wondered what happened," he offered.
"That's really sweet of you, Daniel. But I can't accept. We just got the insurance to agree to pay for most of the damages, but they won't cover everything – there's no way we could afford to pay you back," she said.
"No, no. I didn't expect you to. It's on me – don't even worry about it! I care about your family and I care about you. That's never going to change, so you might as well get used to it," he insisted with a smile.
She hesitated for a minute and then caved. She loved her family, but living in such close quarters was driving her crazy. As much as she didn't want to accept any huge favors from Daniel, she could definitely use a break.
"Okay. Thank you," she smiled awkwardly. "So you never told me why you're really here. I know it wasn't just to see what I'd been up to."
He smiled sheepishly. He could never get anything past her.
"Don't run off when I bring it up, but I wanted to explain to you about what you saw between Amanda and me that day in my office," he began.
"Daniel, it's fine. I really don't care. I've had so much to deal with lately that thinking about whatever 'thing' you have with Amanda is the least of my problems – in fact it's non-existent," Betty smiled and lied.
The truth was that that entire day was still eating at her.
"I know you 'don't care', but just hear me out. What you saw in there wasn't what you think. I broke it off with Amanda. We had been casually seeing each other since the Bahamas – it was just for sex, really," he could see her temper silently building up.
Betty tried to contain her anger with both of them, especially since they were in the hallway. But her two friends didn't even have the decency to warn her about their fling? They had just gone behind her back.
Daniel told her everything – certain things she sometimes wished she didn't know - like that weird mole he had on his lower back or the copy room tape that left her blind for a week. So why did he keep this from her? And Amanda lived right across the hall – she could've walked in on them at any moment – Ewww . . .! Not an image she wanted to keep in her mind for multiple reasons.
"But she and I realized we wanted more in a relationship . . . wanted to be with other people," he went on. "I'm sorry I never told you, but I just didn't think it was that big a deal – we were never serious – we were just using each other. And a few weeks before then, it had hit me that I was tired of going nowhere - of going backward, actually."
He looked at the floor, then back at her, then scooted in towards her and grabbed her hands.
"I wanted something that could last, someone who never ceased to amaze me, but at the same time who I knew practically better than she knew herself and vice versa . . . Someone who could always keep me on my toes, was always there when I needed her . . . wasn't afraid to crash a wedding reception, sing drunken off-key karaoke at 3 in the morning, or pig-out on well – anything . . . Someone who'd watch the same movies over and over again . . ." he timidly looked at her.
"I wanted someone who'd meet me at 5 in the morning just to see the sun rise on the other side of the city . . . Someone who was smart, funny, passionate, never afraid to speak her mind, had the biggest heart in the world, had amazing eyes and a smile that always lit up the room, who was beautiful inside and out . . . Someone who was . . . you - I want you," Daniel confessed and sat in the dead air, wishing she'd say something – anything. He'd even take another one of her slaps if it'd kill the suspense.