This time she wasn't nervous. She wasn't second guessing herself. She wasn't thinking about looking like an idiot or how to hold his hand. Instead, she was listening to music and grinning like a maniac while she put the finishing touches on her make-up. This was good. It was right. It was what she had been waiting for, in the back of her mind at least, for years. It was Mac. And it felt so wonderful, so perfect and divine that she wanted to freeze this moment of happiness, bottle it up and keep it close for the rest of her life. Of course the happiness would probably burst out of whatever container she had.

"I am such a girl," she muttered, shaking her head.

The knock on the door startled her and she jumped, her hand going to her chest.

Geez Bonasera, get a grip…

She moved to the door and opened it to reveal a smiling Mac, clad in a t-shirt and jeans and looking completely drool worthy.

Drool worthy? You're pathetic.

She told her brain to mind its own business.

"Hi."

"Hi."

"Ready?"

"Yeah."

She glanced up at him and they both chuckled at the exchange, which had happened almost exactly 24 hours before.

"Are we slipping into patterns already?" she asked, as he helped her into her jacket.

"Wouldn't be the first time," he answered with a smile and half shrug. His hands lingered on her shoulders for an extra moment before he untucked her hair from her collar. She smiled as his fingers grazed across her skin and almost pouted when the contact was gone.

"Let's get out of here," he said, taking her hand. She slid her fingers through his and nodded, locking the door and allowing him to lead her outside. So much like last night, and yet so different. She wasn't daydreaming too much to realize that he had opened the car door for her, and not too nervous to think of anything to say. They picked up the conversation from the night before, talking and laughing as if this whole dating thing was old hat, yet still the most exciting thing either one of them had experienced. Their hands played together on the console between them, fitting together as if they had been crafted that way. She glanced over at him and caught his eye, his smile the most serene she had ever seen it. She smiled back and his thumb stroked hers, down the knuckle, around the nail, and stopping to rest parallel. Her eyes fell to their hands and she suddenly understood their relationship. They were two independent, perfectly functioning yet separate beings, while also deeply intertwined with each other in beautiful equality, living side by side. Their palms, the most vulnerable parts of their hands, were the parts of themselves that they guarded most deeply, guarded with each other. They were hidden in the dark, yet there to feel, similar mirrors of each other, yet intrinsically different.

"What are you ruminating on over there, Stell?"

"I'm not quite sure yet. I'll let you know when I sort it out."

He just grinned and gave her hand a squeeze.

"Mac, why did you pick the pink golf ball?"

"I didn't pick it Stell, it was what came out of the machine!"

"Whatever, Mac."

"I'm not kidding. If you hadn't walked over to try and figure out the timing patterns on Whack-a-Mole, you would have seen that."

He acted gruff, but his eyes were twinkling.

"You should be a genteel lady and trade me."

"No way. Green is my favorite color."

"Since when?"

"Since your golf ball was pink."

He rolled his eyes and held his hand out for hers.

"Come on, Mulligan."

"Hey, you don't know for sure that I'm going to be bad at this!"

"I'm just hedging my bets here, Stell."

She glared at him as he set her green ball down and handed her a putt-putt club.

"Of course I always give you the chance to prove me wrong."

He chuckled as her stroke was so bad, the ball bounced off the back bricks at the edge of the Astroturf and rolled back out, past her feet.

"I also give you the chance to just take the triple bogey."

Her fist met his arm and he laughed.

"Okay, we can start over. Let me go first and I'll show you how it's done."

"Yeah, okay Mac."

He set the ball down and took a moment to survey the green before taking his shot. Hole in one.

"You're not my friend today, Mac Taylor."

His smile matched hers as he came around behind her, his hands settling on her wrists.

"Now you have to remember, this ball just needs a little push. It doesn't need to be yelled at or forced because then it's gonna backfire like it did last time. You just want to give it a little nudge in the right direction and it'll do the rest for you."

"So the ball is Adam?" she asked turning her head to look at him.

"Leave Adam out of this."

Her giggle was quiet as he helped her with a few practice strokes.

"Okay, now prove yourself, woman," he said finally, stepping back.

"Hey, wait! I didn't say I was ready yet!"

"Slow learner."

"Practice makes perfect."

"Okay, I'll help you with this one."

Together they managed to get a birdie on a hole that was par three.

"You even me out," Stella noted with a grin.

"Well, someone's gotta do it."

"Are you flirting with me?'

"Like I said, someone's gotta do it."

"Oh, so you're only doing it because it needs to be done?"

"I'd quote Rhett Butler, but he was a scalawag."

She smiled.

"So does that mean you're going to flirt me into better behavior?"

He gave her a half grin and took her hand.

"We're stacking up, we'd better move on."

The blush that was creeping up his cheeks far outweighed the humiliation of sucking at mini-golf.

"You pick a movie; I'm going to go change."

"Hey, how come you get to change and I have to stay in jeans?"

"You didn't think ahead and bring a change of clothes."

"Fine, then I get the couch."

"We'll see about that!" she tossed over her shoulder before shutting her bedroom door. Grabbing some running pants and a t-shirt, she traded in her jeans and sweater and threw them near her ever growing pile of dirty clothes. Her phone fell out of the pocket of her jeans and she picked it up off the floor, checking it quickly for messages. No voicemails, but she did have one text from Lindsay.

Don't biff it, Stell. No pressure.

She rolled her eyes and set the phone on her chest of drawers before heading out to the other room. Mac was stretched out across the couch, watching the coming attractions on the movie he had picked.

"You took the whole couch!" she exclaimed, one hand on her hip.

"I said I was going to. Weren't you listening?"

"Where am I supposed to sit?"

"That's your problem."

Her eyebrows shot up and she grinned at his sass.

"I guess I'm just going to have to invade you then," she said, crawling onto the couch with him. He grunted and groaned good naturedly, then smiled once she had settled against him. Her head tucked under his chin and their chests together, breathing in rhythm. He ran his fingers through her hair and she sighed softly, feeling herself relax. They watched the movie quietly for a while until she cleared her throat.

"What time are you going in tomorrow?"

"Figured I'd go in a little before eight."

"Does that mean you have to leave soon?"

"Not too soon."

"Good."

They turned back to the movie, making short comments to each other and laughing at all the right parts. They'd watched movies together before, and even though this was a different situation, it was still as comfortable as it had always been. Sure, this time she was laying completely on top of him, their feet tangled together and her eyes getting droopy. It was still like she belonged.

His fingers were running up and down her spine, and she was sure that sleep was just around the corner.

"Mac?"

"Hmm?"

"Remember what you said to me, that night in Greece?"

"Yeah."

"Say it again," she asked, turning her face up to look at him. He smiled and tucked a curl behind her ear before he spoke.

"You'll always be safe with me, Stella."

She smiled as the words warmed her soul. They had meant so much then, but meant something totally different now. It was true. She always had been safe with him, and she always would be.