Chapter Three

Dillon walked into the courtyard by Kelly's at 6:50 to wait for Georgie. He remembered Zander's words: "if someone makes you feel that way, tell them." He wanted to tell Georgie, he was dying to. But how?

Dillon knew that he was often too influenced by movies, too expectant that everything would go according to script, but to tell the truth, this moment probably could have used some help from Capra or Wyler or Cukor. He realized that he should probably take Georgie out on a date, somewhere nicer than Kelly's and somewhere that wouldn't require breaking and entering, or lead to being interrupted by a snide Maxie and her drug-wielding friends.

And he wanted to give her flowers.

There was a florist down the block. He envisioned Georgie's slender hand holding a pink rose and felt his knees go weak. He checked his watch. 6:53. He could make it if he ran. Dillon bolted...and ran right into someone.

"Well, I knew you would come running back to me, I just didn't think you'd be so...forceful." The voice was slow and languid, but nasty. Satanic Sexpot. Faith Rosco.

Damn it...

"Sorry to bump into you," he said hurriedly. He made a move to leave but she grabbed him back. He stared at her in fury and boredom. What the hell did this woman want with a teenage boy? What sort of sick game was she playing?

"Waiting for your little virgin?" she purred. Dillon gritted his teeth.

"Her name is Georgie and don't ever mention her," he growled.

"That's a good idea," Faith agreed. She ran a finger up his chest as he stood, stiffly, every muscle in his body tensing in hatred. "Why should I remind you about itty bitty little Georgie when you can be thinking about us?" He saw her eyes flash past his shoulder and she reached her other hand to graze his inner thigh. Jesus Christ! He pulled away roughly but she grabbed him back, and pressed her body against his, leaning up to roughly accost his neck with her thin lips and probably forked tongue. As she did, he heard a crash and as he yanked himself forcefully away, saw an overturned chair and a figure in a light purple coat rushing away.

Georgie.

Faith had seen her coming, he realized.

He tore himself from her wench-like grasp and took off running, throwing a table upside down to derail her if she tried to chase him, but she didn't. She just stood there, licking her lips as the boy raced after the girl.

Dillon caught up with Georgie on the next block and grabbed her arm, spinning her around to face him. She glared at him, her eyes shining with tears of anger and betrayal, tears she was desperate to not let spill over. She looked like she wanted to punch him.

"Georgie," Dillon implored desperately. "I'm so sorry you saw that. I'm so, so sorry!"

"You're sorry I saw it, that you got caught, or you're sorry you did it?" she screamed at him. She tried to wrench her arm away but he held on tight.

"I didn't do anything, I swear to you," Dillon told her. "Faith accosted me. It wasn't what it looked like. It was nothing!"

Georgie was still furious. "It didn't look like nothing, Dillon." She was trying desperately to keep her dignity. "But you know what? That's fine. Why wouldn't you want to be with someone like that, even if she is completely evil? She's everything I'm not. She's older and wordly and sexy and glamorous. So go ahead - be with her."

Georgie spun away again. She needed to get away before the fragile shell of anger broke away and he saw her sobbing uncontrollably from hurt and sadness. But before she could take a step, he grabbed her arm and spun her around again, grabbing her by the shoulders to keep her from leaving.

Dillon spoke fiercely, looking her dead in the eye. "Listen to me, Georgie. What you saw was nothing, it was a set up by a psychotic woman. And whatever you said about her having appeal to me despite her insanity is wrong. I don't want to be with her. I don't feel anything for her. You're the one I love."

Georgie's eyes popped wide

"I don't want to be with anyone else. And I certainly want nothing to do with that woman."

Georgie no longer looked angry, just frozen to the spot. She spoke up, her voice shaking, whispering. "The one you what?"

Dillon was confused. "What what?"

Then he recalled the speech he just made and had to take a few deep beaths before continuing. When he did, his voice was still steady, but as quiet as Georgie's a moment before. He moved one hand up to her face so his fingertips traced her jaw line, praying she wouldn't pull way. She just stared up at him, wide eyed.

"I just said I love you, didn't I?"

Georgie's voice was tiny. "Yeah..."

He stared into her eyes for a moment, their breath escaping their mouths in frozen clouds and meeting in the air. "Damn it, damn it, damn it," swore Dillon.

Georgie looked confused. "What's the matter?" She couldn't believe what he had said, but she was scared that he was going to take it back.

"I wanted to take you out on a nice date and tell you that over dinner, with candles. I wanted to give you flowers, which is where I was going when Psycho Jezebel attacked me. And I wanted to give you a beautiful night, not make you cry and want to kill me. And I definitely did not want to yell that at you." He groaned in frustration.

Georgie was shocked, still upset over what she had seen, but incredulously happy at Dillon's proclamation, while also amused at his blabbering.

Dillon realized the florists he had been heading toward was only half a block back. He could run for it. But if Faith was still there, or if he left Georgie alone... he grabbed Georgie's hand. "Come with me," he demanded, yanking her so that she had to run along with him or have her shoulder pulled from its socket.

Dillon sprinted down the block and rushed into the flower shop. "Close your eyes and stand there," he commanded, pointing to a spot on the floor." She obliged. In another minute she felt his hand on her shoulder and opened her eyes. His other hand was behind his back. "Come on." He guided her back out the door and pulled her underneath a streetlamp.

"Can I try that again," he asked. She nodded. Dillon pulled his hand from behind his back and held out a perfect, pink rose toward her. He stroked it gently over her face, brushing her eyelids, her cheeks, and finally her lips with the edges of the soft petals. Then he swiftly broke off all but a few inches of the stem and tucked the flower behind her ear, smoothing her hair which hung down underneath a white knit hat. He brushed his lips to hers in a whisper of a kiss, then pulled back to look her directly in the eyes. "I love you Georgie."

"Um, Dillon?" Georgie ventured a couple hours later. They had eaten dinner at a Japanese restaurant - Dillon had tried to get Georgie to taste eel, but she was firm in her refusal - and now sat on a bench by the docks, his arm securely around her and her head on his shoulder, just staring out at the water.

"Yeah?"

"Um, uh..." she faltered, knowing that she should look at him when she asked this question, but she was pretty certain of the answer, and she couldn't bear to look up, so she squeezed her eyes shut. "You're not a virgin, are you?"

He let out a shaky breath. God, he wished the answer were different. He told her the first thing that came to his mind. "I've never...made love...before..."

She found the courage to look him in the eye. "That's not a direct answer, Dillon."

"No, it's not," he agreed. He sighed. "No. I'm a not a virgin." Her face fell. He took a couple of deep breaths and lifted her chin so that her eyes met his. "I've had...intercourse-"

"I know what it's called, Dillon." She was trying not to be angry, but she was kicking herself for asking the question in the first place.

"I'm not giving you a biology lecture, Georgie, I'm trying to tell you about what happened." She was silent, so he continued. "I've had sex, technically, been - he cringed - inside - a couple of girls, but I can't say legitimately why. I've never held a girls hand during, or stared into her eyes. My goal was never to hold her, because I really never did, it was just - well, physical. I've never even, forget sex, whispered a girl's name against her lips...until you, that is." Georgie looked at him with big eyes. "Georgie, I've...I make love to you more every time I hold your hand or touch your cheek than I ever did when I slept with anyone..." he searched for words to continue, but she placed a finger in the air, silencing him. She bit her lip.

"What's your goal here?"

"Huh?"

"You said that with those other girls your goal was physical. Am I a means to an end, Dillon? Do you think I'm wasting your time by not going to bed with you?"

He felt himself reel back. This was Georgie's fire coming out, this directness. He chose his words carefully, taking her hands and looking into her eyes. "Georgie, I'm not going to lie to you. I would love to - to be with you - that way, intimately. I do want you. And I hope that we do make love someday, whether it's in two weeks or two years or longer than that. And if you never want to be with me like that, then that's okay too. But you have to know that I have no expectations of you. And in answer to your question about what my goal is, my goal with you is to hold you. Because Georgie, as much as I would love to take you to bed, what I want more than anything is to one night be able to literally take you to bed - to lie down with you and hold you. To spend the whole night talking and laughing until you fall asleep in my arms. And other than cuddling you and - hopefully - kissing you, I wouldn't lay a finger on you..."

Georgie had gone almost slack-jawed during Dillon's speech, but now the sides of her mouth turned up a bit. "Hopefully kissing me?" she asked indignantly.

"I wouldn't if you didn't want me to," he promised.

It was rare that Georgie took the initiative in a kiss, but now she cupped his face between her hands and kissed him slowly and firmly in a way that left him feeling drunk.

"When we have a night like that, you better be kissing me," she said forcefully.

"Yes ma'am."

They laughed together and as they grew quiet, Georgie got serious again. "I'm afraid, " she whispered, barely audible.

"Of what?"

"That I'm going to seem...inadequete to you. Like you won't see me as a woman-"

"But Georgie," Dillon interrupted. "You're not a woman. You're a girl. And I'm not a man, I'm a guy, or boy or whatever. I mean, yeah, I guess people would say that I'm a young man and you're a young woman or young lady, but that just reminds me of being yelled at. And you're going to be a beautiful woman, but right now you're a beautiful girl and that's perfect."

Georgie's face softened and she looked almost sad. "But I'm still worried that you're going to get tired of waiting and tired of having to make a huge deal out of every little thing, because you've," she cringed, "had sex, and you've kissed lots of girls, tons probably, and I've only ever kissed-" she cut off quickly, realizing what she would reveal. "Not many boys," she revealed lamely.

Dillon smiled and pulled her into his arms. He whispered in her ear. "Georgie, how many boys have you kissed?"

She looked in his eyes and then downwards. She bit her lip. "Two," she whispered, under her breath.

"One of them Lucas?" he asked. She nodded. "So that day, at Kelly's, by the phone. That was...that was your first kiss, Georgie."

She buried her face in his chest, mortified. "Yes, I know that," she muttered. He felt a smile spreading across his face that he couldn't stop and pulled her away from him, forcing her to look at his face.

"I love that. I love that somehow the universe lined up to the position where I would turn out to be the guy you would share that with. And I know that you were just panicked and didn't care who I was, but still... thank you."

"What was yours like?"

"My first kiss?" he asked. She nodded. "Lame. Some British girl named Felicity with red hair who told me that I could kiss her if I traded sandwiches with her. I wasn't hungry that day and I didn't care about kissing her but I did anyway."

"That sounds romantic," Georgie said sarcastically.

"Very much not," he emphasized. "Believe me, the word romantic did not even enter my mind out of the context of movies until I met you. Look Georgie, yes I've kissed some girls - seven including you to be precise - but no one's ever made me feel like you do. No one else has occupied my thoughts at ungodly hours of the night when I need to go to sleep but I can't because my heart is beating too fast because all I can think about is her. But you do. So please don't ever, ever think for one second that you are anything less than my most incredible dream realized."

She took this in silently, her lip trembling slightly. He didn't say anything, thogh he was dying to know what she was thinking. They sat, quietly, for several minutes, Georgie staring at the frozen water and Dillon trying not to stare at Georgie.

"I love you."

His breath caught in his throat and his heart raced. He couldn't believe his ears. He had to hear it again. "What?"

She twisted to face him and looked at him directly, boldly, but her voice was shy. "I love you."

His heart jumped. He reached out and stroked her cheek with his fingertips before leaning in slowly to capture her lips in a soft, but intense kiss. Her lips felt warm but her cheek was cold and he felt her shiver against him. Dillon pulled back slowly and stood up, outstretching his hand. "Come on."

She looked at him, still sitting on the dock. "Where?"

He smiled at her. "I want to buy you a hot chocolate."

"Okay." She reached up to take his hand and let him pull her to her feet.