-1So Much

How does it feel to know you're everything I need?

"I can't do this." Frustrated, Tyra tosses her pencil down and watches it roll onto the floor, making no move to catch it. "I can't."

Displaying the patience of a saint, Matt bends and picks up the instrument. "Yes, you can."

"I can't. I don't get it and it's pointless." She sighs and pushes her chair away from the table. "God, why couldn't I have broken my other arm? Give me an excuse not to write out stupid proofs when I can just find the answer with a freakin' calculator?"

"Tyra." It's a mild reproach, but she takes the pen when he hands it to her again. "Just finish this one and we'll take a break."

"Fine," she grumbles, bending her head over the page. She snaps back up again to point her eraser at him. "But then we're gettin' some ice cream."

"Deal," he laughs.

He's been tutoring Tyra for a few weeks, after she'd fallen behind during her hospital stay, and he's become pretty adept at handling her flashes of impatience. He understands that it stems from insecurity, but he still hates the way she gets angry at herself. It's better if he can refocus her attention before she shuts down and sends him home.

"Done," she announces a few seconds later, pushing the worksheet towards him. "Let's go."

She's already out of her seat and halfway to the door, but Matt takes a moment to scan her answers. "These are all right, Tyra," he says, shooting her a smile. Her teeth flash in return and he thinks spending the day in her small, stifling kitchen was worth it. "Let's go get some ice cream."

XXX

"Does Landry mind you borrowing his car all the time?" Tyra asks suddenly.

They've been sitting in comfortable silence on a picnic table outside the ice cream stand, licking away at their respective cones. Matt in particular is struggling - his serving of rocky road seems determined to melt before he can enjoy it.

"Nah," he manages to reply briefly, in between catching drops with his tongue. "Don't think so."

"It's just, well, you have it all the time." She shrugs, looks away. "I don't want to be rude, I just think ... wouldn't it be easier if you got your own car?"

Matt laughs at that, a tad harshly, and Tyra's head swings back around to pin him in her gaze again. "Maybe easier," he allows. "But ... not really possible. Right now, at least."

She looks at him, just stays silent and looks, and he finds himself forging on. "It's just, I've got my Grandma to take care of and her medicine's expensive. And my Dad, well, Army medals don't really pay the bills, you know?"

"Hm." Tyra doesn't offer a bland, optimistic platitude. Instead, she swirls her tongue around her mound of praline ice cream, then stands up and tosses it into the trash. "Come on."

"Wait, what?" Confused, Matt jumps to his feet but doesn't follow when she begins to walk away. "I thought we were eating ice cream. Tyra, where're you goin'?"

"You need to have some fun," she hollers over her shoulder, and he can't help that his eyes flick down to her rolling hips. "Come on, Saracen, let's get a move on."

"But I was having fun," he calls out, then realizes that he's yelling. A pack of twelve year olds standing nearby are snickering and he's pretty sure it's at him. "Well, hell," he mutters, and really has no other choice but to follow her.

XXX

Tyra refuses to give him any hint as to where they're going; simply directs him through the streets of Dillon and smiles when he presses for more information. He's dying of curiosity, but her plan is working - he's having fun just listening to her giggle as his guesses get more and more outlandish.

"You better not be bringing me to Vegas," he warns, a smile playing across his lips. "I can't run away with you, Tyra Collette. I've got responsibilities."

"Screw responsibilities," she proclaims, smacking the dashboard for emphasis. "If I feel like eloping with you, then that's what we're gonna do."

"Oh, so is that - is that what we're doing? 'Cause I need to make a stop first, I've gotta pick up Landry." She laughs again, but he keeps his expression devoid of humor. "I'm serious, I told him way back in second grade that he could be my best man and I can't - I can't break that promise."

He's only joking, but Tyra regards him seriously. "You really wouldn't, would you? Break a promise you made when you were seven, I mean."

Matt shrugs, uncomfortable under her scrutiny. "A promise is a promise. That's how I see it."

It hits her again, just how good he really is. Tyra has lived seventeen years in Dillon, a town that practically bleeds Southern hospitality, but no one's ever treated her with any kindness. They hear her last name or see her short skirt and their lips automatically purse. In their eyes, she's trailer trash and that makes it okay for them to ignore or insult her.

But Matt is different. It doesn't seem to matter to him, all the dirty deeds she's done. He visits her in the hospital and tutors her and doesn't try to kiss her like the rest of the football guys would. He's nice to her sister's little brats and he takes care of his grandmother all by himself and never complains. He would keep a promise he made as a child and, she knows somewhere deep down, he would go to Vegas if she asked him to take her. He would go anywhere she wanted.

"Uh, Earth to Tyra?" Matt taps her shoulder, ignoring the jolt of electricity he feels when his skin touches hers. "Where should I go now?"

"Oh." She shakes her head, tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "Sorry. Um, take a right. We're almost there. You ready for some excitement?"

"I don't know." He sighs heavily, feigning disappointment. "I was kind of looking forward to Vegas."

Her eyes sparkle at him. "You wanna marry me, Matt Saracen?"

"I, uh -"

"Stop!" He cuts off abruptly when she grabs his hand. "We're here. Pull in here."

"We're here? Tyra, this is ... this is Buddy Garrity's place," he realizes, glancing around at the rows of gleaming cars. "What're we doing here? I can't afford a car, I told you that."

"I'm not an idiot, Saracen." She rolls her eyes. "But just 'cause you can't pay, doesn't mean you can't play. Come on. Come on, don't just sit there and look at me like that. We're gonna test drive some cars."

XXX

"Okay." Two hours later, Matt has been behind the wheel of several cars he can't even name, much less afford. They're parked in the school parking lot now, sitting on the hood of Landry's trusty vehicle and watching the sun go down behind the football field. "That was seriously cool. Have I thanked you yet?"

"Many times, actually," she laughs, bumping his shoulder with hers. "You can stop now. This was supposed to be my thank you to you. For helping me out with Calc and - everything else."

"Really?" He pretends to consider. "Weird. I thought you were just lookin' to get out of finishing your homework today."

"Well, that, too." Her smile puts the setting sun, in all its golden glory, to shame. "I just figured, you know, I can't buy you a car obviously, but ... I wanted you to have one. If only for a few minutes."

She looks down at her feet and Matt takes the opportunity to study her. Her aviator sunglasses sit on her head, glinting in the fading light like a tiara might. Her hair is pulled back for once, leaving her long, delicate neck exposed. Her shoulders, too, are bare save for the thin lace straps of her tank top and a light dusting of freckles he didn't expect.

"You know," he says, almost conversationally. "You're not as bad as people think, Collette."

She glances up at him, mouth open in surprise, then smiles. "Yeah? Well, you're exactly as nice as people think, Saracen."

He nods slowly, weighing his options. There's so much he wants to say. They're sitting in the spot where they first kissed, they've spent a perfect day together, and she's never looked as beautiful as she does in the half-light of dusk. But she also looks ... peaceful, he thinks, like for once her mind isn't on anything dark or heavy, and he doesn't want to bring her back down just yet.

"Yeah," he finally says, blowing out a long breath. "Yeah, I pretty much I am."