~ VIII ~
He finds himself fixating on Betty's face that day, more specifically, her devastated expression at his non-reaction and the more he thinks about it the more unforgivable his behaviour becomes.
He's scared; knows he's in the grip of terror but of what exactly he can't pinpoint.
Maybe he's terrified of being happy, of being the 'plus one' of someone who's integrity and intelligence transcends his own or just plain scared of disappointing the one person who's seen him at his worst but still believes the best of him.
Most likely he's terrified of all of the above. Realises the dread of not having his feelings reciprocated is nothing compared to the fear of having those feelings returned.
Oh god, what if he feels this way forever?
He's in his office with his head on the desk, thinking seriously about using it to literally knock some sense into himself. The possibility of damaging brain cells shouldn't be too high given he clearly doesn't have that many to begin with.
He's only aware someone's come into the room when he sees a shadow looming over him through the glass tabletop.
"What are you looking at?" Amanda's been one of his assistants for a couple of years now (he remembers Betty's flush of pleasure when he'd told her he needed not one, but two people to replace her, but that memory isn't exactly making him feel better right now). She'd proven surprisingly competent and the combination of Betty's training and Amanda's natural aptitude for pleasing produces an assistant who's actually pretty cool to have around. Usually.
But not today. Today he just wants to crawl underneath his desk and live off Chinese take out for the rest of his life.
He brushes her off. "Ah, nothing." He hopes his face isn't red from resting on the table. "Did you want me to sign something?"
"No, I'm just bored." She quirks an eyebrow at him, plants herself at the edge of his desk. He wonders idly whether the cleaners ever have to wipe it down given the number of times she sits on it without invitation. "And you looked like you could use some company."
"I'm – I'm actually really busy." He notices his desk is completely devoid of paperwork. "Don't you have some filing to do?"
"I don't file. The interns do that. And besides, even I can tell you're not busy, you were staring at your shoes which, by the way, fab." She leans in, eyes hungry. "I heard from a sort of but not really fat birdy that trouble's up in tweedy land."
"I'm sorry?" It's safe to say he has absolutely no idea what she's talking about.
"The B to your D. She said the 'L' word and now you're totally wigging."
He can't believe he's getting this from Amanda of all people. "She told you?"
"I went by her place to check up on her dad's churro things and she would've totally told me, except I heard it from Justin. I don't think they're related." She shakes her head, leans in like she's going to tell him a state secret which frankly, would be more entertaining.
"Look Daniel, I know she's a fatty and it's potentially not cool to be with one, but Marc does it and Cliff's really grown on me. So from one hot person to another, it's okay. Besides, I totally think they'll be the must have accessory next season."
The wicked smile drops from her face and suddenly she's the vulnerable Amanda, lurking underneath the thin shell of a vain girl. "I think you're being totally uncool to B. I've seen you guys doing really boring stuff together and I don't know, it's kinda cute, except when you're wearing that ugly pink tie and she's wearing red and the whole thing totally clashes. But … a girl can go her whole life and not find someone to do boring stuff with. So you're lucky Daniel. You're lucky to have someone to do boring stuff with."
Maybe she's found his light switch, maybe it's been there all along just waiting to be triggered but something definitely falls into place. Pieces of a life half-lived, maybe, until now.
He can't believe he's about to say this. "You're right." He springs from his chair, sending it flying into the wall. "You know what? You're absolutely right. Thanks." He throws his jacket on and runs out, but not before flinging his arms around her. "Thanks Amanda. I – "
He doesn't have time to finish the sentence because he's already half way to the lift.
* * * * *
He doesn't want to take any chances and so hurries to Betty's building right away; doesn't know which floor she's on but the cute receptionist tells him after a few well directed smiles, even buzzes him through security when he asks her to (nicely).
What? He's using his flirting for a good cause and as far as he's concerned the ends justify the means.
Betty's floor is frenetic and busy, with none of the minimalist chic of Mode or the sumptuous richness of Meade. She's in her element here, just like he's always pictured it.
He scans the floor, sees her desk in the corner and marches boldly past the curious glances of her co-workers before he has a chance to back out. His hands haven't sweated so much since he fronted a packed meeting to fight off a hostile takeover of Meade a year ago and he still hasn't recovered from that.
"Betty, we need to talk."
She starts with surprise and yanks off her headphones; glances around to check if anyone's noticed which, unfortunately, they have. "What are you doing here?" She hisses.
He's trying really hard to be inconspicuous but knows he's failing badly. The co-head of Meade publications walking (okay, storming) into a busy New York magazine tends to raise eyebrows.
"I need to talk to you."
"Now?"
"Yes."
She sighs and stands; throws a hideous looking pashmina-like thing around her shoulders and pushes him toward the lift. (He's in love, not blind. It looks like she's wearing a carpet that Hello Kitty puked all over.)
They almost make it out of the building without incident. At the lift they're accosted by a statuesque brunette in a stunning emerald and gold dress. She would not have been out of place at Mode or Elle. "Hi, Carolina Ramirez, entertainment editor."
"Daniel Meade." It only occurs to him while they're shaking hands that there's a fifty-five percent chance he may have slept with her at some point. He thinks either Paris or Milan but can't worry about that now. "I'm sorry, we were just going –"
"Of course." He swears he sees her wink at Betty, but can't be sure. He is sure however, that Betty flushes rather cutely in response. "I won't keep you. And … I guess I'll talk to you later, Betty."
Daniel flatters himself to think he'd been reasonably composed before, but the interruption makes his insides somersault again uncontrollably. Talking to Betty had never been so heart attack inducing.
He half pushes, half guides her across the road, buying himself time to think about what he's going to say.
"Daniel, what is it?" She bats his arm away. "I'm in the middle of a deadline. You can't just drag me out of work just to apologise to me."
He lets her go. "I wasn't going to apologise."
"You weren't? I thought –"
"What? No – I mean, I'm going to apologise." He's making no sense even to himself. "Of course I'm going to, but … that's not why I'm here."
"Then why did you come?"
He feels like one of those hot air balloons that suddenly loses pressure and starts plummeting to a fiery death. He's out of breath and at the same time distracted by the rise and fall of her chest (no, not that way).
"Betty, I am so sorry about the way I reacted the other day. It was completely inexcusable. It's easily the most despicable thing I've ever done and you and I both know that's saying something. You're well within your rights to never speak to me again." His smile's all tentative and jittery; he feels like he's going to jump out of his skin any moment. "But I really hope you do, because I'd really miss you if you never spoke to me again. I'm sorry Betty, I'm really … sorry."
As far as apologies go (and there have been a good many made by him), it's quite a good one considering it's done on the fly. She squints at him like she's measuring his worth, blinks and breathes and swallows and does it all over again and still doesn't speak.
Finally she smiles. It's a wane, tired sort of smile but a smile nevertheless. "I don't know about it being your most despicable moment. Personally, I'd rank the whole 'Tornado Girl' episode as a lower point on the Daniel Meade despicable spectrum."
Oh, right. He'd completely forgotten about that.
They're staring at each other and in any other situation the silence would be fine, but it's plain awkward now because of all the stuff he's going to say (if or when he gets the words out).
She smiles, pulls away but stops half way and turns around. "Do you remember you told me I was beautiful once? Outside my apartment, after the Mode party one year?" He nods at the change of subject. "Do you still mean it?" She adds softly, so softly he almost doesn't catch it. "That I'm beautiful?"
Maybe his face breaks, maybe it doesn't; he can't be sure. Only knows that he pauses for just a moment too long; long enough to allow her to start walking away again and he realises if he lets her go this time it may just be the last time that happens.
But he isn't going to let that happen, not today.
He hurries after her, grabs her arm gently but firmly. Blurts with just the right amount of desperation. "Betty, of course I meant it."
He takes a shaky breath because he knows that here and now of all the possible places for this to happen is the time, the place. He takes her hands in his, dares finally to look into her eyes. They're watery and full, brimming with expectation.
"Of course I meant it … Betty, I mean it every day you're in my life." He feels like he's about to collapse in a cold sweaty heap but ploughs on regardless of life and limb. "Your friendship has meant so much to me. All these years and all the stupid stuff I did and you … you're still here. With me. Here."
"I am."
"And … you know a lot of things have changed, right? With us."
He sees her relaxing and starts feeling the same, only processes weeks or months later that he's only able to do so because she's relaxing; realises it'll always be an endless cycle like that between them.
"I know. We've both changed so much, and … it's good. It's great. Your friendship's meant so much to me Daniel; I couldn't have done any of this without you. I only hope you won't let what I said before ruin things between us and –"
"Don't apologise. Don't ever apologise about that. Because that day ... I forgot to say something back to you."
She looks genuinely perplexed. "What?"
"That … that I feel the same way." He swallows, hard. "About you obviously, not about … me." He sees her shock, thinks there's a fifty-fifty chance he'll pass out from the suspense. But he won't let himself because this is what she must've faced a few days ago and if this is part of his punishment, then the least he can do is man up and … not faint.
"Daniel, are you …" She blinks, hard. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"
There's a dramatic pause, but it's only because he's edging closer to her, peering down into sparkling eyes that right at this moment seem to be lighting up only for him. "If you think I'm saying that I love you, Betty Suarez, then you're right. I love you. And I'm sorry it's taken me this long to say it or admit it."
She grins and it's all the response he's ever going to need. He leans in slowly, gingerly, like the moment is about to fracture at any moment.
It does fracture; fractures when their heads collide in a decidedly unromantic fashion. She yelps in pain and if this isn't such a serious moment he would have laughed. As it is, he's more chagrined than anything else.
They both apologise at the same time, stop then engage in an awkward staring contest because he guesses neither of them know what to do next.
But then she smiles, snorts and then finally roars with laughter. She's in the middle of a giggling fit by the time he comes to himself and he can't decide whether it's a good or bad thing that the idea of kissing him sends her into a fit (albeit a happy one). He's never had that reaction from a woman before.
"Ah, Betty –" His pained expression does nothing to curb her giggling and he's forced to watch, hands on hips, waiting patiently for the fit to subside.
"I'm so – I'm so sorry, I just – I just –"
Even after her giggling subsides her eyes are still dancing; the effect is quite enchanting really when he remembers this moment later. The early afternoon sun gives her a glow that no dream could ever imbue and if Daniel's aware he's spouting utter nonsense he can forgive himself for it just this once, because he knows what this moment means to him and just how long it's taken for them to get here.
Her eyes are still dancing and bright when he kisses her.
It's everything and nothing like he's ever felt before; light and dark and night and day, thoughts and dreams flashing before his eyes. He feels her smile against his lips, thinks she tastes of sunshine and a future he hasn't dared to think about for a long time.
Kissing her is like coming home; the pot of gold at the end of an impossible rainbow, the crest of a high no drug can ever replicate.
He's surprised by how soft and smooth her skin is; he's never noticed it before. He can't stop his fingers tracing the outline of her jaw, caressing skin he's brushed so many times but never like this. His entire body tingles with the electricity of the moment and to say he's lost in it would be the understatement of the century.
He thinks (but isn't entirely sure) they only part when oxygen becomes a critical issue. She's flushed and breathless, all swollen lips and heated cheeks and his only thought now is that she's gorgeous and he never wants to be apart from her ever again.
(He also wants to check whether his hair looks okay but in the big scheme of things he's happy to let it slide, for now.)
"Um …"
She expresses it for the both of them. This time, he's the one to start chuckling.
"Yeah." Suddenly it's all about putting his hands in his pockets, although he discovers too late that he has, in fact, no pockets today. He settles for leaning awkwardly against a lamp post, acutely aware he looks completely ridiculous. It's not one of his smoother moments. "Some kiss, huh?"
His mock casual tone sends her into a fit of giggles. "You're such a dork!" But she flies into his arms like she's done a thousand times before but of course now it's completely different; remarkably, indisputably different and Daniel wouldn't want it any other way.
And just like that it seems, all the chaotic, shifting pieces of his life click and lock into place. Because of her.