A/N: Alright, Chapter 21 seems to be going fine but a hiatus is still a possibility :\ This chapter is just Andy and Steph. It has to be here. No Troyella, I'm afraid.

Enjoy :)

Chapter 19

It took Steph two minutes to open the door. She kept telling herself that she was trying not to burn the tea she'd spent hours preparing. But she knew it was a lie. She didn't know why she was nervous. Hell, it was bordering on being scared. She didn't know why she was nervous, considering she knew the person on the other side of the door.

Wiping her hands on a tea towel, she pulled the door of her parents' house open. She offered Andy a weak smile. "Come on in. I'm glad you came."

Andy stepped into the house that was practically his second home. All of his life, he'd known that if there was anywhere in the world he could go when he couldn't go home, it was this house. He turned to her as he raked his fingers through his blonde hair. "How have you been?"

She frowned as she looked up at him. Her green eyes bore into his blue ones. While she was getting ready for this evening, she'd made a promise to herself. She'd promised herself that tonight was about honesty. No more lies and secrets. She was going to be completely open and honest with her best friend. "Do you want the honest truth?"

He shrugged and looked just above her head to see a picture of them both, at five years old, rock pooling at the south bay. "Sure."

"I don't know," she whispered. She turned away, heading towards the kitchen.

For a moment, all he could do was watch the sway of her long, red ponytail. He tilted his head to the side as he trailed his gaze down her back so that he was watching the sway of her slim hips instead.

"It sounds weird," she continued as she pottered around the kitchen. "I mean, who doesn't know how they are? But I've been feeling a lot of different things recently and I've been confused and tired, too. I've just lost track of a lot of things, you know?"

Andy leaned against the doorway and watched her movements around the kitchen. They were easy and fluid. They should be, too. Ever since she could walk, not only was she practically scuba diving, she was also always trying to learn from her mother how to cook. And it paid off. She was one hell of a cook. He could tell, just by inhaling deeply, that she was cooking shepherd's pie. Perhaps it wasn't very practical considering Scarborough's uncharacteristic heat, but he guessed the only reason she had made it was because it was his favourite.

"Are you listening to me?" she exclaimed.

He nodded slowly. "Yeah," he whispered. "Believe me, considering you're actually talking to me for the first time in what feels like weeks, I'm all ears."

"I've said I'm sorry," she muttered as she closed the oven door. She wiped her hands on her tea towel and turned to him, looking across at him with large doe eyes. Fear flashed in her hazel eyes and for a brief moment, he was staring at his six year old best friend who was afraid of the dark.

But then he blinked and he was looking at a fully grown woman who didn't need a night light anymore. How had he missed the transition between annoying kid and beautiful young woman? She was no longer short and curvy, but rather taller and slimmer. Her curves had moved into more flattering places, emphasising her hips and her breasts. She no longer suffered from acne and in the last four or five years, she'd favoured for contact lenses rather than glasses. He wasn't sure why he hadn't seen this change. He'd been blinded by her six year old self that he hadn't seen her as a woman.

Along with this new sight, new feelings stirred within him. It was like the butterfly effect. It started out like a little flutter in his belly, like he often got just before taking a test. But the longer he stared at his best friend, the fiercer it got. It got to the point where he thought he was going to throw up. He'd never felt this way about any woman, let alone his best friend.

He quickly averted his gaze to the floor, hoping that the sickness feelings would pass, but to no avail. He still felt like his insides were on fire. He didn't know why he was feeling this way but, in that moment, made an educated guess. He'd just broken the number one rule he'd made for himself.

Never fall in love with Steph.

When he'd become a teenager and realised that girls really weren't poisonous, he'd made that promise to himself that he'd never fall for his best friend. After his first few girlfriends, he'd soon learnt that things got complicated very quickly. They broke up, things got awkward, and it was impossible to stay friends. He never wanted to be in that situation with Steph. At first, it was easy to not fall in love with her. She was sort of pudgy and clumsy and she was very awkward around people. She would stumble over her words a lot and she almost seemed uncertain how to act in public situations. Not to mention how she had an awful habit of unintentionally acting like a know it all. He'd always loved her. But like a sister. Always like a sister.

Until now.

Now, he wanted her for himself. The more he worried about losing her, the more he clung to her for dear life.

She turned away from him to fiddle with some of the dials on the oven. "This won't take long, I promise."

He breathed out slowly, determined to calm his heart rate, trying not to show his nervousness after the revelation he'd just unearthed about himself. He watched as she worked. Sure, her movements were quick and precise with a practiced ease, but he sensed a nervousness about her, as if she was working just to avoid his gaze. "Steph, why don't you just tell me why you wanted me to come here?" he asked. His voice was quiet, barely audible over the clank of dishes and the working oven.

She sighed and braced her hands against the granite counter. "Can't we eat first?"

He frowned and took a hesitant step forward. "Why? Just tell me. What's so bad that you can't tell me?" His smile slipped a little bit and he felt the colour drain from his face. "You're not pregnant. Are you?" he asked. His voice was so quiet, he was unsure if she had heard him. He couldn't seem to voice the question any louder for the fear that it might be true. After the revelation of his uncertain feelings for her, the thought of her being pregnant by some other guy was quite simply terrifying.

She laughed and pushed herself back from the counter. "Pregnant? No. I'm not. I'm not pregnant. I'm not with any guy at all."

He shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. He knew that Steph knew him and he knew as well as she did that he'd got the habit from his father; all Bolton men rubbed the back of their neck when they were nervous. It was something that had been going on in the Bolton family tree longer than anybody cared to remember. By the time Andy was born, the habit was too embedded into the genes for him to be able to stop.

"Then what is it?" he asked, his arm dropping to his side. His eyes pierced hers. Ever since he could remember, her hazel eyes had brimmed with devotion for him. Sure, they annoyed each other to hell and back but, she'd just wanted him to be happy. He'd always known, just by her eyes, that she'd do anything for him. But, now, he didn't recognise them at all. They were dull, out of focus and she kept having to avert her gaze.

She sighed and stepped to the oven to turn it off. She knew it would be a waste of food. But she also knew that Andy wouldn't hang around. She turned to him and folded her arms. "I'm leaving," she muttered.

He frowned and followed her gaze to her pink flip flops. "Why? Where? I don't get it. I thought the whole point of you staying here was that you didn't want to leave!"

She shrugged. "I changed my mind."

He ran a hand through his hair. "Well, where are you going?"

"Edinburgh," she said, finally looking up at him. "All of that joking around and I'm finally doing my Masters degree."

He paused, letting her words sink in. "Why can't you do it here?" he exclaimed.

"They have different species of starfish up there that I really want to write a thesis on," she explained slowly. When he didn't respond, she gave him a look of disbelief. "Just go," she muttered.

"What? Why? Why are you blocking me out?" he demanded.

She didn't flinch. She didn't even blink. Instead, she pushed past him, heading for the living room. She turned to him and sent him a glare that actually terrified him. Never had Andy seen the sheer look of pain and anger grace her face. He could almost see her blood boiling beneath her skin.

She pointed a menacing finger in his direction. "You want to know? You really want to know? Andy, I'm not leaving to do my freaking Masters degree. I'm leaving because it hurts too much to stay here. Because the thing is, when it comes down to it, you're either ignorant or you're blind to the fact that I'm completely in love with you. But, because you don't acknowledge it, it hurts too much to stay here." All anger vanished from her voice and she finished in a whisper. "I stayed for you, you know. You stayed, so I stayed. And now I'm doing something for myself."

Andy paused, letting her words sink in. All of these years, he'd seen his best friend. Never had he seen a beautiful woman who was in love with him. But now, here she was. He didn't know what to say. The possible words he could say got tied and tangled in his throat. How had he missed her affection?

Unsure what else to do, he stepped forward and held her upper arms as he kissed her. He could feel her tense at his touch and push at his chest in an attempt to get away from him. Slowly but surely, the longer his lips massaged hers, he could feel her anger dissipate. She relaxed in his arms, melting her body against his, and wound her arms around his neck.

Andy didn't even break the kiss to lift her from the ground so that she could wrap her legs around his waist. He wondered why the hell this beautiful young woman was in love with him, he stumbled up the stairs towards her bedroom.

A horrible truth dawned on Andy as he lay in bed, an arm around Steph's shoulders. He'd slept with a fair few women. He wasn't a player by any standard. He only slept with women that he was in a relationship with. But, he had been with women. The problem was that Steph, the girl he'd known his whole life, his best friend, was the goddamn best woman he'd ever made love to.

It had been wonderful and slow. Usually, girls were sometimes like satellite navigation systems: they told you where and how to touch them. But Steph had let him rely on instinct. He touched her where he thought he should touch her. All he thought about was her. After all of the history between them, he was worshipping he in a way she deserved.

There were subtle differences between this time and the last. There was a tiny pink scar on her temple from when she hit her head whilst scuba diving a year ago. There was a scar on her waist from when she had her appendix removed when they were eighteen. Her stomach was flatter, her hips were slimmer; her curves more feminine. She was surer of herself, absolutely positive of who she was as a person and as a woman.

He rubbed his forehead as he felt her snuggle into his side, soft breathy sighs slipping between her lips. She'd been asleep for a couple of hours but he hadn't slept a wink. He kept mulling over his new found feelings for Stephanie Cross. It would be so easy for him to just tell her how he wanted her forever when she woke up. But then he thought of all of the girls he'd been with and how things had gotten complicated and how he never saw them again. Perhaps once or twice in the supermarket but never to have lengthy, meaningful conversation or any kind of friendship.

He couldn't stand to see that happen to him and Steph.

Perhaps it was selfish and perhaps it would happen anyway if he did what he thought was best. He was truly stuck between a rock and a hard place. He didn't want to risk getting into a relationship and inevitably messing things up like he usually did. But in order to prevent that happening, he was going to hurt her anyway.

He gently pulled his arm from around her shoulders and slipped out of bed, praying she wouldn't wake up. He silently pulled on his boxers, jeans and shirt and sighed when he looked across at her. He would give anything to call her his forever. But he also knew that sometime down the road, he'd hurt her unintentionally like he always did in relationships. It was better if he hurt her now and she could make her own life in Edinburgh and have a life that didn't involve him. He'd hurt her for too long. It was time for him to let her move on.

He could never be the kind of guy she deserved. So he did what he did best.

He left.

"Do you remember the first day we met? And I was a really big bastard to you?"

Gabriella smiled. "I remember. You were a sick, chauvinist pig."

Troy chuckled and nodded. "I recall you insulting me in Spanish. When I tried to apologise, you said that 'I'm sorry' are just words and not an apology. I don't know if it counts after everything you've told me, but I really am sorry for the way I acted."

She slowly shook her head as her fingertips danced across his cheek, tracing his cheekbone, his jaw, feeling his rough stubble beneath her touch. "You apologised when you didn't run away."