AN: Thanks so much to leckadams for purchasing this story, and then waiting forever for it.

Thanks to Layne Faire for doing an awesome beta job.

Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or any of it's characters.

Chapter 2

I dash into the dining room, coming to an abrupt halt when I see a stranger sitting at the table. One look and I know exactly who he is.

Chin length blonde hair, blue eyes.

His hair isn't straight, but full of wavy curls, his eyes are darker, more of an ocean blue rather than that of the sky, but it has to be…

"Jasper, right?" I reach my arm out, and he stands up to his full height, clasping my extended hand in a firm grip. He's about an inch or so taller than my six feet. I also notice that his hand is large and calloused, but clean with a dusting of thin blond hair and trimmed nails.

"Yep. You must be Edward then?" He inquires. I swear that his eyes rove over me, but he averts his gaze so quickly that I'm not even really sure it occurred.

If it did happen, I can quickly discount any ulterior meaning behind it. It's completely normal to size someone up after you meet them.

As a matter of fact, as I take my seat across from Jasper, I happen to know he's wearing a fitted, thin black t-shirt and low ride, dark blue button-fly jeans, so I'm just as guilty of giving him a once-over as well.

Dinner is served, and conversation flows freely. Emmett tells me about his auto repair shop on the main street, growing up in Bon Terre, and mentions some of the sights and events that he thinks I should visit during my stay. Rosalie reminisces about her time at Northwestern with my sister, and then speaks of her and Jasper's childhood, telling various stories that embarrass Jasper to no end, drawing rosy blushes from his downcast face as he eats his food.

He remains silent throughout most of the meal, but does add to the conversation occasionally. When he speaks, his honeyed southern accent reverberates through me, leaving a pleasant buzz just underneath my skin.

I hadn't recognized how much I enjoy listening to Southerners speak.

I hope that maybe I can pick up a little of the accent while I'm here. I'm sure my students would get a kick out of that.

But it isn't just the accent.

I have a hard time swallowing my bite of meatloaf, a lump forming in my throat. I hadn't planned on admitting that, even to myself, but since it's out there, I look at Jasper and realize that it isn't just his accent that affects me.

Every time he smiles or laughs, my stomach clenches. His dimpled grin, rich laugh, and amused eyes seem so perfectly authentic. I suppose I'm envious that he's able to express his joy so easily. Whenever there's cause for a smile, I watch him surreptitiously, mesmerized by how a smile can light up someone's eyes so brightly.

God, I want that…

My body flushes with a burning heat.

I mean, I want to be that happy…not that I want him. Duh.

Jesus.

I give my head a mental shake, and attempt to refrain from looking at the man sitting across from me, but I have to admit that more than once our eyes collide. When they do connect, he looks confused, if not slightly frustrated.

I guess he doesn't like that I continue to stare at him. I can't seem to stop, and it frustrates me too. If I'm being truthful, he captivates me. I've never met anyone quite like Jasper. He's definitely the strong, silent type, but there's a quiet honesty about him.

He doesn't say much about himself, but when he does he's not timid about it. He is what he is, and again I feel a stab of jealousy at his confidence.

Despite my envy I can't help but feel a pull toward him. I feel like I have to know him better. I want to be his friend, and I get the impression that he might need a friend just as much as I do.

Besides the various stories of Jasper's childhood I also learn that he went to college somewhere in his hometown, but only finished with an associate's degree, and that he currently does all the handiwork at the inn.

Unfortunately though, more than once, the emphasis falls on me, so I quietly tell them about my job, living in Chicago, and my sister. I try to keep it light, only talking about the positive aspects. I lower my eyes as I speak, but my skin prickles when I feel Jasper's attention directed on me.

He isn't going to want a friendship with me when he sees how weird I am. I can't even look at him without reacting in some odd way.

God, why can't I just be normal?

As I shovel the last morsel of Rosalie's pecan pie in my mouth l wonder where the time has gone. It's been almost two hours since we sat down for dinner. The meal was fantastic, and the company…amazing.

It's been such a long time since I felt this relaxed with someone, even with Alice I've clammed up. With the three of them, it's almost effortless. I still had a difficult time talking about myself, but I was thoroughly entertained listening to all of their stories, and didn't feel uncomfortable or out of place at any time.

For the first time in almost a year, I don't want to flee to the safety of my lonesomeness. I'm actually loath for the night to end.

I want to learn more about the three of them…especially Jasper.

I wish he had talked more, but in all fairness, he constantly had food in his mouth. He consumed more of the meatloaf than Emmett and I combined. It makes me wonder where he puts it all, given the superb shape he's in.

Jasper isn't nearly as big as Emmett, but his arms are well-defined, his shoulders are wide and his taut chest tapers into a trim waist. His hips are narrow, the well-endowed bulge in between revealing he probably doesn't have any problem pleasing the ladies.

Shocked when I realize where I've been looking, my eyes dart up to his, hoping that he hasn't noticed. To my utter consternation, I find him staring straight at me, a smirk on his face. Awesome.

"Can I take your plate Edward?" Jasper asks, murmuring my name in a way I've never heard anyone else say before. The inflection leaves my cheeks warm.

I absently hand him my plate, trying to think of a valid excuse for my obvious perusal, so he doesn't think I was checking him out…in that way.

Because I wasn't.

"Sorry, I must be really tired from all the traveling. I keep zoning out." He must believe me since his smirk slowly dies, and he nods stiffly. Without another word, he turns on his heel, entering the kitchen to dispose of our dirty dishes.

And all I want to do is call him back in here, and make him smirk like that again…and say my name like that again.

Deciding that my previous excuse is valid, and my travelling is disturbing my sanity, I figure it's probably a good thing that the meal is over.

Not used to being waited on, I grab my glass, and a platter from the center of the table to help clean up. As I approach the kitchen door I hear muffled voices. The closer I get to the door the more the sounds configure into words.

"I'm going to pick up a few things in town and then I have to get to work on Leah's crib. I've only got about four more weeks before the baby comes, so I can't be puttin' it off any longer."

Jasper is having a baby? Why wasn't that mentioned during dinner?

C'mon, that's pretty big news isn't it?

He doesn't wear a ring, so he's not married.

I pace outside the door. Unexpected agitation hits me hard and swift.

Why all of a sudden is my mood turning foul?

I bust through the kitchen door, not wanting to appear as if I was eavesdropping, but I'm not able to conceal my illogical burst of melancholy. "Here's a couple more…" I trail off.

Rosalie rushes over and takes the items from my hands. "Edward, you're a guest. You don't need to help clean up."

I just nod, keeping my head low. She drops them in the sink, before heading out to the dining room to fetch more dishes.

I feel like Jasper's looking at me. Actually, it feels like he's burning a hole in the side of my face, but I can't summon the courage to look up and see for myself. From my peripheral, I see him push his hands through his hair and turn away toward the sink, his movements seem choppy and distressed.

I look up then. His hands are splayed wide on the sink, his head slumping forward. Rosalie comes hustling back through the door, and Jasper quickly puts his hands in the soapy water, under the guise that he's washing dishes.

But we both know it's just a ruse to cover up the colossal awkwardness that I'm perpetrating. By being so entirely inept in even the simplest of social interactions, I'm shattering any residual likelihood of becoming friends with him.

Before I ruin the what's left of my chances, I claim what - has to be - major fatigue and escape to my room.

Collapsing into the desk chair, I put my face into my palms, and quell the urge to scream out in frustration.

What is wrong with me? And more importantly, what does Jasper think of me?

Vowing to make up for my atrocious behavior tomorrow, I plug the camera into my laptop, and select several photos I want to send to Alice. I send her a quick email telling her briefly about my first day, and attach the pictures.

With the email sent, I blow out a huge breath and open Microsoft Word.

I'm way too jet-lagged and irritable to start my story today, but I type several notes, and a very rough outline of the plot I had concocted earlier.

It's almost midnight by the time I'm satisfied with what I've accomplished, and I can barely keep my eyes open. I get up from the chair, stretching and yawning simultaneously.

I stop on my way to the bed to peer out the window. There isn't much to see. There aren't any lights, only shadows of shadows, but a chill goes down my spine as I remember what I felt like out there earlier today…alive, awakened.

I realize that I want to be out there again.

But if it is that disturbing during the day I can't even imagine what it would be like out there right now.

Just as I'm about to turn away I see a flicker…a flame, and then a glow. I almost write it off as a lightning bug, until I notice a pattern. I deduce that it's the hots from a cigarette, and figure that it must be one of Rosalie's other guests.

And because I happen to be in the strangest mood ever, it kind of pisses me off that they're out there.

Mine.

I chuckle; surprised at my possessiveness over a piece of land that doesn't even belong to me.

Too exhausted to analyze my craziness any further, I turn out the light, crawl under the warmth of the thick duvet and fall into a deep, dreamless slumber.

XXXXX

The next morning, I wake feeling rejuvenated from my uninterrupted sleep. It's the first time I've slept through the entire night since Bella indicated she wanted a divorce.

As they say, every day is a new beginning.

Happy that maybe I've finally taken my first step toward moving on, I start the day with a bounce in my step.

Since it's supposed to be in the ninety-degree range I decide the best course of action is to do as much sightseeing as I can in the morning, and forgo any outdoor activity in the afternoon. I put on a thin, gray t-shirt and navy khaki shorts. I snatch my camera and rush down the stairs, ready to start the day.

I stop short at the screen door when I see Jasper, with his tool belt hanging from his hips, mending a board on the porch step. Rosalie is leaning against the railing next to him, chatting it up. She says something that makes his head fall back and he laughs throatily.

The sound seeps into my pores, making me feel warm, a reflexive smile stretching wide across my face.

"Good morning," I greet, pushing open the screen door.

"Good mornin'," Rosalie chimes.

"Mornin'," Jasper mumbles, but doesn't look up from his work.

"Where are you off to so early?" Rosalie asks.

"I wanted to check out the town before it gets too hot."

"Yep. It's supposed to be a scorcher. I reckon you're dressed for the weather, though. F-Y-I, I usually have lunch ready by noon, but since it's gonna be hotter than the devil's balls today I've decided to make lunch a cold one. I'll be puttin' out some lunchmeat, my homemade potato salad, and some fresh fruit. If you're late we can just fix you up a plate when you get back."

"It sounds delicious." I comment, looking forward to a light, but appetizing lunch when I return.

"Oh it is. Jas can vouch for my potato salad." She nudges Jasper.

"Yeah, it's the best you'll ever have." He finally lifts his head, and his eyes make a swift journey up my body. He stops when his eyes reach my mouth, lingering there for a second before he falls back to his task.

"There are fresh muffins on the..." Is all Rosalie can say before I shoot back through the screen door, frantic to get away.

I hurry through the foyer, and lean both arms heavily on the back of one of the living room chairs. I take hefty breaths through parted lips, trying to calm my raging heart.

A twitch.

It had been unmistakable.

His look was innocent enough, I suppose. It's obvious he's straight…he's having a kid for godsakes. But there is no question that when Jasper perused my body, I twitched in my pants.

It's been so long since that's happened. I don't even remember when the last time…

Holy shit.

It's just been so long since I've been noticed by anyone, that my body overreacted is all. That has to be it.

My reasoning seems to have mollified me, because five minutes later I find myself once again gazing out the screen door, now with muffins in tow. Rosalie is nowhere to be found and Jasper is bent over, pulling a stubborn nail out of one of the boards of the deck.

This time, I don't risk dawdling as I bid Jasper a good day. He dittos the sentiment, and I take off toward town.

It's a long mile of rolling cornfields to reach the main strip in town, so I take that time to eat my muffin, while looking over the small map that Rosalie supplies for her guests at the inn. I choose my itinerary for the morning, which includes stopping by Emmett's shop.

I tuck the map in my pocket, refusing to spend anymore time contemplating what happened this morning.

XXXXX

The small town of Bon Terre is thriving in beauty and industry. Bright flowers are planted between the sidewalk and the road along the length of Main Street, and each storefront has colorful, eye-catching displays. The town's only stop-light separates East Main from West Main, where I'm told the two sides compete against each other in various activities at the Bon Terre Festival, including a customary sack race, and pie eating contest.

McCarty Auto Repair is located on the West edge of Main Street to allow for a bigger building and his own parking lot. Emmett's shop has a small office and three large bays, all of which are occupied by vehicles.

There isn't anyone in the office, but after wandering the garage for a minute or so, I finally find Emmett.

"Hey, Emmett." His upper body is buried in an old Chevy truck. His head pops out, and he gives me a welcoming smile.

"Hey, how's it goin' Edward? Checkin' out town?"

"Yep. I brought you something." I shuffle through my purchases for the small brown paper bag that holds two of Rosalie's homemade blueberry muffins. I extend the sack out to him and he eyes it curiously. He quickly steals a rag from the counter next to him, and wipes his greasy hands, before cautiously taking the muffins from me. When he looks in the bag his eyes widen, his wary smile replaced with a goofy grin.

"Awweessomme, Rosie only let me have one this mornin'. She said the rest were for the guests." He shrugs and rolls his eyes, then stuffs almost an entire muffin in his mouth.

"So, are you enjoyin' yourself?" He asks, after he swallows.

"Yeah, I picked up a couple of souvenirs for Alice and my neighbor, since she's watching my apartment." I say, lifting the bags in my hand as if needing to provide proof to support my statement.

I juggle the bags, and pull the map out of my pocket, frowning.

"But I just barely made it through Main Street. There are so many great shops here. I hadn't planned on stopping at so many of them. Now, it looks like I'm going to have to save the rest for another day." I look up at the sky, and Emmett's gaze follows in understanding.

"It's gonna get unbearable here real soon. Well, you're in no hurry, right? You got plenty of time to get through the rest of the town, as well as check out the plantations and other sights."

"Yeah." I agree, looking back down at the map. "Hey Emmett? What are these?"

I point to a small cluster of three marks on the map. They appear to be islands, and if they are, they're not too far off the mainland. I had wondered if they might be worth venturing out to.

He glances down at the map, as he stuffs the remainder of the second muffin in his mouth. He chokes a little, but once he recovers he says, "Oh, those aren't nothin'. Just a few small slivers of land, but they ain't got nothin' on 'em."

"Oh, okay." He's lived here his entire life – he would know. So, I can cross that off my list of excursions.

He takes the time to show me around his shop, introducing me to a couple of his employees.

"So, you must play all kinds of instruments bein' a teacher of 'em." Emmett remarks, as we make out way back to where I had found him.

"I play most of them decent. I'm better at some than others."

"Yeah? Well, Jasper plays the guitar. He's real good too. Maybe he can show you a thing or two before you be leavin'." He winks at me then.

I smile. Maybe he can.

His eyes flit to the truck he had been working on, and I know it's time for me to move on and let Emmett get back to work.

"Well, I should get going."

Sometime during my short visit with Emmett the temperature skyrocketed, and the sun beamings relentlessly in the cloudless sky.

"Y'wanna ride back?" Emmett asks.

"No, I'll manage. I like to walk." In reality, I would have preferred the ride, but I'd already taken up too much of his time.

While I start my route back to the inn, my mind wanders back to this morning, and yesterday's evening meal.

I don't know what to think of Jasper. I learned various things about him yesterday, but I have a sneaking suspicion that there's a lot more to him than that.

Well, obviously…

I still don't understand why he failed to mention the fact that he's expecting a kid in a month, or couldn't mention the mother of his child once.

But what stumps me the most is why I can't seem to let this go.

Whatever.

I resolve to think about this or him no more.

It isn't my business, and I don't care.

It's as simple as that.

XXXXX

"So, you're having a kid, huh?"

I try to appear delighted about it, but I'm not really sure if he's going to buy it.

Jasper slams on the brakes, and pulls over to the side of the road.

"What?" He exclaims incredulously. His blue eyes are wide, and serious.

Jasper had been driving down the street shortly after I left Emmett's shop, and he offered me a lift back to the inn. I was more than thankful, and I'm not sure if it was for the heat, or for the chance to spend more time with him that I happened to be most grateful for. I hadn't even strapped myself in before I blurted out the question, causing my resolution from only minutes ago to go up in flames.

"I heard you…tell Rosalie last night about building…a…crib…" I trail off stupidly, each word sounding more moronic than the next.

He pulls a cigarette out of his front pocket, and lights up. He takes a long, thick drag, staring out the front windshield. "So, you were eavesdroppin'?"

"No…no," I quickly deny, begging for his understanding. "I was just bringing dishes in…and I overheard, just before I came through the door. I may have hesitated, but it wasn't my intention to eavesdrop. I swear I didn't mean to listen." I plead, desperately.

My answer seems to placate him, and he finally looks at me. His blue eyes search mine, and I let him, holding his gaze steadily and unguarded, letting him see whatever he wants.

His eyes never stray, continuing to bore into me. "No Edward. I can assure you that I haven't gotten any women pregnant." He breaks our connection, looking out the side window.

"I'm buildin' the crib for Leah and Paul, their friends of mine. Their first child is due at the start of the month." He explains, tiredly.

"Oh. I sincerely apologize for assuming." My hand reaches out to touch his arm, but I catch it just inches from his skin, and pull back. I don't even remember the last time I touched someone purposefully, but I really want him to understand my regret.

He hadn't noticed, still looking out the window. His frame relaxes slightly, but it bothers me that he still won't look at me.

"It's okay. I'm glad you said somethin' to me instead of Rose. She would have popped her top if you told her I was havin' a kid." He chuckles, flashing me his dimples. I let out a relieved laugh, thankful that he's willing to be so light-hearted about it.

He hasn't moved back onto the surface road, and I don't mind. I find it very calming sitting here with him like this. I watch as he takes another hit from his cigarette, and follow as the smoke drifts fluidly through the open window. I usually don't like the smell of smoke, but it doesn't seem to be bothering me right now, which makes me wonder...

"Were you outside last night…um, in the backyard, about midnight?" I ask.

His eyebrows rise in silent question.

He's probably wondering if he can add stalking to my list of offenses against him, along with the eavesdropping…and the assuming…and the staring…and the twitching…ugh.

I shrug, nonchalantly. "I looked out the window before I went to bed last night and saw what looked like a cigarette out there."

"Yeah, that would have been me." He answers, cagily. He throws his smoke out the window, and puts the truck into gear, pulling back onto the road.

I must already seem nosy enough, so I'm disinclined to ask why he'd been out there, but it doesn't extinguish the flames of curiosity that burn in my gut. I'd really like to know why, because I've already deemed the backyard of Rosalie's place as my favorite spot in Bon Terre so far.

There's also the question of where he goes so late at night, but it doesn't seem like he's willing to divulge any information about his whereabouts.

The rest of the ride is silent. Jasper seems deep in thought, so I'm left alone with my own musings.

I still don't know if Jasper has a girlfriend, but I'm inordinately pleased to hear that he's not having a baby.

My world seems to have righted itself, and even though Jasper didn't stick around after he dropped me off, I was often found smiling by the others for the rest of the day.

XXXXX

To my dismay, Jasper doesn't show up for dinner the next five nights, but evenings are bustling at the inn. I finally met the two couples that had already been here when I'd arrived and the couple that had arrived the same night as me.

Angie and Ben, a young unmarried couple from Forks, Washington, had arrived the same night I had. Jessica and Eric, from Wichita, Kansas had just married a year ago, and are celebrating their first anniversary. The two young couples have taken to each other, so they do almost everything together. They usually sit at the opposite end of the table during meals.

They seem nice enough, but I mainly converse with Rosalie and Emmett, as well as the middle-aged couple, Renee and Charlie. They've been here for over a month now, and are getting ready to leave next week. Renee tells me that they've been coming to the Stormy Haven Inn every year since Rosalie opened up six years ago. Each year they stay longer, enjoying the serenity of Bon Terre.

They're from New York City, so after they ribbed me for being the 'little brother', we got along great. Since we are from big cities, there are a lot of things we have in common. I enjoy their company, and I've become a solid contributor to any conversation, but I've climbed back into my shell a bit, worried a little more with each passing day, that I may have scared Jasper away permanently with our last encounter.

I can no longer deny that, even though I'm having a great time, it hasn't been as exciting as it was when Jasper had been around.

It had become clear to me on the second night that Jasper hadn't shown up for dinner that I'm obsessing over the man. I grasped the magnitude of my preoccupation with him after I read back the latest chapter of my book.

Somehow Jasper Hale has unwittingly become the main character of my story.

Obviously, his name isn't Jasper, but as I read through my description of 'Jeremy Whitlock', the enigmatic Sheriff of small town, Halfway, Indiana, he more than resembles Jasper. He is Jasper.

Or at least how I define Jasper.

Jeremy is lone soul, but powerful and magnetic. He's rough around the edges, but smart, and funny. Everyone wants to be his friend, and every woman wants to claim him, but he prefers to keep company with his family and only a few special friends.

Because when Jeremy gives you his friendship, it means he would die for you. He's a heartthrob, of course. With his blond curls, piercing blue eyes, and killer smile, he certainly has his choice of available – and unavailable - women if he so desired.

After 20,000 words Jeremy still hasn't hooked up with anyone, but I know I'll have to get to that sooner rather than later. I've been stalling because I want his co-star, his love, to be someone…extraordinary, and all of the characters I've created so far aren't living up to those expectations.

I sigh, closing my laptop for the night. I amble over to the window and peer out, begging to see a red hot glow. My eyes get jumpy and blur while I stare into the blackness of the night, but I continue to gawk until my eyes become crossed.

I clamber into bed, feeling sullen and lonely.

Before I fall asleep, I debate on actually searching him out tomorrow instead of waiting for him to come to me. Now that he's become my Jeremy, I need to do more research on his character.

Well, isn't that just a fine excuse?

The random thought leaves me unsettled. Again, I steer clear of exploring why I keep having thoughts like that.

I also wonder how long I can keep avoiding the questions in my own mind about my true interest in Jasper.

That anxiousness continues into the night, and sleep doesn't come easy. I toss and turn fitfully.

Minutes pass, pillows tumble to the floor, and sheets tangle with restless limbs.

I wake up, twisted and sweaty. I unravel the covers from around myself, so I can get a glass of water for my parched throat. My back and neck ache, while I stumble clumsily through a room I haven't memorized in the dark yet. I glance at the clock on my way to the bathroom…almost midnight.

I've hardly slept at all.

After my thirst is quenched, I scramble back to bed, but not before I take another look out the window. It's becoming an unsatisfyingly bad habit, but I can't seem to stop what is rapidly becoming some sort of reflex. I start to chastise myself, but I see it…

The red flame.

He's out there.

I don't know what compels me to do it. I don't put on a shirt…or shoes. I just run.

Run down the stairs and out the back door.

I don't know what I'll do…or say, when I get to him, but sense is not driving me at this moment. I fly out the door and down the deck steps. I falter when I'm consumed by that same heady feeling I get every time I find myself on this side of the house, but the thought of seeing Jasper again leads me blindly through the darkness.

A few feet into the backyard, I don't see the flicker anymore. It's gone.

Dammit.

I must have missed him by moments. I can call out, I know he'd hear me if I did, but I can't risk waking any of the other houseguests, as well as Rosalie or Emmett, and I also can't risk the fact that he could just ignore me, which is perfectly conceivable. He obviously doesn't crave my company like I do his. Otherwise, he would have come around this week.

Jesus Christ.

It'll have to wait, but I'll be goddamned if he slips through my fingers even one more day. I'm more determined than ever to get closer to Jasper, and when I do I will discover where he disappears to every night.

Once the thrill of possibly seeing Jasper tonight dissipates, my breath stutters when I realize that I've never come out here after the sun has gone down. The wind whirls around me, the leaves rustle. The coolness of the night attacks my body, deluging my heated skin with an icy bite.

Under the dense trees the moon and stars aren't visible. I'm disoriented by the blackest night I've ever been witness to, and my sense of direction is fallible. It takes several moments before I realize that I'm not moving toward the inn, but away from it.

I can feel the crunching of fallen twigs underneath my bare feet, and I keep walking deeper, until I'm totally surrounded by nothingness. My eyes should have adjusted by now, but fear clouds my vision, and all I can do is feel. So, I hold my hands straight out, trying to touch…anything.

My chest constricts, making breathing harsh. The cold air stings my lungs.

I just feel like…God! This space…it frightens me. I feel so exposed and vulnerable. I automatically wrap my arms around my waist, and shut my eyes focusing on the lightheaded feeling I've never known before.

I thought once before that this terrain is scary because I'm so unlike everything it represents, and it's so true.

I'm like the front yard. Regimented, manicured…strangled.

This space…when I'm back here…I feel like something inside of me is about to let loose, it's so close to the surface…finally ready to be set free.

I can't wait for it to happen. I want it to happen.

I open my arms wide, and turn around in a circle, straining to breath steadily, willing for whatever is imminent to just happen already.

I shut my eyes, keep walking…testing fate…and I don't stop until my feet hit something, almost making me go down.

I open my eyes, to see where the wind has swept me, and I find myself at the steps, facing the inn.

I could cry.

A shiver runs through me, and I realize that I'm way too underdressed to be out here.

I halfheartedly climb the stairs, like a pouty child.

I don't understand exactly what is going on here…but whatever it is - I do want it.

Before I open the door to the inn I turn and take one last, longing look behind me.

I want it so bad.

So, what are you thinking?