Hi everyone! Thank you so much for all the reviews! You are amazing :)

Here is the third part of the fic, "The White Couch" Where we go back to the begining of "The Broken Phone".

Chapter 4 will be up next week!

Hope you all like it and thoughts and comments would be amazing =)

Enjoy!

Broken Phone, "The White Couch"

Betty jumped out of bed at the sound of noises outside her apartment. Her building wasn't the most secure place on the block but this was the first time in all her years living there that she felt she could be in danger.

It wouldn't be Marc or Amanda arriving from a party because they both were away at a spa weekend at the Woodstock Inn. And it wasn't Jesse, because he had left the building a few months ago. So, knowing that it couldn't be Hilda and Bobby—they were on their honeymoon—or Justin who was staying over with Ignacio until Hilda returned, Betty reached for her bat.

The place was almost dark. The bedside table clock said 2 a.m. and just a few streetlights cast a glow across the place. A strong knock on her door let Betty know that someone did, in fact, want to get into her apartment. Shit, should she grab a knife or something?

Why, of all weekends, did Marc and Amanda need to be gone?

God. Just relax, Betty, she told herself. Everything is going to be OK. She went to the kitchen, trying to find her cell phone to call the police when the thing started to ring. Scared, Betty scanned the lighting screen and saw Daniel's picture.

She answered the phone: "Oh, God. Daniel! Help!"

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Flashback.

"Oh, shit" Daniel's head hurt, his entire body felt like a victim of a train crash, his mouth was dry and he didn't dare open his eyes.

"Argh. Don't. Please don't move your leg like that," said Betty, her voice raspy like his.

Trying not to make any sudden moves, Daniel stretched, held firmly his grip on her waist and opened his eyes. There she was, naked with one arm hiding her face from the morning—or afternoon?—light. Her breasts and part of her body were half covered by the sheets, her butt tight against his lower belly.

Daniel could say that he was completely shocked to be stark naked with her, but he wasn't.

"Can you remember anything?" he whispered, hiding his face in her hair. She smelled so good.

"Yeah."

"God. You want to talk about it?"

"No."

Why not? This wasn't a bad thing. At least he didn't see it like that.

"I just need a very good sleep."

"You want me to go?" He hoped she would ask him to stay, because he wasn't able to move, and he just wanted to stay in bed with her.

"God. No." She held his grip tight against her. "Don't even think about moving. I'm too comfortable to even think about waking up and dealing with my hangover."

"You don't want to deal with this?"

"Maybe later. Now, I just need some sleep." She whispered, before passing out.

End flash back

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"I'm so sorry, Daniel." Claire patted his arm, causing him to look at her in surprise while leafing through the takeout menus on his mother kitchen table.

"Why?"

"For all this" She pointed all the menus in front of them. "I forgot about our Friday dinner."

"Come on, Mom, we both knew that this could happen." He smiled at her. "I'm not surprised about the whole Tyler situation. I don't mind. Besides, I'm dying for Chinese food, and you don't cook that very well."

"Funny."

"You know I love you," he sang.

"I love you too, son." Claire ignored Daniel's giggle, while he had a sip of his wine. "So. Last Friday. How was it?"

"Good, very good." His cheeks held a hint of red. "I had a great time." Now, he grabbed an Italian takeout menu.

"Did you met someone new?"

"You could say so."

"And Betty, what did she think about it?"

"Why would she have to think something about it?"

"Well, she is your friend and it was at her sister's wedding."

Maybe he could ask for Italian takeout. Last Saturday, at Betty's house, the frozen lasagna they had eaten was disgusting. And, God, one thing that he loved was a good homemade lasagna.

"Well, she didn't say very much. I'll be honest with you, she didn't want to talk about it, either."

"Was she upset about it?"

That was something to consider. Could she be upset? No, Daniel didn't think so. They just hadn't had time all week to talk about it. And, if he was being honest with himself, last Saturday after they woke up, neither of them was as much into talking about things as they were into doing things.

"Hmm, no, I don't think so."

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Flash Back.

The second time Daniel woke up was Saturday evening and Betty wasn't in bed. This time, he was fully covered by her sheets and the room was almost dark with just a few reflections from the street lights. His hangover was gone and he was dying for something to eat.

Apparently Betty was, too, because from her bedroom, he could see she was in her kitchen wearing his boxers and one of her tiny t-shirts.

Putting his pants on, he went to meet her.

"So. I guess that in our case, the second time's the charm?" he said, startling her.

"Daniel!" She held a hand on her chest. "Don't do that again!"

"Sorry. How're you feeling?"

"Starving, but good." Betty could barely look at him and who could blame her? He was nervous, too. "You?"

"Amazing." He kept his tone cool and relaxed in an attempt to hide his panic. "But, yeah . . . starving, too. Hey, you have anything to eat?"

"Apart from all the booze and cake we brought last night?" She opened her freezer to see what was inside. "Just some frozen takeout."

"Hey! You have lasagna!" Daniel grabbed the tiny red box. "Let's eat it!"

"Really? I was thinking maybe we should call for pizza." Apparently she didn't like the idea of frozen lasagna at this time of night.

"I love lasagna."

"Yeah. Me, too, but I prefer the homemade, no the precooked kind."

"Well, me, too. But we have this, right?"

Fifteen minutes later, there they were on her bed with a microwaved lasagna, two white wine glasses and leftover wedding cake.

"Well. It wasn't that bad," said Daniel, leaving the fork on the lasagna plate.

"It was disgusting." Betty took a sip of wine.

"Yeah. It was." He laughed and grabbed her drink.

"Hey, that's mine!"

"Yeah, well . . . mine has lasagna pieces in it, because of you."

She just smiled at him and took a moment to look at him all relaxed—somehow, this felt completely new to her. Even though being with him like this could be awkward, Betty didn't feel like that at all. Last night had been somehow quite good. God. Who was she kidding? It was amazing. Not because he was her best friend or all that crap—sorry, she was a romantic but not the all-flowery kind of romantic—but because Daniel really knew what he was doing.

Yeah, this was Daniel—her best friend, but honestly, even if after Monday all the awkwardness appeared, she would definitely be up for another night with him.

"Why did you say, 'In our case, the second time is the charm?'"

"What? Haven't you ever heard the saying 'The third time's the charm?'" He looked up at her.

"No."

"Well . . . when you are doing things, and you fail again and again, you just say, 'The next one is the one' . . . well the saying goes, 'The third time, you will make it.'"

"OK." Betty chuckled. "And why with us is it the second one?"

"Because this is the second time we went to a wedding together. And the first time, you said to me. "You should hook up with that bridesmaid." And in this case I actually did."

"What!" yelled Betty in shok. "That is so not true!"

"What? Why!"

"Come on, Daniel. At the first one we didn't go to the wedding as guests; we crashed that party and I wasn't a bridesmaid. So this should be our first time."

"Oh, my." He went for her neck, laughing. "So this should be our loss of virginity? Because if it is I have to be thankful for not losing it under Disney sheets."

Betty moved her face, giving him more space on her neck. "Funny," she whispered. God, he knew what he was doing.

"I know," he said, before moving to her lips.

End flash back

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It had been three hours since dinner with his mom and there he was, sitting on a bench three blocks from Betty's apartment. Bottle of rum in his right hand and a bag of leftovers in his left.

His mom was a little bit upset when she saw him leaving early with the bottle of rum, but Daniel didn't know what to do besides drink. Although he hadn't told his mom about what happened between him and Betty last week, that didn't stop him from feeling like an idiot.

God. He wanted so desperately to be with her again.

Yeah, probably Hilda's speech at her wedding helped him work up the courage to take Betty back to her place and make love to her. But he wasn't stupid. He liked Betty, she was hot in her own way and even though she was his best friend he still wanted to be with her . . . And what sex they'd had! He loved her lips, her naked breasts and those dark nipples. How her skin tasted and, God, those moans.

Daniel opened the bottle of rum and took a sip.

Since last Friday night, Daniel knew that Betty with a little of alcohol could be so sexy and open that he would die to just do it all over again. But this time, he decided, no alcohol.

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"Oh, God. Daniel! Help!"

"Betty?" She heard Daniel call.

"Daniel, where are you?"

"Betty, I'm locked out!"

"What?" Where was he?

"Someone changed my locks!"

"Are you drunk?" All the fear of being robbed was now in the past.

"What?" Daniel voice was raspy and he was making no sense. "Argh, damn door." Another knock on her door.

"Daniel? Where are you?"

"At my apartment . . . well. If just this lock could just take my key!" This time, she heard a yell through her door.

"You must be kidding me." She went to her door. At that moment, a constant banging on the door scared her. "Daniel, you there?"

"Yeah."

"Please stop knocking the door with your head." Instantly, the sound stopped.

"Betty, I think this door hates me," he whispered, almost crying. "I don't want my door hating me. I need my clothes!"

Argh, Daniel, you and your drunk moments.

"No, Daniel." Betty opened her door, making him fall over on the floor in front of her, completely in shock. "It's my door."

"Betty? You changed my door?" He didn't understand. "What are you doing at my apartment?"

"This is my apartment, Daniel." Now she was mad. All that worry for nothing! Damn him!

"No, it is not," he said, trying to get on his feet. "This is my apartment." He pointed to the white couch on her living room. "That's my white couch."

"No." Betty took a deep breath. "That's my white couch. The one you gave me, because I said that yours was amazingly comfortable, remember?"

"Yeah, but mine is better," he pointed out. "Mine is so soft and perfect to have sex on. And this one." He sat on it. "I can assure you this is mine."

"What?" She was in shock.

"Have you had sex on this one?"

"No!"

"So, yeah, this is my white couch."

"No, it is not!" She went over to him. "How much did you drink, Daniel?"

"I'm not drunk." He was offended.

"Daniel . . ." She warned.

"OK, so if this is your couch, why haven't you had sex on it?"

"I don't have to have sex on it to call it my couch."

"Yes, you do!"

"You are crazy and drunk."

"Argh . . ." Daniel stood up, and grabbed her by her waist. His hand slipped under her t-shirt. "How are you going to call it your white couch if you haven't have sex on it?"

"Because it is under my roof!"

"No, this could be your father's house and you wouldn't know. So you have to have sex on it to call it your couch."

"You are not making sense."

"Maybe not." he said, before kissing her and easing her down on the white couch.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Later that night, there they were, Daniel's head over her chest, his hands caressing one of her arms, his legs clasped with hers. No space on the couch.

"Daniel."

"Yeah?"

"Next time, don't pretend to be drunk to come in here."

He smiled at her. "I told you I wasn't drunk."

"Yeah, well. Scaring the hell out of me, trying to get in here, will not help you next time."

"Deal."

"So, can I call it my white couch now?"

"And when wasn't it yours?" he asked, making her laugh so hard she cried. "Betty?"

"Yeah?"

"Next time, I will bring you some good lasagna."

"Deal."

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