"Kyle." My hand reached for his as he began to turn away. "Kyle." My voice was soft and strained. I had so much to say, and only a few words to say it. "Kyle, kiss me." My hand still rested in his. I quickly pushed my bangs out of my face, and pressed my palm to his sturdy jaw. My eyes searched his deep, hue-filled greens for some sign of what he was thinking. But I could see nothing. Like always, his thoughts and intentions were sealed below a layer of bland disinterest. All I could see was the reflection of my own frantic, worried eyes in the ice of his. As I waited for him to move, to make a decision about what I'd said, I began to think of the things that had brought us here.

It was a brilliantly sunny Sunday morning, and I had plans for a perfect lazy day. First on the list, lounge in bed for an hour, maybe two. Then, after some much deserved moaning and groaning, roll out of bed and in to a shower. Dress in some maximo comfy sweats and a soft blue wife-beater. After making faces in the mirror for twenty minutes and then throwing my hair in a pony, trotting downstairs to eat a fattening, but delicious, breakfast. Then, if everything went well, I'd luxuriate in the idiocy of my weakly soaps. Big Brother. Bad Girls Club. Keeping up with the Kardashians. Maybe an episode or two of Jersey Shore. The day was filled with opportunity.

And I almost got to have it all. I got most of it. I managed not to get down to have breakfast till almost noon, and didn't settle down on the couch till nearly one. That's when everything changed. It didn't seem like much at the time, but it was everything. The door bell rang.

My brow furrowed. Why was anyone at my house. Joe and Kay were out of town this weekend, and everyone else was prepping for finals or plays, or both. Throwing my blankets off, I padded over to the door.

Kyle.

Kyle was at my door.

I nearly choked. Pretending to cough, and taking time to scrap up something decent to say, I stalled.

"Kyle." His lips twitched at one corner. I grinned in return.

"Janet." His voice was smooth and tailored as ever. My stomach clenched. Like always. 'Come on Jan, play it cool.' Leaning on the jam of the door I'd practically ripped off the hinges moments before, I arched one un-penciled eyebrow.

"What brings you to my humble little stoop?" He smirked, eyes beginning to sparkle with mirth.

"Many things."

"Oh?" I crossed my arms, a feeble attempt at keeping my heart beneath my sternum. I wasn't sure it'd work. "Name one." Never one to beat around the bush longer than necessary, Kyle was blunt and honest.

"You." I jerked back. I could feel my face turning red.

"What?"

"You." I shook my head.

"My hearing is fine, Kyle. What do y-?" Kyle stepped into my bubble, demanding every bit of attention I could force out of my brain. I strained to keep my eyes on his.

"You like me." Brain firing a mile a minute, I tried to throw out a declination to his sudden statement.

"Ah-! N-!" The solid press of his big, wide man hands fell upon my shoulders.

"Don't try to deny it, Jane. We both know it's true." I couldn't stop staring. Everything was going to hell. How was I going to fix this? "Do you know why I'm here, Janet Lyn McCoy?" With my breathe stuck in my throat, I couldn't speak. After my glum negative, he continued. "I'm here to tell you that I won't be your boy-toy to string on for months and then toss in the trash when I run out of money. I won't be played by you. So don't even think about trying to play coy and pretend that isn't your plan."

My breath sawed in and out of my lungs. I couldn't lose him, not the one who held me tight when my pieces fell apart. Helped me glue them back together again when all was said and done. He'd become the rock from which I grew and flourished, and taking him away would crumble the delicate walls I'd constructed around myself. I couldn't let him go.

"Kyle, I don't want your money." I squeezed his hand, wanting to make sure he was hearing me. "I just want you. I want to hold your hand in public, I want to hold you like you mean the world to me, because you do. I want to point you out to my great-grammie, my aunty Mel, and to cashiers at Safeway and say, 'Hey, you see that beautiful man over there? Yeah, well he's mine.' And I want to cuddle with you at football games and during lunch while telling everyone else that It's 'Waaaaaay to chilly for spring in Cali.'" I sucked in a huge breath of air, preparing my self for my last words I had left to convince him I loved him. "I've wanted to hold you hand since second grade. I've longed to kiss you since 5th. And I've wanted to be your girlfriend since we were 4." With nothing left to give, I dropped my hands and hung my head, waiting for him to walk away, and leave me to weep.

Jane was a sad, lonely picture. Her slumped shoulders, and forcedly open hands accentuated the grief and waiting tears that was palpable in the air between them. Kyle's head tilted before he lifted a hand to pull up her chin.

Jane's eyes were wide, her eyes brimming with stubbornly ignored tears. Kyle's other hand came to rest on her soft, high check, and her eyes grew impossibly wider. Her gave bounced across his face, from his forehead, to his checks, his nose, lingering on his eyes, and stalling at his lips. She slowly registered he was inching closer, but she could only focus on the look in his eyes and the close proximity of his mouth.

Kyle was similarly enraptured. He couldn't look away from her face, her lips, her eyes. She was magnificent. Blooming, he decide. He liked that it was for, and because, of him. He liked it more than he wanted to admit.

Soft lips were the first thing either registered past the shock of the situation. Their kiss was sweet and chase. And one they would never forget.