A short story loosely inspired by Ariana Grande's song "Goodnight and Go."

Goodnight and Go

New York City sparkled beneath the onyx sky. Snowflakes sprinkled from the clouds. As snow fell, it mixed in with the golden street lamps and the strings of lights wrapped around their black poles. Skyscrapers reflected the activity of the pedestrians on the street. Crowds of all ages and ethnicities bustled down the sidewalks; their chatter hummed along with the cars zipping by on the wet streets. All of them carried wide smiles and walked with wide strides. They passed carolers in front of the churches and ringing bells in front of the food markets. Musicians stood with their guitars and saxophones playing classic songs like "Santa Baby" and "Let It Snow." Their hats, boxes, and metal containers were filled more than usual with silver coins and dollars. People were in the giving spirit.

A male guitar player shot a flirty smile at Simone Walker as she dropped a five dollar bill into his fedora on the ground. The curly-haired vixen offered a polite smile back. Her heels clicked against the pavement. Her kinky black curls bounced with every step. A small smile remained on her lips as she weaved through the masses. Many people adored her sweet smile and elegant strides when they passed her. Some of them murmured her name in astonishment. Others were struck in awe. The pedestrian's gazes switched from her head of curls to her frosted red smile to her bright brown eyes to her ruby red trench coat. She was a walking Bratz Doll.

Simone ignored their gazes. She kept her eyes ahead of her. With every step towards her destination, the number of butterflies in her stomach grew. Tonight was the night. She was going to see him again. It was the second time this year; it should've been the third. She would hold a grudge against him for it later. For now, she was excited. Everyone on the street could know, but not him.

The second she walked into the dimly lit restaurant, her small smile vanished. Her red lips drooped into a neutral line. As she spoke with the waitress, her eyes scanned the establishment. They'd never been to this place before. Round tables with white silk tablecloths filled the room; black wooden seats with leather cushions were pushed under them. Lit candles in red wax sticks glowed in the center of the tables. White lights were strung up in the creases of the wall. The sweet aroma of tomato sauce and garlic bread wafted through the air. Simone struggled to maintain the frown on her lips.

She followed the hostess to a table where a man waited. His back was to the women, but Simone recognized his short cut hair and broad shoulders.

"Hey stranger," she said. Her heart almost fell out of her chest when he turned around.

His smile emphasized the dimples in his cheeks. His green eyes looked like tiny emeralds in the dim light. His close trimmed beard covered his cheeks and chin; it framed his full lips and white teeth. His dark curls were cut short; they curled around his ears. Simone's fingers itched to push it away.

Her head tilted back as he stood. She'd almost forgotten how tall he was. She was usually shorter than everyone, but there was always something different about his height. It always surprised her when he towered over her with his cocky grin and playful eyes. Her breath got stuck in her throat as he crushed her against him. The scent of his cologne entered her nose and she nearly melted.

"Hey," he whispered into her curls.

Simone pushed out of his arms. "I'm mad at you," she said. She crossed her arms. "You cancelled in August."

"I know. I'm sorry. There was an emergency at work." His grin widened. "Besides, you can never stay mad at me."

She rolled her eyes. "There's a first for everything." Her eyes raked over his sleek black suit, the gold Rolex on his wrist, and the gold chain peeking out through the open buttons near his neck. "You look nice," she commented.

"Thank you. You look gorgeous – as usual."

A smile tugged at her lips. "Thanks."

He pulled out her seat for her. Once she was seated, he watched her unbutton her trench coat. Beneath the knee length jacked was a form-fitting black sweater dress; a ruby red heart pendant hung from her neck. He eagerly helped take the jacket off her shoulders.

"Such a gentleman," Simone commented. She turned her attention to the lamented menu on the table.

"I try," her companion replied. He took his seat across from her. He couldn't take his eyes off of her. Her brown skin glowed in the dim lighting; the lights, and the red hues of her lips and jewelry, accented the golden undertone of her skin. Her curls were in ringlets around her face; it framed her high cheekbones and defined jaw. Ruby painted her lips, and her eyelids were decorated in assortments of glittering browns and blacks. Beneath her mature beauty, he could see the girl with the huge square glasses and dark hair tied into a bun that he grew up with.

"Stop staring at me," Simone scolded him without looking up from her menu.

He smirked. "Why? Does it bother you?"

"Your existence bothers me."

He chuckled. He reached his hand across the table. His fingertips caressed the back of her hand; her skin was undeniably smooth.

She slapped his hand. "Miguel," she snapped. "Don't touch me."

"Why?"

She shrugged. "Because you probably still have cooties. One wrong touch and I'll be on the floor, lifeless and cold."

He shook his head. "Simone Walker, still as dramatic as ever."

"Miguel Rodriguez, still as arrogant as ever."

"I'll take 'arrogant' as a substitute for confident."

She sighed. "God, you're annoying." She looked up at him. "Is it too early to send you back to Philly? I don't know if I can get through all of dinner without punching you in the throat."

"We'll never know if we don't find out." He smiled. "How are you, linda?"

"Good," Simone replied. "I landed the role of Nala in The Lion King; I'll be on the main Broadway stage now."

"I saw. Congratulations. I'll have to make sure I get a ticket and come your debut."

Her shoulders curled inwards. "You don't have to. I know you're really busy with work."

"That's never stopped me from seeing your debuts before."

Simone held his gaze. The butterflies in her stomach racked against her ribcage. "How is work going for you," she asked.

"Fine. I'm getting better at the new detective title."

"I bet you're still catching every bad guy they send you after."

"Chasing after them is easy; it's trying to get a confession out of them that's hard."

"Are you still doing okay…chasing after so many horrible people?"

"Yeah. Whenever it bothers me, I just look at a picture of you." He grinned. "Your funny-looking ass makes me smile every time."

She glared at him. "Shut up, Miguel."

He chuckled.

A waitress approached the couple. She poured red wine into their glasses and took their orders. Simone noticed the way the waitress' eyes lingered on her friend. She tried to ignore the twist in stomach when he shot her his signature smile. She took a sip of her wine as she looked away.

Miguel's eyes returned to Simone. He smiled at the curl of her lips, evident even under her wine glass. "Jealous," he asked.

"No. Why would I be? You look like a toad."

He held a hand to my heart. "Why must you hurt my feelings like this?"

"It's payback for terrorizing me all those years in grade school."

"None of the other girls were going to chase me around the field or down the hallway. You gave me a challenge; you were fast and you'd beat my ass when you caught me."

A smile appeared on her lips. "Do you remember when I tackled you right in front of the drama director's classroom?" She giggled. "Mrs. Charleston never looked at me the same way after that. She used to think I was sweet and innocent before she saw me attempt to beat you to death with my bare hands."

He scoffed. "You were always a good actress, but you had to be amazing to make that she-devil believe you were an angel."

"In her eyes, I was an angel. I did my work and followed the rules. It was you who gave her problems every single day. Even when you didn't have her class, you were still getting on her last nerve. I'm convinced your purpose in life is to annoy everything that moves."

He grinned. "You're right. I annoy the Defense Attorney's office, the criminals, and the other officers in my precinct every day."

"Hm, I feel bad for them." She took another sip of her wine. "How's your little black book going?"

"It's getting old, but it's still collecting numbers."

"No one solid, yet?"

"Nah. My job keeps me busy; I don't have a whole lot of time for serious dating."

"Just enough time for drinks here and sex there?"

"Essentially. One day, I'll have a girl I'll make all the time I can for."

"Soon hopefully," Simone asked. "We're not getting any younger here."

"Don't remind me." He tilted his head. "What about you? Any celebrity boyfriends I should know about?"

She grimaced. "Oh god, no. Most of the boys I meet are arrogant, pig-headed, and rude. They aren't even good for sex. Once they finish, they're knocked out."

"Hm, it's not polite to leave a lady hanging."

"Yeah." She sighed. "I've resorted to battery-powered pleasure for the time-being."

Miguel smirked. "Well, when your batteries run out, you know you can always give me a call. I'd be happy to help an old friend out."

"I'd rather be celibate for the rest of my life than sleep with your ho ass."

He held his hand to his chest. "Must I remind you that my feelings are fragile? One more shot and I'll be down for the count."

"I would give you the final blow now, but there'd be no fun in that."

He grinned.

Simone held his gaze for another moment. The candle's orange flame reflected in his green eyes, luring and coercing her deeper into their color. She almost fell into the flames' wishes. But their food arrived, and Simone was broken out of its spell.

As the night went on, the two shared stories from the months that passed. Simone had to bunk with a young woman in the ensemble who owned at least three tarantulas for two weeks. Miguel arrested a high-end king-pin. Simone and the rest of the play crew were stranded for a few days in Missouri when their tour bus broke down. Miguel almost lost a suspect in a gang-related crime during an intense car chase. Simone went on an awful date with one of her cast mates; he gloated about himself the entire time. Miguel received help from the FBI with another murder case.

The pair moved from the restaurant to a bar to the dimly lit streets. Miguel walked by Simone's side with his hands in his jacket pockets and her arm looped between his. He's been listening to one of her horror stories about a set malfunction when he made the mistake of checking his watch. "Shit," he muttered to himself.

"What?"

"I missed my train. It's eleven-thirty; I was supposed to leave an hour ago."

"When's the next train?"

Miguel scrolled through his phone. "Three in the morning." He sighed. "It's alright. I'm sure I can find a hotel to crash in for the night."

"Why waste money when you can just stay with me?"

"Are you sure? I don't want to be a bother."

She waved her hand. "No bother at all. It's the least I could do for an old friend."

They backtracked through the streets towards Simone's apartment. She lived in a skyscraper with glass windows, small balconies, and faint golden lights. Her suite was on the fifth floor.

Miguel scanned the room as she twirled inside. Velvet carpet covered every inch of her floor. Black suede sofas and a small coffee table took his attention in the living room. A seventy two inch flat screen television hung on the wall. Framed intimate paintings decorated the walls. Instead of a wall, glass shielded her apartment from the outside world. Other buildings glittered against the onyx sky. The world below moved like ants against the concrete.

Simone didn't take much interest in the spectacular view. She skipped into the kitchen to prepare cocktails for them. She'd glanced behind her to ask her friend a question when she saw him standing in front of the over-sized window with a crease between his brows and a soft line on his lips. She closed the refrigerator door and waltzed over to him.

She gently tugged at the sleeve of his jacket. "Are you gonna stay a while?"

He glanced down at her. "It's beautiful up here."

"The city is always beautiful during Christmas time."

"Mhm." His hand brushed against hers. "Do you remember when we'd search high and low for the perfect gifts for each other?"

Simone smiled. "How could I forget? I remember when Funk O' Pops came out, and every year I added on to a collection you didn't ask for."

"I still have the collection at my house. Most guests agree it's an interesting set of collectibles."

"By interesting, I assume they mean random and essentially meaningless."

"They just don't understand the reason behind each one. Most of them are shows or movies we loved as kids. Others are shows we watched together or movies we enjoyed. And then there are some that you like, but you cared enough to give the figurine to me instead of keeping it to yourself; it's something that makes me think of you." His hand curled around hers. "As if I need a figurine to remind me of what you mean to me."

Blood rushed to Simone's cheeks. "I still have the diamond necklace you got me in our senior year of high school. I don't wear it much, but I make sure I carry it when I travel." She squeezed his hand. "It's my good luck charm; things seem to always go right when I have it."

"It feels like I got you that necklace ages ago. We were just kids back then. Now we're living our dreams."

"I know. It's a little crazy to think about. I always wanted to be a star on Broadway, and you always wanted to be a detective. Now that we've accomplished those goals, what are we going to do now?"

"I guess start setting domestic goals. Find a partner. Get married. Have kids."

She looked up at her friend. "Do you want to get married?"

"At some point," he admitted. "I know I said I don't have a lot of time for dating, but it'd be nice to come home to the same woman every night with a home cooked meal and her embrace waiting for me. Fucking and going gets old after a while." His voice dropped down to a whisper. "It gets lonely." He nudged her. "Remember when we were kids and you mapped your entire wedding out? You said it was going to be in the Cinderella Castle at Disney World. You were going to wear a huge white dress with a diamond tiara holding your veil. The colors would be lavender, pink, and white; you wanted these colors in the roses in your bouquet. I think your husband of choice at the time was Corbin Bleu."

Simone rolled her eyes. "The whole idea sounds so silly now that I'm older. Extravagant weddings are nice, but I share extravagant events all the time with my job. I want my wedding to be intimate and elegant. I still like the wedding colors; I think that'd be pretty. But, I want to get married in a small church. I want to wear a silk dress with diamonds. I want my husband to be someone who's going to cry or be amazed when I walk down the aisle; someone who genuinely loves me. I want my wedding to symbolize commitment, love, and happiness. I don't want it to be a fairytale. I want it to be real." She sighed. "Unfortunately, it's going to be a long time before I get married."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because the boys in my world aren't interested in loving anyone but themselves." She freed her hand from his grasp. "Come on. I have a guest room you can sleep in."

Miguel caught her wrist before she could walk away. "Who said I wanted to sleep in the guest room?"

Simone raised an eyebrow. "What? Would you rather sleep in my room?"

"Yeah. It'd be like old times."

She almost lost herself in his green eyes again. The light of the city glittered like tiny stars in his irises; it looked like small daffodils in a sunny green field. She ripped her arm out of his grasp again. "Sure. Just make sure you keep your hands to yourself."

He raised an eyebrow. "And what are you going to do if I don't?"

"Kick your ass."

He smirked. He grabbed her hips and pulled her body against his. His smile widened as his friend's cheeks turned the color of her carpet. "Have you forgotten that I like it when you're feisty?"

She glared at him. "Let me go."

He leaned his forehead against hers. "Make me," he whispered.

Simone could feel his hot breath on her lips; his were only inches away. The butterflies in her stomach went into a frenzy. She shoved him away. With a huff, she turned and walked down the dark hallway.

Miguel watched her fume with an amused smile. He wordlessly followed after her.

She led him to her bedroom.

A queen sized bed sat in the far corner of room with red satin sheets and large pillows. Large windows were covered with thick red satin curtains. Across from the bed, on the other side of the room, were chestnut dressers. A vanity dresser with a large mirror and cushioned seat sat beside it; scattered atop it were makeup brushes and palettes, hair gel and moisturizers, ponytail holders, curlers, and perfume bottles. The wall near her bed was decorated with multiple collages. Some highlighted major moments in specific plays she'd been in. Others showcased the major accomplishments in her life. There were a few with photos of her family. Then there were those that focused solely on her and Miguel's friendship. The photos detailed every year of their lives, highlighting the major trips and memories they made together. Miguel's eyes lingered on the photo of the two of them on the day they met.

He remembered moving into the small townhouse in North Philadelphia when he was seven. His mother had gotten a promotion at her job, but it was far from California. Miguel wasn't happy about having to deal with cold winters and snow. He liked the sunshine and daily beach trips. He made sure his parents knew he opposed the decision to move; he acted out every chance he got. However, when Simone's mother came by with a pie in her hands and her young daughter at her side, Miguel's attitude towards the move changed.

Their parents had shuffled them living room while they remained in the dining room. Simone had suggested they play Cops and Robbers around the block. She'd overheard the adults saying Miguel's father was a policeman, so she thought this was the best way to try to connect with the new boy next door. For the entire afternoon, they chased each other around the block, giggling and pretending to take each other to jail. The two were inseparable since then.

Miguel could only smile at the girl with two giant pigtails and the boy with a headful of unruly curls. "I can't believe you still have this," he commented.

"Why wouldn't I," she asked. "I don't want to forget how funny-looking you were."

He rolled his eyes. He noticed her pawing through her drawers. "Looking for my old sweatpants and tee shirts you used to steal from me?"

"So what I am? It's not like you're going to take them back."

"Who says I'm not?"

"Me. These are mine now. You'll have to fight me if you want them back."

"You say that as if that's supposed to be a challenge."

She threw his clothes at him. "Shut up." She gathered her own pajamas in her arms. "You can get changed in here. I'll go in the bathroom."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I have to grab blankets for you anyway." She playfully bumped his shoulder as she passed him.

Miguel continued to examine her room as he changed into his old clothes. He noticed they smelled like her favorite vanilla body wash now. He wondered how much she wore these. He hadn't seen his varsity basketball tee shirt and sweatpants in years. Honestly, he was surprised he could still fit them.

His eyes caught a necklace hanging from a hook on her mirror. A diamond in the shape of a heart hung from a silver chain. Miguel almost smiled at the memory the jewelry brought.

He'd searched high and low for the perfect gift for Simone that year. It was their senior year of college; the last year they'd be able to spend every waking moment together. After graduation, he was going to the Police Academy, and she was jetting off to Julliard in the fall. He was running out of time to let her know how he felt about her. When he brought the necklace, he thought it'd be the perfect token of his affection – of his love. Yet, when the time came, he chickened out. It'd been a perfect moment; they were sitting on a bench in the park beneath the stars. Snow covered the ground and fell in soft flakes from the sky. Simone was sitting extremely close to him; his arm was wrapped around her to shield her from the cold. He wanted to tell her when her eyes lit up and she squealed at the diamond. She'd looked up at him with a wide smile and gracious tears in her eyes. She was close enough to kiss. Then she hugged him and called him the greatest best friend ever. At the term, Miguel shut his mouth and pushed his feelings to the very back of his mind. Seeing it now, after all these years, on an even more ideal night brought all his adolescent thoughts back to the forefront.

"I told you I kept it," Simone's voice chimed from behind him.

Miguel's heart fell into his stomach at the sight of her.

Her conservative dress had been replaced by a silk red nightgown. Spaghetti straps exposed her small shoulders. Lace lined the sweetheart curve around her chest and the skirt around her legs. Her curls were pulled up into a ponytail. Her face had been wiped clean of any makeup. A soft smile was painted on her lips. "It's my good luck charm," she reminded him. She tried to ignore the surprised expression on his face. She pushed the blankets into his arms. "I have a blow up mattress in the closet down the hall. I'll be right back."

Simone quickly skipped down the hall to grab the mattress and returned to her bedroom.

Together, they assembled the blow up bed and set the covers down over it.

Simone flicked off the light before climbing into her bed. "Goodnight, Miguel," she told her friend.

"Buenas noches, Simone," he replied.

She snuggled against her pillows. It was chilly tonight. Although they were inside, she could still feel the harsh wind nipping at her bare shoulders. Considering how much she paid for the apartment, one would think they'd be able to keep the heating under control. She knew maintenance had been working on getting it to function on full power for some time now. She wished they could speed up the process. She was freezing. She could only imagine how her friend on the floor felt.

"Miguel," she said. "Are you cold?"

"A little," he admitted.

"Why don't you come up here? It may be a little warmer."

He shuffled off the inflated mattress to the soft cushion of her bed. He scooted close to his friend; so close that he could feel her body heat. In the darkness, he could see her brown eyes looking up at him. She was laying on her side with her arms curled in front of her. Cautiously, he moved his hand to her cheek. His thumb caressed her skin.

"Didn't I tell you to keep your hands to yourself earlier," Simone teased.

"You know I'm hard-headed. When do I ever listen to anything anyone tells me?" His hand fell from her cheek to her shoulder. His fingertips gently trailed up and down her arm.

Simone's breath hitched when his fingers traced down her collar bone.

"Am I making you uncomfortable," he asked. "I'll stop if you want."

"No. You're fine. This is fine." She smiled. "We just haven't been this close in years."

"We can always change that. I can come down more often. You're only a train ride away."

"I don't want to deter you from your job. I know you're busy. I travel a lot anyway."

"I thought you got the job on Broadway. Doesn't that mean you'll be home more often?"

"Yeah. I guess you're right."

"Do you not want me to come down more often?"

She looked down. "I do. I'd love it if you could. I just don't want to be a burden."

He grabbed her chin and guided her face back up. "You won't be."

His eyes glowed in the darkness like tiny planets in space. Simone couldn't help but fall into them. Her heart sped up as he scooted closer to her. His body was pressed against hers now. Her hands were against his chest, and his arms were wound around her. His heart beat in a steady rhythm beneath her hands. Her sheets ruffled as he leaned his head down towards her.

With a sigh, Simone sat up. "I'm not tired," she lied.

He grinned. "Nobody said you had to go to sleep."

"Well, I don't want to lay here and potentially freeze to death."

"Isn't that what you brought me up here for? To keep you warm?"

"No. I couldn't leave you on the floor; it's probably colder down there."

"Aw, you were actually being nice to me? How sweet."

"Shut up." She climbed out of bed.

"Where are you going?"

"The living room." She tugged at his hand. "Come on. We can have dance parties like we used to when we were younger."

He smiled. "That's what you called them? Dance parties? I thought you were just dancing around your room to entertain me."

"Well, I was born to perform." She dragged him into the living room.

He sat down on the couch. He watched her scurry over to the stereo in the corner of the room.

She fiddled with the sound system for a moment. The opening chords of her favorite Ariana Grande song started blasting through the speakers. She twirled on her toes as she sung the lyrics.

Miguel watched her bounce around the room. Despite her mature attire, she still looked like the teen who used to jump around her room in his oversized tee shirts and cotton shorts. Beneath the glitz and glamor of fame, she was still his Simone.

"Don't just sit there," she said. She pulled him up from his seat. "Dance with me."

"I don't dance."

"You danced at prom."

"Because you threatened to stab me with the silverware!"

She grinned. "And? You still danced, didn't you?"

He rolled his eyes. He grabbed her hips and tugged her against him. He lifted her off of her feet and twirled her around.

She giggled. Her arms stayed looped around his neck when he set her back down. She stood on her toes to minimize the height difference. Her head lay on his chest as he swayed her back and forth. The scent of his cologne wafted through her nose; it beckoned her to move closer. She obeyed the silent call.

Miguel pressed his lips into her hair. "I miss you," he whispered.

"I miss you too." She looked up at him. Again, she was lost in his pools of green. She almost drowned in them. "We should lay back down," she said. "Relax. Get some rest." She tried to back out of his embrace, but his hold tightened. "Let me go."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I made that mistake once, and I'm not going to do it again."

Simone looked up at him in confusion. The look he was giving her was novel. His brows were creased together. His eyes were clouded with emotions she'd never seen. The longer she looked into his damned green eyes, the more she was mesmerized by his spell. She couldn't fight against it any longer. She'd spent so many years running and dodging him; it'd taken a weary toll on her. Was she afraid of the outcome of this? Sure. Was she willing to try? Of course. She always was. But she hadn't known if he'd felt the same way. He'd always been a tease, a flirt, a player; indecisive and hard to read. She never thought she had a chance. Not until now.

Miguel noticed the tension in Simone's shoulders fade. She relaxed in his arms. He kept her still with one arm. His other hand went to the back of her neck. His palm traveled up her soft skin into her moist curls as he leaned his head down and finally crushed his lips against hers.

In an instant, the sparks of a crush transformed into flames of passion; they licked up every inch of the couples bodies, consuming them in a fiery embrace. Their lips, used to moving slowly, gently, cautiously with others, moved quickly, hungrily, desperately. The moment they'd both been longing for had finally arrived, and they weren't going to take it for granted.

With their lips intertwined, they moved to the couch. Then the floor. Then the hallway. And finally the bedroom. The crackle of the flames turned into muffled moans and grunts. The orange sparks slowly dimmed as sweat glistened against their bodies. The heat didn't vanish. As they lay, intertwined and satisfied, both of them could still feel the warmth of the fire burning in their chests.

"I love you," Miguel whispered into Simone's hair.

Simone pressed her lips against his chest. "I love you too."

Finally, the two bid each other goodnight – only this time, neither of them had to go.

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