Home for Christmas

"No... you don't," she stuttered, tripping over each word like she'd never said them before.

"Yes, I do. I always have."

"Are you drunk?"

"No."

"Are you high?"

"No."

"Then I'm going to need some explaining..."

"There's nothing to explain. I love you, I always have, and I'm tired of pretending like I don't."

"But really, Shannon, what the fuck are you talking about? I'm... I'm confused here."

"The reason I was shitty to you all those years ago is because I had feelings for you that I had no idea how to deal with. You were the first girl I ever even had a crush on. I didn't know what to do about it. You intimidated the shit out of me, so I pushed you away. I know that's a fucked up way to do it, but I was a kid. I didn't know what else to do. Why else do you think I ended up at all the theater productions and choir concerts that I didn't otherwise care about? I wasn't there for Jared, that's for sure. I even came to some of your college performances, but Jared made me stop because he said you were going to get a restraining order on me. After that, I kind of forgot about it. You fell out of my mind a little bit because of how far away you always were and how I never really knew where exactly you actually were. Then I saw the picture you and Jared took the last time you met up a few years ago. He showed it to me casually, and all of a sudden you'd wormed your way back into my head again and I couldn't shake the feeling that I needed you. The plan was always to come find you. I was going to come find you and confess my love and it was going to be happily ever after. But then you fucked it up and ran into me in Starbucks here of all places," he rambled off, and suddenly she could sense that he was nervous. He hid it well, but his eyes didn't focus on anything for more than a second and his leg was twitching wildly under his guitar.

"You can't... can't love me," she said, still not totally understanding all of the things he'd said. "Someone like... you has no reason to love someone like... me."

"Bullshit. I'm tired of you implying that you're some sort of mutant or something with the way you talk about yourself. You're fucking gorgeous, Zane. You're the most beautiful girl I've ever laid eyes on, and I've seen a lot of fucking girls in my time. You're weird as shit, I'll give you that. You're the weirdest little thing I've ever met. But it's fucking adorable, okay? You're fucking adorable, and you surprise me every time you open your mouth. I didn't believe for a second you knew how to ride a motorcycle until you drove mine the other night. I didn't believe you were actually a decent singer, and then you were. I didn't believe that when you kissed me, I'd feel more than I'd ever felt in my entire life, but then I did," he said, setting the guitar beside his chair and standing up. He moved in front of her and she was enveloped in his scent that she loved more and more every time she smelled it.

"Shannon, stop," she whispered, but he shook his head.

"No. I won't, because I know somewhere in there under the whole 'tough girl' persona, you feel the same way. I refuse to believe that you feel nothing for me. I refuse," he said, looking her in the eye and holding her gaze level to his.

"I... I don't know how to do this," she told him, acutely aware of the fact that tears were filling her eyes. 

"You think I do? I've never felt this way," he whispered, taking yet another step closer to her. She went to back up slightly but he put his hands gently on her shoulders to hold her in place.

"I'm scared," she whispered and he shook his head.

"Don't be scared, Freckles. I won't hurt you."

"But what if you do? I don't know if I could survive that."

"I won't hurt you, Zane. Give me a chance."

"How?"

"Kiss me."

"I can't."

"Are your lips broken?" he asked her, a half-smile sneaking onto his face.

"I'm no good at the 'relationship' thing, Shannon. I always ruin it. Always. I'm too cold or too detached or too much of a bitch with too much of an attitude. I don't say the right things or do the right things. I work too much or ride my motorcycle too much. I'm not girly enough or I'm too whiny. It never works. Ever," she said, the tears that had been threatening before finally spilling down onto her cheeks.

"Zane,-"

"No. Don't say something sweet about how none of that is true. Don't be so insufferably sweet. I don't deserve it," she told him, and he automatically shook his head vigorously.

"Stop, Zane. You're getting hysterical here. If you get hysterical, I'll get hysterical and no one can handle that whole fiasco. We would have to call a crisis management hotline," he said, and she grinned against her own will. "There we go. Stop crying, sweet girl," he whispered, leaning forward and resting his forehead on hers.

She stared at him with big eyes as he leaned there. She was absolutely overwhelmed by the feeling of him being so close. She wanted to kiss him. Every fiber in her body felt like it was screaming at her to kiss him. Wanting to wasn't the problem. The problem was that she was so scared that they'd just end up hurting each other. For some reason her brain just wouldn't let her give in to him like the rest of her body seemed to want to so badly. He'd been right about her feelings for him. Despite how much she'd been denying them, even to herself, they definitely did exist. Maybe she even loved him back. Maybe she always had.

"I'll wait for you. As long as it takes. I'll be here, and I'll be ready. I want you to know that," he whispered at her a moment later, his eyes still boring into hers. He removed his forehead from hers and kissed it just lightly as he went. He moved across the patio and sat back down in his chair, picking up his guitar. As soon as it was in his lap, he went for the almost completely burned down cigarette and took a final long drag on it before crushing it out in the ashtray. "Any requests?" he asked, motioning to the guitar and smiling at her brightly. She shook her head and he shrugged slightly, launching into a song she didn't recognize. He sang along to his playing quietly and she sat down in another patio chair across from him. He smiled as she sat, his eyes connecting with hers once more.