Traffic heading home from Lorena's house was slow, but it gave me time to think. Though Erik and I barely spoke that afternoon, it felt as if we had spoken — but not with words — for words could never have relayed the way my body responded to him as he held me while we danced. No words would have been able to say that I trusted him more than the way I let go his arms, or looked at him instead of peering behind him to make sure that we weren't about to bump into someone.

I couldn't understand why I was running away from him. Why was I so scared?

By the time I reached the house, my mood had sunken like a ship taking in more water than it could take out. I decided to take advantage of the cool breeze of the early evening to do a quick run along the Strand. All that dancing had actually rejuvenated me, and with a dark mood suddenly descending upon me, I wanted to have it up again. There was nothing like endorphins to do that, I thought, as I slipped out of my dress and changed into my usual running clothes.

This time, instead of running south towards Redondo Beach, I made my way north towards Manhattan Beach. It was much better lit and I figured I'd run all the way to the north end and make my way back before the ocean air would get too cold.

For a Friday, the Strand had its usual evening runners. Most of them had the same idea of running till the north end of the Strand, just before the street lights were non-existent and then turn around, making our way back south.

I could feel the ocean air turning colder as I made my way back home. As a cold breeze blew, I regretted not wearing a sweatshirt. The fog was rolling in from the ocean, blanketing the water and I began to speed up. I'd seen the fog roll in a few times from Eric's house, and it felt strange and beautiful at the same time. You could actually see it crawl over the water towards the beach, then engulf the house, leaving tiny droplets of water clinging to the outside of the glass.

"Hey, Sam! Wait up!"

It took me a few seconds to realize that someone was calling my name before I stopped running As I looked around me, I realized that I had just ran past Erik's house. The doors to the studio were wide open and he was leaping over the railing to get to me.

Despite the chill in the air, running had actually kept me warm. But now that I had stopped, the cold seeped right into me, and I shivered.

"I was just at your house," he said, striding towards me like it didn't require any effort. He had changed from his shirt and slacks earlier to a t-shirt and running shorts. He was out of breath, not from jumping over the railing, but from running on the treadmill.

"Why?" I wrapped my arms around me, wishing I hadn't rushed out of the house without a sweatshirt.

"You forgot your phone at Livvy's," he said. "Come inside. It's cold."

He didn't have to ask twice. He helped me climb over the balcony railing and ushered me inside. He shut the sliding doors behind me and locked them.

"Where is it?" I asked. I didn't remember leaving my phone anywhere.

"It's in the car right now. I was planning on driving back later maybe," he said. "You don't have a landline, do you?"

I shook my head. It was not smart not to have a landline, especially when one had children, but I couldn't afford the extra charges to keep one. "No, I don't. I need to get home, Erik. I don't want to interfere with your Friday plans."

"You're not interfering with anything," he said. He opened the closet and retrieved two thick white towels. One for me and another for him. He was perspiring from his own run, but at least he wasn't chilled like I was.

"Why don't you take a shower, so you don't catch a cold?" he said. "You do have a change of clothes, right?"

I shook my head. "It's okay, Erik. I can take a shower at home."

Erik opened the dresser where I used to store a few pieces of clothing and saw it bare. He turned to look at me, frowning. "I know you left your garage remote and the keys, Sam, but I didn't realize it wasn't an accident. You really had no intention of coming back?"

When I didn't answer, he sighed. "We need to talk," he said. "And I mean, really talk. Can we do that tonight? Or do you have other plans?"

I shook my head.

"You mean you don't want to talk?" He asked, annoyed.

"No, I mean, I don't have other plans," I said.

"Why don't you take a shower, freshen up and that way, you won't catch a cold from running without wearing anything warm. I'll bring you something to wear."

He didn't wait for me to respond, probably tired of hearing me defy him at every turn. He left the room and for a few minutes, I stood there, surrounded by my paintings facing the door. After five minutes, I realized he wasn't coming back right away, so I went into the bathroom and slipped off my clothes. I shivered as my bare feet touched the cold bathroom floor, and I knew he was right. I needed that shower.

I was in the shower when I heard him knock on the door and open it.

"I'll leave the clothes right here. The pants have a drawstring so just tighten it. I don't want to bother Olivia for some clothes so mine will have to do, if that's alright with you. They're big for you but that's better than being too small, right? I'll throw your clothes in the wash if you want," he said.

"No, I can do it myself," I said over the sound of the water though I knew he'd probably do it anyway.

He shut the door, leaving me to finish with my shower. When I was done, I saw that he'd left me one of his shirts and cotton pants. The shirt was vintage cotton that said Doors on it, and I could smell the scent of clean soap as I slipped it on. Just like he said, the pants, probably pajamas, had a drawstring which I tightened enough to slide down my hips.

Looking at my reflection in the mirror, I looked like a little boy wearing his older brother's clothes. Eric wasn't exactly big for he had narrow hips, but he was tall.

I stepped out of the studio and into the hallway. I'd never really explored the private part of Erik's house, my forays outside the studio limited to the kitchen and the living room, as well as the garden. But I could hear the sound of a shower running and I found myself walking up the stairs to the second floor.

The second floor of his house was as beautiful as the main floor, with three bedrooms, one that looked like a recreation room though was currently used to store boxes. I followed the sound of the shower which led me to the end of the hallway, its door slightly ajar.

The bathroom was on the far wall opposite the door, and it was open. A king-sized bed was arranged along the other wall, with bedside tables on both sides. Next to the bathroom was another door leading to a walk-in closet. I could see some shirts on hangers through the slightly open door.

Erik walked towards the counter, a white towel wrapped around his narrow hips, his body glistening with water. I noted the defined muscles along his back, the curve of his strong shoulders and the sculpted chest which tapered to become slim hips. I couldn't help but stare, realizing it had been a long time since I'd seen a man as beautiful as Erik. He turned and looked at me, our eyes meeting, but I turned away as quickly as I could.

"I'll be in the living room," I said, and walked away, embarrassed. I could feel the heat on my cheeks, the sight of him bringing the butterflies in my stomach fluttering.

I was flipping the channels on the big screen TV when he emerged from the bedroom. He was wearing a heather grey t-shirt and sweatpants, his feet bare against the carpet. He walked towards the door leading to the garage, went inside and came back with my phone. He placed it on the counter.

"Would you like some coffee?" He asked.

I shook my head. "No, thanks, or I won't be able to sleep."

"What about some tea? I've got some herbal ones if you want. I was just going to make myself a cup. Then I can drive you home after."

"Sure, that would be lovely," I said, getting up from the couch even though he told me to remain seated. I joined him in the kitchen, helping him with the cups as he heated water in the kettle.

"So what do you want to talk about?" I asked, leaning against the counter.

"A few things. Well, four, just so you won't freak out.  First, I can't thank you enough for what you did for Liv and Bella," he said. "That painting was just...so beautiful beyond words. You have idea how happy you just made everybody. And if it at all matters to you - me."

"Thanks. It was the least I could do."

"Stop saying that, Sam. You don't owe Olivia and I anything," he said, annoyed. "Anyway, she called you tonight to tell you that she's hung the painting in her living room. That's how she found your phone. It was in the toy bin."

"Michael must have put it there," I said. "I gave it to him when he got bored with the other kids."

"Well, I'm glad I caught you then, but I was planning on driving over tonight to drop it off."

"Thanks," I said. "So, what are the other three things on this lost of things you wanted to discuss with me."

He gave me a look of annoyance, the sarcasm in my voice not lost on him. I felt like a spoiled child, being told of the rules she needed to know. "Second, thank you for the sketches you gave me. Olivia already ran off with one of them and I think it's hanging in her hallway —"

"I saw it. You're welcome."

"Third, I'm not going to let you off the hook so easily," he said. "If you've decided to stop painting, I'm not not going to stop you. But I need to know why."

The kettle whistled, signaling that the water was ready and Erik set to work with the tea, forbidding me to help. He ordered me to return to the couch and channel surf if I had to until he finished preparing the tea and some cookies. I switched channels for a few minutes, finally settling on The African Queen.

He brought a tray from the kitchen filled with a pot of hot water, two cups, a selection of teas and infusions and a small plate of homemade cookies.

"The aunts made them," he said. "I'm hooked on them actually, which is why I have to work out more than I usually do. I'd probably go into withdrawal when they leave."

"When are they leaving?"

"In two months, so I've got two more months to enjoy their cooking. But at least they've freed me from babysitting for awhile," he grinned.

It was difficult to talk about anything serious while enjoying tea and authentic Italian cookies. We settled on the floor, situating ourselves between the couch and the coffee table, within easy reach of the cookies and the tea as we watched Katherine Hepburn and Humphrey Bogart battle the river, plot to sink a German ship, and fall in love.

Though he'd heard of it, Erik had never seen The African Queen before. But he was intrigued when I told him about the controversy surrounding the movie over the couples relationship that troubled censors set the time.

"How so?"

"Because their characters are both unmarried and yet they end up sleeping together," I said, biting into what I hoped would be the last cookie I'd eat for the evening. But before I could wash my hands from the cookies, Erik offered me the last one on the plate.

"You're bad," I muttered as I took the cookie from the plate. "I'm on a diet, you know. This is five pounds right here."

"Then we'll just have to work it all off later," he teased, before his expression turned serious. "But we're not done talking, Sam."

"I guess I'm not going anywhere till you get to do your twenty questions."

"It's not twenty questions, Sam," he said. "Just one."

"Go ahead."

"Why did you remove your stuff out of the studio? Is it something I said or did?"

I shook my head. "That's two questions. But no, it has nothing to do with you."

"Then what's wrong? You were painting up a storm for weeks and they're all beautiful. Collin took a look at them this week and he's quite impressed. I don't even know what you plan to do with them - sell them or give them away - but it doesn't matter. What matters is that you were happy painting. We even had such a wonderful time last weekend and all of a sudden you shut down when you met Collin. You shut down completely." He sighed. "I wish you'd tell me what it is you're afraid of, Sam. I wish you'd believe that if you ever thought you were alone, you're not alone anymore."

I didn't know what to say. I never was good with sharing what I really felt, or opening up. Growing up in the foster care system, families were a hit and miss. Some families were wonderful and for a time, it was great. But then for some reason or other, they would be unable to continue taking me in, and then I'd end up in a group home or with someone else, someone who didn't care about me at all, except for the check that came with my stay. I'd learned then to keep everything inside - not to open up.

"Look, I can't tell you what you should or shouldn't do," Erik said. "If you're tired of painting, burned out, or whatever, then quit. I won't stop you. But if the decision to quit is prompted by someone else threatening you, stopping your creativity from flowing for whatever reason, then I can't just be expected to sit back and watch that happen without doing something."

He sighed. "I don't care if I'm overstepping my boundaries in saying this, but I want you to know that you're not alone. And I think you already know that I really care for you, and I want you to be happy."

"I don't want you to have to deal with my baggage, Erik," I said. The sound of my voice sounded strange after hearing only his voice for some time.

"I like you - with or without your baggage, Sam," Erik said. "If it's David you're worried about, I can deal with him. What I can't understand is you shutting me out because of him. You're just letting him win."

"I'm not shutting you out because of David," I protested though Erik gave me a look that told me he wasn't buying it. Who was I kidding? "Anyway, you don't know what he's done, or what he threatens to do if I start painting again."

"You've already started painting, Sam," Erik said. "That already says something. You want to paint."

"That's only because I thought he'd never find out."

"Then maybe it's better that he does find out, Sam. Because your talent is not meant to be hidden away. And because it's your art, not his. He doesn't own you."

We were sitting next to each other on the couch and I realized that the screen wasn't moving. He'd put the movie on pause as I talked, wanting to other distractions. On the screen, Katherine Hepburn's face was frozen in a scream as the boat was battling the rapids.

Erik held my hand in his and kissed it. "You're not alone, Sam. I wish you'd believe that. I'm also not David."

"I know you're not," I whispered.

It felt as if all the air had gone out of the room. The way Erik looked at me, as if he was seeing right through me, made me feel like I was the only one in his world that mattered at that very moment.

He placed a hand around my shoulder and drew me close to him, kissing the top of my head. Then we just sat there and watched the movie for a few minutes.

How could I not want Erik? I was crazy not to want him, to dare to walk away from him so easily, thinking he would let me go as quickly I tried to walk away from him. But I was only denying myself the company of the one person I wanted to be with.

Erik pressed the remote and Hepburn was screaming on the screen again. Then he leaned forward and kissed me on the forehead.

"Let me know when you'd like me to drop you off," he whispered. I don't want you to leave, but I don't want to be charged with kidnapping either."

I chuckled and settled comfortably on the couch. Erik's arm was around my shoulders and I was snuggled comfortably by his side, my feet tucked under me and one arm wrapped around his waist. I had not even stopped to think about the way we'd found ourselves, spending a Friday night on the couch watching an old movie.

Like an old married couple, I thought, my arm squeezing him. As if he'd been thinking the same thing, Erik turned his head to look at me. Bogart and Hepburn had just escaped the German gunboat and had just swam to safety. But I was no longer paying attention to their story.

And neither was Erik.

It began as a soft kiss, just a brushing of lips and nothing else, but as my arms circled his neck, Erik drew me closer and his kiss grew deeper. I didn't want to leave yet. I wanted to stay with him, even for just a few more minutes, the need to hold him so strong that it gripped me hard, deep in the pit of my belly.

I didn't want Erik to drive me home to an empty house, with only the sound of the grandfather clock to keep me company through the night, reminding me how lonely I was. I listened it to it every night, more since Erik and I began exchanging notes to one another, an innocent flirtation and nothing more. Yet the tick-tock of the clock reminded me each night of how much I wanted to be needed, to be loved. I didn't want to keep fighting the desire to hold Erik now, denying myself what I really wanted just because I was too afraid to lose him.

But how could I even lose Erik when I was too afraid to allow him into my life?

My hands moved up his neck and to his jaw, feeling the stubble that tickled my fingers yet made my belly do another somersault as I felt the muscles of his jaw move. He slipped his tongue between my lips and I caught it, sucking on it as he moaned. I could feel on his smile on my lips and for a few moments, we giggled like teen-agers, as if suddenly feeling awkward, or even shy. But when Erik kissed me again, all embarrassment was forgotten.

I didn't know how far our relationship would go, and I found that at that moment, I didn't care. I wanted only to feel him make love to me, taste him and savor every second of being with him. When he pulled my head back with his other hand, Erik buried his face in my neck, kissing the skin there, sucking and nibbling and making me writhe against him. I wanted Erik so bad it ached, the knot in my belly tightening. I felt his mouth against the skin of my neck, making me shudder and moan.

I pulled away from him, out of breath, my heart beating fast. I was scared to death of what was about to happen next, but this time I knew it would be my choice. And there would be no guilt. I was not about to deny myself this. Not tonight.

"I want you to stay, Sam," Erik whispered, his thumb tracing my lower lip.

"I don't want to go," I said and this time, all my self-control crumbled. There was no turning back now, not for me. I kissed him, hard this time, the sounds of our breathing drowning out all the other sounds outside. From here on, the room did not exist, and neither did the Strand outside his glass doors.

The only thing that mattered was us.

♥.·:*¨ ¨*:·.♥

Some time later, I awoke, and for a few seconds I forgot where I was. Panic gripped me in the semi-darkness, my mind waiting for the familiar tick-tock of the grandfather clock in the hallway, before I realized where I was. My body tingled at the memory that came — of Erik's touch, his mouth kissing me, his tongue tasting me, all of him making love to me, even my scars which he found beautiful. I turned to my side slowly, not wanting to wake him, but Erik was already awake, watching me as he lay on his side.

"Bad dream?" He asked, tracing circles on my belly.