Oscar flagged a cab, hopeful the short travel time to Callie's place would help clear his head.

He'd almost kissed her.

Not a friendly peck on the cheek or an amicable brush of his mouth over the corner of hers. A full on, no holds barred, 'I want you, let's-have-sex-soon' kiss.

The realization hit him with the force of a wrecking ball, demolishing his perception of their relationship.

One minute they were dancing and having fun like they always did and in the next, he had a raging hard on and was fantasizing about taking her clothes off so he could kiss her everywhere. The invisible door in his mind had swung wide open, revealing everything he'd kept hidden from himself and now he couldn't get the damn thing shut again.

He knew how the curves of her body fitted into his, could still feel the softness of her skin beneath his fingertips and smell the floral shampoo in her hair. It didn't help there was no way in hell she was wearing a bra under that blouse or that his imagination convinced him that he could feel her nipples beaded against his chest.

To make matters worse, he realized it wasn't the first time he'd noticed the things a friend would have ignored. They were familiar to him, indelibly imprinted on his mind.

He'd simply chosen to forget them.

As far as his heart was concerned, that he loved her had never been in doubt. She was Callie and his reaction to the prospect of a life without her said it all. He would do everything possible to protect what they had. But what if he was the threat?

Unless he'd misinterpreted how she looked at him - the darkening awareness in her big brown eyes and the way she focused on his mouth - he wasn't the only one who felt something ignite between them. But what if was he was wrong? What if he made a move before she was ready? What if he was the one who pushed them apart?

A few blocks from her apartment, Callie said she wanted to walk the rest of the way. Was the sexual tension getting to her, too? Could she feel it crackling in the air between them, magnified within the confines of the cab? Maybe she didn't feel anything at all. Maybe it was just wishful thinking on his behalf.

Despite the humidity outside, she shivered after a few steps.

Oscar automatically took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. "One of these days you'll remember to bring your own jacket."

She shrugged. "Didn't need one 'til now."

It was the same explanation he got every time. Callie traveled light; her credit card, a couple of bills folded around it in case she needed cash, keys, her phone, and she was good to go. The only other thing she ever carried was a lipstick. She wasn't one hundred percent tomboy or girly-girl. She was a mixture of both.

During their teens, it was a combo which made it difficult for her to fit in. But from Oscar's point of view, it made her perfect for him. They were misfits together. It was them against the world. And for more than a decade, neither one of them had been hard to find. He was at her house or she was at his.

Apart from one little bump along the way, they'd been inseparable.

The thought of tainting all the precious memories they'd made together by making a pass at her, particularly if he was rejected...

"One of the biggest clichés out there is when a guy gives a girl his jacket," he mock complained, attempting to put them back on more familiar ground.

"I think it's sweet."

"Great," he said dryly. "Next you'll call me cute."

"Are you fishing for a compliment, Mr. Levinson?"

"No."

But if she'd paid him one after checking him out, he might have had a better idea where he stood. Shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans, he searched his mind for something else to talk about.

"What did Jasper say ?"

She shrugged. "I think I was being warned off."

"Warned off, what?"

"You."

That didn't make sense. Why would Jasper encourage him to ask Callie out and then warn her off? It was contradictory. Jasper liked things that made sense. Even if it was only inside his head.

"He cares about you," Callie said softly. "He's a good friend. He just doesn't want to see you get hurt."

"What were his exact words?"

"Don't mess with him... He deserves better..." She looked at her feet as she scuffed the sole of her shoe over the sidewalk. "I don't think he has a high opinion of me."

Oscar knew that wasn't true. There had to be something else going on. Something he'd missed.

"I'll talk to him."

"No, don't." She stopped and turned towards him, the dark pools of her eyes sparkling with reflected street light as she looked up at his face. "If Jasper has a problem with me, we have to work it out between us. You can't get caught in the middle."

As a couple of cars passed by, Oscar studied her. He wasn't sure how he felt about the new, more self-sufficient Callie. She'd always been independent, but she was never afraid to ask for help and, if he was honest, he liked that he was the first person she called.

Was she still mentally preparing for the time she thought he wouldn't be there? He thought he'd reassured her on that score.

"Promise me, you won't."

He wasn't sure he could.

"I mean it," she insisted. "He's trying to protect you. I just need to convince him I'd never hurt you. Not on purpose. You know that, right?"

"Yes," Oscar replied without hesitation. He removed a hand from his pocket and reached for hers, weaving their fingers together and squeezing. "I do."

"Good," she responded with a visible sigh of relief. "Because I know I can be a brat sometimes and there have been plenty of times when I've tested your patience, but -"

"S'okay," he shrugged. "I'm used to it."

"Thanks."

The sarcasm made him smile. "You're welcome."

They started walking again, fingers still tangled together, pace slow, as if neither one of them wanted to cover the three blocks to her apartment in a hurry.

"Does feel like people have been hell bent on defining our relationship lately," she commented in a low, pensive tone.

"Does."

"Not really any of their business, is it?"

"No."

"And if something happened, it would happen organically..." What sounded like a hint of nervousness in her voice drew his gaze to her profile. "It's not like a switch would flick in our heads when they mentioned it. There'd have to be something there to begin with."

Oscar's breathing became shallow and very, very quiet. Was she, in her own uniquely Callie way, trying to tell him what he needed to hear? Every muscle in his body strained towards her, his mind willing her to say it loud and clear, so there wasn't any room for a misunderstanding.

"Even if there was, we'd both have to feel it," she continued. "And what are the odds of that after all this time?"

From his perspective, a lot less than she might think. But Oscar stayed silent. What if she was trying to tell him the opposite of what he needed to hear? If she'd noticed how he'd been with her at the party, knew the exact moment he thought about kissing her and was glad he hadn't, what she was saying could be her way of letting him down gently.

Suddenly it felt like he was walking across a frozen lake. On the other side, was something rare and precious, something he had to have, regardless of the risk. He had to tread carefully to get there, consider each step and take his time...

"Maybe they thought it was a wood for the trees scenario," he said. "That we couldn't see what was there because we were too close to it."

"That's possible," she agreed.

Their pace slowed to the point where they were barely moving forwards, giving Oscar the impression he wasn't the only one who could feel the ice beneath their feet.

"Probably would have been simpler if we weren't friends."

"Some might say it's a good foundation," he countered.

When he glanced sideways, he saw her smile wryly.

"They already have."

He had to strain to hear the words and when he made them out, wondered if it was part of the problem she'd been working her way through while they were apart. It circled them back to where the change in their relationship began and the question she hadn't answered the first time he asked.

"Still have to be a spark though, wouldn't there?"

Her chin dropped. "Yes."

While brushing the pad of his thumb over her wrist, Oscar imagined he felt her pulse skip. "Because at some point, a couple would want to find out if they're compatible in bed..."

"You mean in more than the mutually beneficial sense?" Her gaze cut to him. "I still can't believe you said that."

"Yes," he responded without an apology. When she nudged him with her shoulder and aimed recriminating raised brows at him , he chuckled, "Oh, c'mon. You're not gonna say it shouldn't be mutually beneficial?"

"I'm not gonna discuss sex with you, at all."

Until recently, he'd have left it at that. But he was too far out on the ice now to go back.

Turning ninety degrees, he stepped in front of her. "Maybe we should discuss it."

She floundered and tried to see around him in a way which suggested she was searching for an escape route. "It's not something friends discuss."

"You talk about sex with the girls."

"That's different."

"It shouldn't be," he maintained. "If it makes it easier, I'll start. I'm a fan, how about you?"

Her mouth opened, closed and opened again before she replied with a cautious, "Yes."

"Favorite position?"

"Ohmygod." Her eyes widened. "So not going there."

When she tried to step around him, Oscar got in her way. "Why do you think we've never discussed it before?"

"Because it's embarrassing?"

"People our age talk about sex all the time."

"We don't."

"Because I'm a guy and you're a girl and there's always been a small kernel of curiosity on the subject of having sex together?"

When her jaw dropped, Oscar thought he heard ice cracking.

Okay. Third time was supposed to be the charm.

"You never told me if you found what you were looking for when you checked me out. The spark. Was it there?"

Realization crossed her face. She'd obviously figured out she'd been ambushed, would more than likely call him on it, might even get mad. But Oscar wasn't willing to let her avoid giving him an answer.

Not this time.

"I'm not your type," he stated adamantly, experiencing more than a hint of jealousy towards the guys who were, a reaction which would have surprised him not so very long ago.

"I didn't think so," she mumbled, her gaze cutting away from him.

Past tense? He was all over that.

"And now?"

"Now... I think... maybe..." She blinked. "It's not that you're not my type... it's just that I've never... I mean, if I did..."

If? Not good enough. He needed solid Intel, had to be certain if he kissed her, it wouldn't ruin everything. C'mon Cal. You can do it.

She sucked in a breath. "I think any attraction I feel towards you would have more to do with who you are than... that is, I don't think I can separate what I feel from what was already there... it's just kind of... tangled up..."

Feel. Present tense. And she'd used it twice. What's more, she was rambling and seemed a little confused and if that meant she was trying to sort through what she felt, then something had definitely changed.

It made him take a cautious step closer.

"Just so we're clear here. Are you saying -?"

Several fat raindrops interrupted him, tilting both their faces skywards. There was another drop, and another, and then, with no more warning, the heavens opened and they were caught in a deluge.

Oscar frowned. Seriously universe? Now?!

A burst of laughter caught his attention, and when he looked at Callie his frown was immediately replaced by an affectionate smile. She'd always loved the rain. Add thunder and lightning to the equation and she reacted like a child at Disneyland.

A deep, reverberating rumble rolled over the tops of the tall buildings, echoing off the endless walls of Manhattan's glass, brick and steel corridors. But as tempting as it was to stay where they were so he could drink in some of her unfettered delight, Oscar was keenly aware of the fact she wasn't wearing much beneath his jacket.

He looked around. A store on the next corner had an awning.

That would do.

Tightening his grip on her fingers, he tugged her into a jog which covered the distance in a handful of seconds but did nothing to stop them both getting soaked along the way.

She was still laughing when they arrived, the sound soft and feminine, musical and light. Under normal circumstances he would comment on it, tease her about her love of storms or joke about her rain gods coming to the rescue before she said something she couldn't take back.

Then he looked at her. And the ice beneath his feet shattered.

Her eyes sparkled brightly, reflecting the effervescent joy she felt inside. They were framed by long lashes still sprinkled with the remnants of raindrops which seemed reluctant to leave her, even when she tried to blink them away. There was a glowing sheen of moisture on her skin and lips, and her hair was plastered to her cheeks in long, seductively curling wet tendrils.

She might have argued she was a mess. But to Oscar, she was just as spectacular, and mesmerizing, as she'd been the day they met.

When she raised her free hand to remove a strand of wet from the corner of her mouth, he reached out to stop her.

"I've got it," he said roughly.

She dropped her arm to her side while he brushed back the strand she'd been aiming for, his gaze following the movement. Then he focused on her forehead, smoothing back another darkened tendril from root to tip, his fingertips tracing the gentle curve from her cheek to her jaw. Releasing her hand so he could frame her face with both of his, his thumbs joined his fingers to repeat the movement until every strand was removed from slick skin.

He saw her eyelids grow heavy, and when they closed, she drew in a shuddering breath.

It tugged his gaze to her mouth as he ran his fingertips back down her cheeks, one set travelling to the sensitive skin below her ear while the other lingered in a position where his thumb could trace the curve of her lower lip.

As his head lowered, she opened her eyes, allowing him to search them up close for the answer he still hadn't got. With inches left between his mouth and hers, he hesitated, giving her one last chance to say something that would stop what was happening. But she didn't speak. She stayed statue-still. Waiting, like the choice was his. So, he did what he reckoned any red-blooded guy would have done if they were standing in his shoes. He kissed her.

Oblivious to the rain beating against the canopy over their heads or the silver curtain it created around them as it fell off the sides, he explored her pliant lips from corner to corner, top to bottom and edge to edge, memorizing their shape and how soft they felt. When she reciprocated, he deepened the kiss, encouraging her full participation. She swayed forwards, her breasts flattened against his chest and when her lips parted, his tongue slid inside, tangling with hers in a slower, more sensual version of the dance they'd shared earlier.

Heat blazed inside his body, blood rushing through his veins, starving his brain of oxygen as it rushed south of his waist.

The ferocity of his reaction drew him back from the brink. She wasn't some random girl he'd picked up at a party. She was Callie.

He lifted his head and looked at her as she opened her eyes, blinked him into focus, and stared at him in shock. Shit. Had he read her wrong?

He frowned.

If she didn't want him to kiss her, why hadn't she stopped him?

Dropping his arms to his sides, he took a step back, his gaze shifting to the quiet street beyond the canopy.

"Doesn't look like it's gonna stop anytime soon," he said, his voice thickened by physical need. "We should probably make a run for it."

When he glanced at her, she nodded in agreement.

Which was more than she'd done a minute ago...

"Put my jacket over your head."

After she slipped her arms out of the sleeves and lifted it into place, they ran the last two blocks to her apartment, their breathing strained by the time they got to the steps leading up to her door. The tension between them was suffocating. But no matter how hard he tried, Oscar couldn't force an apology past his lips. He couldn't regret kissing her when it felt so good. He didn't want her to regret it, either.

She angled her head a little and studied his face like she was seeing him for the first time.

He'd never felt so exposed.

"You should go in before you catch cold." He backed up and scowled at the sky as the rain stopped.

Timing was everything and judging by her silence, his had been way off.

"I'll call you tomorrow."

"Okay."

He turned and walked away, hoping she picked up when he called so he had a chance to put things right between them.

"Oscar," her voice called. "Wait." When he turned around, she jogged towards him and held out her arm. "Your jacket..."

"Right." He would need that. His keys and wallet were in the pocket.

As she stopped in front of him, he took it from her, sucked in a breath and looked her in the eye.

"Look, Cal, if you want an apology for what just happened, I'm not sure I can -"

Before he could finish the sentence, she wrapped her fingers around the back of his neck, rocked forward and kissed him, hard.

Then, without giving him much time to react, she leaned back and arched a brow. "Does that answer your question?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

"Good." She backed away, a smile wavering on the corners of her mouth. "Then shut up. And when you call me tomorrow, you can tell me who taught you to kiss like that."

It took a second for what she said to sink in but when it did, an answering grin spread across Oscar's face.

"I will call."

"I know."

"We'll do something."

"Okay."

He watched as she swung her arms while she retreated. She dropped her chin, bit her lower lip, but couldn't control the smile any longer and when she cut it loose, it was dazzling.

She was happy. He'd made her happy.

It made him feel like he could conquer the world.