"How you getting home?" Brynn asks. It was getting quite late but we made good progress. Three more backdrops were complete.

I shrug. "Public transport. Mom's got a PTA meeting and Dad's been working late so I'm on my own, I guess."

"I have Gran's car. I can give you lift. She worries about me riding the buses late at night," Brynn tells me, as she cleans up the paints and brushes we were using.

"Hmmm... Let me see... ride on a bus that will take me twice as long to get home with a bunch of strangers or go home with my girlfriend and have the possibility of a good night kiss at the end of the ride. Yeah, something tells me this is a no-brainer. Although, I have heard Gus, the bus driver, is a good kisser."

Brynn laughs. "And how did you come upon this information?"

"What? About Gus? It's just a rumor really. I believe he started it about himself in the hopes of getting some action but I doubt it's really worked. Not sure. I'll have to ask him next time I see him."

Brynn shakes her head at my silliness and her smile holds me captive. I really need to get a grip if I'm planning on spending even more time with her. I'm turning into a blubbering simpleton whenever, I'm around her. My brain wants to revert back to a caveman, hit her over the head and drag her off with me. Thankfully, I'm more civilized, although... the idea holds potential.

"Finn? Ready to go?" she asks.

I flush slightly from my thoughts and she giggles, which makes me wonder if she can read minds. I really hope she can't.

"I just need to grab my bag. I left it back stage."

"Okay, I'll meet you by the side doors."

"Be right there," I say and hobble to collect my things. I look at all the work we did today. It was kinda fun working with Brynn and making art. I make one more stop and head out the doors.

"So," she says, giving me a side-glance, "how did you learn to paint so well?"

She starts the car and heads towards my house. "Only child... educated Mom... I got activitied to death. Is that a word... activitied?"

Brynn laughs. "It is now. Camp, sports and things like that I can understand but art?"

"Those other suggestions were Dad's. Mom made sure I had art lessons, took me to the theatre and not the movie kind. I even had dance lessons."

"Dance lessons?"

I laugh. I knew that would get her attention. "Yes."

She presses her lips together like she's considering something. "Hmm, a guy who can dance. You know if you could cook that would pretty much make you perfect."

"I can make spaghetti. Oh! And scrambled eggs WITH toast."

"Buttered toast?" she asks, with a giggle.

"OR jam, if you're feeling frisky."

"So, I can stay for dinner?"

"Uh..." She took me totally off guard with that one. "Dinner? My Brynn privileges got revoked along with the phone, remember?"

"You said, this weekend... it's Monday and your parent's aren't home."

"Brynn Shelby are you trying to coheres me into doing something I shouldn't be doing?"

"Well, when you put it that way I sound like some sort of deviant. I was just trying to get some food because I'm hungry but if you'd rather not."

I had no idea if my parents were home. When they would be home. It was crazy talk... her coming over for dinner. I couldn't...

"Relax. You look like your head is about to explode. It was only a suggestion."

"Hold on, it wasn't a bad idea... I'm just trying to work out the calculations."

"Calculations?"

"Yes, all risk can be boiled down to a simple mathematical problem. Most people believe it to be Risk = Probability x Loss but I take it a step further saying Risk is more Threats x Vulnerability x Impact."

"You're weird," she says, making a face I don't even know how to describe.

"Oh really, miss... I make my decisions with a Magic Eight Ball?"

"That's so I DON'T have to workout the math. It's never been a favorite subject of mine."

"Well, assuming neither parent is home... then the threat of them being home anytime soon is minimal and my vulnerability to those huge brown eyes of yours is pretty great and I think I can survive the impact of been caught feeding you dinner so ... it's worth the risk."

"Good. Cause we're here."

I look up and we are parked outside of my house. Both parent's cars are gone so Mom's PTA meeting will run at least 2 hours. Dad is not normally home before 10. The last few weeks he's been working late with his new clients on a big job.

"So, do you want spaghetti or eggs?"

"Eggs with buttered toast, please."

"No jam?"

"Nope. Butter is fine."

"Okay. Follow me."

I let us into the house and I put my bag down and get to work in the kitchen. She takes a seat at the table and just watches me as I prepare our meal. It feels strangely natural to have her here, and be performing such a domestic act. But I'll think more on that later as right now I want to make sure I don't accidentally burn anything as my reputation for being perfect is on the line.

Within a few minutes the meal is done and plated. I place them on the table, one in front of her and one at my place. I go back for utensils, napkins and two large glasses of orange juice. Brynn puts her phone down, looks up and smiles at me.

"Everything okay?" I ask, as I take my seat across from her.

"Everything looks delicious. I was just letting Gran know where I am. I don't want her worried about me."

She takes a forkful of eggs and her smile grows. "These are good."

"The key is butter. My mom uses that spray stuff." I use a gagging motion to emphasize my dislike. "Nothing like a little chemicals with your eggs to start your day off right," I say sarcastically, with a grimace.

"So, I take it you have no concern for cholesterol or love handles?"

I nearly choke on my forkful of eggs. "Love handles," I scoff. I lift my school shirt to expose my stomach. "Do I look like I have to worry about love handles?"

I see a moment, a flicker of appreciation in her eyes before she looks away and slightly blushes. "I'm just happy to have real eggs and not egg whites as Gran does all the cooking and although she'd never skimps on the real ingredients in her baked goods... all other meals are "heart healthy" and nutritious."

I let my shirt fall back into place. Still secretly relishing in the fact that she liked what she saw, even though that really wasn't my intention... Okay. It so totally was... but gimmee a break, will you? I'm eighteen and male and do I really need to explain this to you...

"So, you have to eat like an seventy year old woman?"

"Pretty much, yeah," she says, taking another forkful.

"That explains the buttered toast."

"Yep. And if you ever learn how to make crispy bacon, I may have to marry you."

Noted: Ask mom how to fry up bacon.

I suddenly wanted to fill in the gaps. There seemed like so many gaps in Brynn's life. Things she should have experienced or been through. It seems she's spent most of her young life already grown up.

As dinner began to wrap up I really wanted to find a reason to make our time linger. So, when she offered to help me wash the dishes, even though I know we have a dishwasher, I purposely failed to mention it as it gave me an excuse to keep her here longer.

"If you could be anything you chose, what would it be?"

She asks me this like it's normal dish washing conversation. I wonder where she gets her ideas for conversation topics.

"My Dad has high hopes that I go Pro-ball. My Mom would probably love it if I did anything that required a doctorates degree but secretly hopes I'll become some collegiate professor, Harvard to be more precise."

"That's great, now I know what your Mom and Dad want...but what do YOU want?"

I paused mid rinse and realized I really didn't answer her question although I thought I had. I guess I just thought that was the plan. Try for Pro-ball and if I don't get it I get some sort of career involving a massive amount of education.

"Why do you ask?" I stalled.

"I ask because you are so much more than you seem. You act like you have it all together but you worry over every decision you make. You're cocky sometimes yet in certain areas come across unsure or I don't know..."

She backed off. Probably because she could tell I was feeling uncomfortable with the whole conversation. I chose to turn the tables on her. "Well, what are your plans? What do you want to do after graduation?"

"Honestly, I haven't thought that far ahead. I tend to take things one day at a time."

I was stunned for a moment as I handed her the last plate to dry and I put it away.

"You have zero plans for your life?"

"Is that so bad? No one knows what life holds in store. I just figure it makes little sense putting all that effort into something that can be taken away from you so easily."

"It's your life, Brynn. It needs your intervention or it's never going to go... anywhere."

Brynn shrugs and I want to shake her. I want to physically shake some sense into that head of hers. Has she given up?

"What DO you want, Brynn?"

She frowns, shrugs, and shakes her head as if to say, "Nothing."

I suddenly feel angered by her response although I know I have no right. It's her life but what the hell!

"Seriously, Brynn. You have zero wants."

"I wanted eggs and buttered toast," she says trying to lighten the mood and downplay the sudden tension in the room.

"Life is more than eggs and buttered toast!" I raise my voice and take the towel from her and throw it aside.

She looks confused and concerned. She obviously has no idea where my anger is coming from and truthfully I'm not sure either. It just burns me up inside that she has given up on having any hopes or dreams. It's like she has voided out anything that can cause her to truly feel. Her fear of loss has paralyzed her ability to try.

I take her into my arms. "It's time to start dreaming again, Brynn, because I have a few wants of my own, and whether you like it or not, you're very much a part of them."

She shakes her head at me in denial.

"Don't. Don't shake your head at me," I say gripping her arms. "Damn it, Brynn! You deserve to have whatever it is that you want. Any dreams you can think of to come true! You're amazing. You're beautiful. You're talented. You can do or be anything! Stop selling your self short because you're afraid!"

She pulls out of my grip. "What do you know?! You have everything I ever dreamed of. What I can never have...two parents that love you, who encourage you, who are a part of your life!"

She didn't pull her punches but neither did I. "That's great Brynn but one day even if you had those things you'd have to grow up and move on and create a life for yourself. Unless your plan was to spend the rest of your life living in your parent's basement? What do you want, Brynn? Name it! Say it out loud and it's yours."

She takes a step away from me. Like my offer scares her. She's still shaking her head, "I can't."

I take a step forward. "Why?"

"I can't. Please."

"Tell me!" I demanded.

"It hurts too much." Her eyes are filled with tears and I feel like an a-hole but I just can't let it drop. A part of me is desperate to make her see. Instead, I decide to show her. I gather her up in my arms, she doesn't resist. I just hold her while she cries.

"It doesn't have to hurt, Brynn," I whisper into her hair. "And even if it does, it's worth the risk."

"Did the math, did you?" she says, with a snort and a sniffle into my shirt.

I chuckle at her joke. Even now she tries to disarm me with her sarcasm.

"I have... and the probability of all the years you'd be missing this," I lean in and kiss her eyes, her nose, her forehead and then her lips. I kept her captive until I felt her yield and eventually surrender. I stop only to say, "Is worth the loss."

"You say that now."

"And I'll say it again." I kiss her again and I want her to feel what I'm feeling. I want her to trust what I'm offering her. I pick her up and sit her on the kitchen counter top so she's more at my level and I continue kissing her.

She doesn't fight, but I know she's only taking because it's being offered, but I want more. I want her to want what I'm offering, to want me.

"You mind telling me, what the hell is going on here?"

Brynn pulled back so fast that she hit her head on the cabinet door behind her. I cringe, as I knew that had to hurt.

I help her down from the counter and then turn to say, "Hey, Dad. You're home early."