He feels a hand on his shoulder. Startled, he says, "Max, I'm sorry!" and snaps awake. He looks around and rubs his eyes.

His bodyguard says, "Hey, we're here." They leave the car and head to the studio makeup room, where the others are arriving.

The first to see him is Parker, who asks, "Hey, are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Falcon puts his hand on Parker's shoulder as he walks past him, "I have, I have."

"What?" Parker asks, but he has yet to get an answer as they are seated away from each other. Their stylists are working on their hair and makeup for tonight's televised interview for The Business Mogul. Falcon and his top people were given a special invitation to be on the show. Falcon and the others thought it would be fun, and his friend Parker loved the attention of getting made up for any event.

Parker leans over to look down the row of chairs at him but sits back when he notices Falcon has his eyes closed. So he continues flirting with the hair stylist, who rolls her eyes at him, causing him to giggle.

As his hair stylist works, Falcon drifts off. I never got to talk to La before she moved away. There is a wrong I need to make right. I tried to talk to her at school but felt so awful I chickened out. Falcon, eyes still closed, sighs. And then she was gone.

"Earth to Falcon." Max pokes his cheeks and says, "Hey, time to go. Stop your woolgathering."

"Sorry." He followed the others out for the interview.

Afterward, they went out to eat with the show's host and then headed back home. Falcon's mind was full of you and the past. He just wanted to go to sleep as soon as he was home. The others wanted to hang out and talk about the interview.

"Good night, guys. I'm turning in early tonight. Help yourself to the bar, stay as long you like." He tells them, ready to head toward his room.

Parker jumps up and goes to him, placing his hand on his shoulder and teasing him, "What? Right to bed alone with no lady to celebrate how great the interview went?"

Falcon tiredly shakes his head, mumbling, "No, not tonight."

"Are you doing okay?" Nathan, his press secretary, asks. "You've seemed distracted all day."

"You're not feeling ill, are you?" questions Tate as he places his palm on Falcon's forehead. "Hmm, no fever that I can tell."

Falcon pushes his hand away, "I'm just tired." He weakly laughs at their attention, hoping they will leave him alone.

"That's okay, but if you feel ill, let me know." Tate lightly scolds him, wagging his finger at him.

"Yes, of course. I will. Just clean up when you're done here. Goodnight." 

He goes to his room and quietly closes the door, staring at his bed. Will the thoughts of La even let me fall to sleep?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You had reached home exhausted. You ate a light snack, then showered and got ready for bed. You snuggle under the covers, but sleep eludes you. Instead, your mind is full of Aaron, whose memories keep you up most of the night.

You can never forget the innocent kisses you and Aaron shared, but those memories are memories. You punched your pillow, "Ugh! Stop thinking about him!" You shouted at your pillow as you punched it again. You flipped on your side and tried to sleep, but it was useless.

Falcon had the same problem with memories invading his mind, keeping him awake, tossing and turning. He finally jumped out of bed, frustrated, and poured a glass of wine. He sat there in the semi-dark, thinking, remembering. He poured himself a second glass, trying to figure out how to make things right.

He is on his third glass of wine and climbs back in bed after sitting the almost empty glass on the nightstand. Before he lies down, he reaches for it and finishes it off.

I have a chance to make things right. He regretted not talking to you that day to ask for your forgiveness. He was so ashamed he couldn't face you. He was relieved that you didn't share any classes. He hoped to build up his courage to speak to you, but when he didn't see you the following week, he found out you had moved away. His heart broke that day out of guilt and losing you.

I have to make it right. I have to! He thinks of ideas on how to apologize and explain what happened. I have to tell her how I feel about her.

His mind is now so drowsy from the wine that he finally falls asleep with the sudden realization that she's what's missing in his life.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day, you're at your computer when your assistant approaches you, "Here's your coffee. Do you need me to take this to the publisher?" she points at the stack of papers on the corner of your desk.

"No, it's ok. I will send it electronically."

She gasps in mock surprise, "You're not carrying your manuscript in this time? Is the world ending?"

She runs to look out the window to make sure the world is still there. You join her at the window, laughing, watching the people walking below, avoiding traffic as they cross streets to get to work.

"I know you have been harping on me to get with the times."

She interrupts you, "I don't harp."

You hug her. "Oh yes, you do, and I love you for it." And you both start laughing. "It keeps me on schedule. Besides, that is how my father and grandfather did it. It's like a family tradition carrying our manuscripts in."

You hear your phone buzzing on your desk and go to pick it up. You look at the number calling, don't recognize it, and put the phone back down. A few seconds later, your phone signals you received a text. You don't bother to read it. You have to get your manuscript out now, and you don't have time to read a text from an unknown person. It's probably spam, anyway.