The next morning I was hopped up on the three cups of coffee I'd used to compensate for my lack of sleep. Of course the caffeine only fueled the racing thoughts that had kept me awake most of the night. It was a vicious circle type of day and my brain was distracted, to say the least. While replacing returned items to the shelves, I rapidly maneuvered a merchandise cart around the corner from aisle twelve to thirteen, and nearly collided into the source of my anxiety.

Kyle jumped aside with a growl, proving the feeling of agitation was mutual. "You're gonna kill someone with that thing," he grumbled as he returned to counting the inventory on his clipboard list.

He'd told me last night that he was switching back to days, but I wasn't expecting to see him so soon. Certainly not the morning after his opening night. My guess was that he was hungover and probably tired from... well from whatever he and Felicity ended up doing after I got out of that drive-share.

Parking the cart beside him, I softly said, "Sorry."

He didn't stop working or even so much as look at me, so I cleared my throat. "I just wanted to say again, that you were really great last night." My voice sounded odd to me - strangled and small. Nothing like the genuine praise I meant it to be. A far cry from the usual chipper compliments I dole out daily to customers. 

"Thanks." His eyes remained on the shelves in front of him.

"After I got home, I was thinking."

"Novel activity for you?" One corner of his mouth quirked up.

"Haha. I meant I was thinking about you...um... a-a-about your performance..." I stuttered.

That made him stop counting. He looked at me.

"So you were lying in bed, thinking about me and my performance." He placed extra emphasis on the word performance. One of his eyebrows lifted salaciously.

"I didn't say I was in bed." I sighed, exasperated by his toying with me.

"Given how late it was when we dropped you off, I just assumed the logical place would be in bed. Unless you were in the shower?" Now both of his eyebrows were sky high.

If we were friends maybe I'd have playfully nudged his arm or bumped his shoulder. But we weren't, so I kept my hands to myself. I pulled a box from my cart and held it in front of me, like a shield.

"You should apply to Juilliard, or NYU," I blurted.

He stopped counting and leaned against the shelf, placing his full attention on me. "Am I so unbearable to be around? Last night you wanted me to quit my job. Now you want to pack me off to New York?"

"That's not it at all. I know you don't want to be my friend."

His mouth opened but I held up one hand to stop him from interrupting while I plowed on through the speech I had mentally prepared.

"So maybe it's not my place to offer any advice. But we don't have to be friends for me to see how truly talented you are. And when you came out for your curtain call, you looked... you looked..." I pushed some hair behind my ear. My face felt flush and I wished we were on the ceiling fan aisle instead of by the lamps.

"How did I look?" His relaxed posture didn't change.

I felt like a coiled spring before I squeaked out the word. "Real."

Kyle snorted. "Real? Do you think I'm a fake person?" He stood up straighter, and looked down at me expectantly. Then he added, "I'm not the person here who wanted to hide the fact that we'd gone on a date."

My eyes met his for just a moment before I averted them to the box in my hands again. My neck prickled, sensing his attention on me. It bothered me how much my body responded to his proximity.

Weighing my words as I lifted the item to its spot on the shelf, I said, "I'd call you guarded. I don't think you let a lot of people see past your defenses."

"But you do?" His voice sounded incredulous.

I turned and met his narrowed gaze. "In that moment when you were on stage taking your bow, I believe I caught a glimpse."

"While I was wearing a costume and had just pretended to be someone else, you saw..." He used finger quotes. "...the real me."

I nodded at his now smirking face.

"And what did the real me look like?"

"Peaceful."

Kyle's eyes widened for a split second and his lips parted like he wanted to say something, but he remained silent. The space between us felt enormous. I needed to bridge it. Stepping closer to him, I explained. "You looked like you've found where you truly want to be. It's obvious you don't want to be here." I waved one hand around like a Homey-O-Station spokesmodel.

He lowered his voice. "Here at work, or here with you?" He tapped his pen on his clipboard.

"Either. Both." I laughed.

"You don't have the faintest clue what I want." He grimaced.

"Because you don't want to talk to me about what you want." My hands went on my hips.

He scoffed. "No. I don't need you psychoanalyzing me. Thank you very much."

A feeling of defeat sunk into my gut. I dropped my arms to my sides, and said, "You've already made it more than clear that you don't need me."

"You've caught a glimpse of the real me, and it's clear to you what I want and need. Got it." He stared down at me.

My stomach dropped further, and with it my eyes. "Just forget it. Forget I said anything. I'll walk away and we can go back to ignoring each other forever." I turned, placed my hands on my cart, and started to move down the aisle.

Then his voice called out to me, "Do you want to be here?"

I stopped walking and faced him again. "This isn't about me."

"It seems to never be about you." He started counting the inventory on his checklist again.

I took a deep breath before I said, "When you grow up like I did, you very quickly learn that the world doesn't revolve around you. I've adjusted accordingly."

"Stop avoiding the question. Do you want to be here?" he asked again, while still counting.

"I want to be..." I took a second to pull my thoughts together into something that I could hopefully articulate to a man who was barely paying me any mind.

"It's not any one place specifically that I want to be. I want a career that will let me help kids like me. And that will give me the stability to have a family of my own one day. Then wherever my family is, that's where I'll want to be."

Kyle made a pen mark on his paperwork, and I wondered if he'd heard me, or if one of the most true and vulnerable things I've said to someone else in a long time had been wasted breath. But then he tucked the clipboard under his arm, and said, "So there's nothing holding you here then."

"Well Barb is the closest thing I've ever had to a family. She's here."

"But I bet she'd want to see you follow your dreams." He stepped towards me.

"Of course she does." Now it was my turn to grimace at him. I wasn't sure where this conversation was going anymore.

He stepped closer still. "Then I'll make a deal with you. I'll apply if you'll apply."

"To Juilliard?" I chuckled nervously.

"No. To NYU. I'll apply to for Acting, if you apply for a Masters in Social Work."

"You're crazy. Even if I got in, I could never  afford NYU." I shuffled my feet, resisting the urge to step away from the challenge.

"Worry about that later. I'll even pay for your application fee." He stuck his hand out, waiting for a handshake of agreement.

I shook my head instead. "This won't... I don't... I'm not..."

"Wow! That's a lot of negatives coming from Miss Positivity." His hand still hovered in the air between us.

Damn it!

"Fine." I reached out and grasped his hand, giving it a firm shake. "You've got a deal!"