"There she is," Tim's unhindered boom echoed through the kitchen.

"Timmy, you're here early. I'm touched." The surprise of his presence shook me, causing me to glance at the stove clock, fearing that perhaps I had fallen back asleep. The harsh green lights blared 8:36 am.

"He comes for the food," Mary teased in a warm motherly tone.

"I come for the company; I stay for the food," Tim protested.

"Well, it looks like you've had a lot of company," I teased as I tapped his expanding waistline.

"Wow, leading with a fat joke," Tim glowered before continuing to eat.

"I'd feel bad if you hadn't just shoved an entire pancake in your mouth." I stole a strawberry from his plate as I spoke.

"It was bite-size," he shrugged.

"Oh honey, a pancake the size of my hand is not bite-sized," Mary teased.

"Careful, we may need to bring back the Billy-goat nickname," I cautioned with a smile.

"You eat one napkin, and no one lets you forget it," Tim shook his head. "So, how's our lovesick boy?"

Mary shrugged, "still asleep."

"Wait? Billy?" I looked between their faces.

Mary and Tim exchanged loaded looks.

"What happened?" I pressed.

"Billy picked you up last night, right?" The confusion caused the creases between Tim's eyes to form a severe V.

"Yeah, but I fell asleep on the way here. It was late," I didn't know why I felt the urge to defend myself.

"Why don't you bring him some coffee?" Mary's voice was falsely even.

"Is he that upset that Ella had to work?" I continued to look between Tim's and Mary's faces.

"Oh, shit; this is Tess," Tim looked down at his clearly dark phone.

"It's not ringing..." But he cut me off with a finger and paced away, pretending to take a call.

"Coward," Mary called after him.

"Mary, what's going on?" I pleaded.

"Nothing, go bring Billy some coffee. You're the only one that can wake him without riling the monster in him." She slid a cup of coffee across the island to me.

I gave her a long look to assess if I'd get anything else out of her, but I got my answer when she turned back to the stovetop.

It was easy to creep around the new house. It didn't have the moans of an old house; it lacked the scars of life. I climbed the stairs in silence. My soft knock echoed off his door. After a few moments without an answer, I pushed open the door to see him sprawled across his bed.

It was apparent he hadn't comfortably rested. The sheets were twisted and knotted around his torso, and pillows were askew. But at that moment, he had found something close to peace. His face was serene, and his lips were slightly parted. They puffed with every exhale. His eyelashes fluttered as his eyes twitched in a dream. I should have left, backed away slowly, and let him sleep, but I was frozen watching him. His chest rose and fell in a consistent, soothing manner. Only minor ticks sent sparks of electricity coursing through his muscles, rippling from his neck down his arms and torso. A warm sensation began to fill me as my eyes moved over the dark hair peppering his chest.

Only his lips snapping shut and the gulp bobbing his Adam's apple tugged my eyes back to his face. His lashes were fluttering open as the smell of the coffee stole the quiet moment from me.

"Lil?" His voice came out in a broken crack as he stretched the twitches of sleep from his body.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

"No, come in," his voice was still rough from sleep.

I move towards him and set the coffee down on the nightstand as he shifted up, propping himself against the pillow. The sheet fell further down his torso, drawing my attention.

"Sorry," he murmured as he pulled it back up again.

His acknowledgment of my gaze caused a flush to sting my face.

"Can you grab my jeans?" He nodded to the chair by the fireplace where his jeans were slung.

I tossed them to him and pretended to be captivated by the lake outside. It was a transparent myth that I was sure he could see through as he pulled on his pants.

"Did you get any sleep at all?" His voice was starting to even as the day began to fill him.

"A little," I turned back, relieved that he was wearing jeans but still drawn to his bare chest.

"You must not have gotten that much," he surmised almost to himself.

I gave him a silent head cock as I slumped down to the farthest corner of the bed from him.

"You brought me coffee instead of tea," he held up the mug as an acknowledgment.

"Oh, Mary sent it up, err, your mom," I corrected.

He smiled to himself. "I like that you call my mom Mary. It's familiar like you're old friends." He took another long sip. "Do you stay in touch?"

"Mmhmm, we usually call one another every month or so. I'm embarrassed to admit she has more of a life than me, so she does most of the talking."

"Yeah, she has more of a life than me as well," he agreed.

"Billy..." I wanted to ask, but I couldn't muster her name.

He scanned my face and acknowledged the question I intended before I got it out. "Tim here?" He shot.

"Yeah," my affirmation came out as an apology.

The silence hung heavy between us. Billy's muscles ripple up his arm as he raised the mug for another sip before setting it down and slightly shifting his body to give me his full attention. It made me feel small but also was pulling me to him. His gravity was nearly impossible to resist.

"What happened with Ella?"

He heavily sighed. "We broke up."

"Because she couldn't come for a visit?"

He let out a quick laugh. "No, because we don't know each other, and with our schedules, we never will."

"I'm sorry, Billy."

"What are you sorry for; that El and I broke up or that you came to visit?"

I took a heavy breath, "yeah, and that I woke you up."

He reached his bear paw hands out to me so quickly that I couldn't dodge them. "That's the true crime here." His voice came with jest as he pulled me to him. "I promise I won't bite." He added as he tucked me into his side, "unless you ask really nicely."

His tease sent a surge through me that, while pleasurable, was not wanted at the moment. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath of his musk. As I exhaled, I melted into his side.

"See, was that so hard?" He kissed the top of my head as I nestled in further.

I'd allow myself the briefest of moments on his chest, let my hand course over it only once, grant myself the most fleeting moment tucked into his neck, breathing in his scent; ah, the best-laid plans. It was an intoxication I thought I could resist, but I couldn't remember the reason for resistance once it surrounded me.

"Billy," passed my lips as I painfully push the last air from my lungs.

He pulled me up as I knew he would. He'd need to see my face and scan it for all the emotions running through my head and heart. But with his need also came the severing of the moment. I could breathe again.

"Why am I here?"

"I should've told you," he agreed.

"Yes, but why am I here?"

"Lil, please don't give up on me." His words came as a desperate plea. "We can be friends."

"Can we? Because right now..." I pushed off his chest further, so I was sitting up.

Even as I pulled myself away from him, my fingertips clung to his skin, rolling over the contours of his ribs.

"I left her."

My head spun from his shotgun confession.

"I couldn't do it. I couldn't move on yet, not from you," he continued. "Not yot."

"Billy..."

"This is bigger than..." His words dropped out. "You're a part of me."

"We need to build a friendship. I'm willing to fight for us."

"I'm willing to fight too, but..."

"Billy, will you fight for a friendship?"

He looked at me with the war raging in his mind. He wanted to deny me this request. Billy Collins was trying desperately to do the one thing he had always vowed against, say no to me.

"Fight me; say no to me," he pleaded. His hand came deliberately, not the bear paw swing that would sweep me up with careless ease. "You're going to have to save us from me. I'm not strong enough."

His hand slowly slid into mine. I watched my tiny hand become entwined in his. The rough skin of his thumb swept softly across the back of my hand. Then again, it glided, but this time with more pressure. His fingers became tighter around mine. We were in a chess match of physical and emotional moves. Both of us moved slowly plotting our next three steps.

"It won't end where you want." I didn't recognize my voice. It was low and confident.

"You'll hurt me?"

Neither of us tipped our faces up from the bow to our hands, but our eyes flicked to each other.

"I will," I confirmed.

Billy opened his mouth, but he stalled.

"Please, Billy, fight for our friendship."

His lips pursed as he scanned my pleading face. "I'm not afraid of being hurt," he admitted. Still, he pulled on my hand. It wasn't a tug of intent; it was a declaration. It tore my breath from my chest. 

"Billy..." I wanted to stop it. It was a cycle, and I knew where it would end.

"I'll never do anything to hurt you," he added.

"This hurts me." I watched the verbal blow strike his face. 

"Forgive me, and please just say yes to today."  His eyes were full of pleading, of need. It wasn't the dangerous burning hunger of lust; it was the delicate warmth of innocent love. "Don't say no."

"Today?"

"Today. Say yes today, and I'll ask again tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day, and the next day..." he let his words trail off.

"Give you today?"

"I see the fight in you, Lil. I see what you want in there. I see me in there. Give in today. Let yourself go."

My mind whirled about the enticing offer, but it was silly. That's not how the world worked. "Repercussions," I managed.

"Today. I accept the repercussions."

"Today," my voice was flat. I neither agreed nor disagreed, but Billy could sense the melting of my resolve.

"Today." He lifted our entwined hands, letting the back of mine skim across his lips.

I sighed heavily. "Today."

"What's the worse that could happen?" He gave a playful shrug as though we weren't nailing the coffin of our friendship. He heaved himself up, carelessly pulling his hand from mine. "I'll see you downstairs; I gotta shower."

And he was gone. I sat on the bed for a moment. The water started to run from the bathroom, and the familiar clang of objects crashing to the ground pierced through the steady rush of water. He was juggling or attempting it. It was as though he'd just been discussing a grocery list, not a poorly conceived plan rooted in slim hope versus harsh reality.