Chapter 42: Mixed Metaphors (Part Two) Multimedia

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Penny looked up at the ceiling now, trying to keep the brimming tears from overflowing. "You should stick to your rules, David," she said with a sniff. "Rules are rules for a reason."

"No."

She nodded and swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. "It's like you just said..."

"What? What did I say? About the ants? 'Cause I was totally kidding about the ants."

"No. You said you made a bunch of rules so you wouldn't get attached to the wrong person," she shot back. "Well, I'm the wrong person."

"No." He turned toward her and put both hands on her shoulders, but she kept her eyes averted. "Look at me," he said.

"David, my life's a mess. You don't even know the half of it. I can't even apply to med school because my MCAT scores expired. And I was supposed to re-take it, but I couldn't find my pencils, and I had to cancel my score, and the web site won't let me reschedule because I don't have a credit card, and-"

She broke off with a sob. The tears had started running down her cheeks again. David reached an arm around her waist, and her body swayed awkwardly against him as she cried into his chest.

"It's OK," he said softly.

"Such a mess, David. That's not even all of it."

Somehow Penny's face had ended up back in the crook of his neck again. David ran a soothing hand up and down her back as he tried to compose his thoughts.

He understood her point. There was a reason he'd been fighting his feelings toward her for two years now. She was so young. Twenty-four. Her life was full of twenty-something problems. Just hearing her talk about it made his pulse start to quicken with anxiety. He'd always intended to wind up with someone more established - if not the same age, then at least at the same stage in life. That was the real reason for all the rules. And she knew it. She knew him better than anyone. How could he explain his change of heart to her, when he didn't fully understand it himself?

He leaned his face against her hair and inhaled, and the scent of it somehow calmed him. He was so tired, he suddenly realized. So tired. Exhausted. He wanted nothing more than to let his eyes drift closed. The inside of his lids felt sticky as he fought to keep them open. They should both sleep, he thought. They could finish this conversation in the morning.

Her face was still hidden, but he heard her gulp for breath as she struggled to control her tears.

"Shhhh," he whispered, stroking her back gently. "It's OK now. It's OK."

She must be exhausted too, he thought. She wouldn't try to fight him if he eased them both back down beneath the covers. He cast a longing look toward his bedside lamp. All he needed to do was reach out and flick it off....

But something stopped him. Some instinct told him that he couldn't leave the conversation there. He hadn't answered her questions - questions he'd been avoiding for two years now. He knew, somehow, if he tried to dodge them any longer, whatever they had between them wouldn't last the night.

No, he thought. No more dodging. No more running. He had explain it to her. Now. Tonight. But how? How could he find the right words now, when he could barely put together a coherent sentence?

"I don't know, Penny," he sighed against her hair. "Your life's a mess. My life's an empty desk drawer. I guess I'm just tired of being alone in here."

Penny's Desk Drawer

Penny's Desk Drawer

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