The One Where The Lines Get Kinda Blurry

The One With David

He didn't think it was possible to feel so mad with her as he did right now. She took the call.  He knew it was kind of awkward with everyone being there and Court didn't give her much choice, but really?  She took the call, and not just took it, but arranged a date with another guy in front of him. And then she had the audacity to call him out for being unhappy about it when she herself had admitted to being jealous of a made-up girlfriend only a few hours earlier.  A made-up girlfriend that had been her stupid idea in the first place, and that was actually HER.

"Oh, so what you look like in front of everyone else is more important to you than my feelings now is it?  Well thanks for making that clear. And all the sneaking around and secrecy, is that my fault? How many times have I tried to warn you that this is too hard and we need to be careful?  And that doesn't mean that I don't want to be with you, but you are the one who begged me to sleep at yours when your car broke down, who wanted me to take you home after the wrap party. .....so you can't then go and throw it in my face about the secrecy and the lack of opportunity to go out together because you walked into this with the same open eyes as I did."

He had been so mad after that that he had barely said two words to her all night after that.  Thank God all his main scenes had been with Matty for that episode, fighting with two bullies which was a little ironic, so he didn't really have to interact with her on set.  He had left without saying goodbye and now here he was, less than twenty four hours later, slumped on his couch with another beer in his hand, drowning his sorrows as he checked his watch every few minutes, wondering what she was doing right now.  He had wanted to call her this morning.  He had wanted to tell her he was sorry, that he overreacted and that he was bang out of order and had acted like a child.  But he couldn't do that because one, his pride wouldn't let him, and two, he didn't actually feel he had much to apologise for.  She could have just hung up the call, or she could have said thanks but no thanks to his offer of a date, but she didn't and that hurt him to his core.

He wondered what she was going to wear.  She looked good in pretty much anything but there were a few special outfits he had seen her in and wow, she had almost made his eyes pop out.  The first night they had gone out together as a group of six for a few drinks and something to eat, she had turned up in a simple black t-shirt, fairly low cut, with burgundy red jeans and a black leather jacket.  She wore a chunky pendant around her neck and her dark hair with its blonde highlights was wavy and flowing around her face as it did so beautifully before she got that "Rachel" cut that neither of them were so fond of.  He'd had to make a real effort not to just sit and stare at her the entire night.  And then when they were in Vegas, the night he had got a little drunk and kissed her for the very first time in the hotel as they watched the sun rise together..... that night she had worn a black dress that clung to her in all the right places, accentuating her fantastic curves with a plunging neckline and a small slit at the side of her leg. He could remember now how good she felt in his arms, the smooth, silky fabric of that dress as his hands had gently caressed her back.  Oh God, he hoped she wouldn't wear either of those outfits for her date tonight.

Her date.  Her date with Tate.  If it wasn't so painful, he would be able to make some great jokes from that.  What kind of guy sends a message with a make-up artist to ask a girl out?  I mean, that was pretty lame right.  He was probably a small, weedy guy who still lived at home with his parents and drove a beat up old Volvo.  Only that was unfair, because he wasn't.  In fact, the girls had all said how wonderful this guy was, that he was cute and kind and clever and had a great sense of humour........ and he was available.  He was single and available for dates.  Dates that could take place in public, without the need for secrecy, or lies, or cover stories.  He was someone who she could talk about with her friends.  She could mention his name without fear of letting the cat out of the bag that this was not just her friend but someone she was deeply in love with.

And she did love him.  He knew she loved him with all her heart.  He could see it in her eyes, he could feel it in her touch.  The special glances they shared which conveyed so much with so little, a small hand gesture or body contact that told him exactly what and how she was feeling.  The way she trusted him completely and had sacrificed the chance of a normal relationship to be with him.  Out of anyone she could have picked, she had picked him.  Her heart had chosen his heart.  But at what cost?

He opened his sixth, or was it his seventh, bottle of beer.  He had lost count and he didn't care.  He looked at his watch again, 9.37pm.  Maybe she would be home by now.  Maybe he could give her a call and talk to her and tell her he was sorry, that he had acted immaturely and he understood.  Because despite everything he did understand.  He felt it too, the sadness at not being able to do anything that couples do.  He wanted to walk down the street hand in hand with her, not a care in the world. He wanted to take her to that special little Italian place that he loved where they could sit out on the terrace, eating pasta and drinking wine while the sun set over the hills behind them, before going home together, for the whole night and driving into work together the next morning where they could tell everyone about their wonderful evening...... together.

Five years.  That's how long they were contracted to this show.  Five years.  They had done around eighteen months already so that made it three and a half years left to go.  Three and a half more years of hiding, of secrecy, of no dates..... of watching over their shoulder at every twist and turn. Three and a half years in which they could and probably would get caught out if they carried on the way they were doing.  He was amazed they hadn't already.  What the hell was he thinking.  They couldn't do this.  He couldn't ask her to do this.  He was being selfish and he knew it. No matter how much he loved her, it was too hard.  He couldn't give her everything she deserved from a relationship.  What was that saying, 'if you love someone you have to let them go?' Well, it was time to let her go.  Let her go and find love with someone who was free to love her back and give her the life he couldn't.

He picked up his phone and dialled her number.  It was 10.23pm and she wasn't home.  He spoke with a slur into her machine.  "It's me. I'm sorry I didn't call. I love you. I love you so much it hurts, but I can't ask you to give up everything and put your life on hold to be with me.  So move on, find someone who you can love openly and normally. A normal guy, with a normal life.  I won't stand in your way."