I really have business messing with the story right now. I am knee deep in NaNo 07 and should be concentrating on that, but Tim and Julie will not leave me alone for which I fully blame Pamie884 and her tremendous story 'Your Hand in Mine' so I present to you my Tim/Julie series I started after watching I guess it was the second ep of this season. This was really born out of a frustration that certain characters were just acting psychotic well this was born. Would love to hear what you say, I own nothing and mean no harm, so please enjoy.

"Rough night."

More sniffing. He hadn't expected an answer. Not really. He could count on one hand all the times he had talked to Julie Taylor.

Finding her, of all people outside, had been surprising, perhaps it was the shock of it or the fact that he originally made his way over there to introduce himself far more intimately, becasue the blond silhoutette had been nice in all the right places, but he had found himself, Tim Riggins, asking if everything was alright.

Hell, it was the Coach's daughter; he was obligated to see after her well being.

The ride home, although admittedly inconvenient, had been a no-brainer when, between a few sobs and a gold curtain of hair, she had revealed she was alone and going to have to call her Dad.

Calling Coach Taylor that late to come to that address was not a fate he wished on anyone. Well almost anyone.

If he cared, and really he didn't, he'd ask where Saracen was, or why she happened to be at that bar, wearing that top, when that band was playing.

"I'm so stupid."

The Coach's daughter had pain in her voice. Seemed someone's heart had been broken or at the very least hope's had been dashed. The looks she'd been sending the Swede all summer had gone unnoticed, by Saracen at least, but not by him.

While he certainly acted like he didn't care, which he didn't, he saw and heard most of what went on around him, even if people thought otherwise. Hell that worked better for him. He learned, he remembered, but he was left out of the emotional entanglements.

Tonight it seemed the looks had turned into an attempt, one that was, given the sniffles that were continuing to break up the silence between them, rejected.

The kid had balls though. Most girls with a Dad like the Coach and a boyfriend as known as Saracen would never have taken such a chance, such a risk, when so much could go wrong.

"You had to try."

Immediately all of the air was sucked from the cab of his truck. He wasn't sure what had prompted him to speak to say that of all things, but he had never been one for thinking things through too carefully.

Obviously the girl was too mortified to speak, there was some gasping and some maybe, choking, and he really hoped not, but he couldn't be too sure, and now was the time to shut up.

But they were pulling onto her street and he was pulling the truck to the curb, a discreet four houses away from hers, because, while he was not a pussy, he so didn't want to answer any of those questions.

And he just couldn't leave it alone.

Turning towards her, noting the white-knuckle grips she had on the door handle, he briefly hoped that panic was due to the situation and not him, he cleared his throat

Nothing; and while she didn't move, she didn't turn back towards him, and damn if he hated being ignored. Pushing his luck, really, really pushing his luck, he reached forward and finally pushed away the fall of hair covering her face.

Cheeks flushed, eyes wet, she looked like every girl did when they cried, like nothing would ever be right in their world again, and shit he was not as immune to that as he would have liked to be.

Little Julie Taylor was staring at him, bottom lip caught between perfectly white teeth, and he for one insane moment, considered things he had no business considering with the Coach's daughter.

Thankfully she found that exact moment to well give thanks.

"Thanks for the ride. And you know."

And boy did he, whatever the hell had just happened here was something that had no real name.

"Yeah, well, it's Friday night. Come Monday this will all be a memory."

Most Fridays were. For him at least, they were a blur of adrenaline and hormones. But he wasn't so sure that everything would be forgotten on Monday, not for him and certainly not for her.

She wasn't ignoring him now, in fact she staring at him, really and truly staring, seeing, looking, and he fought the annoying urge to shift in his seat. He was used to the stares, he was a damn good-looking guy and why shouldn't the females look. Except this wasn't any other girl it was her and he wasn't sure if she should be looking at him like that, and then he realized that maybe, just maybe her look was seeing something else and very suddenly that sounded much, much worse.

Yeah so he was a pussy, his eyes broke away first, crudely dropping down to her cleavage.

It may have been an asshole move, but it worked, she huffed, predictably. The hinges on the door creaked as she pushed it open.

She was leaving and this interlude would be over.

"Thanks again for the ride."

Her voice was strong, controlled, and he had never noticed just how cool it was, frosty Julie Taylor. Interesting

Their eyes locked through the open window.

"Night."

He couldn't help the wink, didn't mind the blush, and enjoyed the view as she made her way to the front door.

A Friday night to remember.