Carly's success was short-lived: Emily's car was soon fixed, and she was over almost every day again.

Spencer told his little sister that he was planning a weekend getaway up the coastline, during which he would propose. He'd patted for her to sit next to him on the couch, and unloaded it on her, after she came home from hanging out at Sam's.

It was late and dark.

And stormy.

"You're just going to leave me here?" Carly cried. "Home alone!" With the current weather and hour, it seemed a particularly troubling proposition, even though the weekend in question wasn't for a couple of weeks.

"You're 17. It's a little old for a babysitter," he argued.

"But this is the city! It's dangerous." She remembered the cold horror of the night she had only almostspent without him home.

"There have only been two crimes in this building: my nemesis Chuck stealing TV remotes, and your boyfriend who 'borrowed' my motorcycle. It's a safe neighborhood. But I figured you'd have Sam stay with you anyway. We both know Sam could take down a Colombian street gang with only a watermelon and a wide-toothed comb."

"But-"

"If you're so worried, I suppose I could ask Mrs. Benson to come stay with-"

"NO. No. That's all right. I'll be fine."

Carly could recognize when she had lost the battle. "You're finally going to propose," she despaired. He'd already postponed twice, so she'd nurtured a spark of hope it would never happen.

He nodded soberly. "Do you remember what you told me about Mary?"

She furrowed her eyebrows. "Socko's girlfriend Mary?"

"Yeah. You told me that it takes time to get used to someone new."

"You remember that?"

"Of course. I always listen to your advice, Carly. You should listen to it, too: Emily's still new. You just need some time to get used to her."

Carly shook her head fervently. "No, I don't. It won't work. It's not the same. That's not -" She didn't finish. She couldn't say: "That's not the problem."

"Talk to me, Carly," he pleaded. "Why won't you talk to me?"

"Do you really love her, Spencer? True love?" Carly asked.

"I'm 31, Carly," he replied, shaking his head. "I don't believe in true love anymore – I'm too old for that, and too old to keep playing around."

"What the hell does that mean?" Carly raged, leaping to her feet. She picked up a magazine off the coffee table, rolled it up, and gave him a few beatings before launching it savagely away. "You've never done what everyone else was doing just because everyone else was doing it. You're different, and you've never been ashamed of that. You've always done things your own way." Tears stung in her eyes. "You've never been afraid of what anyone else thought of you. And you've never compromised yourself. You don't even know how to. At least you never used to."

The last line had hurt him, and she was glad it was cutting through.

"You think I've changed."

"I think everything has changed," she responded angrily, crossing her arms. "And I didn't want anything to change, ever. I was never going to apply to San Francisco University, Spencer. Iwould never leave you." She turned her head away, and wiped the tears off on the upper arm of her shirt. "I need to go for a walk."

She stormed over to the elevator and took it down.

He ran for the front door, hoping to intercept her in the lobby, but Emily was standing there.

"Hey, come on in. I'll be right back," he explained spuriously, already leaving her behind.

"Wait," Emily ordered, almost apologetically.

He could tell something was up from her tone. He made his way back to the front door, and then followed her in and sat down on the couch.

"You're breaking up with me, aren't you?" he deduced before she had even said anything. Spencer had been with a lot of girls – he knew that face. "Why?"

"I heard your message, Spencer. About the trip. It sounds wonderful, but…Well, it got me thinking." She pursed her lips. "I got into a serious relationship with you without even noticing it. We were good together, and then all of the sudden we were together all the time, and I just never thought too much about what we had. And now you want to go on this trip, and you probably weren't going to propose, or anything, but I was thinking, 'What if he did?', and I had to think about what I would say, and what I wanted. And how I felt about you, and how you felt about me. And then I realized: I need to be with a guy who's going to be put me first. It's wrong of me to want to come between you and Carly. But I need to be with someone who's going to put me first, and you never will." Emily shrugged sadly. "She hates me. I mean really hates me. She's gone completely queen-of-the-jungle, alpha-female on me, and I don't think you even really noticed because you think she hung the moon, and I get the sense that she's not usually like that. But I'm tired of competing with her."

Spencer's expression was unreadable as he listened. It turned pensive as she finished.

"And Sam threatened my life if I didn't leave you. She scares me a little, so I'm not going to lie: it was a factor. Don't tell her I told you."

Spencer frowned. "You've felt like you were in competition with Carly?"

"I was in competition with her, Spencer. She doesn't want let you go. I don't blame her: you're a good big brother, and she doesn't have anyone else." Emily stood. "You're not even thinking about me, are you? You're thinking about Carly. I'm breaking up with you, and you're not even thinking about me. You're not going to fight for us: I can see it in your eyes."

/

When Carly rounded the corner, Spencer was right there. She almost bumped into his chest. It was dark, and he was darkly dressed.

It was late, and she hadn't wanted to stray too far from the building, so she had already circled the block a few times. He must have seen: he was waiting for her. He was grinning like it was some joke, but she didn't feel better yet.

Her arms were crossed, but it wasn't keeping her warm, not when she was soaked from the rain and only getting wetter by the second.

"I'm still walking," she said petulantly, trying to push past him.

He stepped to the side and blocked her way, then took off his jacket and put it over her shoulders. "Enough of this. I'm worried about you." Wrapping his arm around her and placing his hand on the small of her back underneath the jacket, he pulled her under the awning of a closed sidewalk café. The streets were well-lit but deserted, and all of the businesses were closed. Every now and then a car went by, but that was the extent of the activity.

"I'm fine. I just want to finish my walk. I'm thinking. I need to think."

He hadn't removed his hand. She felt its warmth through her damp blouse.

"Here's something else for you to think about: Emily just dumped me."

"What?"

"She came up to apartment, and told me it was over, and left."

"In the last 15 minutes?"

He shrugged, dropping his hand from her. "Yep."

"You seem OK."

"It hurts. But I am OK." He shrugged again.

Carly pressed her lips tightly together, and moved her head around tormentedly. "It's my fault," she finally confessed. "I was trying to get rid of her."

"I know. She told me."

"What?" Carly gasped. She hung her head in shame. "I'll go apologize. I'll make it better, I promise." She grabbed his wrist. It was slick with rain. "I'm so sorry, Spencer. I'll fix it."

"It's OK, Carly. I want you to forget about it. Although you probably shouldn't have sicced Sam on her."

Carly put her palm to her face. "Oh God, what did she do?"

"Nothing too bad, actually. Still illegal, though."

Carly laughed sheepishly. "You're not mad?"

He lifted his arms in another shrug. "Maybe I should be. But I'm not. I'm…" He didn't finish.

She was too embarrassed to look at him, but he put a finger under her chin and raised her eyes to his. "You really weren't going to apply to that college in San Francisco?"

She shook her head. "No way. I'm not leaving Seattle. Not without you. I don't even want to move out."

The rain picked up a little, giving her an excuse to step closer to him to get away from its splashing.

"Maybe I was never going to propose," he mused.

"You bought the ring," she reminded him.

"I made three copies of the receipt," he admitted with a lopsided smile.

She smiled at that. "I was so afraid of losing you," she whispered. "I couldn't stand the thought of it. I can't believe what it turned me into. I'm so ashamed."

"That was never going to happen," he insisted, offended she might think he would cast her aside. "You were never going to lose me. I'm your big brother."

"You don't understand!"

"What don't I understand?"

She sighed frustratedly. "You thought you could have a wife, and a me. But you can't." She shook her head vigorously, furiously. "You just can't." Now that she wasn't moving, the cold was getting to her more. Carly stepped closer to him again, her body involuntarily gravitating towards his warmth. "I didn't want to share. I couldn't share you. You were losing me but it didn't stop you."

The censure and betrayal in her eyes winded him.

Spencer leaned over to be at eye-level, and brushed her dripping hair out of her face. "I thought I was losing you anyway. You're almost 18. Not a kid anymore."

"No," she agreed softly.

"It's gotta end some time."

"Does it?" she asked breathily. "Why? For you and me - why?"

He didn't answer.

He was on the precipice…But he clung to it.

"I was selfish," Carly began, "but sometimes when you really want something, you have to fight for it." She threw her arms around his neck and planted a full kiss on his lips.

He responded to her even more quickly and more aggressively than she had hoped for - encircling her with his arms, drawing her up against him hungrily, and parting his lips. She could feel his better judgment kick-in a few seconds later, but she friskily kissed right on through his attempt to pull away and he gave in once again. He had straightened his back, but even as tall as he was he had only to bend his neck down for their lips to meet.

When he finally did pull away, they were both panting.

The kiss had made her bold, and she wasn't afraid to lift her eyes to his. He had backed out into the rain, and was scanning the street for any witnesses. There was no one around: it was Seattle – not New York. He looked scared, but not disgusted, which she considered encouraging. She clambered up onto one of the café chairs and playfully beckoned him to come back to her with one finger.

He glanced warily around again, wiping the pouring rain out of his eyes, still breathing heavily. The he nodded obediently and ran back to her, sweeping her into his arms and crushing his lips against hers with zeal.

He thought, for some reason, that kissing her again now would be less bad than if it were to happen later. It was all very, very bad. But now would be less bad, before he had time to think. Before he had time to put distance between them.

He knew he couldn't kiss her again after this. He couldn't. So he savored every second of it, stretching her bottom lip out as he tried to take it away with him.

She laughed breathlessly and pressed her forehead against his.

But then he backed up slowly. "I need to, uh…I need to walk. I need to think and I need to walk." He pointed down the sidewalk, and began moving that way. "You should go home."

"You should take the coat!" she offered, beginning to remove it.

"No, no. I'm really notcold."

Carly suppressed her worry, and climbed carefully down off the metal chair.

When she entered the lobby, Lewbert yelled at her that she was dripping on his floor, but she dazily ignored him, a wide smile on her face.

Spencer didn't come back for two hours. Carly had already showered, put on pajamas, and fallen asleep in front of the television while watching a show that she had been so unable to pay attention to that she couldn't even remember what it was.

He kept his distance from her, waking her with his voice, and remaining in the corner of the room, in the shadows.

"We need to talk."

Inhaling deep, she sat up and relaxed against one of the side couch cushions, facing him. "I'm scared too, Spencer, but-"

"This can't happen."

"It already happened," she argued, sitting up straight.

"Nothing more can happen," he stated firmly. "I'm your guardian."

"I'm almost 18, Spencer, and it's about five years too late to start playing that card because we both know I've been the adult often enough between us."

"If Dad-"

"I love Dad, but a phone call every few weeks doesn't give him the right to come here and tell us what to do. I'm not a kid anymore. Neither are you." When she stood and began advancing on him, he retreated nervously towards the wall. "We've done just fine without him."

"Apparently not," Spencer pointed out, a slight hysteria leaking into his tone. "Look at us!" He put his hand to his head in distress. "Oh God."

She bit her lip. "Stop worrying about what everyone else will feel. What do youfeel?"

"I don't want this, Carly."

"You kissed me back," she reminded him confidently, taking another step towards him.

"I forgot who you were." He hit the wall.

"You forgot nothing," she rejoined with fierce eyes. "Don't be a coward. Do you have anyidea what I've been going through?" She had gotten this far – she wasn't letting go now.

He slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor, and rested his forehead on his bent knee. "I need to send you away. Or I'll go. We can't be together. We're only hurting each other."

She slapped him – for show only, lightly but loudly. "That sounds like an orthodox solution for uptight, orthodox, boring people. I'm not going anywhere and neither are you." She dropped down into his lap, coiling her legs around him, but more for lack of anywhere else to put them than anything else.

There was nowhere for him to escape to, though he still tried to shy away.

She took his arm and hugged it comfortingly. "I'm scared too, Spencer. But like I said, 'sometimes when you really want something, you have to fight for it', and I'm going to fight. This is worth fighting for."

She placed the palm of his hand over her breast. He tried to retract it, but she held it firmly in place. Her red, lacy camisole was the sexiest nightwear she had. She'd been washing it by hand because she had been wearing it every night, just waiting for it to pay off.

Then she slipped his hand up over the neckline of the tanktop and down underneath it, forcing his hand onto her bare breast.

"Carly," he cried, tugging feebly at his hand to pull it away.

"It's OK, Spencer. I'm not a little girl anymore. You know that."

He slid his thumb over her nipple, staring mesmerized at the movement underneath the cover of her shirt, and she inhaled sharply as it went erect.

He ripped his hand away, and tumbled her gently onto the floor as he rose to his feet. "I'm very tired. I'm going to bed. Uh, alone. Very much, very much alone." He held up two hands to her, like one made a "stay" command at a dog, and then ran off to his bedroom.

Carly chewed on her lip thoughtfully, and then retired to her bedroom for the night.

/

Spencer was already awake when Carly got up for the day. He had made breakfast.

She was afraid of what he would have to say. The biscuits he'd made from scratch were definitely born of some intense guilt, but the omelets and melon balls could have just been the product of a hungry and restless hand. He kept his back to her as she came to sit down at the table, and his "Hello, Kiddo" had definitely sounded strained.

Was he going to try and pretend like nothing had happened?

She waited, and let him do things the way he wanted to.

A few minutes later, after she had poured herself a glass of juice and snacked on some bacon, he set down the omelet in front of her. The entire top of it was covered in melted cheese.

"I got distracted while grating," he informed her, when he saw her face.

She nodded. "I see."

"Have your biscuit first," he ordered, sitting down across from her. "They just came out of the oven." He had put one on her plate.

"But the omelet will-"

"Eat the biscuit first," he repeated insistently.

"OK, OK. I'll eat a biscuit first."

She bit down on something hard. "You didn't use the flour from the pantry, did you?" she inquired, concerned. It had spilled down in the parking lot, but Spencer had wanted to keep it for a project. He had yet to do that project. It had been three years.

But when she pulled the alleged pebble from her mouth, she saw only an engagement ring, covered in saliva-soaked biscuit.

Her jaw dropped. "What?"

"I'm not proposing marriage," he assured her. "Dad's not the only one that wouldn't fly with. But I figured, if I'm going to give a ring to someone, it ought to be you."

She smiled unsurely, sucking the ring clean. "You mean that?"

"Yes." He scratched his head. "What you said last night – you were right. I think. I don't know. I'm supposed to be the one knows what's right and wrong. But I don't anymore. I just know what I want."

"You want me?" she asked quietly, her heart in her throat.

He nodded. Intensely. Resolutely. "I want you."

His gaze was making her blush. "Putting the ring in the biscuit was almost as cheesy as my omelet, here," she teased, relieving the tension. It was too much tension for breakfast.

He flung a melon ball at her with his spoon. "My idea was awesome and romantic." He seemed to think better of the second adjective after it had already been spoken.

"You're lucky I'm always in the mood for something cheesy."

"Oh no!"

"What?" Carly jumped.

"The omelets. They're getting cold. I worked so hard!" he moaned.

She laughed and began eating hers. "It's delicious. And still very warm. And very-"

"Not another word about the cheese content," he warned.

"So, what is this?" she questioned seriously, with her mouth full.

"Egg, onion, green pepper, and cheese, mostly."

She rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean."

He took a deep breath. "I think you should take the ring, and we should do what we want – though maybe not tell everyone about it – and see where that takes us." He waited nervously for her response.

"I think you should take the ring back, and buy a jet ski. The rest sounds perfect."

"Really?" he checked, excited.

Carly nodded.

"You're gonna love it. We can take it out in the sound. They have the one I want in black, and red, and yellow, and blue, and-"

"Eat your omelet!" she commanded.

/

They did the dishes together.

Spencer stopped her as she was about to leave the kitchen, and pinned her against the counter. "I'm too old for you."

"You're not any older than you were yesterday, or a few days ago. It didn't seem to matter then," Carly pointed out.

"But everything has changed. You didn't want anything to change," he reminded her, troubled.

She boosted herself up onto the counter, and wreathed her arms around his neck. "Sometimes a little change is a good thing." She brought her lips to his, and kissed him lightly. "Don't you agree?" She grinned.

He uttered a thinking noise, and then kissed her more heartily. "Hmmm…" He kissed her again. Carly began to giggle. Spencer kissed her once more, just to be sure. "After careful testing and deliberation, I have to say I agree."

It was only seconds after Carly had swiveled away and jumped off the counter that Sam barreled in.

"Sam didn't knock. What a surprise!" Spencer exclaimed.

"Yeah, yeah," Sam mumbled. Then she perked up: "Smells like bacon."

Carly pointed towards the fridge.

"That's going to be a problem," Spencer whispered to her.

Carly nodded, but she was laughing.

"Listen you can't stay, Sam," Spencer notified her. "Carly and I are going jet ski shopping. I'm going to call it 'The Carly'. Can you name a jet ski? I don't care. I'm naming mine."

He and Carly exchanged a secret smile while Sam was distracted by the bacon.