"Okay, so here's the thing," Michael Guerin begins earnestly, sliding onto his normal stool at the Wild Pony. It's an unusually slow night at the bar, which is perfect since the look on the bartender's face tells Michael that this isn't a conversation that he wants to have with a big audience.

"I meant what I said the other night when I told you that you didn't do anything wrong, Maria. Alex and I… it's complicated. But it's also been over for more than a decade. And I like you…" Michael trails off, feeling a little sheepish as he looks at the beautiful girl in front of him. Maria DeLuca is the epitome of hellfire brought to life. Her dewy bronze skin shimmers in the dim lights of the tavern, as her giant brown eyes look him over coolly. She has perfectly full lips that he can't seem to stop staring at, enjoying them in equal measure whether she's using them to kiss him or curse at him… which she seems to be readying herself to do right now.

"It may have been over for a decade for YOU," she begins, her voice little more than a snarl, "but Alex and I just had a conversation a few weeks ago about how he has reconnected with his then-unnamed ex, and how he was sort of hoping it would work out this time around. So for you to say to me now that there's nothing between the two of you is… well, it's fucked up Guerin. I don't know what you're playing at here, but I don't want to be a part of it."

"Fuck," Michael thinks, running his fingers through his curly, disheveled hair. He hasn't realized that Alex had ever spoken to Maria – hell, spoken to anyone about them. This was not going how he wanted it to go.

"Okay, look," he starts again, letting out a sigh of frustration as she strides past him again, pretending to clean the already spotless bar on the opposite side of the establishment. He stands to follow her, closing in behind her as he begins to finish his thought. Thinking better of it, he decides to change directions and put the ball in her court instead.

"I'm going about this all wrong, but I want to be honest with you. So, you tell me – what do you need or want to know?" Noticing her skeptical expression, he backs away from her slightly, putting his hands up in a pose that almost looks as though he is surrendering. She stops mopping the bar for the moment, crossing her arms in front of her and narrowing her eyes as she looks him over appraisingly. For about the millionth time since she found out about his history with Alex, she just wants to throw things at him. How could she be so stupid? How could she, even now, even consider giving him a chance to talk to her and explain himself? And why the fuck does she even care? It isn't as though anything between them was ever more than a few flirtations and a drunken hookup. This didn't need to be a big deal… and yet, here she was, still sitting on the precipice of letting him in. Or at least, wanting to.

"What's your deal? What's the story with you and Alex, and why did you hook up with me?"

"Cutting right to chase, huh?" Michael chuckles lightly as he tries to get his thoughts together. He knew she was going to ask this, so it shouldn't come as a surprise. Strangely, though he expected as much, he still isn't quite sure about what he should say. So he decides that this time, for once, he's just going to be honest. After all, what has he got to lose at this point?

"My deal is this: I'm a loser. I had it rough growing up, and I've never had any family of my own – never been connected to anyone other than Max and Isobel. So, in high school I met this kid Alex, and we connected, you know? And it was like, for the first time in my life, someone gave a shit about me. Someone saw me as having value, being worth something. And yeah, I fell in love with him for a while, and I think maybe he fell in love with me, too.

But then shit went south. He left me, and abandoned me the same way everyone else has. And I just sort of figured that that's what people do – I just accepted it that people are just shitty sometimes, and there wasn't any use in letting anyone next to me again."

Michael watches as Maria's eyes begin to soften a bit, though her steely stance has not changed. Figuring it's all out there in the open now, he continues: "And then I meet you and you're like THE most uncomfortable feeling on earth. You light me up at every chance and you keep me on my toes and sometimes just being around you makes me feel like my head is about to explode and it's maddening and addictive and I can't seem to get enough of it. So when you kissed me out in the desert, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to just… kiss you back."

He steps closer to her and her eyes drop, and he can hear her breath catching in her throat. "And you feel it, too – I know you do. That's why you're so mad at me right now, and that's why you haven't kicked me out yet." He places his hand under her chin, raising her head so that her eyes meet his.

"Look, I'd be lying if I told you that I wasn't in love with Alex. I was – for a long time. Hell, some days I think maybe I still am. But that love also comes with 10 years' worth of hurt and resentment and anger at being abandoned and left behind. Those feelings come with a lot of baggage that I'm just not ready to unpack yet – I'm not sure I ever will be.

And then I look at you and you're like a salve to my wounds. You temper me. I thought what I felt for Alex all those years ago was a once in a lifetime kind of thing, but it turns out I was wrong… because I feel every bit as intense a connection to you."

Maria gasps lightly, looking into Michael's eyes, searching for a hint of untruth there. She finds none, but still looks away, overwhelmed by the emotions coursing through her. "So what are you trying to say?" she asks acerbically, putting her hands on her hips. "Now you're in love with me, too?"

"Maybe," Michael replies, taking a step back and putting his hands in his pockets. It's the only way that he can resist reaching out and touching her, and he isn't sure that's what she wants right now.

"Pffft," Maria replies, rolling her eyes as she goes back to the bar, "You don't love me, Michael. You don't even know me for real."

"I know that you're bold and full of life, but that you get scared sometimes. You put on a front as this fun-loving good time girl, but you're lonely. I know that you love fiercely, and that you're afraid for your mother – that's why you're still here, because you feel responsible and like you need to protect her. I know that your favorite color is indigo, like the sky on summer nights, and that you read palms because it makes you smile to give hope to the people around you that need it. I know you feel like an alien here, like no one understands you, like you're a puzzle piece that doesn't quite fit in here. I know you want to. I know I want you."

At some point during his little diatribe, Maria stopped her cleaning and simply stared down at the bar. Her eyes pricked in that annoying way when tears are about to come, but she refused to cry in front of him. Big girls don't cry, right?

"So what now?" she says, walking toward him, challenging him. "What do we do with all of this? What do I tell my best friend – you know, the guy who's been in love with you for nearly half our lives? How does all of this work out, Michael?" The way she says it sounds dismissive, but in truth, she hopes that he has an answer. Something about him, something about the way he makes her feel is special… different. She isn't sure she's ready to give that up yet, though she can't see any way she will be able to keep him.

"Why don't we just try being honest?" Michael says simply, as if it's the most obvious answer. "I care about Alex… and I need to figure out what that means. But I also care about you just as much, and I know you care about me, too. So why don't we all just… try being honest with each other about where we are? At this point, none of us have anything else to lose anyway, right?"

Maria wasn't so sure about that, but she agreed anyway. Because for some reason, the possibility of losing Michael Guerin felt like she might be losing… everything.