Sorry about the massive delay! Life has been getting in the way and, after working on this story for so long, it tends to lose its spark at the drop of a hat. Not giving up on it though (I'm too stubborn for that)! Anyway, it's good to know people are still reading this fic. I hope you enjoy this latest chapter! Be prepared for the storm, is all I can say. :)

Chapter Eleven – The Storm

"Knock, knock," came a voice from outside Jennsen's room.

"You can come in," Jennsen said, writing in her planner. She found it weird that her mother said the words rather than actually knocking.

Erica opened the door, entered, and shut it behind her. "Have you got a minute?"

"Yeah, I guess." Jennsen shut her planner, turning her swivel chair in the direction of her mother.

Erica sat on Jennsen's bed, facing her. "Honey..." Her lips pursed for a brief time. "Look, I don't think there's a nice way to go about this, so I'm just gonna rip this band-aid right off."

Jennsen's eyebrows raised quizzically.

"Are you dating Tim Riggins?" her mother asked.

Baffled, Jennsen let out a breath as she tried to suppress her laughter.

"I am dead serious, Jennsen," she said, and her voice was hard as stone.

"No."

"Have you ever dated him before?"

An image flashed through her head of Tim winking at her on their drive to the supermarket. What would he say if he knew about this?

She couldn't help it. She had to laugh.

"No," Jennsen answered.

"Okay then." Her mother cracked a smile. All seriousness fled, she added: "Are you seeing anyone?"

Jennsen's brow furrowed. "Mom," she said, her voice standoffish. She could feel her ears go a little red.

They'd never talked about this before, never shared, or even had the sex talk (and for that much, Jennsen was grateful). The very fact that her mother was talking about this felt awkward and strange.

"I'm just curious," Erica said in that higher-pitched 'o-kay, but I am your mother' tone. "I have a right to know if my daughter's interested in anyone."

"You don't need to worry about that for now," Jennsen said.

"But when I do...?"

"When you do, I might just let you know," Jennsen answered with a grin.

Her mother sighed dramatically. "So, it's nice to see that you and Steve are getting along together in the same room," Erica observed, changing topics.

"Mhmm." Jennsen's thoughts drifted back to their interaction in the kitchen, and to then her mother. "It'd be nicer if you got along with Yule, though."

"That goth?"

"Mom," Jennen's tone was admonishing. "People dress the way they feel comfortable dressing. Yule may look outlandish to you, but that doesn't mean she's a devil worshipper."

"I never said that," Erica said, on the defensive.

"I know, but I'm sure you thought it because you implied as much," Jennsen said sternly.

"I did'n–"

"You did, Mom," Jennsen cut in. "Don't tell me you didn't."

"I just..." Erica paused, looking as though she was collecting her thoughts. "I don't want you getting into the wrong sorts of circles at school. I worry about that and your future and your interests."

"Yule's a great friend. You're worrying over nothing." Jennsen stared at her hands in her lap. "I tried not to think that my friends back in Austin were like Penny; just there for show and for popularity. But when Steve had the accident and you and Dad decided we should move, they dropped me like a hot potato." Jennsen stared down at her hands and heard her Mom get up, walk towards her, and rub her back in sympathy. Her eyes watered a little.

"I'm sorry that we forced that on you," Erica said.

"No, it's okay," Jennsen reassured. "Took four years, but I'm finally happy with the way things are. It's not easy, but... Dillon's our home now."

Her mother smiled a little. "I'm glad you think so."

"Anyway, I'm heading to bed," she said, a little awkwardly. "I've got a test tomorrow."

"Right. Goodnight sweetie." Jennsen felt her mother kiss her on the forehead. "See you in the morning."

"Night Mom."

–

Jennsen's eyes flew open. She blinked, trying to get past her surreal, half-awake state. She realized that her phone had buzzed. Her hand fumbled along the desk, trying to find it.

There was a thud, and she realized that her phone had dropped on the floor. Her arm reached out, fingers feeling for the mobile on the floorboards. Frustrated, she got out of bed and turned on her lamp, squinting against the sudden glare of light.

She spotted her phone, leaned over to grab it, then checked the screen. There was a missed call at 1:15am, from a number she didn't know.

That was when she heard the sound of an approaching car outside her street. Peeping through her blinds, she saw a car pull up to the front of her house.

It was Tim's truck.

Jennsen's mouth opened. "Shit." She walked over to the door, about to open it, then thought that she should probably put on some shoes. She went back to her bed, leaning over to pick up her slippers. Then she opened her door as quietly as she could, because its creak was loud and god awful, then crept down the staircase and carefully unlocked the front door.

Out on the porch, in her tank top and shorts, Jennsen was freezing. She hadn't thought about getting her dressing gown, or a jumper. But at least she had her slippers. She realized they were still in her hand, and so she put the slippers on and marched over to Tim's truck.

Tim stepped out of his car and walked towards her, bottle in hand. He stumbled with a few steps, but managed to reach her. Jennsen couldn't believe that Tim was drunk right outside her house, but at the same time she was surprised (and relieved) that he hadn't gotten himself in an accident getting here. Then she had to remind herself that it was past one in the morning.

"How do you know where I live?" Her tone was an equal mix of annoyed and curious. "And when did you get my number?"

"Small town, Filler." Tim's gaze scanned down her body briefly.

Jennsen folded her arms, unsettled by his stare. She could tell that he was way too drunk (which, in Riggins standards, was saying something), but she didn't dare point it out.

"I need some…" Tim paused, licking his lips as he lifted the bottle, staring at it before adding, "Some advice."

Jennsen's brow scrunched in exasperation. "At one in the morning?" She rubbed her eyes with the palms of her hands, talking all the while, "Tim, I'm not your coach on how to get a 'W' on a gal. This kinda thing isn't a game play. It isn't a sport." She pulled her hands away and faltered at his expression. She took a breath, using the moment to collect her words, and patience. "This is about Lyla, right?" Tim nodded. "You wanna win her over?" He nodded again. "Well, if you want her to love you, you use your own brain for it."

"But yours is so much better," Tim quipped.

"Get in your car, sleep off the alcohol, and go home, please." Jennsen's voice wasn't gentle, but it wasn't harsh or demanding either. She knew he wasn't in his right mind, physically or emotionally.

"Can't do that," Tim said simply.

"Why the hell not?" Jennsen asked. No answer. "Okay, can I ask you a question, Tim?" She didn't need to ask, nor did she need his permission. She just didn't know how to begin.

"Shoot," he said quickly, casually.

"What am I to you?" Jennsen's shoulder raised in a shrug, her arms folded against the cold. "I mean, it's not like we say 'hi' to each other at school, or spend time with each other at the library just for the sake of it." Her lips pressed together for a moment. "What I'm saying is: there's always a means to an end. I don't know if I'm a friend or..." Her eyes stared at the ground. "Or less than that," she finished. Her eyes lifted, gauging him. "So what am I to you?" she asked.

Jennsen was met with silence, but she stubbornly waited for an answer.

"I don't know," Tim finally murmured, softly.

That didn't help her at all. In fact, she was just as confused as before.

After more silence, this time on her part, Jennsen said, "I'm tired and I have a test tomorrow, so I'm just gonna go now, okay?"

When Tim didn't answer, she turned around.

Then his hand held hers suddenly.

"Uh, wh–?"

Before Jennsen could register what he was doing, or finish her sentence, he turned her around and stepped towards her, his body pressed lightly against hers. His hands were placed around her waist, both warming her and holding her in place. His head dipped down, eyes locked on her mouth, then he leaned in a little, then he kissed her.

Jennsen's eyes were still open, her lips not moving. She could smell the bourbon on his breath. Feel his lips move softly against her mouth, trying to encourage her. Feel his fingers drawing circles on her back, raising goosebumps.

Jennsen blinked, placed her hands on Tim's chest and pulled her head back, staring into his eyes. In his gaze, she saw a desire that stunned her. Made her feel like something inside her was falling fast and rising high at the same time.

It was the alcohol and heartache, Jennsen told herself, but it didn't put a stopper on the havoc it wreaked on her.

"Who do you think I am? Lyla– or, or Tyra? Or some no-name rally girl?" Jennsen pulled away from Tim as his hold on her loosened, taking a few steps backward. "I didn't even think I was like that to you."

Tim stared down at the floor, head tilted to the side.

"Do you need to get laid that bad?" she asked. Tim went still against the silence. Then he lifted his head slowly, but she couldn't read his expression. Her voice was quieter as she added, "Or is it that you need to feel loved that bad?"

Tim lips parted as he watched her, trying to say something but failing.

She didn't know what to think.

She didn't know what he thought.

"Why're you here?" Jennsen asked him, tired and on the verge of tears.

There was a pause, and then: "I have nowhere else to go."

Jennsen's brow furrowed as her hand rested over her mouth, fingers and thumb spread over the span of her jaw as she thought. Her eyes kept welling up and she kept blinking the tears away. She had to wait for the lump in her throat to go before she pulled her hand away and spoke, "Okay... I'll sit with you." Jennsen took the bottle from his hand, figuring it was better if he didn't drink any more of it. Then she sat on the curb beside Tim's truck.

This was insane.

It was the middle of the night and she was out on her front yard with a very drunk Tim Riggins, the notorious Fullback of the Dillon Panthers. If the neighbors saw or her mother checked outside the window, she'd be in big trouble. But she was too tired to think straight, too shocked by what had just happened.

Tim sat beside her, slipped off his jacket and placed it over her shoulders.

At least he was a gentlemen when drunk.

"Thank you," Jennsen said.

"Welcome," Tim said, and kissed her cheek, draping his arm around her shoulders, hand rubbing up and down her arm for warmth.

Jennsen looked down, unsure of what to make of his actions towards her.

They sat next to one another in silence.

–

The sun was close to rising when Tim woke, his head spinning (that was a given). He looked around, but Jennsen was nowhere in sight (that, too, was a given).

Tim remembered bits and pieces, like Jennsen helping him to his car, like him wanting her to keep the jacket, and Jennsen insisting that it would be better off if he kept it. He couldn't remember what else she said, or what he'd said.

But he remembered kissing her.

He remembered thinking that she felt soft and warm and sweet; just how she looked.

And when he realized this, and what he'd done, he knew he'd crossed a line. A big, fucking taboo, line.

So Tim drove home, head reeling, the buzz still lingering in him from the alcohol. But he focussed on driving, trying to keep his mind on that single task. When he pulled into his driveway and slammed the door to his car, he stopped, right hand resting on the top of his truck, the other on his hip as he stared at the grass.

Tim took a deep breath in, then out. He combed a hand through his hair. Then he trudged on inside.

He was a drunken mess. His whole life was fucking drunken mess. His mom, his dad. The apple hadn't fallen far from the tree, he thought, and he knew almost everyone in town had thought that of him.

How could he pull Jennsen into that?

He'd done so before, with all the homework he'd dumped on her, and he'd broken her trust like the click of a finger. And just when he thought he'd managed to patch that up, he had to go and fuck it all up again.

But this time, it was different.

This time, it was far more complicated. He didn't know if he could fix this.

When Tim went inside, his brother was up and making breakfast.

"Where the hell were you?" Billy said from the kitchen.

"Out," Tim answered.

"'Out'," Billy repeated. "Yeah, I guessed that much. I'm not stupid, Tim." Pause. "And where's my bottle of JD? You know how much that costs, don't you?"

Tim didn't answer. He sat on the stool, arms folded on the counter in front of him, resting his head on his forearms.

He heard Billy walk over to him, from the opposite side of the counter, and lean over. "What the hell, Tim?! You gonna answer me?!"

Tim looked up and stared at his brother.

Billy searched his eyes, then faltered, mouth opening, then closing. He knew something was up.

"You want something to eat?" Billy asked, a little quieter.

Tim nodded. "Yes, please."

Billy handed him a plate with a toasted sandwich, cut in half. "This about Garrity?" he finally asked.

Tim thought about it as he took a bite of the sandwich. "Not anymore, no," he said.

–

Jennsen looked into the bathroom mirror, all puffy eyes and red nose and lips.

Tyra had told her. She hadn't listened. Had been all stubborn and naïve.

But Tyra was right.

Jennsen couldn't be 'just friends' with Tim.

Why on earth did she have to get herself so involved? Why was she so incredibly stupid about all this?

It was Tim Riggins, after all.

People considered him a god on the football field, never mind his devilish reputation outside the sport. After all, that was what Riggins was, right? Part god, part devil? She didn't realize she was trying to save someone who didn't want to be saved. But she was, and she wasn't going to kid herself into believing otherwise. He wasn't some riddle or puzzle to solve. He wasn't a car in need of fixing. He was a person with flaws, like everyone else. He lived his life the way he wanted to, just like everyone else.

Jennsen could've just let him be, but she didn't.

She saw another Steve just waiting to happen.

Truth be told, she hadn't even considered liking Tim. He was the one that all the other girls fawned over. The idea of that was off-putting enough, besides the fact that she could never see herself being interested in him, or his type. And she could never see him being interested in her or her type either. That was just fine by her.

Then he had to go and kiss her.

And it got her thinking about him in a more than friendly way.

"I'm an idiot," she said to herself, staring at her eyes as they welled up.

Jennsen knew that Tim was looking for a quick fix, and she was the closest target. She was more hurt than flattered by the gesture, because she realized what she was to him. She had been willing to help him, to listen, without so much as a thank you, or an acknowledgement of her existence. Filler Inner, that was what she was. Not a friend or a more-than friend. An acquaintance; neither one or the other. And an altruistic one at that.

It made her feel no different than a rally girl. Left a hurt in her that ran too deep for words.

Jennsen looked up at the ceiling, blinking her tears back. Her throat hurt as she fought back the urge to cry some more.

She couldn't stomach the thought of going to school, seeing him, but she had an exam first thing in the morning, and she couldn't afford to fake being sick because of it. So, numbly, she washed her face with cold water, put concealer on the bags under her eyes, got changed, packed her bag for school and spent the drive in Yule's car revising her English Lit notes.

Yule seemed too tired to notice anything was up, reciting notes that she put on her sun visor to do with Oscar Wilde.

Jennsen would just have to get through the day.

It'll only be a few hours, she thought.

She could handle that much.

–

Yule's eyes stung every time she blinked, and her head felt fuzzy. Her preparation for the exam had been last minute, and went on through the night. It was her own fault for procrastinating, really, but she didn't regret it. She hated English Lit, and made sure Mrs. Sullivan knew it.

Yule's hands were cramping and she had no idea what she'd written down, but the exam was over, and she was thankful for that. She dreaded finding out her marks, though.

She saw Jennsen walk out of the classroom a few doors down.

"Jenn!" Yule called out, curious to see how she'd gone for the in-class essay.

Jennsen didn't turn around, just kept on walking. Her shoulders were tense, and shaking a little.

Worried and suddenly alert, Yule followed Jennsen out of school, jogging up to her. "Jenn!" She'd finally caught up when she noticed the tears in Jennsen's eyes. "Jenn, what's wrong?"

"I can't handle it," she said.

"'Handle' what?" she asked, but Jennsen just kept on walking. "You're gonna walk home?" No answer. "Let me give you a lift, at least," she offered, walking in front of her and stopping Jennsen in her tracks.

"I don't feel like talkin', Yule" Jennsen mumbled, her eyes red.

"That's okay. You don't have to say a thing to me, or explain. And I won't say a thing either. Just let me drive you home."

"You're not skipping class for me," Jennsen said, head down and avoiding Yule's gaze.

"After that test, I deserve a day off."

Jennsen paused for a long time. "Do you have a tissue?" she asked.

Yule took out the packet in her bag and handed it to Jennsen.

"Thank you." She put a tissue to her nose, still not looking at Yule as she said, "A ride home would be nice."

–

The drive was silent. Yule heard Jennsen's shuddered breaths but she didn't say anything. She kept her word. Even though she felt awful.

As soon as they got to her house, Yule asked, "Is it alright if I come in with you?"

"Okay," Jennsen said, exiting the car.

Yule locked her car and went inside the Keller residence. She'd barely seen the inside of the place; felt like an intruder when she did. She stopped by the foyer, staring at her best friend.

"I think I'll go have a shower," Jennsen told her, her voice still froggy, eyes and lips and nose red from crying, the tissue crumpled in her hand.

"Okay," Yule said. "I'll be downstairs. When you're ready to talk, just let me know. Even if you don't want to talk about... whatever it is that's upsetting you." It felt awkward to say, but she was glad she said it. She didn't exactly want to hightail out of there.

Jennsen nodded. "I'm sorry that you skipped school for me."

Her sincerity was endearing. She'd never known a nicer person in Dillon until Jennsen.

"Don't think so highly of yourself, Jenn," Yule said lightly. "You were just an excuse for me to ditch. Besides, I don't think my teachers would appreciate me sleeping in class, so you kinda did me a favor."

Jennsen smiled a little.

"Go have your shower," Yule said softly. She watched Jennsen trudge up the stairs and turned to find Steve opening the door to his room. His hair was messy, eyes a little foggy from sleep.

"Why're you here?" he asked.

She waited till she heard Jennsen's door close before she answered, "Jenn walked out of school. If she had it her way, she would've walked all the way here."

"What's wrong?" he asked, gripping the railing along the hall.

"She won't say. I want to check up on her, but I don't want to be too pushy, so... I guess I'm just waiting." Yule rubbed at her eyes, wanting to ease the ache behind them.

Steve nodded, a little pensive. "You wanna watch TV?"

Yule thought on it, then shrugged. "Sure."

"I can get you a drink...?"

Yule's eyebrows shot up. "You don't have to–"

"I know I don't, but I don't mind." He said it so casually that she was shocked. Usually, he was never this polite, or hospitable.

"Okay. Water'll be fine, thanks."

Steve nodded. "Sure. Remote's on the table." He gestured down the hall.

Yule walked over to the lounge room, grabbed the remote and sat down on one end of the couch, practically sinking into the cushion. Comfy. She turned on the TV.

After a while, Steve arrived and sat down on the other end of the couch, handing her a bottle. She gave him the remote in return and he flicked through the channels silently.

Yule wasn't bothered so much by the silence, but by something that was behind it.

She'd find herself turning, glimpsing at his profile, then looking away, wriggling in her seat and sipping from the water bottle he'd given her.

Something felt different. Charged. She wasn't sure if he felt it, but she sure did.

And she couldn't get what he'd said to her before out of her head.

You're cute when you're annoyed.

Then she felt bad thinking about him, when Jennsen was obviously upset about something.

Frustrated and exhausted, Yule let her head drop back on the headrest of the couch, folding her arms. Her eyes were getting droopy, the lack of sleep creeping in so fast she hadn't noticed until she nodded off slightly. The moment she tried to keep herself awake, she found herself drifting off to sleep.

–

"Yo Tim? Are you listenin'?" Brooks asked. Tim looked up from his lunch tray. There was a headache building behind his eyes, partly from his hangover and partly from the English test he was sure he'd flunked that morning. Brooks continued, heedless of Tim's dour mood: "The Stratton sisters are planning a party this weekend. You in?"

"Not interested," Tim replied.

"You serious?" Brooks stared at him, beyond shocked that he'd turned down the offer.

"Been there, done that," he said flatly.

There was a chorus of laughter from the jocks sitting with him on the bench, but Tim wasn't laughing. He looked around the cafeteria for Jennsen, even her goth friend, but couldn't find them.

"I'll catch you boys later," Tim said. He grabbed his bag and headed over to the library.

He kept his head down as he walked, ignoring the occasional voice calling out to him. Once at the library, he made his way towards the desk they usually sat at, glancing around the area. No signs of Jennsen.

Something was filling in the pit of his stomach, a dread, a guilt, that he couldn't shake.

He saw Landry sitting by one the school's computers and walked up to him. "Where's Jenn?"

"Wh...?" Landry look up, blinked at Tim. "Jennsen?" Tim nodded. "Uh, I think I saw her leave with Yule after–"

Tim didn't wait to hear anymore, just took off, out of the library, the school building. He walked over to his truck in the parking lot and threw his bag in the passenger's seat. He stood there for a minute, then reached over and opened up the glovebox. He grabbed the old phone resting on a stack of old mail.

A few years back, Street's parents had bought Jay a new phone for his birthday, and since he didn't need the old one anymore, he'd given it to Tim ('to remind your sorry self when practice is on,' Jason quipped). Tim didn't like phones, but girls liked texting him, and giving him their numbers, so he didn't mind so much. After a while, he'd lost track of who was who, and then Tyra was calling him up on it and yelling at him, saying he was a 'no-good lying scumbag' or 'cheating son of a bitch'. Soon enough, he'd turned the phone off; tossed it in the glovebox of his car. He hadn't used it since.

He didn't know why he decided to turn it on last night. Drinking had gotten him to thinking, and then to acting on his drunken thinking. The phone still had a few dollars of credit in it. Why not call Jenn? he'd thought. He'd written down her number a while back, during a boring study session in the library, when Landry had gone to the bathroom and given Tim a brief reprieve from cramming. Landry's phone had been buried under the open books scattered across the table. Tim had heard it buzz. Tempted for lack of anything else to do, he pulled the phone out. Saw Jennsen's name on the screen.

– Thanks for sharing your thoughts –

He didn't know what her message meant, but her number was on the screen, and Tim kept on thinking that he wanted her to see the game on Friday night. Needed her to. He had to show her that he wasn't a quitter. That, and he wanted to help her, too. And if she was planning on ignoring his offer, then he would just have to resort to calling her up on the night and asking her where she was. He wasn't a quitter.

It was with sheer luck that he'd managed to find her street last night, remembering vague details that she had mentioned about her area, and her neighbors.

Rotten luck, Tim thought upon reflection, and before he realized what he was doing, he was already checking the recent calls and dialing Jennsen's number.

"Yeah," Jennsen answered.

Tim didn't expect her to answer. "You're not here," he said.

"I know," she replied, and her voice was a little rough.

Pause. "I wanted to talk to you, but you're not here." There was silence. "I want to apologize for yesterday night. I was drunk and messed up and..."

"I know," she said, her voice far more strained.

"I want to say much more to you than that, you deserve much more, but all I got are apologies."

"Tim–"

"It wasn't right, what I did, and I promise you it won't ever happen again." He was startled by the strength in his voice, but he didn't question it.

"...Okay."

He didn't know what to make of her tone, but he knew that he hadn't made anything right between them. Things were different now.

"Jenn?"

"Yeah?"

"I really am sorry. I hope you get that. This isn't just some..." He paused, hating himself and his words. "I'm really sorry."

Her breaths were shaky on the other end and he could hear her sniffing as she said, "I know."

"You're crying," Tim said, and his eyes wandered to the ground, darting this way and that as his brow furrowed. "Shit. I'm... Let me just come over–"

"No, please don't! My dad's here. I don't know how long he'll be asleep for. And my brother's around, and so's Yule." Pause. "It's not a good idea at the moment."

He gripped the phone tighter, looking up at the sky for a second. "I want to do something." His voice was rough, desperate. "I don't want you to..."

"Just give it some time, please."

"Alright." Tim shut his eyes. He heard the click on the other end as the call disconnected. "I'm sorry."

–

Yule awoke to discover that she was lying on the couch, her shoes slipped off. A blanket was draped over her.

She blinked, widening her eyes in an attempt to become alert.

"You haven't slept in a while, have you?" Steve asked.

Yule shook her head. "What's the time?" Her voice felt and sounded rough.

"Little past twelve." Steve watched her as she stretched and yawned. "You're lucky my dad's a heavy sleeper, otherwise he'd've woken up to your snoring."

"I don't snore."

Steve's lips pressed together to contain a smile. She could see his dimples. "Sure, whatever you say."

"You're a dick," Yule snapped, but her voice had no volition. She really was tired.

"You're cuter when you're asleep."

"Yeah, as opposed to when I'm awake and snappy, I get it," she said groggily, running a hand over face.

"Nope. Still cute when you're awake." Steve did that thing where he bit his lip and smiled. "Just cuter asleep."

"And you're still a dick," Yule said, alarmed by how his comments were flustering her, but trying hard not to show it.

Steve's smile didn't wane. "Whatever you say," he said, and his tone was a little softer and his eyes were unnerving.

Yule blinked. "Has Jennsen come downstairs yet?" she asked, diverting his attention.

Steve's smile dropped as he shook his head. "Nope."

Yule walked up the staircase and lightly knocked on the door to her room.

"Yeah?" came a muffled voice.

"Did you want some company?" Yule asked gently.

"Not really, no. It's just... I'm kind of a mess right now." Her voice and her words let Yule know that Jennsen was still upset.

Yule's brow furrowed. "Alright, well... I can stop by tomorrow, if you'd like? Bring over some food from the Alamo?" she suggested.

"Okay. Thanks, Yule."

"No problem," she said. "You take it easy."

Yule waited, but didn't hear anything else from the other side of the door. She sighed, then walked down the steps, feeling helpless. Feeling like she was a shitty friend. She didn't like the feeling.

"How is she?" Steve asked from the bottom of the staircase, arms resting on the end of the railing.

"Not good." Yule paused, voice a little quieter. "It's frustrating because she's shutting me out."

Steve snorted. "She's been doing that ever since we moved here. She's real good at it. Mom and Dad have given up trying to get her to open up." When he took in her expression, he followed up, "She'll come 'round to you, though."

Yule headed to the entrance of the house, taking out her keys from her pocket, staring down at the floor. "I hope she will."

Then there was silence and she felt it again, that charged, tense feeling. She looked up and saw him watching her.

"See you later," Steve said.

"Yeah," she said back. Then blinked. "Did you take off my shoes?"

"Yep," she said, completely nonchalant. "Didn't want them scuffing the couch. Mom would kill me."

Yule nodded. "Okay, well where'd you put 'em?"

He smiled and didn't say anything.

Her eyes narrowed. "Steve..."

"Relax. Bottom of the staircase." he gestured to them. "You completely missed it." She went over and sat on the staircase, slipping her shoes on. "Just wanted to see how long it'd take before you realized you forgot 'em."

She looked up at him to glare. "Asshole."

He saluted mockingly with his middle and index fingers. "See you tomorrow, Yule."

Yule felt an strange mix of warmth, curiosity, guilt and frustration and no matter how much she tried to squash the feeling, it wouldn't go away. She finished tying her shoe laces then exited the house, shutting the front door behind her.

Yule went to her car, turning momentarily to stare up at the window on the second floor. The blinds were drawn down. Jaw clenched, she drove off.

–

Tim didn't feel like school, so he skipped class but went to practice. At least he could forget a little, vent a little, out on the field. Coach seemed caught off guard by the strength in his tackles, but didn't question it, or pull him aside. He was thankful for that.

When Tim got home after school Lyla was there, out on his driveway.

"You here for another fuck?" Tim asked bluntly, slamming his car door. "Or to tell me it was all just a mistake?" He swung the keys into his hand, walking over to the doorstep. "Or to do both?"

"Tim, I–"

"No, I don't wanna hear it," Tim cut her off, turning around to face her. He hadn't been strong enough to say 'no' to her until now, because the moment he got to staring into Lyla's eyes, he'd cave. Now, there was a numbness that settled over him, and a sick feeling. "I hurt someone because of you." Jennsen's words echoed in his head. "Because you need to feel loved that bad." He combed a hand through his hair. "I'd be stupid if I said this was all your fault, 'cause I'm just as bad for caving in. But she..." He faltered. "She didn't deserve it."

"'She'?" Lyla asked, but there wasn't anger to it. More a curiosity, and maybe a slight jealousy, even though she had no right to be jealous.

Tim paused before saying: "Whatever this is, it's done." He knew he wasn't completely over her, but feelings be damned, he knew he was done with her. He just wished that Jennsen didn't have to get hurt in the process. "You go on and find someone else."

"You've been practically stalking me for weeks; at the diner, at church, at the radio station." Lyla studied his face for a moment, a little surprised and a little confused. "Why are you so different all of the sudden?"

Tim didn't say anything.

"That's okay," she said softly, nodding. "It's okay to be mad at me."

"You have no idea," Tim replied, and his tone was low and dark.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"Honestly, I'm not even sure what you're apologizing for anymore," Tim said, shaking his head, brow furrowed incredulously. "You've fucked me up so many times I've lost count of the reasons."

Lyla flinched and there were tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry about everything. And that you've hurt someone you love." He looked away, avoiding her gaze, jaw clenched. "I won't come around again."

"Thank you," he said, and he meant it.

Not exactly an ideal first kiss (especially eleven chapters into the story), but this is what gets the ball rolling. Please, feel free to let me know your thoughts! What should Jenn do? What should Tim do? Is anyone else interested in the Steve/Yule (Sule) storyline? Tell me what you think!