She took each step, one at a time, moving closer into the room, before finally she saw him.

He sat with no shirt on, on the sofa. A few candles were lit, a bottle of beer beside him, and what looked like a steaming mug of hot chocolate. His foot was perched on his knee, and leaning forward, he was drawing.

She stepped on an odd floorboard, and he looked up.

“Robin,” he said. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at the party?”

He put the sketchbook down, closing it and getting to his feet. Staring at him now, words failed her.

What exactly did she say to him that didn’t make her sound like an immature girl?

“I don’t want to be at the party,” she said.

“What’s wrong? Did Bishop do anything?”

“Not to me.” She looked away. Get your shit together.

“I can’t help you until you tell me what it is you want,” he said.

“You want to know what I want?” she asked.

“Yes. I want to know so I can make your life better.”

Staring at him now, she knew there was no getting away from what she wanted to ask him.

“Do you want me?” she asked.

“Robin?”

“You know what I’m asking you.” She took another step toward him then another, only stopping when she was right in front of him. All it would take was a little poke and she’d be touching him. There wasn’t a chance of poking him though, but touching his heavily inked chest was something she really wanted to do right about now. Would it be so bad to touch him, to feel his naked skin against her own?

“I know what you’re asking, but you belong to Bishop.”

“Says who? You? The world? The engagement ring? We all know this is a falsehood to keep the cops off our backs. I love Bishop. He’s my best friend and I wouldn’t want to see him hurt for anything, but that’s all it is. We’re friends. Nothing more.” Lifting her hand up. “Tell me you don’t feel this? Tell me you don’t want it.”

He didn’t say anything.

“I know Joanne was coming to you tonight. She wanted to be your present. I hated it. I was jealous of her because she could go to you to be your present, but I, I couldn’t.”

“You’re confused.”

She wasn’t going to let him push her away out of guilt or a misplaced sense of trying to take care of her.

Gripping the back of his neck, she pressed her body against his, and brought his head down so she could kiss him.

Preacher didn’t fight her.

He didn’t push her away.