“I’ve got the best idea!” Ralphie shouted from the door. Then he said, “Oh no. Sorry.”

Hector’s eyes closed with what appeared to be frustration (I swear to God). He dropped his hand and stepped to my side again.

“Do you, um… want me to come back?” Ralphie asked.

“No!” I cried instantly, sharply and maybe a little loudly.

Ralphie looked at me, eyes narrowed. After a second though, they cleared and he smiled like he was really happy about something.

“Well, Buddy’s in the kitchen, grating cheese like a grating fool. We’ve decided to do nachos.” Ralphie’s gaze moved to Hector and he informed him, “It’s the food of your people.”

I closed my eyes.

Someone, please tell me that Ralphie did not just tell Hector that nachos were the food of his people.

While I was devising the lecture on cultural awareness I was going to deliver to Ralphie the minute Hector left, I heard Hector’s soft laughter.

My eyes opened again and I saw Ralphie forge into the room.

“I have to go get sour cream. You,” Ralphie pointed to me, “need to go smush up avocado for the guacamole. And you,” Ralphie’s pointed finger moved to Hector, “need to get yourself a beer. It’s stressful doing stakeouts. I should know, I’ve stalked my fair share of lying, cheating, no-good boyfriends. The bastards.”

Then, after sharing this morsel, Ralphie hurried out in search of sour cream.

We heard the door slam behind Ralphie and I stood there, unsure of what to do and wondering how rude it would seem if I ran upstairs, locked my bedroom door and barricaded myself in the closet.

“Sadie –” Hector started.

“Am I going to get help with this guac or what?” Buddy shouted from the kitchen.

I took a deep breath and looked up at Hector. “I need to go smush avocado,” I told him, feeling like an idiot.

At my words he smiled at me, slow, amused and glamorous and I didn’t feel like an idiot anymore.

* * * * *

It happened after nachos and beer. After Veronica got roughed up by the evil Fitzpatrick clan at the pool hall. After I took the nacho platter and plates back to the kitchen and came back with more beer for everyone. After, when I came back, I saw that Ralphie had affected a seating jumble which meant Buddy was in the armchair where I’d been sitting and the only place for me to settle was between Ralphie and Hector on the couch. After Buddy gave me an “I’m sorry but life will be hell if Ralphie doesn’t get his way” look. It was in the middle of Veronica instigating an ingenious plan to foil new baddies when Ralphie leaned forward, shoved his arm under my knees and yanked up my calves, pulling my feet into my lap.

This meant my body twisted and my shoulder collided with Hector’s side. Hector had, for the sake of comfort on the smallish couch (this was what I told myself for my peace of mind) put his arm along the back of the couch (an arm I felt there like it was a snake coiled to strike).

I put my still casted wrist into the cushion by Hector’s hip and turned to glare at Ralphie.

“What are you doing?” I snapped.

“Foot massage,” Ralphie replied, eyes on the TV screen, his hands on my feet starting to massage.

I pulled my feet away. “I don’t want a foot massage.”

Ralphie grabbed my ankles in a firm hold and tugged them back into his lap, a move that made me collide with Hector’s side again.

I leaned away from Hector as Ralphie said, “Everyone wants a foot massage.”

“Well, I don’t,” I returned.

“You do,” Ralphie shot back.

“I don’t,” I snapped.

Ralphie’s eyes swung from Veronica to me. “You do.”

Ralphie and I went into a stare down, a stare down I was going to win if it killed me.

I could snuggle up to Buddy on one side of the couch while Ralphie massaged my feet on the other side. I was never, no way, going to lean into Hector (which was my only choice) while Ralphie massaged my feet.

Never.

The stare down lasted until (seriously, no kidding), Hector’s arm circled my shoulders, he put pressure there, my elbow buckled and he pulled me into his side.

I tilted my head back. “Now, what are you doing?” I asked.

Hector looked down at me and said, “Relax.”

“I’m uncomfortable,” I replied.

He smiled at me. I stared at him, not a stare down stare, a fascinated one.

I thought about it for a nanosecond and then I gave in. I’d look like a fool if I kept fighting.

I could deal with this; I’d dealt with worse, loads worse. After Hector left, I’d give Ralphie a piece of my mind so he understood exactly where I stood on the issue of Hector.

I glanced over at Buddy to see if I might have some support but Buddy was watching Hector. Finally his eyes slid to me, he gave me a wink then he went back to Veronica.

No support from Buddy then.

I sat there, Ralphie massaging my feet, and I glared at the TV screen, willing Veronica to take me away.

After awhile, Hector’s fingers started to make lazy circles on my shoulder.

That felt nice, sweet and lovely.

Darn it all to hell.

Fine. I could deal with that too.

I focused on Veronica. Veronica and me, we could make it through, we always got away unscathed or, well… if not unscathed, at least still breathing.

I settled into Hector and Ralphie kept massaging my feet.

Veronica Mars, plucky, high school girl detective only had three seasons.

It might last awhile but, eventually, it would be over.

* * * * *

I opened my eyes and saw nothing but flannel shirt.

My senses came to and I realized that I didn’t hear Veronica’s smart mouth, I heard a sports commentator talking about a game. I didn’t feel my feet in Ralphie’s lap; I didn’t feel Ralphie at all. Someone had switched off all the lights in the room except one which meant that only a soft glow came from a beautiful Restoration Hardware floor lamp across the room.

I was no longer curled into Hector’s side and Hector was no longer sitting on the couch.

Instead, my torso was mostly pressed into Hector, my head was resting on his chest, my arm was wrapped around his middle and Hector was reclined back on a diagonal, his feet up on the coffee table.

Oh my.

I tilted my head to look at the armchair. Buddy was gone.

I slid my cheek against Hector’s soft shirt and looked up at him.

He was lounging, asleep, head resting on the back of the couch, arm around me curled at my waist, hand resting gently on my hip.