FINALLY AN UPDATE, been working on this one for a few weeks and I'm so sorry for the wait! Enjoy :)

*****

I stare at my reflection as I run the comb through my wet hair and wonder, why did it bother me so much when Vincent said he wouldn't kiss me again?

I wanted to chalk it up to me being emotional because I was home, but I wasn't sure that was the only culprit. The past few weeks, Vincent went from my arch nemesis to someone I wanted to kiss.

How did that happen?

"Pancakes are done!" The boy bellows up the stairs.

I take a deep breath and yell back, "Okay!"

I was acutely aware how suspicious my quick exit had been from the kitchen after Vincent promised to keep his lips to himself. So much so that I had been ready to go downstairs for almost ten minutes, but I continued to hide in the safety of my bedroom.

But in order to keep myself from looking even more suspicious, I had to go back downstairs and act like everything was fine. So I forced myself out of my room and down the steps until I saw a plate of horribly misshapen pancakes stacked a mile high on a plate.

"I think I made a little too much," Vincent admits sheepishly, pointing the spatula at the mound of pancakes.

I raise my eyebrows and survey the massive stack. "You think?"

"In my defense, I told you I needed help." He reminds me. "You left me to fend for myself."

In an attempt to get as far away from the subject of me running away from him as possible, I sit at the counter and look up at him. "Can you grab me a plate?"

Vincent gives me a flat look. "You think I know where anything is?"

"The cabinet to the left of the stove," I tell him. "And the forks are in the drawer in front of you."

He looks unimpressed, but I simply grin at him. We sit and put a dent in the mountain of pancakes in a semi-awkward silence. It felt like the air surrounding us was thick and charged with apprehension, the silence only broken for Vincent to crack a joke a few times.

After eating, we cleaned up and started physical therapy. Vincent was nearing the end of his treatment, and a lot of the activities I had laid out for him had become routine. Luckily, this meant that I didn't have to go through most of them beforehand, but simply aid him while he gave them a try.

As I watched him, my mind kept wandering to our sorry-I-spilled-your-coffee-on-you kiss, and I found it difficult to focus on much else. However, I somehow made it through our session, right up until the timer on my phone sounded to signal the end of it.

"I'm going to take a quick shower," Vincent says as he stands up. "And then we can go see Danny?"

I nod. "Sounds good."

He hesitates for a moment, like he wants to say something else, but decides against it and simply nods before stalking off. I let out a deflated breath and sunk into the nearest chair, almost as if I was physically exhausted by the tension between us.

By the time that we were walking out the front door, the chronic awkwardness between us had only grown more palpable. I was looking forward to being able to hang out with Danny, and simply thought of that when we were in the car together in an attempt to avoid thinking about the tension.

This was going great for me until Vincent taps the wheel and huffs, "Are you going to keep acting all awkward?"

His abrupt call out left my jaw hanging open for a moment. "W-What?"

"You're the one who kissed me, by the way," He adds as an afterthought, stealing a pointed glance in my direction. "So you can't act like I did anything wrong."

My cheeks heated up at the accusation, but instead of being stunned silent this time, I narrowed my eyes at him.

"You're the one who was looking at my legs like they were a snack," I fire back.

Instead of being embarrassed, I watch Vincent's lips twitch into a small smirk. "You were wearing those sexy little shorts and thought I wasn't going to stare?"

My heart skips a beat at the sound of his lowered voice, but I manage to defend quickly, "They were only pajama bottoms," I huff.

"They were sexy," He repeats, as if my body hadn't reacted violently enough the first time he uttered the words. "So naturally, I couldn't help myself. It's your fault."

I shake my head at his accusation. "You're ridiculous."

"A ridiculously good kisser, I know. I'm glad you finally got to see what you've been missing out on," Vincent glances at me and wiggles his eyebrows.

Even though I had spent the better part of the morning avoiding any conversation with Vincent, his demeanor made me feel weirdly more relaxed. And despite the fact we were discussing the details of the reason for our awkward tension, I felt like it was easy talking to him again.

"Your ego could use some serious bruising," I tell him with a sigh, but a ghost of a smile on my lips.

He pulls the car to a stop at a red light and takes the opportunity to look at me with his bright grin. "Don't worry Lil," Vincent beams mischievously. "You're a good kisser, too."

All the newly regained ease of conversation slipped away as quickly as I had managed to grasp onto it. My cheeks flush and I abruptly tear my gaze away from his and look out the window so he can't see me.

"I know I am," I reply with false confidence, hoping that he didn't catch me out.

Vincent chuckles. "Now whose ego needs bruising?"

We fell into silence, but this time it wasn't charged with unspoken words and sexual tension. Well, a little sexual tension. But with Vincent, that's practically a given.

When we got to the hospital, Vincent excused himself to make a phone call while I went in to see Danny. In his room, Danny was standing next to the window and looking out at the parking lot.

"Hey kid," I greet when I enter, and he turns around to grin at me.

"I can see Vincent from here," Danny points out the window. "He looks very serious."

Curious, I meet him at the window and peer out to see Vincent. He was using his free hand to make large gestures, as if the person on the other end could see him emphasizing his words.

"Who is he talking to?" Danny inquires.

"I don't know," I mumble, curious myself. "But we shouldn't spy on him. He deserves his privacy."

Danny stepped back from the window with me and sat on the edge of his bed while I took the spot on the chair beside it. He got his deck of cards from his beside table, pulled the tray out in front of him, and handed me the deck.

"What's a good three person card game?" He asks as I start shuffling.

"Golf?" I propose, a game we learned how to play years ago.

Danny and I started playing cards in the waiting room of the hospital to make the time pass. And then we would play during his chemotherapy, and on bad weeks, we'd play together when he was bedridden in the hospital.

I've lost track of all the card games we taught ourselves, but it was almost a tradition to play them when we were together. I almost felt exposed knowing that Vincent would be a part of this tradition when he came inside.

But then again, Vincent has already seen way more of my life than I ever anticipated letting him see. The fact he was at my house, in my hometown, meeting my family... Vincent has gotten closer to me than most of my friends had ever gotten.

Danny lights up when Vincent walks in the room and greets him, and I read Vincent's body language to understand what his phone call was about. He seemed happy about something, I wasn't sure what exactly, but I held myself back from asking.

The three of us played cards together for hours, taking long breaks in between games to talk about everything from hospital food to football. Danny was acutely interested in Vincent's football career, but it was cute seeing him get so excited about something.

"Do you think we could have a catch?" Danny asks hopefully, his eyes lit up.

Vincent glances at me first, like asking the silent question of is he allowed, and I look around the room to find the plush football in the corner.

He follows my gaze and grins. "Yes, but let's start out with this ball first."

He crosses the room in just a few strides and grabs the plush football in his hands, then shakes it to show Danny what he was talking about. Danny sits up straighter and holds his hands out to indicate for Vincent to throw it.

"If you guys break anything," I start to warn, then grin wickedly. "I'll send the bill straight to Vincent."

Danny chuckles as he catches the plush ball. "We won't break anything."

"Famous last words," I point out, then cringe at how much I sound like my mom.

"This isn't even heavy or hard enough to break anything," Vincent counters. And then he throws it at the side of my head. "See?"

I stare at him in awe. "You did not just do that."

Danny picks the ball up amid his laughter, but I quickly take it back from his hands and spike it in Vincent's direction. Annoyingly, he caught it, and then started snickering at my failed attempt.

With nothing on my mind except revenge, I lunge up from my seat and march toward Vincent, fists raised and prepared to throw a punch. But when I try to hit his arm to get him back, he grabs my hand with ease.

"Nice try," He chuckles, and then grabs my other wrist when I try to surprise him with another.

"You can't hit me and get away with it," I mutter while I struggle to get out of his grip.

Vincent, however, looks only amused by my failed attempts. He pulls me in closer by my wrists until my chest bumps against his, and his eyes are bright as he says lowly, "I just did."

"Gross, are you guys gonna kiss or something?" Danny asks in disgust.

And my little brother effectively gave Vincent the urge to drop my wrists as if they were on fire and take a large step away from me. My cheeks flush at his comment and I turn to him with narrowed eyes.

"Danny," I hiss. "Why would you say that?"

He looks at me innocently and tips his head to the side. "Aren't you dating?"

"No," I say, at the same time that Vincent says:

"Not yet."

I whip my head around to look at him with bulging eyes, completely taken aback by what he said. However, Vincent just glances at me coolly with a smile and winks at me.

He's kidding, I practically scream in my mind. Stop overreacting.

"Can we keep playing?" Danny complains, his little mind already starting to the next thing. "I want Vince to show me how to throw far."

This time, I sat in the corner by the window instead of in the crossfire, and watched the boys interact. I observed how gentle Vincent was with my brother, how he kept conversation going and was genuinely interested in whatever he had to say.

I smiled when Vincent said something to make Danny's laugh and felt my heart warm at the sight of the liveliness in his eyes. And when Vincent glances at me and tosses a sly wink in my direction, I start to think, hopefully he wasn't kidding.