For the first time in a long time, she is thankful Sean DeLuca is nothing like Max Evans. He sits at the base of the plastic chair, looking hopeful. His eyes are filled with easy humor...his hair is blond and curly and totally unmanageable.

He's happy that she came here from the Prom...content to just be with her. To take her mind off her problems. To not ask questions.

But she can't help it. She has one of her own.

"Sean...why do you have a pair of my socks?"

He has the grace to blush as he finishes yanking the articles from his pocket. "They're not your socks! They're Maria's. And, anyway, I thought you wanted to slide? Just put them on," he urges, as if it is no big deal.

She kicks off her high heels even as she feels her brows furrowing. "Okay...why do you have *Maria's* socks? And they're mine...I probably left them at her house. I know my socks," she assures, pushing some of her hair off her shoulder.

He sighs, a little bit of the twinkle fading from his eyes. "Liz...now you're looking at me like the rest of the town looks at me," he reminds, wounded.

"Don't you think it's a little weird to walk around with girls' socks in your pocket?" she demands, remembering how she asked Max a similar huffy question once. *Well, aren't you just Saint Max walking around with a condom in your pocket??*

Not that socks and condoms are the same thing. Except, according to Alex's vast store of Red Hot Chili Peppers trivia, they can both be worn on the...

*Liz*!

She shakes herself off the fast track to pornography and stares down at Sean, kneeling between her legs. Suddenly, it doesn't even matter that he never answered her question. He has one of her feet propped up on his thigh as he gently scoots a pale blue and slightly sheer sock over her toes and slides it upwards. His touch is so light, she didn't even realize what he was doing while she was lost in thought. And he cradles her foot as he pulls the soft material up, over her ankle and smoothes it, securely, along her calf.

"S-sean..." she begins, feeling suddenly breathless as she watches his large hands gently move her right foot to the ground and pick up her left.

"Pretend you're at the shoe store, Parker," he quips, but his eyes are suddenly dark. And she can hear him breathing sharply. As if her saying his name has unlocked something secret, something slightly sinister, about this simple act.

"But th-this isn't a shoe store." Her toes curl against the rough material of his pants and she can feel the solid warmth of his leg beneath it.

"I know."

Soft blue nylon catches on her brightly painted toenails...and this time his movements are slower. His thumbs brush the arches on either side of her foot, as if clearing a path for the sock that is following. Her chest is suddenly tight...and she can't breathe. He strokes the hollow beneath her ankle and she muffles a giggle against her palm.

"Ticklish?" His eyebrows quirk and she remembers their tickle fight of a few weeks back. That helpless laughter...the sensation of just being conquered by the dance of his fingers on her skin.

She feels like that now. Conquered. But the laughs aren't coming.

"Sean..." she gasps, biting her lower lip, wanting to draw blood...to taste it and make sure this moment is real and coppery and tangible.

"It's okay, Liz. I'm not pushing." He shakes his head swiftly, now pulling her second sock up almost too quickly, ceasing the tender romancing of her foot.

*Push*, she pleads, silently...suddenly insane. *I don't mind. I need it. I need you to...*

"Slide," he reminds, softly, standing up, and offering her his hand. "You need to slide. Just let go."

And with that simple gesture, the "too intimate" cloak that had pulled them too close falls away. Lets them loose. Air rushes back into her lungs as he pulls her up. And she offers up a tentative smile. "You won't let me fall will you?"

"Nah." He grins, bouncing on his heels, boyishly, all signs of tension gone. "I'll hold on. *I* won't let go."

For the first time in a long time, she is thankful Sean DeLuca is nothing like Max Evans. He tugs her towards one of the lanes, looking completely at one with the world. His eyes are filled with easy humor...his hair is blond and curly and totally unmanageable.

He's happy that she came here from the Prom...content to just be with her. To take her mind off her problems. To not ask questions.

To slide.

And so is she.