Tonight's the Night

Chapter Three of Warm Me Up

By LushBaby

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Grace has finally admitted her feelings to herself. Now will she tell Luke? Spoilers through the Election.

Disclaimer: Usual stuff—characters not mine, blah, blah. Major applause to Barbara Hall for creating these wonderful characters. I forgot to put one in the first two chapters, so please allow this to disclaim character ownership for all three chapters.

A/N: Sorry this has taken me so long to finish. No excuses, just apologies. Special thanks to Diminished 9th for the initial beta-ing and some very helpful insights. In the end though, all mistakes (especially grammar) are mine. And just maybe, if I get enough feedback, I might be persuaded to do a short epilogue ;-)

Grace just stood there, one hand still on the doorknob, realizing that this was her last out—her last chance of escape—she could slip away and not have to talk to Luke tonight. And then she saw him bite his lip as he concentrated on capturing that elusive idea onto his laptop, and she knew she was sunk. Who was she kidding? She loved the geek. She loved the way he bit his lip when he concentrated and how his eyes lit up when he was explaining some abstruse theory, or prosing on about dead scientists. Even better, she loved him when his eyes lit up at the sight of her. No, she was definitely staying. She cleared her throat nosily and watch with amusement as his head snapped up and he swiveled his chair so quickly he almost fell out of it.

"Grace!"

"Dude, I told you I'd be back." Grace shut the door behind her and in the silence they could both hear the loud click as Grace locked the door.

Luke got up from his chair and walked silently over to Grace. She stood there, waiting for him, one hand still on the doorknob behind her. His hand reached out to touch her snow-chilled cheek and Grace turned her head slightly to brush her lips against his palm. Luke felt her cold lips warm against his skin and he cupped her cheek.

"I'm glad you came back. Come here," he whispered as he drew her into his arms.

Grace went willingly, letting her body melt into his as their lips met. She lifted her arms to his neck and Luke let his hand drift underneath her leather jacket to span her back and settle in the little hollow just above her waistband. He didn't let their kiss linger; lately it was becoming more and more difficult to stop kissing Grace, and tonight he could feel her need to talk. He had felt it from the moment she had left his house that morning. So he just held her, feeling the cold leather against his warmer body and her slightly damp hair tickling his throat and chin. He looked down to see the last remaining snowflakes melt away in her hair and she pulled away slightly so she could look up at him.

"Luke." She swallowed hard and made a face as her voice cracked a little. "I want to talk to you." She led him over to the bed, and he wished for the first time ever, that he had more than one chair in the room. Sitting on his bed next to Grace was going to be tortuous. 'C'mon Girardi. Suck it up, you've managed to keep your hands off Grace before' he admonished himself. "But never after waking up to her naked body pressed against yours,' a little voice whispered as he watched Grace shed her jacket before joining him on the edge of the bed.

She didn't speak for a few moments and Luke knew that his instinct was correct. Tonight wasn't about making out. Tonight Grace needed to talk. He felt a slight thrill run through his body as he thought, maybe tonight's the night. Tonight Grace will let me see all of her. All of her pain. All of her soul. He looked over at her and realized she didn't look very happy.

Suddenly it hit him. The look on her face. This morning. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe he'd over-analyzed everything as he tended to do, according to Grace. Maybe she wasn't here to open up to him. Maybe she was there to—"Are you breaking up with me?" he asked, feeling as though his heart stopped beating as he waiting for her answer. It came quickly.

"No!" The word burst from Grace's lips like a bullet. She took a deep breath before continuing, her voice calmer than before. "No, definitely not. I was thinking today about us and our relationship and I decided it was time to—to—let you in."

Luke held his breath for a moment. "Let me in to what?" He asked cautiously, hoping he already knew what; hoping beyond everything he'd ever wished for that this was the moment he'd see the real Grace Polk; the one without any barriers, without any secrets; without any fear; hoping that she was going to let him into Her.

One word from Grace and Luke just sat there frozen. Who would have thought that a simple "me" could have so much meaning; so much significance. When he'd watched her leave that morning, he thought that maybe tonight was the night. That tonight their relationship would take this turn. But when she actually said it, Luke still had trouble assimilating it. He looked down at her hands twisting in her lap, and he reached over to capture them with his own. For such a handful of a woman, she wasn't very big, and both of her hands fit inside one of his larger ones. Her restless fingers calmed under his palm and she looked up at him from under her eyebrows—a look so familiar Luke felt he knew it almost as much as his own. But this time instead of the usual accompanying frown or smirk, she was looking at him almost apprehensively.

Grace struggled to explain. She had used the walk to examine her feelings but hadn't thought about how she was going to explain them to Luke.

"I thought I was doing fine until you Girardis showed up. My home life was screwed but whose isn't? I had Rove when he wasn't being all spaced-out artist on me, and I had my piss-off-the-authorities activities. I was doing alright." Grace repeated more for her benefit than Luke's, as though trying to convince herself she had liked her life then.

"And then you moved to Arcadia and there you were sitting in front of me in Lishak's chem. class and I kind of notice you cause she so has the hots for you. You're answering all the questions--"

"Wait a minute! Lishak has the hots for me?"

"Yeah, duh. It's completely obvious. She practically drools over you and don't even think of going there," she said, seeing a dawning look of comprehension on Luke's face.

"No. No way. Weird though." Luke ran his fingers through his hair and then laced his fingers through Grace's. "Sorry. Momentary aberration. So you noticed me in Chem. class and ?"

And nothing. I just kind of realized that you were very intelligent and that intrigued me. But that study session in the kitchen—that night you couldn't get that jar opened—that's when I really noticed you. I remember pushing Joan to ask you for your notes and then I saw you struggling with that jar and I wanted to help. I walked home that night thinking how weird that was, to want to do something for someone else; wanting to help."

Luke flushed slightly. "All I could think about was what a total dweeb I was, unable to open that jar of cookies. And that after I told you how hot it was that you knew that wood didn't burn."

"Yeah, that remark kind of threw me. So I remember walking home that night and—thinking about you. And the next thing I know I'm at debates, cheerleading tryouts, and science fairs. Not to mentions a dance—wearing a dress. And I still can't figure out how you did it. How'd you guys get in under my radar and make me see that that I was throwing my life away, throwing myself away and all because I was scared."

Luke recognized the rhetorical question and stayed silent, relishing the unfamiliar scenario of Grace Polk actually talking about her feelings and for some unknown reason, not running away. He waited patiently for Grace to speak again, knowing instinctively that this was the one time he couldn't push her.

"This past year has been so . . ." Grace searched for a word that wouldn't sound sappy and maudlin, but failed to find one. "Amazing. I mean, even though I didn't always share stuff with you; even though I kept part of me closed off from you; that doesn't mean I didn't trust you. I think I really didn't trust myself. My feelings. My ability to handle things if this didn't work out." She watched as Luke's thumb gently stroked her hand and she closed her eyes momentarily, savoring the pleasurable sensation.

"Your accident last night scared me so much. I guess I just thought you'd always be there for me—whenever and however I wanted you. And when I found you last night out cold, for one awful moment I thought you were dead, and I just knew that you couldn't be dead, because I wouldn't survive without you." Grace paused, as though feeling for her next words.

"You know I'm not a big believer in fate and all that junk, but recently I've been asking myself all sorts of really stupid, philosophical, what-if types questions. What if your family hadn't moved here? What if we hadn't all taken AP Chem together? Would you have noticed me if I hadn't been in Joan's study group? Would I have ever—oh hell, I don't know the answers, but I know damn sure we would have found each other somehow." Grace knew she was sounding sappy and clichéd but she couldn't help it. It was true; she did believe that somehow, some way, she and Luke would have met. That everything that had happened over the past two years had been leading up to this night. That tonight was the night.

"So," she asked in a pseudo-casual tone of voice, "do you ever think about sex?"

Luke jumped off the bed as though he'd just been shot into space. "Wha—what?" he managed to utter. Where the hell had that come from?

"You know, sex—us. Haven't you ever thought about us—like that?" Grace asked the question as she intently examined her fingernails.

Luke, having managed to regain some composure, answered honestly. "Yeah, of course. I'm a hormonal teenage boy, remember?" he gingerly resumed his space on the bed.

"And?"

"Again, hormonal teenage boy—usual response." Luke used a flippant tone to hide his discomfort at the turn the conversation had taken. He'd be lying if he told Grace he'd never thought about making love with her. He was a seventeen-year-old guy who'd been dating the love of his life for over a year now. It was only because she was the love of his life that Luke hadn't made a move on her. He wanted Grace every way from Sunday and didn't want to jeopardize what he did have with her by pushing her into something she wasn't ready for. His train of thought was abruptly terminated when Grace launched herself at him and they both ended up on his bed, legs tangling and Grace's lips meeting his.

It was minutes? hours? days? before Luke came to his senses and realized if they didn't stop soon, they'd be taking this relationship to new levels. Levels he wasn't sure if either of them were ready for. Grace was lying on top of him and he was going to lose control if he didn't get her off him soon.

"Listen, Grace. We have to stop . . . ."

"No," she murmured, sliding her hands into his crisp blond hair and deepening their kiss. Luke succumbed to the heady taste of her mouth and tongue and many more minutes passed before he pulled back for a second time.

"No, really. You have to go now." Luke begged, trying to push her away gently. Grace just shook her head and smiled, her lips slightly swollen, and her voice was husky when she spoke.

"Please let me stay, Luke." She fumbled in her back pocket and pressed something into his hand. He felt the square foiled-wrapped packet and even as he reached for his glasses, he knew what he was holding.

"What the? Grace, this is a condom."

"I know," she smiled ruefully. "Please," she said, meaningfully. God, she felt so unsure. She knew she was ready for this, but was Luke? She would have never thought of herself as shy, but somehow, no matter how outspoken she could be in other ways, asking Luke Girardi to sleep with her, was just something she couldn't say aloud.

"Grace! Are you asking me to--"

Grace nodded, her cheeks a fiery red. "I didn't know how to say it, so …." She shrugged.

"I don't know what to say—I mean, I don't know what to do—I mean, I do know what to do—I don't know what I mean." Luke stammered.

"Listen, Luke. It's no big thing-well, it is a big thing, but if you don't want to . . ." Grace let the sentence trail off, not wanting to push Luke into this. God, how embarrassing. Obviously he didn't --.

"Grace, of course I want to, with you. But tonight? Are you sure?"

Oh thank God, he does want to. Her cheeks still so red she could feel their heat, Grace rushed to explain. "It doesn't have to be now-tonight. It just has to be with you. I'll be off the university in the fall and," she paused, "well, no matter what happens in the future, I want my first time to be with someone I trust and respect. I want my first time to be with you. Because I love you."

Surprised, Luke pulled away from Grace so fast he fell off the bed again and landed in a heap on the rug. His brain raced with the implication of Grace's admission. He looked up at her, his eyes wide, and his mouth worked silently for a moment before he pulled himself together and spoke.

"You love me?" he whispered, as though saying it out loud might cause Grace to deny it.

Grace exhaled slowly, soundlessly. She hadn't even realized she had been holding her breath. Hadn't even realized that somehow even time had had stopped for those infinitesimal seconds it took Luke to speak. She knew what she wanted, knew who she wanted. Tonight was the night to admit everything. Admit to the longing; admit to the lusting; admit to the loving.

Grace nodded almost imperceptibly. Luke almost expected her to challenge him with an aggressive 'yeah, got a problem with that?' But instead she scooted over to the side of the bed and leaned down until he could feel her warm breath on his cheek. And then she said it again.

And again.

And again.

Each time she said it his heart beat faster and his breath caught in his throat. He raised his hand and caressed her cheek.

"I always thought I'd be the one to say it first," he admitted softly.

"You never had to say it. You told me every time we kissed; every time we argued; every time you touched me. I think I've always known you loved me, I just wasn't ready to admit it to myself." Grace leaned over to kiss Luke and just as their lips touched, just as Luke felt the familiar thrill course through his blood at her touch, he was knocked back onto the rug as Grace overbalanced and fell right on top of him. Luke started to chuckle as Grace attempted to right herself. She glared at him.

"It's not funny, Luke. Girardi!" she shouted as he continued laughing. Luke just lay there, his body shaking with laughter as Grace gave him her very best death-ray glare. Suddenly, her lips twitched. She bit them to stop herself from smiling. But it was too late. Her mouth widened into a smile, then a grin, and finally she burst out laughing as well. They lay there together, giggling and grinning until Grace realized Luke was no longer laughing or even smiling for that matter. He was simply looking. Waiting. And Grace realized that this was the moment. The moment she had wanted for such a long time. The moment that she had put aside because they couldn't get there until she let him into herself.

But tonight she had let him in. Tonight she had unlocked that door and instead of him coming in, she had come out.

Their lips met in a tender kiss. A kiss meant to melt hearts. One of those for-all-eternity kisses that Joan was always going on about. Grace didn't know how long they lay there, simply kissing but gradually the kiss altered. It metamorphosed into a fiery meeting of lips and tongues; of hands stroking and fingers exploring; of breathless murmurs and quiet gasps of pleasure.

And this time when they might have stopped, they didn't.

Couldn't.

It was the perfect moment to consummate their relationship and both Luke and Grace knew it.

They had waited long enough.

Tonight was the night.

Fin