<span style="color: #FF80FF"> <span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="font-size: 150%; line-height: 116%;"><div style="text-align: center;">Lea Stevens</div></span></span> </span><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><a class="postlink" href="http://i300.photobucket.com/albums/nn24/SociallyToxicBeauty/036e0d3a-b28c-47ec-b858-0eaea6c67e4d.jpg">[ img ]</a></div><br/><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="font-size: 150%; line-height: 116%;"><span style="color: #FF80FF"><div style="text-align: center;">"Jazz"</div></span></span></span><br/><br/>Lea was easily pulled against Carlos' chest. She straddled him, his arms around her waist and her own wrapped around his shoulders, her chest pressed against his, head on his shoulder as her crying lessened to just sniffles. It meant more to her than Carlos would ever know that he was letting her take her time in telling him about her past.<br/><br/>Something in the air changed, though, as she felt him tense. She was quiet for a few minutes, unsure of what to do or say, preferring the comfort of Carlos' lap over anything else. But something was bothering him and she could tell.<span style="color: #FF80FF"> "...Carlos?" </span>she asked softly as she lifted her head, sitting up and looking into his eyes.<span style="color: #FF80FF"> "What's wrong...?"</span>