Author's Note;
First of all, I'm sorry for the delay in updates but I've had a ton of work this week and it was hard to find the time to write. Second, I'm sorry this chapter is so short, but again, with all the work, I barely found the time to write this much. But luckily for all of you, the story's going to be longer now cause I only got in about a third of what I wanted to write in this chapter. I hope to have the next one up by Monday at the latest. Anyway, thank you for all the wonderful responses and the amazing support for this story. I hope you enjoy this chapter!!!
~ * ~
"There are no mistakes, no coincidences. All events are blessings given to us to learn from." - Elizabeth Kubler-Ross
~ * ~
I push the door open hesitantly, hoping the coast is clear. I rub my back, massaging a sore spot where a loose spring in Sketchy's couch pressed a bit too hard, but I'd take his worn-down couch over the paper-thin walls of my apartment any day; I'm happy my boo finally got some, but that doesn't mean I want to hear it. I yawn and drop my coat on the couch as I head into the kitchen to find something to eat. It's early, I haven't had my coffee, and I'm not in the mood to talk to anyone; unfortunately, I'm not alone. Alec is standing in front of my stove wearing nothing but a pair of tight, black boxer-briefs. I might go for the gals, but even I can admit the boy is fine. His skin is golden and smooth and his muscles are bulging and I wish I were straight so I can get a piece. I whistle softly and he turns to face me.
"Hey, hey," I say. "Up a little early aren't you?"
He crosses his arms over his chest, the simple movement emphasizing the definition of his pectorals. "Hey, OC. We missed you last night."
I peer over his shoulder in to the contents of the pan. "I'm sure you didn't. Making breakfast?"
"I'm going to surprise Max."
I cock an eyebrow. "I'm guessing things went well last night?"
He raises an eyebrow too. "You're not surprised."
I stir the eggs for him. "It was plain to see that you two were going to get it on eventually."
He frowns slightly and uncrosses his arms. "It's not like that."
"So tell me how it is."
He runs a hand over his face and sighs. "I'm not sure. It's not like me and Max did a lot of talking."
I drop the spatula and stare him down. "Sit," I say.
"OC--," he starts.
I point to the kitchen table. "Sit," I repeat.
He glares at me, but slumps into a chair. "What?"
I sit across from him. "We need to talk."
"We don't need to talk. I was in the middle of making breakfast--."
"You hurt her and I'll kill you," I interrupt and he bursts out laughing.
I lean across the table, armed with my nastiest glare. "You listen to me, Alec. You might be stronger than me and smarter than me and more Manticore than me, but Max is my best friend and I'll kill you if you hurt her. What you did last night was low. You knew she was vulnerable and attracted to you and you acted on it. I'm not blaming you; most guys would do the same in that situation. But that doesn't mean you can fuck her and leave her, do you understand me? You remember that she's a person too and you'd better treat her right. Get it?"
He glowers at me. "I get it. OC, take a hint: butt out of my life and let Max and me work it out, okay?" He forcefully pushes his chair back and heads back to the eggs, mumbling under his breath about being bitched out first thing in the morning.
I smile to myself, satisfied at a job well done. I'm not mad at Alec; I know he loves Max and he doesn't want to do her harm. But he's also a guy, which doesn't exactly make him reliable; he could blow her off because he's too stupid to see what's right in front of him. He needed someone to set him straight, and who better than Max's best friend?
~ * ~
I lie in my bed, trying to figure out what happened last night. My cheeks burn with shame as I remember how wanton, needy I was with Alec. And all along he treated me like a queen. I was expecting teasing and mocking, but instead he was gentle and tender. I've never seen this side of him before, never seen him as anything but cocky, arrogant Alec.
There was something in his eyes last night that I never thought I would see. He was looking at me the way I've always dreamed a man would look at me, full of passion and longing and something else, something that looked a lot like love. I laugh out loud. That's ridiculous. Alec doesn't love me. He definitely wants me and he may care for me, but the only person he loves is himself. But if that's true, why was we looking at me like that? Why was he looking at me the same way I looked at him?
I push off the covers and get out of bed. My clothes are lying in a ragged pool on the floor, my shirt nearly in two pieces from Alec's haste to get it off me. I wonder where Alec is; I wouldn't be surprised if he left without saying goodbye. But I take a closer look and notice his jeans and boots lying beside mine. His clothes are still here, but where the hell is he?
I put on my bathrobe and pad barefoot to the kitchen and nearly fall over at the shock of the scene before me: Alec and Original Cindy cooking. He's wearing only a pair of black boxer-briefs and he looks even better in the daylight then he did last night. The two of them are singing an old Dusty Springfield song, using the utensils as makeshift microphones. I hold in a giggle as Original Cindy throws back her head and belts out, "Now listen honey. . ." I plant a hand on my hip and clear my throat; they freeze like deer in headlights.
"Hey Max," Alec says timidly as he drops the spatula in the sink. "Sleep well?"
I cross my arms over my chest and finish the verse for them. "I just want to be beside you everywhere. As long as we're together baby I don't care. . ."
"Didn't know you're a Dusty Springfield fan, boo," Original Cindy says self-consciously.
I can't help but laugh. "You two are a sorry pair of singers."
"Yeah," she says, her eyes darting back and forth between Alec and me. He's standing by the sink, his hips resting against the counter and his arms folded over his chest. He's staring right at me, his expression unreadable and his eyes full of questions. We have a lot of things to work
out.
"I'll let you guys have a breakfast in peace," Original Cindy says and bolts for her bedroom.
The door slams closed with a bang, cloaking the room in silence. We stare at each other awkwardly, neither confident enough to make eye contact. Finally, he walks over to me and pulls me into his arms. He kisses my neck and I stiffen as his bare skin burns against mine. I feel so self-conscious around him, so out of sorts; I don't know what to do with myself. "What's wrong?" he asks.
"Nothing," I say and pull away. "I'm just trying to regroup after last night."
"Yeah, I'll be lucky if I can finish my route today. I'm beat."
He turns back to the food and for the first time I see the nail marks marring the smooth skin of his back. I can't help but feel a little turned on when I realize I did that to him.
"Um, so you hungry?" he asks. "I was trying to make you breakfast, but it didn't really work out," he explains, pointing to the mess of eggs burning in the frying pan. "Wanna try again?"
I shake my head. "I'm not hungry," I say and take the orange juice out of the fridge. I wince at how empty it is; I'm hoping for big tips this week so I can eat like a somewhat normal person. I pour myself a glass of OJ and sit down at the table to drink it. I offer him some, but he declines. He's looking at me funny, something I can't recognize flickering in his eyes. His expression looks almost crestfallen, like a little boy who just lost his favorite toy. But that can't be right. This is indestructible, tough-as-nails Alec; he can't be upset about how I'm treating him. Or can he?
I don't know what to say to him. Last night is a big blur of surreal feelings and I don't know how to deal with them. Do I say thank you? Ask to do it again? What's the protocol after a one-night stand? He's not making the situation any easier. He hasn't said a thing, just watches me from his position by the stove. I have no idea what he's thinking, if he even had a good time last night. I sip my juice in silence as I try and come up with what to tell him.
After a few minutes he picks up the pan and dumps the eggs in the sink; I try not to cringe as food I paid good money for is wasted.
"I need to get to work," he says. "Normal's gonna bust my ass if I'm late." He heads toward the bedroom to get dressed.
I put down my juice and storm after him. "So that's it?" I cry. "We're not going to talk about what happened last night?"
He pulls on his pants and tugs the zipper up. I frown as his washboard stomach is covered by a layer of denim; I flush as I remember tracing its contours with my tongue. "You made it pretty clear you don't want to talk about it."
"I did not!"
"Look Max," he says as he shrugs into his t-shirt. I watch his muscles bunch and pull under his skin and have to remind myself that I'm mad at him. "I tried to make breakfast for you, do something nice for you, and you don't give a damn."
"I wasn't hungry. That doesn't mean I don't want to talk."
He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Look, I have a job to do and I don't have time for your games. When you're ready to be a big girl and deal with what you did last night, we'll talk." He looks at me with eyes radiating such pain I have to look away. I realize I've blown it. He let me inside, let me see him off-guard and I threw it in his face. He'll never trust me again, not after this. I was supposed to be the vulnerable one, the scared one--it's funny how quickly the tables can turn.
He pulls on his boots, his motions stiff with repressed anger. "Alec," I say and grab his arm to stop him.
He twists out of my grasp and storms out of the apartment, the door slamming after him. I choke back a sob and collapse on my bed, hugging my pillow to my chest as I cry. I've never felt so bad about anything before. Hurting Alec is worse than Logan. Logan is giving and loving and open, freely dispensing love to those he cares about. Alec is so different. He doesn't let people in, let them see past the unbreakable he soldier was trained to be. He isn't an easy person to hurt because he doesn't let people see the vulnerable side of him. But he showed it to me this morning and I couldn't have reacted worse. I felt such a connection with him, felt such peace. I didn't feel weird or freakish or different; for once I felt like I finally belonged. And I ruined everything before I even had the chance to enjoy it.
~ * ~
Please, please, please respond!!!
First of all, I'm sorry for the delay in updates but I've had a ton of work this week and it was hard to find the time to write. Second, I'm sorry this chapter is so short, but again, with all the work, I barely found the time to write this much. But luckily for all of you, the story's going to be longer now cause I only got in about a third of what I wanted to write in this chapter. I hope to have the next one up by Monday at the latest. Anyway, thank you for all the wonderful responses and the amazing support for this story. I hope you enjoy this chapter!!!
~ * ~
"There are no mistakes, no coincidences. All events are blessings given to us to learn from." - Elizabeth Kubler-Ross
~ * ~
I push the door open hesitantly, hoping the coast is clear. I rub my back, massaging a sore spot where a loose spring in Sketchy's couch pressed a bit too hard, but I'd take his worn-down couch over the paper-thin walls of my apartment any day; I'm happy my boo finally got some, but that doesn't mean I want to hear it. I yawn and drop my coat on the couch as I head into the kitchen to find something to eat. It's early, I haven't had my coffee, and I'm not in the mood to talk to anyone; unfortunately, I'm not alone. Alec is standing in front of my stove wearing nothing but a pair of tight, black boxer-briefs. I might go for the gals, but even I can admit the boy is fine. His skin is golden and smooth and his muscles are bulging and I wish I were straight so I can get a piece. I whistle softly and he turns to face me.
"Hey, hey," I say. "Up a little early aren't you?"
He crosses his arms over his chest, the simple movement emphasizing the definition of his pectorals. "Hey, OC. We missed you last night."
I peer over his shoulder in to the contents of the pan. "I'm sure you didn't. Making breakfast?"
"I'm going to surprise Max."
I cock an eyebrow. "I'm guessing things went well last night?"
He raises an eyebrow too. "You're not surprised."
I stir the eggs for him. "It was plain to see that you two were going to get it on eventually."
He frowns slightly and uncrosses his arms. "It's not like that."
"So tell me how it is."
He runs a hand over his face and sighs. "I'm not sure. It's not like me and Max did a lot of talking."
I drop the spatula and stare him down. "Sit," I say.
"OC--," he starts.
I point to the kitchen table. "Sit," I repeat.
He glares at me, but slumps into a chair. "What?"
I sit across from him. "We need to talk."
"We don't need to talk. I was in the middle of making breakfast--."
"You hurt her and I'll kill you," I interrupt and he bursts out laughing.
I lean across the table, armed with my nastiest glare. "You listen to me, Alec. You might be stronger than me and smarter than me and more Manticore than me, but Max is my best friend and I'll kill you if you hurt her. What you did last night was low. You knew she was vulnerable and attracted to you and you acted on it. I'm not blaming you; most guys would do the same in that situation. But that doesn't mean you can fuck her and leave her, do you understand me? You remember that she's a person too and you'd better treat her right. Get it?"
He glowers at me. "I get it. OC, take a hint: butt out of my life and let Max and me work it out, okay?" He forcefully pushes his chair back and heads back to the eggs, mumbling under his breath about being bitched out first thing in the morning.
I smile to myself, satisfied at a job well done. I'm not mad at Alec; I know he loves Max and he doesn't want to do her harm. But he's also a guy, which doesn't exactly make him reliable; he could blow her off because he's too stupid to see what's right in front of him. He needed someone to set him straight, and who better than Max's best friend?
~ * ~
I lie in my bed, trying to figure out what happened last night. My cheeks burn with shame as I remember how wanton, needy I was with Alec. And all along he treated me like a queen. I was expecting teasing and mocking, but instead he was gentle and tender. I've never seen this side of him before, never seen him as anything but cocky, arrogant Alec.
There was something in his eyes last night that I never thought I would see. He was looking at me the way I've always dreamed a man would look at me, full of passion and longing and something else, something that looked a lot like love. I laugh out loud. That's ridiculous. Alec doesn't love me. He definitely wants me and he may care for me, but the only person he loves is himself. But if that's true, why was we looking at me like that? Why was he looking at me the same way I looked at him?
I push off the covers and get out of bed. My clothes are lying in a ragged pool on the floor, my shirt nearly in two pieces from Alec's haste to get it off me. I wonder where Alec is; I wouldn't be surprised if he left without saying goodbye. But I take a closer look and notice his jeans and boots lying beside mine. His clothes are still here, but where the hell is he?
I put on my bathrobe and pad barefoot to the kitchen and nearly fall over at the shock of the scene before me: Alec and Original Cindy cooking. He's wearing only a pair of black boxer-briefs and he looks even better in the daylight then he did last night. The two of them are singing an old Dusty Springfield song, using the utensils as makeshift microphones. I hold in a giggle as Original Cindy throws back her head and belts out, "Now listen honey. . ." I plant a hand on my hip and clear my throat; they freeze like deer in headlights.
"Hey Max," Alec says timidly as he drops the spatula in the sink. "Sleep well?"
I cross my arms over my chest and finish the verse for them. "I just want to be beside you everywhere. As long as we're together baby I don't care. . ."
"Didn't know you're a Dusty Springfield fan, boo," Original Cindy says self-consciously.
I can't help but laugh. "You two are a sorry pair of singers."
"Yeah," she says, her eyes darting back and forth between Alec and me. He's standing by the sink, his hips resting against the counter and his arms folded over his chest. He's staring right at me, his expression unreadable and his eyes full of questions. We have a lot of things to work
out.
"I'll let you guys have a breakfast in peace," Original Cindy says and bolts for her bedroom.
The door slams closed with a bang, cloaking the room in silence. We stare at each other awkwardly, neither confident enough to make eye contact. Finally, he walks over to me and pulls me into his arms. He kisses my neck and I stiffen as his bare skin burns against mine. I feel so self-conscious around him, so out of sorts; I don't know what to do with myself. "What's wrong?" he asks.
"Nothing," I say and pull away. "I'm just trying to regroup after last night."
"Yeah, I'll be lucky if I can finish my route today. I'm beat."
He turns back to the food and for the first time I see the nail marks marring the smooth skin of his back. I can't help but feel a little turned on when I realize I did that to him.
"Um, so you hungry?" he asks. "I was trying to make you breakfast, but it didn't really work out," he explains, pointing to the mess of eggs burning in the frying pan. "Wanna try again?"
I shake my head. "I'm not hungry," I say and take the orange juice out of the fridge. I wince at how empty it is; I'm hoping for big tips this week so I can eat like a somewhat normal person. I pour myself a glass of OJ and sit down at the table to drink it. I offer him some, but he declines. He's looking at me funny, something I can't recognize flickering in his eyes. His expression looks almost crestfallen, like a little boy who just lost his favorite toy. But that can't be right. This is indestructible, tough-as-nails Alec; he can't be upset about how I'm treating him. Or can he?
I don't know what to say to him. Last night is a big blur of surreal feelings and I don't know how to deal with them. Do I say thank you? Ask to do it again? What's the protocol after a one-night stand? He's not making the situation any easier. He hasn't said a thing, just watches me from his position by the stove. I have no idea what he's thinking, if he even had a good time last night. I sip my juice in silence as I try and come up with what to tell him.
After a few minutes he picks up the pan and dumps the eggs in the sink; I try not to cringe as food I paid good money for is wasted.
"I need to get to work," he says. "Normal's gonna bust my ass if I'm late." He heads toward the bedroom to get dressed.
I put down my juice and storm after him. "So that's it?" I cry. "We're not going to talk about what happened last night?"
He pulls on his pants and tugs the zipper up. I frown as his washboard stomach is covered by a layer of denim; I flush as I remember tracing its contours with my tongue. "You made it pretty clear you don't want to talk about it."
"I did not!"
"Look Max," he says as he shrugs into his t-shirt. I watch his muscles bunch and pull under his skin and have to remind myself that I'm mad at him. "I tried to make breakfast for you, do something nice for you, and you don't give a damn."
"I wasn't hungry. That doesn't mean I don't want to talk."
He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Look, I have a job to do and I don't have time for your games. When you're ready to be a big girl and deal with what you did last night, we'll talk." He looks at me with eyes radiating such pain I have to look away. I realize I've blown it. He let me inside, let me see him off-guard and I threw it in his face. He'll never trust me again, not after this. I was supposed to be the vulnerable one, the scared one--it's funny how quickly the tables can turn.
He pulls on his boots, his motions stiff with repressed anger. "Alec," I say and grab his arm to stop him.
He twists out of my grasp and storms out of the apartment, the door slamming after him. I choke back a sob and collapse on my bed, hugging my pillow to my chest as I cry. I've never felt so bad about anything before. Hurting Alec is worse than Logan. Logan is giving and loving and open, freely dispensing love to those he cares about. Alec is so different. He doesn't let people in, let them see past the unbreakable he soldier was trained to be. He isn't an easy person to hurt because he doesn't let people see the vulnerable side of him. But he showed it to me this morning and I couldn't have reacted worse. I felt such a connection with him, felt such peace. I didn't feel weird or freakish or different; for once I felt like I finally belonged. And I ruined everything before I even had the chance to enjoy it.
~ * ~
Please, please, please respond!!!
