AN: Yeah, it's late. But it's long so… Un-beta-ed for the moment, so all mistakes are mine.
I smile internally at her sigh. Reluctantly or not, she was going to talk to me. Communication has been strained between us lately, but I cannot push her too hard, or she will retreat father back into herself.
I guess it was a little irresponsible of me to just kiss her like I did, but I couldn't help it. Her bright eyes flashing furiously, plump lips pouted in irritation; she was irresistible.
She smiles sadly, griping my hand in hers like a vice. I squeeze back, needing the support just as much as she did. I watch her intently as she glances out of the window, taking a deep breath before turning her eyes back to mine, letting the air out through puffed cheeks.
"This is harder than I thought it would be," she says, quietly. He hand leaves mine, joining the other under the table. She looks curiously vulnerable sitting there, the low candle light making her vivid eyes glint a startling color.
"Yeah," I reply, knowing exactly what she's up to. She wants me to say it's okay, to say it's fine and we can drop it. But I cannot let this go.
"I know what I want to say, but I don't know how to say it," she blurts, honestly and I am floored by the distress in her voice. I've only heard that tone a few times before; when Speed died, when she was almost killed. I'm not sure what I want her to say myself; everything is so complex with us. We either take a risk on out friendship, or try to forget about what happened, and risk entering that awkward stage from which we can never escape.
"Why don't you just talk? See what comes out," I offer, hoping to provoke a response that isn't a riddle.
She sighed again, glancing outside as she mulls over my recommendation. I fight back my frustration, reminding myself of why she finds it so difficult to talk like this, why she finds it so difficult to trust. Regardless of our friendship, this will be a long and drawn out process. I can't get annoyed and snap at her slow pace, or she'll never talk to me. Ironically, it seems to be when we argue, we talk more. Things come out in the heat of the moment that she can't ignore.
"I just find everything so difficult," she blurts, a strange, unnatural waver to her voice. Her fear is invariantly obvious and I want to offer comfort but I fear that, if I speak, I'll break what ever spell has got her talking. So I nod, opting for silence.
"I broke up with Jake," she states, and surprisingly, I'm not surprised. I'd seen it coming, seen her slowly getting tired of the repetitive arguments and accusations. She must be shocked at my lack of surprise, because she gives me a puzzled look. "You're not…"
"Contary to what you may think, Cal. I can read you like a book." I smile sadly, knowing just how true that statement was. I had catalogued every one of her moves and expressions from over the years, but she was currently wearing one I had never seen before. "I knew you weren't happy."
She nods softly. I wouldn't have noticed it if I wasn't watching her like a hawk; her moves are barely discernable. I sense her fear, now more then ever. She knows I'm close to breaking her walls. We're silent a moment longer, the only noise from the bustle of the restaurant; the clink of cutlery against china and the soft murmur of speech and laughter.
Suddenly, her hands clasp together, her head shoots up and her eyes lock forcefully with mine. But she speaks in a soft, tentative tone, a stark contrast to her outer appearance. "You kissed me," she states.
"Yeah," I agree, not really too sure what she is getting at. "And you kissed me."
"Why?" she asks, ignoring my last statement.
"Why, what?"
"Why'd you kiss me?"
"You're asking me why I kissed you?" I confirm, incredulity coloring my voice. "Isn't is obvious?"
Apparently, it's not because she tilts her head, furrowing her eyebrows in a question. I figure her silence is an urge for me to continue, so I utter the only response I'm brave enough to give. "Because I wanted to."
She's quiet again, mulling over my answer. "So… It was - It was an impulsive thing?" She pauses, "You were bored."
"Hey, you're the one who said it was 'just a kiss', Calleigh," I spit out, bitterly, regretting my harsh tone immediately as I see her eyes fall. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that."
"It's okay," comes her small response.
"No, it's not," I say, running my hand over my face in irritation taking a moment to gather my nerve. I have to tell her the truth, I owe her that much. "Everything's messed up Calleigh, and I really don't know what to say. I - I want to say the, um, the right thing. But I don't know what that is." I catch her eye, holding her gaze, "I didn't know what to say, because I don't know what words will describe why I wanted to kiss you. I didn't - I don't think they'll explain how much I wanted to."
Her face softens, her shoulders visibly relaxing. "Eric -" she starts, only to be cut of by the arrival of our food. I take a moment to study the waiter, needing to see another face in front of my eyes than hers, to put my mind straight again. I can get lost in Calleigh sometimes, but I can't right now. I have to stay focused. He has that 'Josh Duhamel' look about him, ruffled dark hair and striking eyes. Striking eyes that are currently surveying Calleigh's cleavage as she, oblivious to her new admirer, moves cutlery out of the way to make room for the plates.
I feel a spark of jealousy and I don't even bother trying to tell myself it's irrational, I passed that mark along time ago.
He leaves, shooting Calleigh a smug over the shoulder smile which she politely returns, allowing her eyes to remain on him for only a second before they return to mine. I am taken aback by the new confidence I see in them. Apparently, letting her know I don't regret the kiss makes her happy.
She picks up her fork, picking at a small piece of meat before raising her it to her mouth. She chews softly, eyes never leaving mine, before swallowing. "Eric, what's happening here?" she finally asks.
"Here?"
"Yeah, here. Us," she clarifies, eyes still fixated on mine, fork suspended in the air.
"Well that depends on what you want," I say. "On how you want this to go."
"Why does the ball have to be in my court?" she asks, before throwing another sports metaphor at me. "Why do I have to step up?"
"So I don't feel like I've forced it. So you can't say I did."
"I wouldn't, I -"
"But you would," I counter. "You would, and that's okay. It's who you are Cal, the moment you lose control your defenses go up and you back away."
She contemplates that as we eat silently for a moment, throwing nervous glances at each other. "I don't mean to," she states, a little defensively and I smile, grabbing her hand as I do so. "I get scared." There's a note of fear behind her voice, hidden by a sarcastic chuckle.
"I know," I reply. I know she'll never ask for what she wants, or give any indication of it. I make a choice. If I can tell her exactly what I feel, she can make the decision on the next step. "I know what I want, too."
My hesitant tone catches her attention, and her body tenses. "What?" she asks.
"I want to stop playing these games. I want to stop pretending. I want you to know what I feel for you."
She remains silent, and, although I have no verbal imploration to continue, her eyes urge me on. "I like you Calleigh, a lot. A lot, a lot, a lot," I chuckle sarcastically, hiding my worry. I let my eyes find hers, sincerity overcoming me, "And I'm not gonna hide it anymore."
Her cheeks flush, her head drops and she takes deep breaths. If I didn't know her, I'd worry she had taken ill. "Calleigh?" I ask, needing confirmation that she had actually heard me.
"You - You like, me?" she asks, slowly and I can't help the laugh that escapes me. For someone so smart, she can be as think as a tree-stump sometimes.
"Yeah, Calleigh. But you knew that."
"No, I - I thought it was just, I don't know. A little, a little thing you wouldn't want to act on."
"Well, you can lose that idea." She smiles, placing her fork down. I've not finished, but my appetite has left me, so I follow suit. "Wanna get out of here?" I ask, not wanting to seem too forceful. She nods a little and I signal for the waiter.
She reaches for her purse as he arrives, but I'm faster, placing the bills down inside the black cover.
"You paid last time," she complains, as normally we alternate payments.
"Yeah, but I think tonight's a little different." I smile at her, signaling with my head towards the door. We raise, Calleigh stealing two mints from the counter as we left the restaurant. She handed me one as we got into the hummer, and I drove in the direction of her apartment.
"You want some tea?" I call over my shoulder, entering the kitchen as Eric takes a seat on my couch. He shakes his head, I should have known. "Coffee? Hot cocoa?"
"Coffee please," he says, chuckling at me softly, though I'm not sure why. I wait for the water to boil, placing coffee in one cup and cocoa in another. I wander into the living room, staring at Eric for a moment. He's reclined on my couch, one leg brought up to rest on the cushions. It seems like yesterday he was here, sleeping softly, back when things were simpler. The kettle whistles, catching my attention.
I pour in the water, adding two giant marshmallows to my cup of cocoa. Dropping the spoons into the sink, I carry them both into the living room, placing mine on the coffee table, and handing Eric's to him. "Can I get you anything else?" I ask, and it's almost habit, my need to make everyone happy in my home.
"No, thanks Cal. Just sit down."
I do. On the rocking chair, as far away from him as I can. Subconsciously or not, I can't help it. I catch his eye roll and my head drops.
"So, is this how it's gonna be?" he asks, a pitiful tone to his husky voice. It's late now, and he's probably tired.
"What do you mean?" I reply, already knowing the answer.
"Me over here; you over there." And I know he's not talking about our seating arrangements. It's the awkwardness that has descended upon us; something I feared would happen regardless of my actions.
"I don't want it to be," I say, eyes meeting his as I pick up my cup, stabbing the marshmallow away with my tongue so I can drink the hot fluid. The scorching liquid hurts my lips, and the pain is a welcome relief from his intense gaze.
"It doesn't have to be."
God, I'm tired. Of these games, these cryptic phrases being throw around. I want a straight answer to all the questions I was to ask him, I'm so damn tired of this whole charade. "What do you want from me, Eric?"
"I want you to be happy," he admits, and I can hear the honesty in is voice. But that's not an answer, not in my eyes. I want to know exactly what he's thinking so I can make the right moves. I realize suddenly, how selfish that is. He shouldn't be the only one to put himself on the line.
"I want… I don't know if -If I can say -." My sentences are fragmented, I don't know if I can say what he wants me to say, what I want to say. I think he realizes this because he stands up, causing me to jump, takes my cup from my burning fingers and sets it back on the table. I panic for a moment, when he kneels down between my legs, pulling me closer with my hands. "Eric?" I start, only to be cut off by his fingers on my lips. I get the idea, he wants to talk.
"Calleigh, I'm gonna ask you this, I'm gonna take a risk… and I want a straight answer. No more game playing. Okay?" he asks, and I nod a little, scared to open my mouth. He crawls closer, his hands moving to my head, fingers threading through my hair.
My eyes shut slowly, breathing labored. He waits for me to open them again, his soulful brown eyes locking with mine. "Calleigh, do you want to be with me?" He pauses, gauging my reaction. Aside from my pounding heart, I must not move because he continues. " Do you wanna, be the one? The one I love, the one I care about, the one I'd do anything in the world to protect? Do you wanna be… my one?"
I don't fight the light tears that spring to my eyes, threatening to spill over as I shut my eyes tight again. I nod slightly, but that's not enough. His fingers find my chin, forcing my head up to him. His eyes bore holes in mine, and I know he wants an answer. His lips are centimeters from mine; one of his hands is hot from my cup, the other still cool from the air outside. The combination of contrasting temperatures is in itself too much, but the way his hands brush my neck makes me struggle to breath.
I can't fight him, I don't want to. My hands lock around his wrists, and I speak so quietly he has to move closer to hear me. "Yes," I state simply, and his eyes question me. Am I sure? I smile, leaning forward to kiss his forehead gently. "Yeah, I'm sure. I want to be with you. I don't want to be scared anymore," I say in a small voice.
His eyes show pure elation, but he doesn't smile. His forehead rests on mine, his hot breath cascading over my lips as he speaks, distracting me greatly. "This can't be a small thing, Calleigh. I can't do that to either of us." He glances down, again waiting for my eyes to open before continuing. "I need to know that you're gonna put into this, that you're not gonna pull way from me." He moves his head off mine, gripping the sides of my face, a look of dogged determination across his features. "Cal, I need to know; if you could give me your heart."
Blinking back tears at the desperation in his voice, I pull my head back. "I can't…" I start, and his head falls. My heart squeezes involuntarily at the pain on his face. "I can't give you my heart… because it's not mine to give."
He looks at me, confused. "Know where my heart is?" His hand reaches up, fingers trailing feather light around my left breast. I smile sadly at his naivety, pulling his hand gently away from my chest. "Nope…" Another look of dazed confusion. I open his hand, palm upwards, and let my index finger dance around his palm. I whisper, "It's right hear; in the palm of your hand…And I'm begging you… please," I let a lone tear trickle down my face as I squeeze his hand tighter, "Please, don't break it."
He pulls me to him, cradling my head against his chest. "I promise," he mummers softly against my hair. And I believe him. I've spent my life dealing with the magnitude of empty promises and lies but, somehow, in the pit of my heart, I believe everything this man says. I pull away from his embrace, and he looks scared suddenly. I smile, gesturing that we should move to the couch, the rocking chair feels hard and unyielding against my back.
I pull the wool blanket down off the top of the couch and drape it over us. It's not cold, but I need to feel close to him. I bite down at the panic I feel rise up, I'm so scared, I could so easily get lost in him. I'm not used to needing someone this much, to feeling like I'd die if they walked away. It terrifies me.
He pulls me closer again, seemingly feeling the same need for closeness as I do. As my eyes flutter shut, I hear him take one deep resolute breath and whisper a final, "I promise" into my hair. With that renewed vow, we fall asleep, content to lie, at least for tonight, safe in each other's arms.
AN: Elements:
A rocking chair - check
Two giant marshmallows - check
Josh Duhamel - check
I don't think I did as well with this chapter, I found it really hard to write, what do you guys think? Should I continue? Oh, and 10 points to whoever gets the gazillion X-Files references.