Chapter Four: The Freedom of French Kissing

I must have paced the length of the living room twenty times that morning waiting for the buzzer to ring. I hadn't seen Eric since the bookstore, but we had spoken on the phone every night. He told me long convoluted tales about his band mates who I would be meeting on Christmas, life as a musician and his childhood in Sweden. I, in turn, relayed stories about my life as a writer and the inner workings of the magazines that had published me over the last few years, my misadventures with Pam and of life as a southerner.

"Favorite song ever?" he asked during one of our late night conversations. He stressed the ever as if someone had punched him in the gut. It was incredibly sexy.

"Dance Me to the End of Love," I answered without hesitation. Normally when someone asked me this question I would hem and haw, never able to settle on a single song, but talking to Eric I felt comfortable without all the pretense and it flew out of my mouth before I could think about it.

"Really?" He seemed surprised. I wasn't sure if it was because of the song choice or because I didn't seem like the kind of girl who listened to Leonard Cohen, but he didn't elaborate. "What about it makes it your favorite?"

"Let me see your beauty when the witnesses are gone, let me feel you moving like they do in Babylon, show me slowly what I know only the limits of and dance me to the end of love," I recited reverently. Leonard Cohen was one of the sexiest musicians I had ever heard and that song in particular made me swoon, but I wasn't about to confess that to Eric.

"So, it's all about lyrics?"

"Of course," I laughed. "I'm a writer."

"What are some of your other favorite lyrics?"

"Shouldn't you be answering these questions too?"

"I'll answer them later. Right now I am interviewing you. I can't very well be friends with someone who has awful taste in music, now can I? Go ahead, tell me."

"Oh, um," I thought out loud. "I guess 'The in-between, the absentee, is a beautiful disguise' has stuck with me."

"Who is that?"

"Bright Eyes."

"Jesus, you are depressing me." He laughed loudly into the phone.

"Leonard Cohen isn't depressing," I protested, but he just kept laughing. "Alright, mister, you've got something better to offer I assume?"

"Easy, 'well, maybe I'm just too young to keep good love from going wrong'."

I scoffed. "Oh yeah, it was totally all me, I was the depressing one. At least mine were optimistic."

"What could possibly be optimistic about 'the absentee is a beautiful disguise?"

"It's about not trying to be something you are not and accepting that you will never fit a label."

"It's about hiding behind a carefully constructed image." Ouch. Eric Northman had my number all right.

"Well, now it doesn't even matter. I don't want to be your friend anymore." I said this as seriously as I could, but I was laughing the entire time. In fact I thought it was adorable that he had quoted Jeff Buckley and I wanted to tell him that I had cried as a young teenager when I learned of his death, but that would have been conceding to him. It was far more entertaining to let Eric think that I disagreed.

We had agreed to disagree in the end and I hung up the phone that night with a flutter in my stomach and a smile on my face.

"You are retarded for each other," Pam told me when I had seen her to say goodbye before she left for California.

"We're just friends," I told her.

"Keep telling yourself that." Was all she said.

It was true though; we were really just being friendly. He hadn't made any moves to see me and the way he had discussed me joining the band for Christmas was more in the way a little sister would tag along. At first I had hoped that Eric perhaps had been attracted to me, but it seemed more like wishful thinking than reality. The more I talked to Eric the more I liked him and enjoyed talking to him, so I was content to accept that I wasn't a romantic interest.

Knowing all of this did not stop me from pacing the length of my apartment repeatedly waiting for him to show up on Christmas morning. At the sound of the buzzer I launched myself from my precarious perch at the end of my couch to let him in. The minutes that ticked away while I waited for him were spent trying to calm myself down from being such a nervous wreck. It wasn't just Eric that had me in a ball of nerves, but that I was about to spend the day with a group of people whom I had never met and I would be the odd one out. I focused on bringing air in through my nose and letting it slowly fill my lungs, enjoying the swell of the inhale before slowly pushing it back out of my body through my nose. I had done it three times when I heard his heavy footsteps on the stairs.

Inhale. One, Two, Three…

Exhale. One, Two-

Knock knock.

I opened the door and looked up to see that his cheeks were flushed and a light dusting of snow covered the black knit hat he wore over his mussed hair.

"Did you look outside?" He picked me up much to my surprise and swung me around half a turn before dropping me and pulling me over to the window. When I looked outside I gasped in surprise.

"A white Christmas," I said softly. I hadn't told Eric about my dreams of snow on Christmas so I could only guess that he was excited for his own reasons. He left my side and began rummaging around in my apartment, but I couldn't turn away from the window. I pressed my palms flat against the window and enjoyed the way the cold glass sent shivers down my arms. I wanted to call my Gran, I wanted to take pictures, but I was stuck with my hands against the window witnessing the beauty of the Christmas I had always imagined.

"Give me your hands," Eric directed and I turned to look at him without moving my hands from the glass.

"What?" I asked in confusion.

"Hands," he repeated. I saw that he had a pair of my green knit mittens in his hands held open that I could slip into them. Pam thought they were a fashion atrocity, but they kept my hands warm so I could've cared less what they looked like.

"Make yourself at home, Eric," I mumbled as I obeyed. He then tugged a navy blue knit beret over my ears and I shot him a wry look. His smile didn't falter, though and he seemed to be getting only more excited if that was possible. His long limbs were practically floating as he dragged me out of the apartment and down to the street. The second our feet touched the snow he had swept me up in his arms again, twirling us about and laughing with unchecked joy.

As I spun around with him I felt my defenses fall and I began laughing along with him, struggling to disentangle myself from him and grab a handful of snow to throw in his direction. Before I could even put one hand in the snow a loud smack sounded against my arm.

"You are in so much trouble, Northman," I yelled and began chasing him in an attempt to tackle him to the ground.

Tray and Amelia didn't live far from my building and it was a considerably shorter trip considering the fact that I chased Eric three fourths of the way there. By the time we were standing on their stoop I was covered practically head to toe in snow while Eric stood tall and dry. I had begun plotting my revenge from the first time I face planted in the snow and around the third time I ate snow I had made up my mind that he wouldn't know when it was coming, but I would get him good.

I was breathlessly trying to straighten out my clothes and shake the snow from my hair when I looked up to see a petite brunette had answered the door.

"Eric!" she exclaimed and threw her arms around his neck when he bent down to give her a hug. "And you must be Sookie," she said and turned her embrace on me. Normally I am not too much of a hugger, but Amelia's embrace was so warm and motherly I couldn't help but hug her back. We were ushered to the second floor and practically pushed through a door into a narrow hallway. "I have heard so much about you. Please, come in. You can put your coat here and your gloves there. I would have send Tray down, but god knows what he would have had you do with all your snow soaked clothes," she pulled my coat from my back as she talked rapid-fire, giving directions to both Eric and I about what went where. It was decisive if not a little bossy, but I immediately decided that I liked her.

Eric linked his fingers through mine and pulled me forward into a large living room that had an indescribable woodsy feel to it. A dark brown leather couch took up most of the room, flanked by dark wood end tables. The golden color on the walls stood out as unusual, but was nicely offset by black and white photos and floor to ceiling bookshelves crammed full of antique looking bindings. It was all very attractive, but in a sturdy, practical way, not meant to be aesthetically pleasing but still exuding a sense of warmth and comfort that created a welcoming atmosphere. It was staggering how the décor reminded me of home for no specific reason and my heart sunk just a little thinking of my Gran all alone in her house without anyone to share the holiday with. I was going to hell.

"I like your house, it reminds me of home." I turned back to tell Amelia.

"Where are you from?"

"Louisiana."

"Oh, me too! Not exactly southern décor, but I understand the feeling. I'm from New Orleans, you?"

"Bon Temps. It's a little way out of Shreveport."

"Hmm, I don't think I know it. Tray, have you ever heard of Bon Temps?"

Just as I turned around I was met with another bear hug, though this time from a large man. "Hi?" I offered, though it was muffled by his chest in my face.

"This is Sookie isn't it?" I heard him ask.

"I sure as hell hope so since you are suffocating the poor girl," Amelia said. I am not sure I have ever been hugged so much by so many people in one day. The large man I deduced to be Tray released me and stepped back so I got a good look at him. He was tall, though not as tall as Eric, with short stylishly tousled brown hair and kind eyes. The looks of affection and light banter exchanged between him and his wife spoke volumes to their relationship.

"You two are scaring her," Eric said with a look that I couldn't discern. He grabbed my hand once again and led me into the kitchen where two men were sitting in chairs at a table covered in the most delicious looking food I had ever seen. It was like an image straight out of a gourmet-cooking magazine and my mouth was watering at the sight of all the tiny appetizer like dishes.

"Sookie, this is Dave and Alcide." They both rose slightly to embrace me and I couldn't help but laugh and hug them back, I wasn't quite sure what else to do.

"You guys are all huggers, huh?" I commented as Alcide's embrace lasted just a fraction longer than necessary.

"It's something you pick up when you hang out with them long enough," Alcide told me and I noticed that he had the brightest green eyes I think I had ever seen. He was rugged looking with shaggy brown hair and arms full of tattoos. The slight stubble across his jaw gave me a slight tug in the stomach; I've always been a sucker for well-worn facial hair. I couldn't get close enough to see what the tattoos were, but from a distance they were certainly impressive and somewhat intimidating.

We all took our places around the table, Amelia on one side of me and Eric on the other. The men began passing around each plate and heaping on tons of the small portions. Amelia joked that she had hoped the smaller food would discourage the men from taking too much, but obviously it had had the opposite effect. The meal carried on with loud, boisterous talking, each man louder than the next to be heard over one another as they discussed things that I couldn't follow. Every now and then Amelia would lean over and try to fill me in on what it was all about, but from what I could gather it was mostly sports and private jokes that I wouldn't understand anyway.

Eric would periodically look over at me and offer a reassuring smile before continuing on in the conversation. Normally I would have felt left out, but it was almost as if everyone was talking to everyone all at once. It was confusing and overwhelming, but the sense of family among the group of friends was unlike anything I had ever witnessed before and I was enjoying just sitting back and watching them interact. After the meal was finished Amelia stood up and began clearing plates so I went with her, picking up a couple of dishes before I followed her to the counters on the opposite side of the kitchen.

"They are something else, aren't they?" She asked almost as if she was apologizing for their behavior.

"I'm a little lost, but it's not an entirely awful thing. They seem really close and it's nice to witness people who love each other enjoying their holiday together."

"Ha. Just wait until you see them argue. You won't think it's such a beautiful experience then." She pulled the plate I offered her from my hand and placed it down on the counter. Then she reached up into a cabinet and pulled out two wine glasses. "They won't even notice we are gone." With a conspiratorial wink she walked out of the kitchen and back into the living room, grabbing a bottle of wine from the table. Tray smacked her ass with a loud crack as she passed and although she kept walking I thought I heard a light chuckle. They were clearly in love and I was consumed with jealously over what they had. Not that I was dying to get married or anything, but even my most serious relationship had never been as comfortable as Tray and Amelia seemed to be.

That was probably a large part of my problem; I never seemed to get comfortable with anyone. I had my boundaries that I kept in place, never allowing anyone to get too close.

"You are quieter than Pam made you seem," Amelia said with a hint of amusement as she curled into a corner of the couch. She held out an empty glass that I took as she filled it with wine and I took a seat next to her. After pouring herself a glass she continued, "Not that it's a bad thing, really. Don't mind us, I know it can be off putting at first but we grow on you."

"No," I assured her. "I'm having a wonderful time."

We slowly sipped our wine and she told me about the small café she owned. It was called Bob's on St Mark's Place. I was pretty certain I had heard of it before, but I didn't think I had ever been there. When I asked about the name she told me it was named after a cat she had when she was a child. She gave me specific directions and I promised I would pay her a visit. And then she poured us each another glass of wine and turned so that we were face to face. Regarding me with a serious look on her face I could tell that there was something she wanted to talk about, but was unsure of how to broach the subject.

"Go ahead," I said and giggled in an attempt to ease the tension. She gave me a grateful smile and took another swig of wine before placing the glass on the floor next to the couch.

"Let's talk about Eric." Okay. Not what I had been expecting. "I know it's kind of none of my business, but he doesn't usually bring girls to these sorts of things and I'm curious. You don't seem like you are dating and it's just all so very not Eric."

"We aren't dating, I don't think so at least. We actually only met briefly a couple of weeks ago and we ran into each other a couple of days ago. When he found out I was going to spend Christmas alone he invited me along. We are friends. I think. Friend-ish."

"No offense, you seem really nice, but Eric doesn't usually do friend-ish. Not with women at least. He is what you would call the love 'em and leave 'em type. Not that people can't change, don't get me wrong," she was rambling and I wasn't quite sure what she wanted me to say. I lightly placed my hand onto her frantic gesticulating hands and looked her in the eyes.

"You don't have to worry, I won't hurt him."

"No. What? No." She clasped her hands over mine and I was suddenly very confused. "I don't think Eric even has feelings. I am worried about you and for entirely selfish reasons."

"I am not following."

She looked sheepishly at me and released my hands. "I want you to be my friend and I am worried if Eric scares you off you won't like me anymore."

I threw my head back and laughed at that. It could have been the wine going to my head, but at that moment if felt wonderful to let go and laugh. It had been a long time since anyone had asked me to be their friend. I had fuzzy recollections of Dawn sitting next to me on the swings in the playground offering me half of her Oreo (the side without the cream filling).

"I think you have made a friend for life," I told her confidently.

The evening wound down and before long Eric and I were piling our coats and gloves back on and heading out into the brisk evening. We parted with another round of hugs and a promise that I would be visiting Amelia later in the week.

A block from my house Eric's hand found its way around mine. I didn't look down at our joined hands, too afraid if I acknowledged the act that he would take it back. "Did you have a nice Christmas?" I asked in a desperate attempt to distract myself from the physical contact.

"Yes. Did you?" His voice was deep and so low I had to strain to hear it. Of course, the thudding of my heart inside my ears was creating quite the racket all by itself. His strong fingers found their way under my mitten, slipping it from my hand and his bare flesh touched my own. I was too involved in the feeling of his calloused fingers tracing my palm to pay attention to where my mitten went and I struggled to form a coherent thought.

"Mm hmm," was all I came up with.

I was practically panting by the time we made it to my door. I was terrified that I was coming across as some sex deprived desperate loser so I focused all my energy on remaining cool and calm while mentally coaching myself on the fine art of playing hard to get. My brain was rationally discussing the merits of leaving a man wanting more while my libido raged on, calling my brain a prude and generally defeating all the logic my brain was spewing out. Neither of us spoke a word as he backed me against my door and pressed his hips into mine. A moan left my lips in a flutter of breath before his lips crashed into mine.

It wasn't nearly as violent as our first kiss, but it was just as frenzied and passionate. He was in charge as his lips lead mine and his hands roamed my body. I was only along for the ride as my body, the traitor that it was, encouraged his every move with soft whimpers and sighs. His lips were tender as they sucked my own, his teeth nipping my bottom lip every so often. I was delirious, completely lost in sensation. It was overpowering and breathtaking. He was so certain with his movements, the clear sign of a man who knew exactly what he was doing and the idea that he had done this with many faceless girls before me slightly churned my stomach.

"Wait." I wasn't sure I said anything. Fuck if I even knew my name at that point, his skills were evidenced by the fact that I couldn't tell what was up and I didn't care as his fingers trailed my stomach under my shirt setting my whole body on fire.

"Wait, Eric. Stop." My breathless, airy words were hardly forceful and even to my own ears they were unconvincing, but my head was warring with my body and slowly reason was winning out. I opened my eyes to focus and realized that we were lying on my couch despite the fact that I didn't ever remember pulling my keys out of my pocket.

"Too. Fast." The words came out like moans and when his teeth began nibbling my collarbone I took advantage of our positions and flipped us over so that I was now straddling him. My lips tingled as feeling found their way back into them and I patted my hair down to regain some semblance of decency.

"Wait," was all I could manage in between gasps for air. The world was spinning, my heart was pounding in my chest and there was a distinct hardness under my thigh all combining to make my head swim and my inhibitions fly out the window.

"You look so good," he groaned below me. He lifted his hips up slightly to grind against me and I eagerly reciprocated the movement. His hair was disheveled and he was looking at me hungrily, in a way that no other man had ever looked at me before. I wanted to let go, abandon my sensibilities to his talented mouth and hands, allow myself to feel good without worrying about the repercussions of my actions. But the second his hands crept under the waistband of my jeans I leapt back off the couch and landed on the opposite of the room.

"Whoa, hang on." I held my hands out in a stop motion and slowly moved backwards as he prowled towards me once again. "Eric, hang on."

"What?" he froze, sounding genuinely confused at to what was wrong.

"We cannot do this."

"I thought you broke up with your boyfriend."

"Yes, I did."

"Okay," he stretched out the 'o' sound in a smartass way that made me want to smack him. That was exactly the point: I had just broken up with my boyfriend. The emotional trauma of ending that relationship was not something that was just going to disappear after a few amazing kisses that left me weak in the knees. I wasn't ready to just jump into another relationship and I told Eric as much.

"I wasn't aware we were entering a relationship," he replied with a devilish grin. My stomach dropped. Of course Eric didn't want to be in relationship with me, the only moves he had made were clearly not romantic gestures, but physical ones. It was clear that he was initiating a friends with benefits type of situation and I went and complicated things with my stupid mouth. I assume my face betrayed these thoughts because he immediately began backtracking. "Oh, no- I didn't mean," he started, but I cut him off.

"No, I am sorry. Of course we aren't. That wasn't what I meant, I've just had a lot to drink and it's been an overwhelming day." I was rambling, but at that moment I just needed to be by myself. I ushered him towards the door, shoving his discarded coat into his hands and all but threw him out the door.

"Sookie, I'm sorry, listen to me. I didn't mean it that way. I like you, I do." But I didn't hear him. My face was burning with embarrassment and all I could focus on was the fact that he still was talking to me while I was trying desperately not to cry in front of him.

"It's cool. No big deal, we're cool. I'll talk to you later, Eric. Okay? Thanks for today." I was smiling a crazy smile, a defense mechanism that I had developed years ago to cope with the fact that I am overly emotional yet hate to display any of those emotions.

"Are you sure?" His features were contorted in a frown, but he was relenting. The smile usually worked, no one wanted to push you when you were grinning like the joker.

"Positive. See ya," I was trying for casual, but I don't think that is how it came across. I closed the door a little more forceful than necessary, as he stood there looking confused and apologetic. As I heard his footsteps retreat down the hall I crumpled to the floor and let the hot tears of humiliation flow down my cheeks.