Chapter Four: Come Dance With Me
Pretty face, I know a swingin' place, so come dance with me,
Romance with me on a crowded floor.
And while the rhythm swings, what lovely things I'll be sayin',
For what is dancing but making love set to music, playin'.
~Frank Sinatra "Come Dance With Me"
"Neal, look, it's snowing," I directed his attention out of the window as we sat at the table eating our dinners.
"Yeah, pretty hard at that," he agreed with me. "So why did you get nominated as the team spokesperson?"
"Because you wouldn't let anyone else in. So, why am I the only one that has succeeded in getting you out of bed?"
"You only got in because you broke in," he pointed out. Then he smirked before adding, "I've taught you so well."
"Just don't tell Peter that," I laughed.
"Well, I'm sorry I made you go out of your way."
"Don't be sorry! How many times do I have to tell you that? Besides, I should be thanking you. You saved me from hours of grading and eating left over Chinese food for dinner."
"Okay then I guess we're even," he said and smiled at me. I smiled back almost immediately because, at least for now, I had my Neal back. "Have I missed anything the past few days?"
"Well, I've begun a new career as a stripper named Candy. Mozzie and Alex have eloped. Oh and Peter and Elle have adopted sextuplets," I told him, totally stone-faced. He just stared at me with raised eyebrows and I couldn't help but burst out laughing. "But no, seriously, all you've missed is a lot of the same stuff. I think Elle mentioned something about Peter getting a new case and needing some one to go undercover, but I don't know for sure."
"Do you know if he found anything about . . . about the plane?" My heart sank again as I saw his mood once again sink as he struggled for words.
"I don't know . . . but I know Peter. He's looking. He may not have been Kate's number one fan, but he'll never let this go until he finds out what exactly happened," I replied and looked down at my plate, absentmindedly pushing around the food still on it. "I'm done," I sighed and pushed away the half eaten plate of spaghetti.
"Yeah, me too," he agreed and pushed away his which was empty.
"Movie?" I asked, trying to shake off the old thoughts, which would surely take me right back to that place if I let them. He just shrugged and followed me over to the couch. I went about setting up the DVD player and turned on Marriage on the Rocks before joining Neal on the sofa.
In a matter of moments we ended up in our usual movie watching position—he sat at one end of the couch with his feet on the coffee table and I stretched out with my head on his lap and my knees up as my feet sat on the arm rest of the two-seater, his right hand sat limp on my knee. Occasionally, he would absentmindedly rub small circles on my leg with his thumb, but would stop as soon as he caught himself. To him, it was friends sitting casually and watching a movie. It was the highlight of my day.
"I keep meaning to ask this, but always forget, or it's a bad time," he started, his thumb once again tracing small circles on my skin. "When I first met you when you came and told Peter that you moved back, you told him that you got an apartment in 'the same building as before'. I thought you moved away for school when you were only fifteen."
I shifted uncomfortably in his lap and focused on the face of Frank Sinatra as I replied, praying that he wouldn't ask about this any further. "From when I was twelve until I moved, I lived in that building with our grandmother. After Grandpa died, she was really lonely and needed company, being with out him made her really depressed and Mom and Dad were afraid to leave her alone with as many medications as she had and could potentially OD on. Our parents were going to have Peter go, but I offered to go live with her instead."
"Why did you offer to go? You were only twelve."
"Peter had friends and a girlfriend that he probably would have ended up losing had he moved to Queens and changed schools. I didn't," I shrugged, still uncomfortable with the conversation.
"But you had friends too. . ."
I looked up at him and shook my head. "Negative. I was a twelve year old tenth grader. Peter and Elle were my friends. I really didn't have any friends until round two of college and then when I started working."
"Oh, sorry," he said awkwardly, his hand stilled on my knee. Way to go Annabelle. Leave it to a Burke to make a situation awkward.
"Its fine," I shrugged and turned back to the movie.
"Why doesn't he like that you live in Queens again?" Jesus, what is with the questions today? Well, I guess it probably keeps Kate off of his mind, so I really shouldn't be complaining too much. But still, why this? I don't want to talk about this.
And that is exactly what I said to him.
"Why not?" His hand moved from my knee and he began gently running his fingers through my hair.
"I just . . . I can't. Not tonight. Ask Peter if you want to know so badly," I snapped. I really didn't mean to. But I did. "I'm sorry," my voice was softer this time and I moved so that I was curled up small with my knees to my chest and I rested my upper hand on top of his leg. "I didn't mean to sound nasty. I just really don't want to talk about this, okay?"
"Alright," he agreed. But I could tell from the tone of his voice, he was either asking again later, or he was asking Peter. I hope he asks Peter. I don't want to talk about it.
Neal
After the little disagreement over why Peter doesn't want her living in Queens, Belle fell asleep curled up on my lap. I was disappointed both because I lost my distraction and because I was now worried about what could have happened to make her so nervous about the subject. The emptiness I had been feeling for days had been filled by Belle, and now that I had lost her as a distraction she was replaced by worry for her. I glanced at her phone, which she had silenced after the movie started. She had missed two calls. One was from Peter and the other from Elle.
I picked Annabelle up and put her in my bed before walking back and grabbing my own phone and then walking out to the dining area.
"Neal?" Peter sounded confused when he picked up. I can't blame him.
"Yeah, it's me. Look, I need to ask you something about Belle," I said, not in the mood for him to try and talk about what happened three days ago. I looked at the clock. Three days, six hours, twenty four minutes ago.
"Belle? She lets you call her Belle?"
"Yes, Peter, she does. Can we stay on track please?" I sounded more like him than myself.
"Yeah, sorry."
"Why don't you want her living in Queens again? I asked her if she knew but she snapped at me and wouldn't talk about it," I slowly paced the floor, stealing glances at where she was laying whenever I was facing that direction.
"When she was fifteen, right around when she started getting responses from all the colleges, she was originally going to stay in state because she didn't want to leave Grandma alone and she didn't want to be too far away from the rest of us either. She had applied out of state, but hadn't really planned on going to any of them."
"So what changed that?" I asked and hoped that he would end up getting to the point quickly.
"There was a little girl in the same building that she and Grandma would babysit every once in a while. She was two or three at the time, but they had been taking care of her since she was born. Annabelle was extremely attached. Anyway, right around the time the acceptance letters started coming in, they were watching the girl—Maya?—and Grandma sent Anna to go get lunch for all of them because there wasn't enough stuff in the apartment to cook something.
When she got back she saw two men running out of the building covered in blood and they threw something into the alley. She used a payphone in the lobby and called me to come and go up with her because she was scared to go up alone. I was working in the area at the time—I was a cop then, it was right before I joined the FBI—so it only took me a little while to get there. I walked up with her and we found the door wide open and there was blood on the door frame. I called for back up and told her to wait out in the hall, but she followed me in anyway. Both of them were dead in the living room. Grandma was shot twice and stabbed twenty times. Maya was stabbed fifty seven times. I tried to get Anna out before she saw it, but didn't move soon enough."
At this point I was sitting down at the table in shock. Who would do that to anyone? Let alone an old woman and three year old girl.
"Anyways, she wasn't the same after that. She'd never really been social to begin with, but she completely withdrew after it happened. The only people allowed in her room were me and Elle, and she still wouldn't even talk. We were lucky if we could get yes and no answers from her. And getting her to eat was a whole different issue. She'd probably eat half a meal once a day, if that. As soon as she got the letter from the school in New Orleans . . . she probably would have run there if she had no other way."
"Oh my god. Why would she want to live in that building again?"
"After she got over the initial shock of it, she started pretending she was stronger than she was. She still does it, which is probably why she moved back there. She wants to prove to everyone that she's fine and can take care of herself. She's always been a headstrong little thing, if nothing else."
I pulled the conversation with Peter to a close, avoiding any and all questions on how I was doing, and then went and stole the half of the bed that wasn't occupied by Belle.
Annabelle
I woke up as soon as Neal picked me up and sat me on his bed and pulled the covers over me. I kept my eyes closed both because I wanted to fall back to sleep and because I wanted to know what he was doing. He called Peter. He was on the other side of his little apartment area and he was talking quietly, so I couldn't make out what was being said. But I knew what he was asking and had a basic idea of what Peter would say back. This was confirmed when I noticed that Neal was doing far more listening than anything else.
"Now do you know why I didn't answer you?" I asked softly after he slid into the other side of the bed.
"I thought you were sleeping," he said and turned back to face me.
"I was. I woke up after you moved me," I answered. "I followed him because I was afraid to be alone. I thought that if the two guys I saw had done something, they might come back for me and I didn't want to be alone for them to get me. I moved back to the same building because I was tired of running from it. I've never been able to accept what happened because I've never been able to face it. I had a panic attack when I had to testify and passed out on the stand. After that I ran for Louisiana and stayed away for ten years." I could feel the heavy tears rolling down my cheeks and onto the pillow as I told Neal all these things that I had never even said to my therapist in New Orleans.
"You don't have to go back to the same building to face it, Belle. That's something you have to do in your head," he said and pulled me to him.
"Neal, I was only gone for fifteen minutes, if that! There was so much blood! I was so scared; I thought it was my fault. If I hadn't left maybe I could have done something," I cried into his chest, my body shaking as violent sobs tore through me.
"Annabelle, it wasn't your fault. If you were there when it happened you'd be dead too," Neal whispered as he rubbed my back much in the same way I had done for him this afternoon. He whispered sweet, comforting things in my ear until I had myself under control.
"Some day, huh," I laughed weakly and hugged him tighter.
"Yeah, some day," he agreed and again began stroking my hair. "They sent you in to make me feel better, but you're the one that ended up in my bed and crying."
"You did it first," I defended myself but laughed a little none the less.
"That is true," he replied and smiled down at me, causing me to smile in return. It had been an emotionally trying day and we both fell asleep shortly thereafter, still holding onto each other tightly.
When I woke up I still had Neal's left arm under me and the fingertips of his right hand were slowly trailing up and down my side. "Stop that tickles," I giggled, still half asleep. "Wait, what time is it?" I asked and snapped my face up to look at him.
"Noon," he answered and grinned at me, his blue eyes dancing.
"Shit I have to work," I groaned and attempted to get out from where I was tangled in the covers only to have Neal pull me back down.
"Look outside, Belle. We're snowed in. Schools are closed and we aren't going anywhere," he said and pulled me back to him. Is this that thing they always talk about where people get attached to the person that is taking care of him? I've always wanted Neal to look at me like that—the way he used to look when he would talk about Kate—but not if it isn't real.
"Neal . . ." I started, but wasn't really sure how to approach the subject. So I didn't sound like a total moron, I quickly made something up. "I need a shower . . . and a toothbrush. I'd prefer not to kill you with my morning breath." I laughed awkwardly.
"Oh yeah, there are towels in there and I think there is a spare toothbrush under the sink. If not you can just borrow mine, it's not like I have anything for you to catch," he told me with a slight grin.
"Thanks," I blushed and quickly escaped to the bathroom. Turns out, I did have to share his toothbrush, not that it really mattered all that much. Like he said, it's not like he had anything I could catch. After that I quickly used the bathroom, realizing I hadn't gone since sometime yesterday afternoon, and then hopped in the shower.
"Oh hell," I groaned when I got out and wrapped myself in a towel. I just realized, I didn't have any other clothes. Awkward. "Hey Neal," I called and opened the door a crack, clutching the dark blue towel tightly to my body.
"Yeah," he responded and approached the door.
"I don't have any clean clothes," I muttered and looked down, extremely embarrassed.
He just grinned and held out some clothes to me. "June asked Elle to pick some things up from your apartment last night. June brought them up earlier this morning; I forgot to tell you before you got in the shower."
"Thank you," I grinned widely and resisted the urge to open the door the rest of the way and hug him seeing as I was in nothing but the towel which only reached my upper thigh. On second thought, maybe that wouldn't have been such a bad idea. Thank god for Elle and June. I'm just happy she remembered to grab bras and underwear, although it was kind of uncomfortable that Neal just had to handle them. Again, awkward.
I quickly changed into the jeans and Michael Jackson Thriller tee shirt which hung off of one shoulder—I may be a Rat Pack fan, but that doesn't change the fact that I was born and raised in the 80s—and towel dried my hair before rejoining Neal.
"Feel better?" he asked as I joined him at the table and accepted the cup of coffee he handed me.
"Much," I grinned and allowed the cup to warm my slightly cold hands. "But really, I'm just happy I don't have to work today."
"Oh, yeah, teenagers must be fun to deal with all day," he laughed.
"Yeah, most of them are pretty obnoxious. But thankfully I teach a lot of AP classes and in there most of the kids are fairly decent and actually care about school. It's the honors and standard kids that I have a lot of problems with," I told him as I sipped on the Italian roast, which was absolutely the best coffee I'd ever had.
"History and art were my favorite classes in high school," he grinned at me.
"Same here and I really liked English too. I actually wanted to be a writer when I was younger, but people were always trying to talk me out of it so I just went with teaching instead. They were probably right anyway. That field is so hard to get into and make a name for yourself. I was good, but not good enough for all that," I said sadly. "Writing probably saved my life when I was younger. It was in many ways my only escape. I'd had no friends to speak of and there was only so much I was willing to talk to Peter about. After college I had to give it up for the most part because I didn't have time. I still write short stories and poems here and there, and I have a little bit more time for it over the summer. But it's not really a big part of my life anymore."
"How do you know you weren't good enough? Did you ever take anything to a publisher that told you so?" He asked and raised his eyebrows at me.
"No," I admitted blushing slightly, knowing he was right. I gave up with out ever even really trying.
"Then send something in, see what they say. The worst they can do is send it back to you and tell you what's wrong with it. And then from there you know what changes to make before you try again," he told me, truth ringing in every word. Elle and Peter had told me something similar before, but I had dismissed their words as obliged statements.
"Okay," I said quietly before really thinking about it. Why is it that he can get me to do pretty much anything? Oh yeah, because I totally love him. Duh.
An hour later we were once again in our classic movie position watching Ocean's Eleven. Butterflies in my stomach were going stir crazy as he started gently toying with my hair.
I was snowed in with Neal for almost three days. But by the second day we were already going crazy with boredom. Or rather I was. I think my behavior might have been enough to keep him entertained. I was constantly fidgeting and couldn't concentrate on anything. We had already gone through all the Rat Pack movies he had and there was nothing on TV worth watching. There was something I really wanted to do, but I won't go into details on that one. Besides it's too soon after Kate for Neal to go for it. Hey, you would want to too if you had to see him day after day, occasionally with out a shirt on. Seriously, who wouldn't want to be with him?
"Neal, I'm bored," I whined and rested my head on his shoulder on the third day.
"Yeah, I know. You said the same thing two minutes ago," he laughed and looked down at me. "I think I have an idea of something we can do," he added with a wink. That is so suggestive it isn't even funny. Call it cabin fever but I am seriously considering jumping him right now. Especially with the way that shirt fits him. I miss the lack of shirt of the last few days, but since he started actually getting dressed again I'm happy he put that one on.
"I think this might be becoming our thing," I giggled slightly as he put on Frank Sinatra's "Come Dance With Me" and then pulled me from the couch and started leading me through a new fast paced dance.
"If you want it to be our thing it can be," he replied with a grin and spun me out quickly and then pulled me back, closer than before as we continued to swing around the floor. A moment later he began to sing along with Frank. "Hey there cutes, put on your dancin' boots and come dance with me, Come dance with me, what an evening for some Terpsichore. Pretty face, I know a swingin' place, so come dance with me, Romance with me on a crowded floor. And while the rhythm swings, what lovely things I'll be sayin', for what is dancing but making love set to music, playin'. When the band begins to leave the stand and folks start to roam, as we wing home, cheek to cheek we'll be, Come on, come on, come on, come on and dance with me." Neal is charming, sexy, smart, and an amazing singer; why do I always want men that are way out of my league?
I thought I had kept my face in the same smile as when he had first began singing, but it must have faltered as I thought that because he noticed. "Are you okay, Belle?"
"Yeah," I lied and gave my smile new life.
"Annabelle, you shouldn't lie to someone like me. I can always tell," he chided me with a slight smirk and stopped his movement, bringing his hand from my hand and sliding it down to me waist.
"I . . . um," I stuttered rather unattractively and dropped my hands to my sides.
"Annabelle, there's nothing you can't tell me," he said and one hand moved to my lower back and the other came up to wind in my hair.
I couldn't help myself and brought my hand up to form to his cheek. He had a slight five o'clock shadow and the short hairs were rough against my palm. Slowly our faces drifted closer together until we were mere millimeters apart. "Neal," I whispered slightly, making sure he didn't want to stop himself now. I don't want any regrets from either of us if this actually happens. He didn't answer me and instead pushed his lips to mine. It started out gentle and slowly gained passion as he pulled me closer and he moved us to the nearest flat surface—the couch—before breaking away from me slightly to lay me down before laying on top of me.
The roads were cleared that night, but I spent the night again anyway. I found something else he was amazing at and we both took advantage of it.
So can I say how much I love all you readers? You guys are so awesome! I was shocked by how many favorites, alerts, and reviews I got after chapter three! And I hope you all enjoyed reading this chapter. It was kind of challenging to write, hence the delay in posting. And I know I was kind of vague towards the end, so if you are wondering yes they did have sex. Anyways, I can't wait to see what you all have to say on this chapter and I will start working on the next update ASAP.
Love, Kat