A/N: I just would like to remind my kind readers that this story is rated M for a reason. If you are not comfortable with crude language and sexual situations, now might be a good time to look away.

Song for this chapter: Wish I didn't miss You by Angie Stone

Chapter 7 – GONE IN 60 SECONDS

SPOV

I awoke to the smell of bacon drifting from the kitchen downstairs. Humming my pleasure, I rolled on my side and closed my eyes to steal a few more minutes of stillness.

Today was a beautiful day; today was my 16th birthday.

As I had done almost every morning for the past three years, I reached out to the drawer of my bedside table to retrieve Eric's note. The thick envelope was slightly stained in places and the letter showed signs of wear and tear as the result of near-daily handling. Leisurely, tenderly even, I traced over the words with the pad of my fingertips. I no longer had any need to read the actual message, as I knew every single word of every sentence by heart. I brought the paper to my nose, straining to discern a scent that I knew was no longer there, then softly pressed my lips to the ink.

On this sheet, heartbreaking words had been laid. Words of farewell, but also words of love.

'You are forever on my mind, and in my heart'

I thought back in frustration to the last time I saw Eric, how my bratty behavior had soured the evening and how, as he was departing, I'd failed to hold him in my arms. Had I known this would be the last time I would see him, I would have clung to his body and whispered how much I loved him in his ear.

In the beginning, I had contemplated calling at him through the bond, but had swiftly dismissed the idea. I wanted him to come to me of his own volition; I would not beg and I would not trick him.

'I will always watch over you and keep you safe, even if from a distance.'

As it turned out, I hadn't needed much rescuing; the past three years had been rather uneventful… with one exception. Shuddering, I recalled what I'd come to refer to as 'The Benoit Episode'.

I'd always had a good relationship with Mr. Benoit, my swim coach, but his behavior towards me had changed around the time I'd turned 15. I'd tried dismissing it at first but, when I caught him staring at my ass during a practice session, I couldn't ignore the warning signs anymore. I'd dropped my shields and dipped into his mind. There, I'd found a collection of pornographic home movies, all of them starring yours truly. That was the filthiest thing I'd ever seen.

Despite the fact that I was now aware that he was a huge perv, I hadn't been able to do anything about it: so long he kept his hands to himself there wasn't anything tangible I could use against him. I'd checked into the heads of all of my teammates to find that he hadn't molested any of them so that put me at ease.

His gross ogling had gotten worse over the following two months but I'd done my best to ignore it and had given him a wide berth outside of swim classes.

One Saturday, he'd scheduled an extra training session ahead of an important competition. He'd dismissed my teammates after a couple of hours but held me back to make me work on my back crawl. After another hour of back and forth pool lengths, he'd finally called it a day.

I'd been in the shower, massaging my sore muscles under the hot water, when I'd sensed him approach. After I'd discovered what a creep he was, I'd always been careful to keep my shields on what I called 'Background Mode' whenever he was around. It was a setting that filtered most people's thoughts (except for the loud broadcasters) but still allowed me to have enhanced awareness of my surroundings.

I'd dropped my shields and been hit by mental images of me writhing on the tiled floor of the locker room as he slid his fingers inside me. Before he even had a chance to lay a hand on me, or even realize what was happening, I'd spun round and kicked him in the shin to make him bend over. As soon as his torso had been within my reach, I'd landed a blow on his solar plexus with the flat of my hand, which caused him to lose his breath and his balance, then I'd pushed him backwards. He'd landed painfully on his back.

The whole attack had lasted maybe four seconds, but it took him well over two minutes to recover enough to speak (Eric had taught me well). All this time, I'd stood over him, glaring at him with utter contempt. I hadn't even bothered covering up, as I'd wanted him to forever associate my naked body with his pain and humiliation.

When he'd regained a bit of composure, he'd showered me with all the boring misogynistic insults all woman-haters like to use. I'd rolled my eyes when he'd begun threatening to throw me off the team and sue me for assault. I could read in his mind that he intended to blackmail me into doing all sorts of disgusting things with him. Calmly, I'd crept into his subconscious and plucked out all his dirty secrets, then proceeded to confront him with my discoveries. I'd enjoyed the look of utter terror in his eyes as he'd listened to me listing all the ways he had screwed over his friends and family (and the IRS too, apparently) and how delighted I would be to spend my Sunday sending anonymous letters, if he didn't back off.

After calling me a freak and a demon-spawn (he would know, being as he was probably on a first-name basis with Satan), he'd made a hasty retreat. However, as he'd been walking away, I'd caught him thinking about how he would turn his attentions onto another girl from the team, since I was being so 'difficult'.

I'd felt my rage boil and had begun picturing a 1,000 ways I could end his miserable life when I'd suddenly felt a sharp pain in my head. Simultaneously, Mr. Benoit had collapsed. I'd dashed to his side only to realize, to my dismay, that he was dead.

Claudine had appeared seconds later: she'd felt my distress and had come to the rescue. After quickly accessing the situation, she had taken control. First off, she'd used her Magic to wipe out all traces of the blows I'd landed on Mr. Benoit's body, then she'd told me to get dressed and call an ambulance. She'd stayed with me until the aid workers arrived and even managed to get me to calm down. Later, detective Bellefleur had come to take my statement. As agreed with Claudine, I didn't say anything about the rape attempt and had instead claimed that Mr. Benoit had come to talk to me about the competition when he'd collapsed.

I'd been beyond relieved when Gran had come to pick me up and driven me home.

Mr. Benoit's cause of death was declared to be a brain aneurism, but when I'd quizzed the coroner, Mike Spencer, about it one day after church, I'd gotten from his mind that this was not quite the whole truth. Apparently, Mr. Benoit's brain had looked as though it'd been microwaved.

Needless to say, I gave up on competitive swimming soon after.

I shook the unpleasant memory from my mind and focused on the day ahead.

I knew that Scarlett and Tara had been putting together a 'surprise' party. I'd known for weeks what they were up to, of course, but I played dumb and intended on putting my best 'OMG' face on when the time of the big reveal came.

I was truly looking forward to spending time with the girls. I was pretty popular at school but the only people I genuinely felt close to were Gran, Tara and Scarlett. I loved Jason but I'd always felt like he saw me as the competition (for our parent's attention, then for Gran's affections), and we'd grown apart over the years. He'd moved into our parents' house straight out of high school and had recently found a construction job in Shreveport. Gran was getting on as she always had, not letting creeping old age slow her down. She'd been a rock for me and we were devoted to each other. However, there were subjects I could not discuss with her, Eric being one of those. She and the girls had been immensely supportive after Eric had left, even though they hadn't understood why I'd been so down, and I was grateful for their presence in my life.

I'd know Tara since kindergarten; she was a sweet girl with abusive parents who, as soon as she'd been old enough, had often sought shelter at my home. Scarlett and I had became friends later, during 7th grade. She was a year older, since I'd been bumped up a grade, but we got on amazingly well; although we had gone through an awkward phase soon after I'd turned 14.

We'd decided to practice kissing boys on each other but I became worried when she started wanting to do lots of practicing and even attempted to randomly hold my hand. After a week of such behavior, she'd finally picked up on my unease and calmed down. I cannot say I was surprised when she came out to Tara and me a few months later. Of course, I offered her my full support; I was just grateful that I had not lost her friendship over my rejection of her romantic advances. She would still tease me from time to time and joke that I'd an open invitation to 'question my sexuality' in her arms, but she'd accepted that I was straight.

Scarlett was far from the only person to show me some interest. To be totally honest, I had my pick of dates, but I guess that's what having blonde hair and big boobs will do for you. After I'd given up swimming, I'd gotten a bit slack about my workout regime and that, plus the fact that I was a natural hourglass, meant that I'd developed a rather curvaceous figure. Guys didn't seem to mind, though, and I'd kept the habit of doing martial-arts katas at least twice a week to keep my muscles supple. Unlike Tara, who was also pretty popular, I was still a virgin, never having taken a serious interest in any of the boys.

It's not to say that I didn't date. I'd had my first boyfriend at 14 (a 16-year-old boy named Tommy) and many had followed after that, but I would always break things off as soon as they began developing deeper feelings for me. I'm not particularly proud to say I broke a few hearts; I never set out to hurt anyone, I just didn't want to get close to anybody.

The one exception was JB DuRone, my boyfriend of four months, and the only guy I'd been with long enough to actually introduce to Gran. JB was sweet and good-looking, but sadly not the sharpest tool in the shed. Still, he was loyal and kind, and that was exactly what I needed at this time in my life. What I liked best in him was that he wasn't full of demands, unlike my previous boyfriends. He took what I had to give, never angling for more, and made feel genuinely safe and appreciated.

But JB wasn't Eric. None of them was.

These boys… hell, who was I kidding? These kids, did not, could not, hold a candle to my Vampire. Eric had been gone for three years now, and I missed him terribly. He was the object of many of my thoughts and of all of my desires. If I was honest with myself, he was the reason why I could not stand real intimacy (physical or emotional) with any boy, despite my natural curiosity and raging hormones. Even JB was kept at arm's length.

At night, when I was pleasing myself in my bed, images and memories of Eric would fill my mind. The dreams had stopped, like he'd promised they would, but I'd replaced them with fantasies of my own making. I would remember his unique scent, the softness of his skin, the silky feel of his hair, the touch of his lips and the coolness of his embrace. I would even recall the look of his naked body, from the only time I had ever see him disrobed, on our very first meeting. At the time, I'd been too scared to even register his nakedness, but the memory was etched in my brain. I chuckled while reminiscing at the impression he had made on me: to my childhood self, he'd come across as a bona fide giant. A very proportional giant. I knew I could not trust my six-year-old brain to have memorized a realistic likeness of Eric's… mini me; or at least I assumed I couldn't, otherwise damn! That was a Weapon of Mass Destruction right there. I knew my fixation was unhealthy; I knew I needed to stop pitting all the men in my life against a perfect - but ultimately inaccurate - memory, yet I did not know how to let go.

After replacing Eric's letter in its drawer, I got out of bed, took a quick shower and put on a red summer dress with white polka dots, before joining Gran downstairs for breakfast. After I'd helped her clean up the dishes, she sat me down on the sofa in the living room and gave me my present. It was a gorgeous set of pearl and diamond earrings, and were one the few family heirlooms beside real-estate she had left. I was brought to tears by the gesture and hugged her tight.

Soon after, Scarlett and Tara had come to pick me up to drag me to Shreveport for a shopping spree. Gran had asked Jason to chaperone us but we knew he would shake us off as soon as possible and we would be left to do as we pleased. After some retail therapy, we had lunch at one of Shreveport's best seafood restaurant (Scarlett's treat) then we headed back to Bon Temps.

When we got home, I acted surprised to find my friends from school waiting for me in the decked-out living room. Gran had cooked up a storm and JB had put up party decorations everywhere. I greeted him with a deep kiss for his trouble and gave Tara and Scarlett extra hugs. I was genuinely touched by so much kindness.

Gran had made herself scarce, opting to spend the evening at one of her church friends' home so we 'kids' could have some fun. It was just as well: some of the guests had sneaked in alcohol and I was quite tipsy by the time the party wound down. We danced, drank, played games and stuffed ourselves with Gran's outrageously good cakes until we could barely stand. When the time came to open my presents, I made the mistake of unsealing Scarlett's gift in front of everybody. I should have known better. My jaw dropped when I saw the huge pink vibrator she'd brought me, complete with a big enough battery supply to last me a decade.

Finally, the festivities came to an end and all the guests took their leave, except for my two best friends and my boyfriend, who stayed to help me clean up. By the time we were done, it was dark outside and we were all felling a bit tired. We agreed to watch a movie and I went upstairs to my room to pick some VHS.

As I opened the door, a large object propped on my bed caught my eyes.

I came to a halt as I took in the sight: an acoustic guitar wrapped in a huge red bow had been carefully laid in the middle of the bed. I came closer and examined the instrument. It was brand-new and absolutely gorgeous, with a gleaming cedar top and mahogany back and sides. I'd admired this model in the shop where I'd bought my second-hand guitar a couple of months ago when I'd started learning to play, but it had been way too expensive for me to even consider it. Tucked beneath the bow was a large envelope with my name written in beautifully calligraphy. As soon as I saw it, I knew who the present was from. I extended a trembling hand and carefully opened the thick envelope. Inside was a single cream note card with a short message penned in an elegant script:

Because you are always on my mind,

E

This was the first time in three years that I'd heard anything from Eric. I stood motionless for a minute, my eyes reading the note over and over, until a wave of sheer rage overtook me. Tossing the card away, I grabbed the guitar by the neck and threw it violently against the wall. I watched as it smashed into a dozen fragments on impact. Still fuming, I moved towards the scraps and stomped on the bigger pieces. When they were satisfyingly reduced to smithereens, I yelled at the wall:

"I'm always on your mind? Then where the FUCK are you?"

The commotion had obviously been heard downstairs because JB came crashing into the room with a worried look on his face.

"Honey, what's going on?"

He took in the devastation then looked back at me in shock.

I didn't think.

I rushed towards him and laid a searing kiss on his lips. After closing and locking the door behind us, I pulled him backward in the direction of the bed until I felt the edge of the mattress behind my knees. Breaking the kiss, I held his gaze and declared:

"JB, I want to do this."

"What do you mean?" He asked, confusion plain on his face.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Dude, can't you recognize a done deal when it's belly-dancing right into your face? Instead, I breathed:

"I want us to make love."

JB's face broke into a large grin and he slid his hands onto my ass.

"Oh, honey, I'd been hoping you'd say that for ages."

Gee! We've been dating for barely four months, how do you define 'ages' exactly?

I knew I had to shut him up before he put me out of my lusty mood with his idiotic statements, so I resumed kissing him and dragged him down onto the bed with me. We made out for a while, rolling around on the comforter, before I started fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. He took the hint and pulled my dress open. Soon, I was in nothing but my underwear. JB raised himself on his forearms to look me over.

"You're so beautiful," he said reverently.

I felt empowered by the look of admiration and lust in his eyes; God knew I needed to feel desired right now. JB battled with my bra clasp and when it was clear he wasn't getting anywhere soon I reached behind my back and opened it for him. As soon as my breasts were free of lace, JB let out a breath and glanced up at me.

"Can… can I touch them?"

That's the general idea, buddy.

I got hold of his hands and placed them over my chest.

"You can touch me anywhere," I breathed huskily.

JB grabbed at my breasts excitedly and began twisting them in a sort of clock-wise/counter-clock-wise alternative motion.

What the hell? Does he think those things are bolted on?

I was quickly losing patience and could already tell we would be going nowhere at this rate so I decided to take charge of the situation.

"Baby, why don't you kiss me down there?" I coyly suggested.

JB thankfully didn't protest and slid down the bed to prop himself over my hips. I slipped out of my panties and spread my thighs wide open. Let's make it easy for him.

JB looked up and smiled at me then bowed his head and… started tentatively lapping at my slit, as if licking some spilled gravy from his fingers.

Excuse me? What am I? A bowl of freaking milk?

"Don't hold back, baby," I gently encouraged.

"I'm not," came the answer.

Great! Fuck me gently with a chainsaw.

By now I was plain aggravated and was starting to think of ways to politely pull a stop to this train-wreck. Hell, what train-wreck? We had yet to leave the station, as far as I was concerned.

JB chose this moment to stop his pathetic attempt as pussy-eating (thank God for small blessings) and climbed back up the bed. He was smiling smugly, as if he'd just discovered the cure to cancer. Dude, did we attend the same gig?

Looking at his happy and eager face, I felt guilty about wanting to end things now. I was the one who had started all this; JB had always been the perfect gentleman and had never pressured me for sex. I knew how lucky I was to have found such a sweet guy (Tara was always telling me about how her boyfriends constantly harassed her). At the same time, I knew we were headed for disaster and I didn't want my first time to be a bad memory. I dithered while we made out some more before finally resolving to go ahead with this. I just didn't have the heart to reject him now. I consoled myself by thinking that, since he was rather small, it would not be too painful (I'd been given a glimpse the previous month courtesy of a Truth or Dare gaming session).

I broke from our kiss and started unbuckling his belt. JB was now breathing heavily down my neck, his excitement peaking as he knew what was coming. I wanted to die.

When I finally wriggled him out of his pants and Y-fronts (Y-fronts? Dude!), my heart sank: apparently, JB was a grower, not a shower. Damn, this was going to hurt! I needed to think fast about ways to relax since he had done such a piss-poor job at arousing me so far. I thought of dropping my shields, thinking that I might become less tense if I didn't use extra mental energy to keep them up. It made no difference. The truth is, I hardly had to make any effort at all to keep my mental barriers up: they were very strong and came almost naturally to me as a result of the training and powerful Vampire blood I had received from Eric throughout my childhood.

Eric. God, I couldn't be thinking of him right now. He was the one who got me into that mess in the first place. I felt my anger rise again.

JB's mind was a litany of 'Oh God! I'm gonna do it! I'm gonna do it! Oh my God! Her tits are so great! I'm gonna do it! I can't wait to tell the guys!' I quickly shut down the mental diarrhoea and steeled myself up for the next act.

I took his cock in my hand and began stroking him a bit (one of us might as well enjoy this) and was about to ask him if he had any condoms when I felt him tense in my arms and heard him cry out. His body trembled briefly as I felt a warm dash of liquid spill onto my hand and thighs. I looked down in disbelief to see that JB had in fact, err, come all over me.

… Oh!

Well, this is awkward.

After the shock subsided, I lifted myself from the bed and went into the bathroom to clean up. I didn't know whether to be mortified or to laugh out loud but, while I rubbed a damp cloth over myself, I found that the dominant feeling was relief.

I was still a virgin. I still had a chance at a 'proper' first time. Disaster had been averted.

When I came back to the bedroom, JB was seated on the bed, looking utterly defeated. I immediately went to hug and kiss him. I felt sorry for him, and was angry with myself. None of this was his fault: he had never been anything but sweet to me and I had used him as an outlet to vent my frustration and anger. He hadn't deserved any of this, and I plainly didn't deserve him.

I needed to be alone and sort out my issues; I couldn't be involved in a relationship where I had nothing real to offer just because it was convenient and it made me feel less alone.

Sookie Stackhouse, when did you become a user?

As I murmured soft reassurances into JB ears, I resolved to gently end our relationship within the fortnight: it would be best for both of us.

One thing was certain: I would never be able to truly give myself to another man as long as Eric Northman was the one occupying my dreams.

A/N: So, I hope the title of this chapter makes sense now. Also, you get bonus points for getting the 'chainsaw' reference. For the record, I like JB very much, as a character, but he's simply not the right man for Sookie.

Next chapter Never Let Me Go will be posted on Saturday morning.