Hi there everyone! I'm happy you all... enjoyed last chapter so much haha. I could keep apologizing for the delays, quoting doctors appointments and jobs and various applications, but why take up your time with that when you can figure out how these two darlings will react to doing the dirty!
So I'll cut myself off here and simply say enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own Phineas and Ferb.
CHAPTER SEVEN:
Swallow
FERB
My phone was buzzing again, and this time it was enough to pull me from the darkness I craved so desperately. I reached behind me, my fingers blindly searching for my sweats. They were on the table beside my bed.
Maybe if I weren't so tired, I'd question why, but right now all I cared about was silencing my goddamn phone! But if they called more than once this early in the morning, I supposed it had to be urgent.
I finally found the device and sleepily brought it against my ear. My brother's frantic voice jumped from the machine.
"Ferb?"
My silence was answer enough as I yawned.
"Oh thank god! What the heck were you thinking?"
I yanked my phone away as Phineas' volume rose to intolerable levels.
"That text—and then you left! You just left, and I didn't know where you were going or why Vanessa texted you, and then you didn't come back, and—and what the hell?!"
I blinked my eyes open, trying to process that. Something about Vanessa? And then my brother had cursed, which was just about the strangest thing I'd ever heard. I was tired, and this was too much right now. I had no clue what he was talking about, but sleep. Yes, sleep was a much better option than getting yelled at. My eyes closed again as quickly as they'd opened.
"Where are you? What happened? Vanessa, did she—"
"Ferb?" came Isabella's muffled groan, and suddenly she emerged from a bundle of comforter, a tired mess exactly like I was. "Who are you—"
I reached out and covered her mouth, and suddenly we were reduced to wide eyes, two gazes bearing into each other, shocked, connected, flushed beyond measure.
Oh dear lord, it hadn't been a dream.
"Wait," Phineas choked, "was that Isabella?"
I hung up. I had no shame; I just hung up. Shit. Shit. Yes, it was Isabella. And we had slept together.
Twice.
We'd gone at it twice.
Isabella rubbed at her eyes, but not once did she take them off me. I'd never before noticed how bright blue they were in the morning light. Perhaps because I'd never been this close before, nor had I been inclined to pay such fervent attention. Right now I was trapped in her gaze, trying to puzzle this out just as much as she was.
"Ferb," she exhaled and reached out to me. Her fingers grazed my cheek, as if to make sure I was really here. She was warm and soft—yes, she was actually here, too.
Isabella was a sight to behold. Her hair was a frizzy mess, wondrously tousled in a way that could only be achieved through our actions. Her legs were bare, I could see that through the tangle of sheets, but she must have gotten cold at some point or another because she was wearing a huge yellow t-shirt that hung off her shoulder. My eyes lingered on that exposed skin and I swallowed hard.
Then, of all things, laughter burst from her into the space between us.
"Oh my god, that actually happened!" she exclaimed, laughing still as she laid her forehead against my chest. "I'm so embarrassed! I—we—oh my god, Ferb!"
Her breath made my mind go white. I'd never put my shirt back on after everything, and now the feeling of skin on skin again made it hard to think. Thank heaven I'd at least had the forethought to retrieve my boxers or this would be unbearable right now entirely.
Last night had been a haze and then a glow, something I looked back on and thought yes. But that reaction didn't align with the details: Isabella. Isabella. We were never supposed to sleep together—twice, oh my god—and the last thing my whole body should have been telling me was encouragement.
Then again, my eyes shouldn't have been roaming her either, and yet…
"This happened," she said against me. "For real. For real, for real. Oh my god, this is crazy!"
It would have made so much more sense if she sounded angry, if she sounded disappointed or ashamed, but instead that trilling laughter of hers filled the room to the brim. When she pulled back to look up at me, it was with the deepest and most extraordinary blush I'd ever seen.
This blush… I had caused it.
"I can't even—wow. Yeah." She blew out a frazzled breath before gifting me the shyest smile. "Are you okay?"
I nodded at first out of instinct. Then I shook my head. I didn't know what the hell I was.
"What does that mean?" she asked, brushing hair from my face. Her fingers lingered by my temple, and I closed my eyes for a moment too long, savoring the touch.
It meant I was in so, so much trouble.
"Ferb?"
I pulled back from her, tossing the sheets so I could sit up. Cool air rushed in, unwelcome but necessary. She was overwhelming like this, lying next to me, sprawled over pillows, partially covered, sleepy and clearly a little delirious. Add to it that laugh…
I stood and ran my hands over my face. What was I going to do now? Just how terribly had I screwed up? I'd crossed a line, and if that resulted in destroying the closest friendship I had, I didn't know how I would live with myself.
"Hey," she said, and the mere sight of her as she scrambled out of the bed we'd shared was enough to make steam come out of my ears. I had to turn around. I had to.
I wasn't even sure what I was doing as I moved, but it felt suspiciously like flight, and I honestly wasn't certain how far I would have gotten had Isabella not caught me from behind. She wrapped her arms around my stomach and suddenly her forehead was pressed against by back, just between my shoulder blades.
"Don't!" she yelped, as she held me a little tighter. "Don't just run! Because if you run, then I'll lose you, and I—just no! That's not going to happen!"
She pulled me back until we were at the edge of the bed and I sat down hard. That t-shirt of hers barely covered the essentials, and I buried my face in my hands as I leaned heavily on my legs. I didn't even know how to start talking about this. There was one thing, however, that I needed to know.
"How drunk were you?" I grumbled. "I know you'd had some drinks with Vanessa, so be honest: how drunk were you when I asked you to kiss me?"
She didn't answer, and when time stretched too thin, I glanced up. That must have been what she was waiting for, because once our eyes met, her head lilted to the side and she spoke.
"Not drunk at all. Tipsy enough, sure, but… you don't need to worry." Her gaze roved my face, and in a testament to how well she could read me, she said, "You didn't take advantage of me, Ferb. Promise."
I looked down again. I found it so difficult to believe her. I couldn't fathom why Isabella had slept with me, and the only rational answer was that I'd pushed a little too hard. She'd taken my hormones and put them in a blender, and now I didn't know which way was which anymore.
"Ferb?" she pushed, and this time she couldn't keep the worry from creeping up in her voice. She sat down next to me. "Really, it's fine. It's not… the end of the world."
I sighed and looked over at her. My expression was clear: it doesn't feel that way. I had always been so comfortable with Isabella. I never had to worry about attraction or control. Now that hung over me like a thundercloud, and I didn't know if our friendship would survive the storm.
"Oh, don't freak about this!" she squeaked. "If you freak out, then I'll freak out, Ferb, so just… just stay cool. We're fine, right? We're good. Okay? And when you think about it, it's really kind of understandable that it happened."
She was rambling, and I didn't stop her. I was too focused on her last statement; understandable was perhaps the last adjective I would use to describe even a molecule of this conversation.
My brows furrowed; what do you mean?
It was her turn to look away, though she only glanced down. Her fingers rubbed nervous patterns on her arms and she bit her lip. Oh cripes, that helped absolutely nothing.
"I mean… Well, I guess it's always been easy for me to be vulnerable with you. It's practically habit by now, you know? So… this wasn't really too far of a stretch. At least, not for me." She turned a new shade of red. "I mean, it's still crazy! But… I get it."
Truth was stitched through her words. I didn't just sleep with anyone, after all. I wasn't a guy who would praise any pair of legs that would open (honestly, if I were, I'd have easily gotten lucky; really, girls only had to hear that I was British before they swarmed. Damn accent. It wasn't like I could help it). Bottom line was that I wasn't a sex-for-sex's-sake kind of guy.
But being vulnerable with Isabella had come to be second nature. Pain had stripped us to each other emotionally long before our clothes had ever come off. I'd seen Isabella bare to her soul before last night. It simply wasn't until we broke that barrier at the party that the level of physical comfort we'd developed with each other boiled into that tight, banked heat.
She met my eyes, and the gravity sucked me in, reminded me. Broken images of Isabella moving beneath me, hands on bare skin, moans, cries, demands, bodies stretched tight and twined before we finally broke like scattered stardust.
"Oh man," she gasped and sharply looked away. "Maybe… maybe don't look at me like that, though."
I hadn't been aware I was looking at her in any way in particular, but the request alone was enough to make heat flare across my face.
Up to this point, Isabella had been strangely calm, but now she looked a little manic as she stared down at her hands. It took everything in me to ask my next question, but I needed to.
"Like… what?" I needed to know how much of my internal struggle my expression was giving away.
She chewed her lip while her fingers toyed with the bottom of her t-shirt. After a second, she let out a little laugh.
"Do you want the truth or do you want a lie that will be easier to swallow?"
I stared at her. I recalled asking her that last night, and it wasn't until it was used on me that I realized how cruel of a question it had been. Isabella's response was immediate: The truth. Always the truth, Ferb. I supposed when it came right down to it, Isabella was stronger than me, because I wasn't sure how much of the truth I could take.
When I didn't answer, Isabella shook her head and looked down.
"To be honest, I have no idea what the hell the look you just gave me means. I just know it's different."
Different. Different was almost a relief to hear, because at the very least, different made sense. Everything was different now.
Suddenly, she blurted out, "It's mostly the alcohol, right?"
I blinked at her. I couldn't deduce even the most meager notion of what she meant. She balled her shirt in her hands now—gathering courage, I realized.
"What happened," she stated in clarification. "It was mostly the alcohol. And we'd both been hurting, you know, so because we'd been drinking, we both… Consensually! Just… it's like beer goggles, right? It happened because we were drinking and our defenses were down and we were both here. That's why. Right?"
What a horribly difficult question. I had no answer for her. My memories from last night were skewed at best, but I seemed to remember drinking because I had been so ruddy attracted to her and I couldn't cope. Or had it been because of Vanessa and her apparently committed beau, Monty? Icy dread slithered down my spine, because I realized I had no damn idea.
"You don't know?" she gasped, her voice going up a whole octave, reading me all too well. Her hands crash-landed on the top of my leg as she leaned closer, her eyes wide and startled.
I was so panicked I blurted out, "Well, do you?"
Her mouth fell open. Then it closed again. She frowned, and her eyes sunk every bit as much as her lips.
I knew instantly I had asked the wrong question; because in doing so, I realized she wasn't any more certain than I was. I was, in fact, pretty damn uncertain where this had come from between us, and for her to be in the same position… I knew that threatened trouble.
"No…" she finally answered. "No, I guess I don't."
I hadn't actually expected her to respond, and now, when our gazes connected, I felt as if I was falling through the floor. My forehead came to a rest against hers, and I didn't even realize it until her breath hitched. She didn't pull back, though. We just stayed there, unmoving, completely adrift in the maze we'd put ourselves in.
It was perhaps a whole minute before she pulled back enough to comfortably say, "Would you kiss me again?"
I nearly fell off the bed.
"What?" I yelped, and she frantically waved her hands back and forth.
"No, no, no! It's not—it's not anything! I mean—I just meant so I can tell!"
"Tell—tell what?" I croaked, still recovering from the shrapnel that bomb had just flung in my brain.
"This," she rushed on. "This craziness! Just a kiss, now, when we're both sober! To prove it's alcohol, you know? At the party, and then crashing with you afterward, and—last night. We were both intoxicated to one extent or another, and—please, Ferb, I just need to know. Just so I can put my mind at ease."
"Bella, that's… that's just crazy."
She snorted. "I think we flew right past crazy when our pants came off!"
I stared at her. I felt like I was sinking in quick sand. The more I resisted, the faster I fell. I shouldn't even be considering this!
Isabella brushed some of her hair behind her ear and realization plunged its cold hand into my chest. Watching her, watching what should have been a familiar gesture… I knew this body. This mind. The quirks, habits, innate responses. After last night, I now knew this woman as intimately as I could possibly could.
Yet, as she brushed her frizzy hair behind her ear, it was like I was watching her move for the very first time. I realized maybe, in a way, I didn't know Isabella at all.
How could I? I couldn't know her when I didn't even know myself. We were both trying to build on ground zero, completely demolished hearts, speckles of dreams left to debris; and we were trying to build without any blueprints at all.
There were just too many factors at play. What Isabella was suggesting… well, it would be testing the most precarious variable of all. What if it really was just the alcohol? It was simple enough to prove, and then we would both know. We could both move on with an awkward laugh and an avowal never to allow bothof us to be tipsy at once ever again.
I could see the logic in it. Part of me wished I couldn't but I did; and it wasn't like I had any idea what to do otherwise. I would do as she suggested, because she was absolutely right. I needed to know how much of this was pain, how much was physical need, how much was alcohol, and how much was Isabella.
"At this point, what's one more kiss?" she said with a quiet laugh, and this time, I found myself nodding.
"Okay."
It came out of my mouth in a whisper, and she froze the second it registered. Then her eyes went wide. Her hand flew to her lips as she sucked in a surprised breath, and I nodded again. She was right, after all. We'd already gone all the way. More than once. What was one more kiss if it could put this to rest?
"Oh. Oh. Um."
I couldn't help it; I chuckled under my breath. "Didn't expect me to agree?"
"Frankly, no," she stated. "You've been so—" she made vague gestures, "about this. I just—I thought…"
"I have no idea what that means," I teased, and she smacked me on the arm.
"Oh shut up!"
I smiled down at my legs. That was when it occurred to me for the first time: I was wearing nothing but boxers. Space Adventure boxers. As in, black speckled with tiny droids and space ships printed all over them.
This time, it was full laughter that slid between the cracks, a raw burst of embarrassment and amusement and everything in between. So much for a sober conversation. How could I ever take anything seriously when I was in nothing but these! My god, how had she kept a straight face this whole time?
"What?" she squeaked. "What's wrong?"
I shook my head, unable to get a word in for a good few seconds, I laughed so hard.
"My—my—" I gestured to my visage, to the article of clothing that was so entirely out of place right now. "How can you possibly take me seriously?"
When Isabella realized what I was referring to, she froze. She glanced from my boxers to my face, and almost immediately her cheeks regained all the color from before, if not more. Then she burst into laughter, too. We sat there, unreasonably hysterical, and began to laugh ourselves to pieces.
"I think they're cute," she finally giggled, reaching up in the midst of her laughter and resting her hand on my chest. She was shaking almost as hard as I was, amused tears in her eyes.
"Sorry," I answered to the best of my ability. "I do suppose I always have the most terrible timing, don't I?"
She grinned and shook her head. "Way to kill the mood, Fletcher."
God, yes. This was what I needed: our banter. I needed this normalcy to curb all the tension that stood like a stranger between us.
There was a problem, though; while this semblance of normal was a comfort, it didn't ebb the physical tension I still felt it. If anything, listening to her tease me made it grow, a bundle of nerves in my gut that tugged with every pleased hitch in her voice.
…Maybe a kiss wasn't the best idea after all.
"I think you're just trying to get out of this and don't want to admit it," she crooned, and I had to work hard to keep my face even.
Yes? No? I didn't even know if she was right, but now her head cocked to the side. She was reading me. I should have known I couldn't keep anything from her.
"Unless you changed your mind," she said slowly, and something close to panic forced me to shake my head.
"No. It's fine."
She pursed her lips, probably not convinced, so I reached up and took her cheek. I couldn't stand drawing this out, anyway. I leaned in, letting my eyes close, but then she pulled back just enough, so she was out of my reach. I opened my eyes, and her face went pink all over again.
"Maybe… maybe not on the bed?" she suggested in a small voice.
I blinked at her. Then blinked again. Eventually I nodded, so she took my hands and pulled me up so we were standing before each other, face to face. I didn't see how this was any better—proximity was proximity, after all, regardless of whether or not we were sitting or standing—but she nodded her head determinedly. Even then, she didn't look much more certain than I was.
I had the haunting feeling I was forgetting something.
"Isabella," I sighed, but before I could point out that we were both being crazy, she leaned up on her toes and pressed her lips to mine.
This short, somewhat awkward moment took all my words away. She pulled back as quickly as she'd come and watched me, but I didn't know what to tell her. I was uncharacteristically struggling with processing this. So much was happening, and while my mind was used to functioning in so many directions at once, my heart was not.
"You didn't even kiss me," was all she said in decision, and I ran a hand over my forehead. She was right, but that didn't mean I knew how to respond, especially when she took my face between her palms. "Come on, Ferb, this is serious! I need to know."
She brought her mouth against mine again, and this time I could feel her waiting expectantly. Worst of all, I knew she had a decent point! I would go mad if I didn't prove, resolutely, that this was nothing. Which meant I couldn't hold back, not for this one, revealing moment. I needed to know the truth, and to gage that I needed honest effort. This was a test, after all, and the results were only valid if I actually showed up for the exam.
I reached up for her cheek and really caught her lips with mine. Her breath hitched into my lungs and I expected her to pull back, but there was no hesitation at this new change. She wrapped her arms around my neck instead and kissed me hard; so I kissed harder, and just like that, we both got carried away.
Kneading, tugging, molding one mouth against another. Pressure for pressure, she met me and now her body was against mine. Her shirt was not covering enough. Hands were roaming. I felt the gentle tease of her fingers across my shoulder blade, the other twining in my hair, holding me to her. I found myself cupping her butt, lifting her a little higher, so all our lines fit in just the right way.
This was too easy.
Something inside of me was breathless, waiting. Want bubbled through my core, answering her, hammering at my insides with a jolt of longing so strong it was startling. My movement was involuntary, my fingers sliding under her shirt and up her back. There was no bra band to hinder my progress; just skin, smooth and warm and inviting as she arched at my touch.
I needed to taste her so I did, but even better was when I heard her moan in response. I knew now that wasn't the only sound she could make, so I moved to her neck, taking the vulnerable skin between my teeth. Her reaction was exquisite—a sharp, sexy intake of breath, fingernails biting into my back—and I rolled my hips against hers.
Fuck.
I reclaimed her lips. Whatever this was, it was a drug. Overwhelming. Addictive. Completely dangerous. But that didn't change the fact that it was a drug, and it called to me. It could all but devour me, and I suddenly wasn't so sure if I could fight it.
I pulled her with me until I sat on the edge of the bed, not letting our mouths part for a second. She didn't break the connection either, not even as she was crawling over me, onto my lap, tugging at my hair. I could feel her bare thighs against my skin, her legs under my hands.
I remembered we had been in a position pretty similar to this the second time last night, and that memory alone crumbled the last of my decency. I was a goner. I was completely aroused, and the aching groan I let out when she ground against me now was the only thing that startled both of us enough to break apart.
She pulled back from me at the same time I yanked my hands off of her and we fell to breathless, stunned stares.
"Oh," she panted, "oh god. Ferb. What—what the hell? We—we—oh fuck!"
I couldn't have said it better myself.
"I think you've got your answer," I muttered, tightening my fingers in the sheets to keep them put.
"But we're sober," she said in almost a whine, and I scoffed.
"Extremely."
Her chest rose and fell at a rapid pace, and I was trying so desperately to be a gentleman, but with her literally perched on top of me, there was only so much I could do with the view I was given.
"Well… well shit!" she gasped, running a panicked hand up through her hair.
It was my sentiment exactly. This was not the revelation that either of us needed: that we were so shamefully compatible in this regard. Physically compatible. Emotionally unstable. And our greatest rock was the person we were crumbling to pieces with. In other words, I could only see that we were utterly screwed.
"Okay," she exhaled. "God. This is going to make it a lot harder to figure out what to do now."
"It's pretty damn hard already," I mumbled, more to myself than anything, but she'd heard. Her eyes widened, and I think I nearly died when she suddenly glanced down at our laps.
There were no droids in my pockets, after all.
"Oh! Oh god, Ferb, I'm sorry! I—"
I caught her around the waist just as she was scrambling to get off me and brought her back to where she'd been. She made a half-strangled sound, but I wasn't trying to pull anything; I just needed to feel her right now. I needed the tangible proof that I hadn't fallen through the ground to awaken in a world of delusion. I needed her presence, so I rested my head on her collarbone.
What the hell did we do now?
We breathed, and that was it. Our heavy pants eventually subsided, but beyond that we didn't move. We didn't speak.
Last night… that was Isabella's first time. I had been Isabella's first time. And her second time. For me, this had been easy—so ridiculously, dangerously easy—but for her?
"Are you okay?" I finally said. Guilt swallowed me whole, because that question had been one of the very first things she'd said to me. I'd been so shocked that only now did I ask her in return. It should have been the first thing out of my mouth, too.
"Stunned," came her muffled answer into my hair, and I pulled her back so I could see her face. She stared down at me with half-lidded eyes, but I could tell she was being every bit as careful to keep space between our lips as I was.
"I wasn't talking about right now," I said quietly, and I knew she realized what I was saying when her cheeks flushed.
"Er, yeah," she spluttered. "I—we—and I'd never—but yeah! I'm—okay."
My mouth slid into a deep, immeasurable frown. "Isabella."
"Oh, don't give me that look!" she cried, her eyes shooting to the ceiling to avoid mine. "I mean, yeah, it hurt a little, but you got me pretty ready and I was definitely wet enough and the second time you started going faster, and—oh gosh! You—I'm fine. Fine! Really."
"Fine?" Some fierce sense of pride in me let it slip out of my mouth before my practical side could hold it back. I wanted it to be more than fine. I was… wow. That was how I was. I wanted Isabella to be more than just fine.
It was a strange instinct inside of me, one I wasn't so sure I wanted to dissect. Of course I didn't want last night to have been horrid for her—I would never want that for any woman I slept with—but something was different about this time. Perhaps because, while I never was one to sleep around and my experience was rather limited, I'd never cared so deeply for a woman I'd been with as I did for Isabella.
It was Isabella. No other woman ranked above her for how deeply I cared. Not even Vanessa. In fact, Isabella pretty much was the scale; but that had always been platonic.
Now, however? We'd destroyed platonic entirely. I didn't care what people said about friends with benefits; I would never be able to have strictly platonic sex. I just… couldn't.
"Fine," she repeated in a tiny voice, her face vibrant pink. She still wouldn't meet my gaze. But then she did, and I was struck by how unbelievably, unfairly beautiful she was.
That impractical, prideful entity inside of me reared its head again. It reminded me that that had been her first time, that I could make her feel so much better than fine, that I wanted her anyway, so why not act?
Shit.
"Bella," I gasped, my fingers tightening on her waist so I could lift her slightly off me. She frowned down at me in confusion, but this time it was I that couldn't meet her gaze. I didn't want to hurt her feelings by shoving her off of me (and I didn't want her completely off of me), but less contact at our hips was necessary right now.
I told the lustful thing she'd turned me into to shove off. I couldn't afford to lose my sense right now.
"Ferb?" Her fingers brushed the hair at my forehead again, but I shook my head instead of answering her.
Desire was such an inconvenient thing. I was usually so disciplined, feeling desire but never a slave to it. I'd never felt so… undone as I did in this moment. Actually, that was a lie. Because last night… that was when I had felt the most undone. Last night, doing what I had done with Isabella.
"Why did you tell Phineas?" she said, completely out of nowhere, and I was so startled I had to study her face. It was uncertain: a press in her brow, her teeth tugging at her lips.
I had no answer for her, at least none that I could pull to the front of my mind. I knew the answer was in my brain somewhere, buried deep under hormones and recent memories, but it was completely beyond my reach in the shock of this single question.
"For years you've known how I felt about Phineas," she continued when I could do nothing but blankly stare. "Years and years you kept it secret, no matter what Phineas did or said or how he reacted to stuff. But then you just… told him. Just like that. So easily."
Guilt gnawed at my heart, and I leaned my forehead against her collarbone again. I couldn't handle that intense look of hers, and this was the best option I had. I was still trying to find an answer for her, and I was convinced that the overwhelming fact that she deserved one was the only thing that finally dragged it up from the recesses of my head.
"Because I was afraid," I admitted.
"Afraid?"
I nodded. I had been terrified.
"Of what?"
I took a few deep breaths, fully conscious of her heartbeat pounding away just in front of my lips. The truth, Ferb, she'd told me. Always the truth.
"I realized if I didn't, that you would keep hurting. You would agonize and toil, Isabella; you would let yourself bleed out over him until it was finally revealed, and—I realized that I was unwilling to see that. I wouldn't let that drag on and continue to hurt you. So…"
"So you told him," she finished for me.
I took another deep breath. Would she hate me? I nodded against her again.
There was a long silence, eons and eons long as it stretched between us, until she said, "Ferb?"
Her voice was a magnet and it drew my head back up. This time, it felt like she held my gaze for eternity; but eternity was held in only a handful of seconds.
"That wasn't your secret to tell."
I knew that. Believe me, I was wholly aware; but there was one thing she was overlooking.
"While it may not have been my secret to tell, your heart has always been mine to protect, Isabella. I finally had to put that first."
Her mouth fell open a little, and her surprised gasp filled the space between us. She reached for me, her hand shaking until it landed softly against my cheek, and I closed my eyes at the touch.
God, what the hell were we getting ourselves into?
"Ferb—"
Whatever she was going to say was cut off at the frantic knocks on her front door. We both froze, staring at each other in shock, not quite comprehending.
The knocks grew louder, more insistent. It wasn't until I heard my brother's voice from the other side that I finally remembered what I had forgotten: that Phineas had called. Phineas had heard Isabella's sleepy, sex-addled voice through the line.
Shit.
Isabella practically fell off me, tripping over herself as she scrambled toward her living room; but by then we both heard the rattle of keys in the door.
Dear god, Isabella… of course she'd given Phineas the spare key!
We both raced to the door, but it was pointless, because Phineas had already opened it on his own.
He and I locked eyes. His jaw dropped. Isabella buried her face in her hands. And the only sound was when his keys hit the floor.
Review, please!
Okay... so, in my defense, many of you are pretty damn familiar with my work and know I have a rather fierce propensity for killer cliffhangers. So if you're surprised by this, that's completely on you hahaha.
I'd love to hear what you think! Fun fact: I actually based Ferb's boxers after a pair of Star Wars boxers I practically live in haha. And I was wearing a giant yellow Yoshi sleep shirt at the time I wrote this... so Isabella's shirt was yellow. Why not? Writing always has to come from somewhere, right? XD
Anyhoo, like I said, I can't wait to hear what you guys think about where this is going!
All my love,
Lilly-Belle
