Behavior Analysis
Chapter 9: The Confession
"I'm sorry."
And with that, Donnie let her go. He retracted his hands off of her waist, and hesitantly took a step away from her, giving her space if she wanted it. His face was fighting against a grimace, and it put on a brave smile instead, however strained.
Lizzie felt as though something had slipped out of her hands, and opened her eyes with an alarming fear of what she might find in the visible world. And there it was: an unsettling distance between Donnie and herself, a gulf of confusion, and no words to bridge the disarray.
"No, you don't have to be sorry…" This was all Lizzie can gather up within her muddled mind. Just a moment ago, she was in the warmth of Donnie's arms, waiting and wanting to be kissed by him.
"Umm…I should get going. I have a study session tonight. Bye, Lizzie." Donnie gave a nod and a last look, then ran off across the campus lawn, quickly disappearing into the grey of the early sunset. Lizzie stared at his decreasing presence, watching him run away from her, and taking her heart with him. What just happened?
. . . . . .
The finals exams had overtaken the entire Academy for full two weeks, rendering just about every cadet thoroughly absorbed in their studies and preparations. And Lizzie was no different. First and foremost, Lizzie was an academician in essence, and the timing of the finals sessions could not have been more perfect to provide the perfect distraction in her heart. She spent the two weeks singularly focused in her studies, and the dam of her emotions was held behind the strong walls of her will. Lizzie did not make any attempts to see Donnie, nor did he. Perhaps they were cut from the same fiber: always placing studies first. Or that both had chosen to deliberately avoid the mess of the heart strings.
But it came usually at the end of the night, when Lizzie was safely tucked away in her bed did the emotions flowed in without reserve or warning. The last thoughts before falling into sleep had always been of Donnie, his arms holding her and his lips a breath away. Lizzie had lifted her face a slight, to meet his lips. At that moment, she felt as though she loved him. Is that what love feels like? How does love feel like? Did she love Donnie? What does it mean when she can't answer any of these questions? And she wondered how Donnie felt about any of this. What is he thinking, even now?
. . . . . . .
Lizzie didn't hear from Donnie until a week after the finals, when he called to say that he'll pick her up from her dorm to attend the journal publishing ceremony. That night, fifteen of the Academy professors were being recognized as contributors to the Annual Reference Journal, and the two cadets were included as student contributors. It was a formality ceremony, and the two would be seated on the stage at the auditorium, along with the professors.
Donnie promptly came to her dorm building at half an hour before the ceremony. When she first saw him through the glass door, the last memory of him running across the quad lawn flashed across her mind. And undetected by Donnie, she paused before opening the door, telling herself that the kiss was simply not meant to be. Lizzie resorted to the logic of facts: what is seen, as opposed to what is unseen. What was seen was that Donnie did not kiss her. And she wouldn't dare bear her heart to what was unseen, that Donnie did not want to kiss her.
"Hi, Donnie." Lizzie made her way out of the building, putting on a smile, but it came surprisingly easy for her when Donnie looked at her. He was dressed in a black suit, the same suit he wore for the Governor's Dinner. Lizzie wore a black dress, and even in her eyes complimented quite well with him.
"Hey, Lizzie. You look great." Donnie smiled warmly, as he usually does with Lizzie. "Ready for two hours of bore?"
"It won't be that bad." Lizzie couldn't help to chuckle as they naturally and comfortably settled in their usual banter.
"Bunch of old professors and their speeches…sooner or later, you'll be looking for a needle to poke yourself in the eye, to alleviate the boredom."
"Donnie…"
"Or a bottle of tequila to numb the pain."
"Donnie…"
"At least a game of sudoku. Or whatever people play these days sitting on the toilet."
"Oh, come on."
"Well, there's gotta be something we could smuggle up there. They'll probably seat us in the last row, next to the curtains."
Lizzie shook her head in laughter. "I actually don't mind sitting behind the curtains. I just want to get this thing over with. As long as our names are on the page of the journal, I don't care for this fanfare."
"Yeah, behind the curtains. Should we spend the whole time just making out behind the curtains? To see if anyone notices?"
"What?" Lizzie turned to Donnie, incredulous at his comment and waiting for his mind to inevitably catch up to his mouth.
"Um, what I meant was…nobody cares about two lowly cadets who got two pages of the Journal. We might as well sit cross-eyed, and nobody would notice. That's what I meant." Donnie shifted in obvious discomfiture, and Lizzie mercilessly laughed at him. He decided to change the subject, "So, what classes are you taking this semester? Any upper div?"
"No upper div this semester, couldn't fit it into general intro classes. I am taking my very first field tactical training class. Can't wait to go all John McClane bad ass."
"Your very first field tactical…that should be very fun. Knowing you, you could probably assemble AK47 in your sleep." Donnie playfully jabbed at Lizzie's arm, and even that slight touch left a warm mark reverberating in her heart.
"No assembly of firearms yet. We're just beginning tactical strategies and field offense. And by the way, you wouldn't believe who is my training officer."
"Who?" Lizzie was sure she detected a hint of alarm cross Donnie's face just then.
"Tom Keen. It's strange how we just run into each other."
As soon as the words escaped Lizzie's mouth, Donnie's face instantly took on lines of agitation and apprehension. "Tom Keen is your T.O.?"
"I know…what a coincidence."
"Tom Keen doesn't even look like he'd be tactical. He looks more like books and reports, with those pretentious glasses of his."
"Donnie…"
"And did you choose him as your T.O.? How exactly did he, or all people, become your T.O.?" Donnie was now becoming visibly perturbed, and quite insistent on getting some answers. Lizzie still didn't understand this brewing dynamics between them.
"I was assigned to him. And Donnie, what is the matter with you? What is this you have against Tom?"
By the long pause he took, it looked as if Donnie was considering just exactly what he should bring to the surface. Putting aside his flaring instincts, it may have been Tom's intentional condescending remarks, this sudden strange attachment he shows towards Lizzie, or his resolute disregard for the obvious claim that Donnie had over Lizzie. Donnie had made clear that he had feelings for her, but Tom brazenly ignored it without even a hint of apology or concern. Not only that, but the casual way that he touched Lizzie boiled Donnie, and to think that she was about to get into Tom's car and be driven by him after the New Year's party.
At that moment, they had arrived at the Academy Arts Auditorium, and already a considerable number of people were filing in. Donnie stopped walking and turned to Lizzie, holding both of her arms with his hands so that they were facing each other.
"Lizzie, this is going to sound crazy…but please promise me that you'll stay away from him." Donnie's face visibly softened with concern and burden.
"Donnie, he's my training officer. I can't stay away from him." Lizzie couldn't believe how serious Donnie had become.
"Lizzie…just don't meet up with him outside of class. And don't get into his car."
"Now you're sounding crazy paranoid. Donnie, do you hear yourself?"
"Lizzie, please…"
"Donnie, I need you to stop this, whatever this is. Tom is not this deranged hit man you make him out to be. Tom is a student from the Naval Academy, who happens to not only be a brilliant scholar but an expert field officer."
"Lizzie…"
"Now, we have to get inside. Let's go."
. . . . . .
Lizzie hardly spoke a word to Donnie during the ceremony as they were seated next to professors, and indeed, in the last row. However it was more than evident that Donnie was not in a sociable mood as his face wore a grim furrow upon his forehead the entire two hours. Lizzie knew the source of those lines, but chose not to acknowledge it. Donnie was being overly protective, to the point of being paranoid. She didn't see Tom as the type she should be warned about, and if anything, Donnie was acting like a jealous boyfriend, minus the little essential detail of him not being her boyfriend.
During the walk back to her dorm, Donnie asked Lizzie to have lunch with him the next day, and insisted that he will pick her up from her tactical training class. It'd have been more convenient to meet at the Student Union, but Lizzie relented to Donnie's plan. She knew what he was doing. Donnie wanted to check up on her, and although it was highly ludicrous, Lizzie knew it was something Donnie just had to do for himself.
. . . . . . .
"Isn't that Donnie?"
Tom threw a glance toward the center door, and Lizzie followed his gaze. Indeed, it was Donnie taking a seat at the waiting area overlooking the tactical training site. He was early. Figures.
"He must be here to check up on you." Tom muttered with a slight snicker. He was showing Lizzie how to stand ground in defensive stance, and as he threw a last look at Donnie, Tom's hand was firmly planted on her lower back. "Just remember, your strength has to come from your abdomen and your back. You loosen those areas, you'll be down in seconds."
"Got it." Lizzie's mind was too occupied with the lesson that she hadn't realized how Tom's hand had now travelled from her lower back to her shoulder, with his body mere inches from her.
"Is he always this possessive of you?" Tom had now turned his back on Donnie, and was shielding his view of Lizzie.
"What?"
"Donnie. Even at the New Year's party, he just had this odd vibe over you. And now he's clearly here to check up on you. He's acting like a jealous boyfriend, without being the actual boyfriend." Tom let out a derisive snicker, and Lizzie took notice of his faint condescending tone. However, she had to agree about the boyfriend tidbit.
"No, Donnie's just looking out for me. We're just going to have lunch after."
"Yeah, I mean, it's clear that you don't have any feelings for him. Poor guy, when is he ever going to learn?"
"Excuse me?"
Tom had a warm smile fixed upon his face, "I just feel like I get a sister-brother vibe from you guys. Donnie is trying to get romantic, but I don't see it happening. There is just no heat between you two."
Lizzie was taken quite aback by these sentiments. Is that how others perceive of Donnie and her? "You think that, huh?"
"Yeah, absolutely. Plus if he's truly interested in you, he'd have made a move already. But, to his defense, he most likely didn't make a move because Lizzie, you're just not that interested in him."
"Tom, I know exactly how I feel towards Donnie." Lizzie couldn't understand why her first reaction to Tom's comments was becoming defensive. She also did not like how Tom was talking about Donnie.
"Well, knowing often does not align with feeling. Isn't that the basis of behavior analysis? Look, Lizzie, I'm your friend and I'm just telling you what I see. Take my advice, if you want to. Don't try to make something out of nothing. In the end, it'd just be a waste of time."
At the end of the session, Lizzie walked out to the waiting area, and surprisingly Tom followed. Donnie stood up from his chair as soon as he saw them approaching, and Lizzie detected that Donnie was none too pleased.
"Hey, Donnie. How are you, man? Haven't seen you since the New Year's party." Tom's big grin was unfortunately but expectedly not mirrored on Donnie's face.
"Tom." Donnie gave him a curt nod instead, and dismissively turned to Lizzie. "You ready, Lizzie?"
"So, Donnie, what brings you here, buddy? Lunch with Lizzie, but I swear I get the feeling you're here to check up on her."
By now, Donnie had his hand lightly on Lizzie's elbow, with an intent to usher her out of the building. He did not reply to Tom, but Lizzie could see Donnie was tempted.
"Well, if it makes you feel better, you don't have to worry about Lizzie. She's actually a pretty bad ass, she could take care of herself. But, I'll do you a favor. I'll keep an eye on her for ya."
Lizzie did not know what Tom was trying to do, but Donnie turned around to look at him. "Speaking of, I was surprised you were in tactical. You don't come across as a guy who can think quickly on his feet, and know when to go offense or defense. Just the way you talk, you seem just too hot headed to have control. I mean, control is the basis of all tactical training, isn't it?"
Tom nodded in agreement, with a grin intact. "Control is indeed the basis of tactical training, you're right. But so is strategy, meaning how you play the game mentally is just as essential as physical display. Maybe I have the edge on the mental game."
"You don't know what your advantages are, until the other side allows you to see what they've got."
"True, but instincts have great merit. My training as a profiler comes in handy in that case."
"And it's no wonder why profiling is often dismissed in favor of facts. Facts have won wars, not theories, perceptions, or little mental inklings."
At this point, Lizzie stepped forward and grabbed Donnie's arm, pulling him towards the door of the site. "Donnie, let's go. I'm famished, I need to get lunch." She needed to put an end to this heated exchange, and while Donnie followed reluctantly, he did not forgo a last glare towards Tom.
As they stepped outside, Tom's voice was heard from behind, "Lizzie, I'll see you on Saturday!"
Donnie sharply turned to Lizzie, "What's on Saturday?"
And Lizzie continued pulling him, muttering, "Nothing."
. . . . . .
Two months of the second semester went by, and Lizzie saw Donnie a lot more often than in the past. They almost had a routine patted down, with Donnie picking her up from her tactical training class for lunch after, which was everyday accept for Monday. On some days, they grabbed dinner at the Student Union and studied at the library. Jane has mercilessly teased her that the entire campus viewed them as a couple already, and that they should just make it official. Although Lizzie wouldn't admit to anyone, it hadn't gone unnoticed that Donnie had become quite affectionate and tender towards her. However silly and miniscule, but Lizzie's favorite part of the day was when they walked up the stairs to the Student Union, and Donnie would always place his hand on her back to guide her.
But in the deep recesses of her mind, Lizzie could not forget what Tom had said, as much as she tried to dismiss it. Perhaps Donnie is being tender and protective of her because he truly sees her as a sister type, someone younger whom he's just looking out for. Perhaps this tenderness is not romantic, but of heightened friendship, or even some asinine male competition between Donnie and Tom. Perhaps Tom is right, that there is no real heat between them. And all this is just her own girlie longings and interpretations.
. . . . . .
In the month of March, there was an annual student trip to the FBI Headquarters, located in Washington, D.C. It was a big three-day event with seven institutions attending, consisting of facility tours, workshops, and greeting sessions with some of the top FBI officials. It was certainly a trip that all cadets looked forward to, but only the top twenty-five students were eligible to attend. As expected, Lizzie was qualified to attend, and so was Donnie.
Unfortunately, Lizzie did not see Donnie at all during the entire trip due to the group being separated according to their year. Lizzie spotted Donnie only a few times, most of them across some distance, and Donnie had waved and smiled at her. Even their eating times and hotel locations were separated, and Lizzie relented to the fact that she'll have to talk with Donnie when they get back to the Academy.
On the last night of the trip, there was an event called a "mixer", which was just a glorified word for a party with all the other students from different academic institutions and colleges. Her hotel suite mate, Celeste, had tried to talk Lizzie into going, but to no avail. A party event of over two hundred people just did not appeal to Lizzie, and as Celeste dejectedly left by herself that night, Lizzie decided that she'd try out the hotel swimming pool instead.
After an hour of swimming at the hotel pool, Lizzie made her way up to her room in her sopping wet t-shirt. The only thing consuming her mind was taking a long hot shower when she detected a figure sitting on the floor of her hotel hallway, with his back against her own hotel room door. It was Donnie.
"Donnie." Startled by his presence, all that Lizzie could do was to utter his name.
"Hey." Donnie quickly got to his feet, and a smile of relief filled his face, "Didn't see you at the mixer."
"Yeah, well, you know you won't find me at one of those things." Lizzie walked closer to him, fishing for her hotel room key in her pocket. "How did you know where my hotel room was?"
"I asked around. I asked just about every first year girls, until I found Celeste. She looked a bit startled that I was looking for you." Donnie and Lizzie shared a small laughter, with Lizzie adding, "I'd have loved to see you amongst the throng of first year girls, how perfectly awkward and odd that must've been."
"It…was worth it." Donnie mumbled sheepishly, and Lizzie tried her best to suppress a blushing warm sensation creeping onto her face.
"So, do you want to come in for a bit? But technically, I can't let any boys in. In fact, boys are barred from this entire floor. I can't believe you made it this far without getting grabbed by the collar and shoved out."
"Well, I didn't see a soul in this entire building. Everyone must be at the mixer, except for us two lonely losers."
Amidst of her laughter, Lizzie opened the door. "Come in, then. Let me take a quick shower first."
. . . . . .
When Lizzie walked out of the bathroom wearing a tank top and a pair of pajama bottoms, she found Donnie fast asleep on her bed, with the TV on at a sports channel.
"Figures." Lizzie muttered as she grabbed a book and gently plunked herself down on the bed next to the sleeping figure.
. . . . . .
Donnie felt his body twitch as his eyes fluttered open. For a second, he didn't know where he was, until he saw Lizzie lying next to him, on her side and with her back against him. She did not stir a bit, and Donnie figured she was deep in sleep. He saw that she was clutching a book, and he gently released it from her hands and placed it on the nightstand by the bed, but not before reading the title, "The Neurosis of the Depraved Psychosis." To which he muttered, "Figures."
Donnie fixed his eyes back on the sleeping figure. She was crouched with her back to him, and he noticed that her hair was still slightly damp, so he must've not slept for long. He leaned closer to Lizzie, taking in a gentle waft of something floral in the air. Donnie stared at the peripheral view of her face, and he was taken aback by her delicate beauty, as he always had. But tonight, in that close proximity, Donnie had to fight his own volition to just touch her, to touch her beauty, her softness, and her spell that he was under. Donnie knew that he loved her. He knew that he was in love with her.
He thought back at the time they've hugged after finding out they were going to be published. They were so elated then. And every fiber of his being wanted to kiss her then and there, and he felt her leaning into him as well. But then what? What would that kiss lead to? Lizzie was overwhelmed with happiness at being published, and Donnie didn't want their kiss to be just an end product of those circumstantial sentiments. It would break his heart to think that Lizzie would regret that kiss, that she would feel misled. Or worse, that she'd think he had taken advantage of the situation.
No, Donnie wanted their kiss to solely mean that they loved each other. Donnie wanted Lizzie to kiss him back because she felt the same way as he did for her. He couldn't bear it if it was anything otherwise.
He gazed at her bare shoulder, and ever so gently and slightly, he placed his hand like a feather falling upon a pillow, and softly caressed the rounded contour. Lizzie was still asleep when he leaned in, and placed a faint kiss upon her bare shoulder. Her skin felt warm and smooth under his lips, and in silence he confessed that she was the most beautiful girl he's ever seen.
Donnie let his hand to timidly graze over to the nape of her neck, and there he placed another faint kiss, confessing in silence that he was in love with her. From the first moment he saw her, he knew his heart had belonged to her.
When he lifted his face, he was met by piercing blue eyes that were now watching him intently. Lizzie was awake, and she was aware that Donnie had just kissed her. No words came from her, but her eyes were locked with his, who in turn was reading her face for even a slightest of reaction. But all she did was turn her body to face him and nestled into his chest, and Donnie, feeling like being taken for a ride along the heavenly wave, leaned down and kissed her on the lips. The kiss was tentative and careful at first, but as his lips sought and traced over her lips, Lizzie kissed him back in a tender urgency that Donnie felt he could fall into regardless of depth. His hand cradled her face as he tasted her soft lips, just as Lizzie's hand was on the nape of his neck, gently caressing his hair in her fingers. The kiss was not long, and they pulled apart wordlessly.
It was Lizzie who spoke first, in a hushed whisper. "I don't care what Tom says."
"What?"
"I mean, you better go before Celeste gets back."
"Oh, right." With that, Donnie got up from her bed slowly, and walked over to the door with Lizzie following closely behind him.
But before he turned the door knob, Donnie turned around and kissed Lizzie one more time, drawing her into his arms and capturing her soft lips with his. As he pulled away, he whispered, "Are you sure you want me to go?"
"Yes." That was her reply, and she didn't change her mind as Donnie walked out of the door.
As Lizzie closed the door behind him, she breathed a heavy sigh. They have kissed. Now what?
. . . . . .
Author's Note: Dang it…realized that I just have a hard time writing kissing scenes. Everything I wanna say sounds cheesy, and I hate cheesy, and I absolutely refuse to write anything cheesy. Dang it.
Anyways, the much-waited new episode of the Blacklist ROCKED! Was it just me, but didn't Liz and Ressler seem more comfortable with each other? Like they're actually chummy. Ressler's character is evolving, too. The writers are definitely "humanizing" him, and hopefully to get him ready for Keensler romance. Haha.
