Hoodfabulous Disclaimer:

We don't own Twilight.

I don't even own this plot.

If I did, I'd killed Alice two chapters ago.

All for Franny, who isn't a chickenhead, but does love her chickens.

So motherclucking much.

GRiND

~*~ CHApTER ELeVEN ~*~

~ BPOV ~

I startle myself with this guy … with this man who looks at me with open eyes, seeing something inside myself that I have yet to find. The truth of my heartache slips out, burning my tongue. The gelato does little to cool the bitterness embedded deep inside. The melting, pink mess settles inside my stomach, the sugar curdling along with the traitorous vulnerability hanging in the air.

The heat rises to my cheeks, probably as pink as the remains of the sugary sweetness in my nearly empty cup. Bean blinks, watching as the color rises. I hate the look playing on his face: the compassion, sympathy, remorse.

I hate it.

The chair brings a sickening scrape to the air, cracking and cutting through the tension, but not weakening it. No, not a bit. It's still there, that heavy fog of discomfort.

Then he grabs my wrist.

"I'm not sixteen," he whispers, in a low, firm tone. "I'm a skater, but I'm not him. I'm not some irresponsible little boy."

"Your point?" I grumble.

I gasp as he pulls me closer, bringing my body between his parted legs. My knees brush against the insides of his thighs.

So close … so very close.

Bean drops my wrist. Staring into my eyes, he brushes his fingers against the back of my legs, tickling my quaking knees with the light brush of his thumbs.

"Go out with me, and I'll prove it. I'll prove I'm not like him."

My stomach flips. Those long, lost butterflies come to life once again. I bite the inside of my jaw, forcing the pain forward. Anything to banish the fluttering inside my belly.

"How can you prove it?" I ask, raising an eyebrow, trying to ignore those dexterous fingers, and the way they dance higher up my thighs. "How can you prove you're any different than any other loser with a board? Prove me wrong by knocking me up and sticking around?"

Bean's smile is brilliant. Upturned pink lips on a sun-quenched face.

"Tell you what … if I do," he says with a grin, his eyes ghosting on my body, then returning to my eyes. "I will."

I gasp, covering my mouth, yet failing to cover the unladylike snort. The giggles start in my belly, dancing with the butterflies. They join together, the giggles and swirling wings, fluttering to my chest. I laugh, a true laugh, throwing my head back and smiling at the sun.

Bean's face lights up, shining brighter than the fire suspended above our heads. He watches me laugh, his awe and wistful endearment etched in his features. Tightening his hold, he pulls me forward. My body willingly complies, and I find myself shyly resting my hands on his shoulders. Staring at his face is like staring at the sun.

Blaring.

Blinding.

Painful.

Beautiful.

"You're cute, Bean," I tell him, smirking. "Real smooth. Are you like this with all the girls?"

"What girls?" he asks, eyes wide, innocent.

But, are they true?

"Nice try, Bean," I murmur, hesitantly brushing an unruly lock of hair from his forehead. "Nice try."

Then I walk away, swallowing the knot of guilt lodged in my throat, and secretly smiling behind a curtain of hair at the unyielding determination playing on Bean's face.

Jonesn's creativity, and brilliant knowledge of smooth, flirty lines overwhelms me. I lurve you!

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