Chapter XIV: Sitting, Waiting, Wishing
He doesn't join her in the pipe maze. He doesn't fit. He squats patiently at the edge for her to talk to him since she's said nothing since, "Hi." The rain is a light drizzle now. Squall adjusts his baseball cap, gazes at the empty sandbox and the slippery monkey bars.
As softly as the rain falls, she shuffles to the end of the pipe. Even softer still does her hand slip into his. It comes as a greater shock to him than it should. Perhaps because her hand is freezing cold, perhaps because he had convinced himself he's just not the hand-holding kind of person. Perhaps because he's just a little scared. But only a little. He suddenly finds himself wishing for something to say.
"Do you want ice cream?" That was pretty stupid.
Rinoa turns her face towards him a little, "Not really."
"Right. You seem kind of ... cold." He answers, nodding and finally quickly adding, "Temperature-wise." In a great act of courage, he brings her hand to his lips and brushes it slightly, "You want to go someplace else?"
"Yes?" She asks it because she isn't entirely sure what leaving means. Leave to where? She might end up liking it here better. It's always wise to be cautious when encountering these kinds of ... choices.
"Come on." He ushers her out of her pipe. Her bomb shelter. Safety is such a rarity in her life, she almost regrets leaving as she shuts the car door.
ESPECIALLY SINCE SHE doesn't feel safe here. The cold, wooden floor creaks beneath her bare feet; the walls are patched and unpainted; there is an echo. His basement is everything but welcoming. She can't believe she was coerced out of her pipe maze for this place. Meanwhile, he plops down onto a mangled loveseat, "We've been renovating for a few years now."
She carefully lowers herself into a more secure-looking beanbag, still gathering as much optical data as she can. This is practical photography. This is survival photography, "Cool."
Squall stares at her a moment, lets out a frustrated growl and pulls himself from his seat. He flops himself onto the floor next to her and gives her a look, "Had to make things difficult, huh?"
"You're pretty difficult, yourself." She replies, almost meanly.
"I'm the easiest thing in the world." Squall flashes a grin, "I like club sandwiches and fries with mayo, wristwatches, cars and you."
"Everything is very hands-on with you, isn't it?" She looks irritated but sounds curious. Not purposely of course, she could never intentionally tease him.
"What? You don't like my hands?"
Rinoa goes a few shades of scarlet before she manages to cover her face. He traces circles on her ankles and kisses her jeaned knees. When he's certain she won't answer his question, he adds smiling, "Here, I'll keep my hands to myself," he tucks them behind his back, "but, uh, now I have to cover the same grounds with my mouth."
Her face reappears suddenly and she offers, "How about you cover no grounds?"
"Man, I can't take that seriously when you've got a huge smile on your face, come on, beautiful." He initiates a wrestle and without her vast armaments of cushion and other living room apparels, Rinoa doesn't put up a very decent fight.
"You can't use your hands." Rinoa breathes, trying hard to twist from his grip with no avail, "You cheated."
"You use your teeth!" He counters.
"You cheated!" As obstinate as ever.
Squall thinks on this for a minute and nods, "Okay, you're right. You win." And the world is flipped back around as he rolls over and she finds herself on top, "Yep, you got me. I guess you can use me now to fulfil your wildest desires."
She rolls her eyes but plays along, "I'm cold. I'd like a blanket."
"If that's what you really want."
"Un-huh."
And again, as unpredictable as ever, he scoops her up with no effort at all and carries her to she-doesn't-know-quite-where, "Hey, what're you doing?" She asks right before she is flung on a pile of softness. A nest of blankets. His bed. Hm. Not according to plan.
He climbs in next to her and kisses her lightly on the nose. One of his hands finds the small of her back and draws her closer to him.
"Just a blanket would have been fine." Rinoa pushes him lightly.
He concedes and flops next to her, "So are you ever horny?"
She turns to him with a reaction defined between quizzical and appalled, "I'm sorry, what?"
"It's a question." Squall is struggling with the discourse; he hasn't made a habit of asking these kind of questions. He's never had to, "Don't you ever feel like-"
"Sex? No, not really." The answer is blunt, definitive – like the question.
"Well." He says, just to say something, "Then I'm mortified." And ventures on his theme, "I always feel like it. If it was like ... raining with thunder and lightning and ... we were under and tree and a ... dude with a hockey mask and a chainsaw was chasing us, you could just look at me and say, 'Squall, I want you inside of me' and I wouldn't have a chance to think twice, my pants would already be off."
There's a very, very awkward silence and finally, she replies, "Well, you should get that checked out. It's not natural."
Squall begins to sputter, "N ... not natural? Rinoa! You're like ... Alcatraz!"
An indignant, "What?" And she bolts into a sitting position.
"Yes! Alcatraz! No one ever goes in, no one ever comes out!"
"Yyy- ... we started talking a few months ago! I'm so sorry! Clearly, we already know absolutely everything we need to know about each other! Yeah, I'm so sorry, I've seen the ... the err of my ways – let me – let ... just let me correct myself by just ... ripping all my clothes off and just spreading myself out!"
In an instant, aided by the traumatic look on her face and an unexpected freak-out on her part, Squall locks down on one thought only: This is fucking hilarious. He begins to goad her on, "That ... would be so hot."
"Un-huh, do you have a camcorder? Maybe we could tape it!"
"Ahh-yeah!"
"Then you could show it to all of your idiot friends!"
"Ohh-don't stop ..." He grabs the pillow from beneath his head and sets it on his crotch.
And as if by magic, she realizes the escalation of their conversation. She's planning an escape. Running frantically from the house shrieking seems like an excellent option, "Are you joking?"
"Absolutely." And he lets out his best asshole cackle that makes her feel like a real moron.
She doesn't know which she would have preferred: a serious Squall or a joking one who laughs at her expense. She falls back onto the bed and groans.
"So, are you going to consent to a civil conversation about this?"
"Why do you want to talk about this?"
Squall props himself up on an elbow, "I want to know. "
"Know what?" She closes her eyes. She can't talk about this and look him in the eye at the same time. That's asking for far too much. She's embarrassed beyond measure. How many girls have slipped through these sheets and how are her bits and pieces any different from theirs? Because that's exactly what she feels like right now: bits and pieces. And how can anyone explain – without sounding like a creep – that he tastes and smells and feels so very different from what she's used to? He's no Matthew and it's ... so wonderful and frightening at the same time. To her, his lips are so different and to him, hers are so the same.
She's being oddly difficult. He just wants to know. Nothing in particular, just everything at all. Everything she can think of. He tries to formulate an adequate response, "I ... want to know about sex. From Rinoa's point of view."
"I don't like it that much."
"Yeah, me neither." He jokes.
"I'm serious." Her reply is snappy, "When I think of it, I don't ... put myself in the situation."
"You think of other people then? So ... you're a sultry porn fiend."
"Why is it always funny ha-ha with you?"
He's momentarily surprised, "Rinoa, if sex is anything at all in the world it's funny ha-ha."
She lets out a disturbed, "Ugh," and faces away from him, "I'm sorry, it's not something I've done very often so I'm not quite as comfortable talking about it as you seem to be – judging from your wide-range of experiences."
"You're right."He sits up and leans against his headboard, "Ok, so we don't have to talk about it but I'd like to know if you're going to let me try. I want to kiss you and touch you, hell – I'll hold your hand. " A short pause and he decides to dive, "You know, I've never been so edgy about initiating something before, you make me afraid to just ...I've done stuff with girls just because they were girls, you understand? Because they had the right parts ... " He's scrambling his thoughts now, "I want to do that stuff with you because you're you. Because you're so ... freaking ... you make me go nuts."
She doesn't reply so he growls, "I'm sorry, I'm tired."
"Good, you're giving me a headache."
He dons a suggestive tone, "Hey babe, you know what cures headaches?"
"Squall-!"
"Aspirin, Rinoa." He interrupts with too wide of a smirk, "Aspirin cures headaches."
"You're a prick." She sits up, turns to face him, "I mean it – you ... you are a prick."
"M'yeah." He offers limply because he's stumbled on something so precious. On an irrefutable argument. On gold. And he shares it with her, "So why're you still here?"
Because I want you. The though explodes in her head and she's grateful it remains there. Rinoa searches the depths of her mind for a smart answer. Because I want you. There has to be one. She can't possibly be stuck with the truth. Because I want you.
Because I want you.
"Because I want you."
She couldn't have said that out loud. Could she? She did, didn't she? He must have misheard. There's no way she would just say that. It's too amazing. What's next? Will she throw herself on him? That would be sweet. But is he sure she said that? Look at her face, he doesn't even think she knows.
She just said that. Aloud. What the hell is wrong with her? 'Oh, I want you.', 'Do you, now?', 'Why, yes, I do!', 'Tally ho! Let's get some tea.' She just said that. That was basically the entire conversation, wasn't it?
For a moment, they can only stare at each other in bewilderment. Squall begins to shuffle up to a sitting position and dares to suggest, "You know, I really don't understand why we can't just make out hardcore."
And a fire-engine red Rinoa replies, "Because you have to drive me home. Like right now."
"AND THAT'S MY story." Rinoa finishes her explanation, "That's why I wasn't home when you called and that's why my cellphone was off."
Corealie pauses, crosses her legs on the navy bedspread and looks searchingly at Rinoa, "So you didn't make out?" Her question is harsh, her narrowed eyes demanding.
"No!"
"You're blushing."
Rinoa exhales sharply, "Okay, well, in the car we did."
Corealie leans in, "Was there like, tongue?"
"Wow." Her younger cousin shuts her eyes and massages her temples strenuously, "Wow, why are you so awkward." It's not even a question because even if there was an answer, Rinoa is definitely not in the right state of mind to hear it.
Corealie stares intently still, determined to push this until either of them explodes, "Was it like ... well maintained? Or was it sloppy? The tongue, I mean. His."
Standing bolt upright and off her bed, Rinoa walks to her desk and pulls out her office chair, "No, I'm sorry, this conversation is going nowhere and-"
"Because of your obstinate lack of cooperation." Corealie interrupts snappishly, "I would divulge everything to you and you know it."
"Only because I wouldn't want to know. Now shut up, I'm doing homework." She pauses and finds her cousin's way of putting things has gotten her thinking about the other night. Too much to read any kind of Shakespeare at least, "Shit, Corealie – is there anyone in the world more awkward and distracting than you?"
"PORN. I NEED porn." Irvine types furiously at Squall's computer, "Where do you go? Is it in your bookmarks?"
"Irvine, put that shit on my computer and I will fucking put my fist through your face." Squall hollers, throwing a gaming controller at him from his couch. It hits the floor and makes quite an impressionable echo.
"Guy, I could get tons of porn from the video store ..." Zell offers meekly.
"No." Squall answers in Irvine's place, getting up to fetch the wireless controller, now with its battery pack shattered off and scattered away.
"Do you know how long it's been for me?" The cowboy-hat-sporting young man turns harshly towards his aggressor, "Do you know? This shit is insane. I have done the rounds at Riverdale and now there is nothing left for me there. I'm saving myself for someone special." Irvine spins himself in the wheelie chair, leans backwards and groans loudly, "But I would hump anything with a skirt right now."
Letting himself fall backwards onto the couch again, Squall takes a sip of his beer, "You should try Ashley, she's an 'anything with a skirt'."
Irvine whines a tad and glances at Squall, "Is she good?"
Squall shrugs, "Gets the job done."
This seems to make Irvine think a little beyond. He thumbs the neck of his bottle of dry and concludes, "Yeah but then my junk would have been where your junk was and that's like ... if we rubbed our junks together. That's just weird. I wouldn't want that. So ... I don't want to hump Ashley."
Seeing an opportunity, Zell gets a little too excited, "Can I hump Ashley?"
"No, Zell." Squall pats him on the shoulder, "Get yourself a nice girl."
"Like Rinoa." Irvine offers.
Squall's eyes flare up and he lashes out, "Suck my dick."
"Doesn't she do that?"
The reaction is immediate and explosive, "I will fucking kill you, Irvine"
Unfortunately, Squall doesn't quite make it to his target before his phone begins its humming vibration in his jean's pocket. Looking at the ID, he pacifies slightly, "I will fucking kill you, Irvine. Later." And with that, he scampers off into his room; shuts his door and flips open his phone, "Hey hun." Such a different tone he takes with her, and he supposes she'll never know.
"Hi. What-cha doing?" Rinoa asks on the other end.
"Just hanging out with some guys."
"Zell?"
"Uh ... yeah."
She laughs. That's worth the embarrassment, he supposes, "I don't get you. Can you do me a favour? When you have a second can you e-mail me the lit essay guideline sheet? Please?"
"Yeah, okay."
"Or you know, you can ask Zell to do it."
"Funny." He snorts, "So, can I see you tonight?"
There's silence and then a shy, "I don't know."
"I'll call you."
"Okay. Bye."
"Take care." And he waits for the click on her end before daring himself, "Miss you?" It feels weird as it rolls off his tongue. He shakes his head, snaps his cell closed and gets his jerk face back on.
"YEAH, YOU TOTALLY just called to like, hear his voice." Corealie goads.
Rinoa's answer comes in the form of a seven-hundred page biology course pack. To the face.