First of all, I just want to apologize for disappearing on you guys! I managed to leave my laptop charger in class a few days ago, so I couldn't turn my computer on! But I've taken care of it and should be back on the same daily schedule now :)
For Sierra-Jae, jilly74, Wemmamazing, Valentinas, PlainJane1, Fidgetym, Dexna20xXemnas1 and christierrr. Thank you so much for your support, and for letting me know I didn't let you down! Because I worry about that, you know. And of course for traceit, who thinks this chapter isn't boring so I'm going to believe her.
14
An hour later we sat together in her living room, eating Chinese takeout straight out of the cartons with chopsticks. I was still somewhat dazed by everything that had transpired earlier. Whatever distance there had been between us before we'd made love (and yes, that's how I'm going to refer to it, wanna fight about it?) in my office had completely disappeared, whatever I'd done to upset her had been completely forgotten, and the concept of personal space didn't seem to exist for us anymore. We were so close, our arms touching, elbows bumping occasionally as we ate, and it felt good, so good to be near her. She was glowing, almost literally incandescent, cheeks flushed, eyes shining, smile so bright, and she was so beautiful it almost hurt to look at her, but I couldn't turn away, could only stare at her amazed and think I'm responsible for that. And then of course I'd remember all the details of that responsibility. I couldn't stop thinking about the look on her face when she came, her gaze fixed on mine, emotions I had no name for in their depths, and the way she cried out, the way she said my name, the way I'd tangled my hands in her hair and she'd wrapped her legs around me and... Oh god, she was looking at me expectantly and I realized she'd just asked me a question, one I hadn't heard at all because I'd been too distracted by the memory of how it felt to bury myself inside her.
"I'm sorry, what?" I asked, blushing.
She gave me a quizzical look. "I was just asking if you wanted a spring roll," she said, holding the carton out to me. I eyed the food inside skeptically, and the sight that met my gaze was perfectly calculated to kill my lust; spring rolls were apparently similar to egg rolls, except the filling was wrapped in a translucent slimy skin, so really they were more reminiscent of alien cocoons than anything else, and part of me thought I ought to try to eat one before something terrifying emerged. Or maybe not.
I shook my head. "I'm good, thanks."
"You're not afraid of a few vegetables, are you?" she teased, and she was so gorgeous when she smiled like that, not with just her mouth but with her eyes and her whole face. "Come on, just try a bite… You liked the tofu, remember?"
"I never said that," I protested. "I said that if I was starving to death and had to choose between tofu and cannibalism, I'd probably choose tofu." Actually, the tofu had been delicious, which was surprising to me as I'd never tried it before. Any time she turned away for any reason, I snagged some without telling her, not wanting to give her the satisfaction.
"Details, details." She reached into the carton and withdrew a spring roll, held it out to me. "Come on, just one bite."
I looked at the thing, then back at her. "Honor, please."
"Will, please," she mimicked, and she was smiling again, and oh god the way she said my name, and of course I was powerless against her.
With a sigh, I opened my mouth. She held it up for me and I took a bite of the end, chewing quickly. It… Wasn't bad, actually, though the slimy wrapping was fairly disgusting. "There, happy?" I asked.
She considered for a moment, her expression genuinely confused before she responded "Yes, actually," and I got the feeling she wasn't really talking about the fact that I'd eaten the alien cocoon. "Yes, I am." And then she grinned at me and popped the other half of the spring roll into her mouth.
Echoing her grin- because really, I couldn't help it- I surveyed the destruction we'd wreaked upon the various takeout boxes that completely covered her coffee table. Mine, which had once held lemon chicken, kung pao beef, egg fried rice and potstickers, were completely empty, while she'd barely managed to make a dent in her tofu, brown rice and spring rolls. "So are you just not hungry, or did you realize you forgot to order people food?"
"This is people food!" she exclaimed in (mock, I think) outrage. "I'm a person and I ate it, therefore…"
"If you say so," I responded dubiously.
"Hey, all of this-" she gestured to herself, arching her back to better display her body, tossing her hair and pouting- "does not happen accidentally. I wish I knew your secret, by the way."
My expression morphed from amusement to confusion. "What secret?"
"Oh, come on!" she exclaimed. "I've seen your body… I could literally grate cheese on your abs, if I ever let myself eat cheese, but based on the way you inhaled all of this I can't quite figure out how you manage it."
The image her comment brought to mind was hilarious, but I was also very pleased by the compliment. "I just have a really high metabolism," I fibbed. I mean, I do have a really high metabolism, but I also run or bike five days a week and do at least 150 crunches and 150 pushups each night before bed.
She, being unaware of this, glared. "I hate you."
I smiled and shook my head. "No you don't."
"I'm pretty sure I do," she countered as I rested my forehead against hers and cupped her cheek in my hand.
"No you don't," I repeated, pressing my lips lightly to hers.
"You're okay," she conceded when I pulled away, and the warmth on her face mirrored the warmth I felt, a kind of happiness I couldn't quite define at the casual way she leaned into me, at the fact that she still wanted to be close to me, because I wanted to be close to her for reasons that weren't only physical. Just being near her made me feel relaxed and happy in a way I hadn't been in years, not with Terri, not with Emma, not with anyone. And again, it didn't feel like infatuation, or at least not like infatuation the way I remembered it, and I was beginning to think I knew what it did feel like, and my suspicions didn't scare me at all, or at least not the way they should have. I didn't want to think about it too much yet, however, didn't want to overanalyze anything, just wanted to enjoy my time with her and worry about everything else later.
After a few moments of staring at her like an idiot, I turned back to our takeout boxes, repackaged the leftovers and took them into the kitchen almost automatically. It was just a normal, mundane kind of chore, just the way eating takeout like this was a normal, mundane kind of evening, but she beamed at me as though no one had ever taken care of anything for her before. And now that I thought about it, nothing about this evening had been normal or mundane, and not just because of what had happened earlier in my office. The way she lit up lit me up too, and it made doing anything with her or for her enjoyable.
"Your fridge is abnormally clean," I informed her as I ambled back into the living room. "Also, there wasn't anything in it."
"I know," she answered dryly. "I eat out a lot."
"Okay." That seemed strange to me, but who was I to judge?
"Altoid?" she asked, holding out a tin to me. "They're cinnamon."
"Sure." I took two and sucked on them, enjoying their spiciness as I sat down next to her, and she immediately curled into me, turning sideways and draping her legs across my lap, and I wrapped one arm around her waist, laid my free hand gently on her thighs.
"Thanks for putting all that away," she began, running her fingers idly through my hair, sending little shivers down my spine. "And for dinner. It was delicious."
"Anytime," I answered, and if I'd still been doing the ungentlemanly thing, running comparisons in my mind, I might have reflected that it had been years since Terri had thanked me for doing anything so minor, if she ever had, or that the very thought of eating out of the same takeout box as someone else would have caused Emma to hyperventilate, but honestly I was done with comparisons. There was no point, really, because I'd decided I wasn't going to analyze anything anymore.
"What were you like in high school?" she asked out of the blue, and I felt a little twinge of delight at the thought that she wanted to know more about me.
"Um," I began, trying to remember the kid I had been, realizing that I wasn't so different now, inside anyway. "Popular, I guess. I was dating the head cheerleader, and I was kind of a big deal in glee, which was kind of a big deal back then…"
She smiled. "I could see that. Let me guess, you were Homecoming King, right?"
"No," I denied as though insulted. "Prom King, much more impressive."
"Oh, of course, forgive me." Her tone was sarcastic, but in a light way.
"What about you?" Really, it was only fair that I return the question.
She got a faraway look on her face for a moment, then shrugged. "Quiet. Unpopular. Very unpopular, actually, but I tell myself it's because I wanted to be."
"That doesn't seem like it fits," I murmured, thoughtfully. "You're very charming."
"When I want to be," she agreed, sounding amused. "And when I don't, I assure you I am not."
"Why didn't you want to be popular?" That fact confused me, I guess because I'd always been popular, in high school, in college… At work, to an extent, minus Sue of course. Her antipathy towards me had really driven home the lesson that I kept trying to teach Rachel, that life is so much easier when people like you.
She was quiet for a long time, so long I thought she wasn't going to respond. "It's hard to explain," she said finally. "I'm very… I've always been very… Self-contained, I guess. I had a few friends, one or two very close ones, and that was all I needed."
"That sounds lonely," I murmured, and she looked surprised.
"It wasn't," she assured me, smiling. "Not at all."
I wasn't sure I believed that. "What about your family?"
The smile on her face disappeared, but more than that, something about her expression closed, slammed shut. "I had one. I wasn't unhappy." Which wasn't the same thing as being happy, I noted to myself. "What about you? I suspect you had a wildly happy childhood." And her smile was back, and it seemed genuine, as she contemplated my upbringing.
Clearly, she did not wish to discuss hers. "Oh yeah." My enthusiasm was unfeigned, but at the same time I felt a hint of sadness, just knowing she couldn't be as enthusiastic about her family as I could be about mine. "The happiest. My parents are great, really dedicated, and just very cool. I mean, my dad is 65 and he's just started going to law school because he always wanted to. He's very inspiring." My mom's drunken makeout session with Josh Groban had been… Less inspiring, but I decided not to mention that.
"That's really amazing," she said, and I didn't think I was imagining the wistfulness in her tone. I was considering asking her another question about her family, despite her obvious reluctance to discuss it, when she continued on. "What kind of music did you grow up listening to?"
"Oh, it was war in my house," I told her, deadly serious. "My mom is a die-hard Beatles fan… My dad loves the Stones. I'm honestly surprised they've been able to overcome that difference and remain married as long as they have."
She laughed, a light, happy sound that lifted me up until I was lighter and happier too, and I tightened my grip on her waist, holding her a little closer just because I wanted to, just because I could. "And did you betray your mother or your father?"
"I was a grave disappointment to both, actually," I responded, hanging my head guiltily. "I somehow got my hands on an Air Supply tape when I was five years old…"
Groaning, she covered her face with her hands. "Oh god, Will, please don't tell me…"
"I'm afraid so. I'm an Air Supply fan. Any easy listening actually," I confessed, my face burning. "Oh, and show tunes."
"Stop, stop," she begged, covering her ears. "I can't take it, no more!"
"Well I like good music, too," I defended. "The Beatles and the Stones, and Brian Wilson and Queen and… You know, really good music. Norah Castle. But Air Supply will always be my first love."
"At least you seem ashamed of it," she muttered. "But I'm really questioning everything about you now."
I rolled my eyes at her. "And I suppose you grew up listening to the best music ever recorded?"
She shook her head, smiling enigmatically. "I didn't grow up listening to anything at all, really. But I always loved music."
"You had piano lessons at least," I reminded her, remembering back to the choir room, the way her slender fingers had danced over the keys.
"Until I was seven," she confirmed.
"And then…?" I prompted.
"And then…" she hesitated. "Nothing. I got bored, quit. But I still love good music. The Beatles and the Stones and Brian Wilson and Queen. And not Air Supply," she added, giving me a significant look.
"What about Norah Castle?" I inquired, noting the omission.
Another hesitation. "I don't listen to her much."
"Which is weird, because you look so much like her," I pointed out.
"Yeah." She shrugged. "I get that a lot."
"You're much prettier though," I hastened to assure her.
"You're delusional," she informed me, leaning in and kissing my cheek. I turned my face and captured her lips with mine for a brief moment. "Cute though," she concluded when I lifted my head.
I gave her my most charming look. "It's a gift." Suddenly, something in the corner caught my eye, an acoustic guitar, which seemed weird considering she hadn't mentioned she could play even though we'd discussed her piano lessons. "Is that acoustic yours?"
"What?" She looked startled, then followed my gaze to the corner. "Oh, yeah. I've been trying to teach myself how to play."
"And how is that going?" I was curious because I'd taught myself to play guitar, too, many years ago, and it hadn't been especially difficult for me. I'd always been musical, I guess.
"Oh, you know." She shrugged, and that was clearly all she intended to say about the matter.
"Can I play it?" I asked, itching to get my hands on it almost as much as I wanted to keep my hands on her.
She nodded. "If you'll sing something."
I grinned, excited by the idea of performing for her the same way I'd been excited to have her see me teach. Music was something I was good at, something I loved, and I wanted to show her that, wanted her to see that I was talented… Because I am, at least a little. Disentangling myself from her, I walked over and took hold of her guitar gently, ran my fingers over the strings to get a feel for their weight.
"Perfectly in tune…" I noted, playing a few chords. "Beautiful tone, wow. What kind of guitar is this?" Each note rang like a bell inside of it, and somehow it was warm and sweet and reminded me of her voice.
"Oh, it's a Gibson," she answered casually. "Not sure what exactly, I got it a long time ago."
"It sounds amazing." It really, really did. I'd never seen a guitar like it, now that I thought of it, the body deeper than most acoustics I'd come into contact with. Interesting.
"Thanks," she said, then beckoned to me. "But stop trying to distract me. If you're going to play that guitar, you have to play it."
I smiled and returned to her side, facing her with the guitar in my lap. She looked happy and eager, just the way I felt. "Is there anything you want to hear?"
She shook her head. "Hmmm… Surprise me."
Raising my eyebrows at her in a You're no help kind of way, I considered my options. I'd already played Summerview, and I didn't really want to remind her of that since she'd reacted by attempting to leave the choir room immediately. So what then? "Okay, I've got it. I'll even sing, too."
"It's a requirement," she reminded me.
After a moment's thought, I began my own rendition of Down, the song the kids had chosen and performed earlier. I didn't know the exact chords but had a good feel for the melody and a good ear for improvisation, so it sounded halfway decent.
"You oughta know/Tonight is the night to let it go/Put on a show/I wanna see how you lose control…" I gave her a lingering look, remembering watching her lose control, and she blushed.
"Those lyrics are ridiculous, you know." She was still red, and it was adorable.
"Yes," I answered, still playing, glaring sternly. "But I'm supposed to be singing right now, stop talking. You made me miss the last half of the verse."
"Sorry." She didn't sound sorry at all, which was fine because I didn't mind.
"So baby don't worry/You are my only/You won't be lonely/Even if the sky is falling down/You'll be my only/No need to worry/Baby are you down down down down down?" Maybe it was a sappy song, no, it definitely was, but there was something about it that I liked, that promise hidden within it: You won't be lonely. I got the feeling she had been when she was younger, maybe still was, and I wondered if she even knew it. I finished the chorus and didn't continue with the next verse, suddenly feeling the need to pull her close.
I didn't have to. She leaned into me, met my eyes with hers, and there was something burning in their depths, something almost fierce. "You're incredible, Will, really," she murmured, touching my cheek. "You could be on Broadway; you could be on the radio. You have a real gift."
My face grew warm at her praise. She just sounded so impressed, so sincere, and I wasn't used to that kind of reaction. I mean, I know I'm talented, maybe slightly more talented than average. And Emma had once told me I was a good performer. But somehow it sounded different coming from Honor, felt different. "Thanks. I used to think… I mean, in high school I really wanted to try to do something like that but…" I stammered, uncertain of how to explain what had happened to distract me from my dream. I didn't want it to sound like I was blaming Terri, but… Well, I was blaming Terri. "I don't know, Terri thought econ was a better bet so…" I shrugged.
She seemed almost angry at the thought, her fists clenched, knuckles white. "Do you regret it?"
For a moment, I imagined what my life might have been like if I'd ignored Terri's insistence that I do something practical, or if I'd never met Terri altogether. I imagined myself in New York, a little talent, a little luck, a small role or two, some singing, some dancing… Then maybe bigger roles, a truly lucky break, a Tony nomination, people standing and cheering for me… It was a seductive fantasy, but nothing more than that. Not enough to make me wish I could do it all over again. "No," I responded, completely certain. "I mean, I do regret not taking my chance, but I'm glad I ended up doing what I'm doing. Teaching is just…" I struggled to put my feelings into words. "Everything to me. I'd miss it, even if I didn't know what I was missing."
Something flickered in her eyes, something I couldn't name- she seemed to feel so many things I couldn't identify, whether because I'd never felt them before or because I'd never seen them in anyone else- and for a brief moment, as she took her guitar from my hands and set it gently aside, her expression was so tender. And then she was kissing me, her mouth moving softly on mine, slightly parted, and I parted mine too, and then we were tasting each other, and we stayed that way for a long time. It felt different, somehow, different than every other time our lips had met, and I couldn't quite figure out why but I thought it might be because it wasn't a prelude to anything. She was an amazing kisser- with a mouth like hers, so full and pouting, she'd have to really be working hard at it to not be- and what we were doing together affected me as it always had, my heart beat racing and blood humming with desire, but I didn't feel the need to pull her into my lap, slide my hands up her skirt, hold her hips steady to allow her to sink down on me and okay maybe someday soon we'd have to try that. But for now I was perfectly content to kiss her, to keep kissing her, to feel her lips trembling beneath mine and just hold her. That fact more than anything else made me realize that I had to have more time to understand what I was feeling, confirm my suspicions and figure out what to do about them, couldn't let tonight be goodbye, and my god I had really screwed up my only one-night stand because I was pretty sure it wasn't supposed to happen like this.
"Is this against the rules?" I asked when I was finally able to force myself to lift my head, pulling back just far enough that I could see her face. Her expression was soft and dazed and open, eyes unfocused, and she blinked a few times before I really felt that she was seeing me.
"You have no idea," she murmured, and her expression slowly closed, like a heavy door slamming shut against its own weight, and for a brief second I could see disbelief, longing, fear on her face until it was blank again. I could relate to those emotions, because I felt them all too, to a degree, but I don't think I felt them as strongly as she did. She had told me before that she had always been very self-contained, and I wondered if she'd ever actually opened up to anyone the way I wanted her to open up to me. And I knew I had to find out, knew I had to see her again.
"Look," I whispered, making a decision. "I'm taking the kids bowling Friday night to celebrate Sectionals. You should come with us. I just…" For a moment I felt confused, found it so difficult to articulate what I wanted from her without saying something I wasn't completely certain I meant, but I was certain enough that it surprised me. Not enough to try to explain it to her, however. Finally, I managed to stammer out "I want to know you. I can't really think beyond that, I just… I want you there. With me. For me."
She closed her eyes tightly, as though she couldn't bear to look at me while she considered, and I held my breath, because somehow I thought all of this was more difficult for her than it was for me. The only thing I was finding difficult was the fact that none of it seemed difficult at all, but she was different. I had no idea what she was thinking, but I knew if she said no it was all over and I thought that would be difficult for me. And then her eyes opened, and again I couldn't figure out what I was seeing in them, but they were soft at least.
"Okay," she murmured. "Okay."
I grinned, leaned forward and pressed my smiling mouth to hers, felt her slowly smile against me too, and for a moment I thought maybe her answer had made her as happy as I was.
TBC
Seriously, guys, I hate to beg for reviews but... Please review. When no one reviews I think people hated the chapter, and it makes me cry at work. Okay not really. But it bums me out, for sure.