AN: I have an excuse, I swear I do. I just started water polo, AKA the hardest sport I have ever attempted to play in my entire life, and I've been a little tired. Sorry, fuck that, I've been constantly exhausted every minute of every day. School days I just try and make it through, weekends I hang out with my friends and try not to pass out on them. So, I'm sorry. I haven't been writing ANYTHING, not just avoiding this, if it makes you feel any better. I probably lost every single one of my readers in this expanse of time, but maybe I'll make it a little better and just shut the fuck up so you guys can read? Yeah, sounds good.
Today. John is coming today. It's all I can think about as I rise, shower, eat, get dressed. I flutter about the house, straightening and re-ordering and getting in my mother's way, not sure if I should relax or if I'm right to be on such edge. I never felt this way with John before. It's a strange turn of events, no doubt.
Am I nervous?
The thought makes me laugh. John Lennon, make me nervous? No fucking way. He's the one that likes ME mores than I like HIM, right? He's the one that's going to be nervous. Unless… Unless he's found another girl.
Duh, he's John Lennon, of course he's found another girl.
But what if his feelings have changed for me? What if he's just sick and tired of my drama and the only reason he agreed to coming over really WAS to work on the Senior Project? What if I've changed John and he actually DOES care about his grades now?
My constant-fire thoughts drown my brain, and I choke on my own laughter. The doorbell rings. My father rises to let John in. I try not to hyperventilate.
"Hey."
There he is, standing before me. From my vantage point, he looms tall and thin, with that shock of hair on his head perfectly flopping in his eyes. My breath catches in my throat. I'm fucking pathetic, I realize with a pang. Since when did he gain the upper hand? What's happened to me?
"H-h-hi." I stutter, then promptly turn scarlet. My own mind throws insulting words at my intelligence level.
However much my speech impediments embarrass me, they only seem to delight John. He smiles, this time not holding back and unleashing the full power of his grin. I blink several times, stricken by him. What's going on with me?
He sits down in my dad's usual chair, acting as though he's done this millions of times. He pulls out several drawings that I've never seen before, which automatically make me feel guilty seeing as I have put absolutely zero thought into our Senior Project. Ever since I got into my school of choice in America, I've been way more lenient about my academics.
I realize then that I should tell John about my college now. I don't know what it is, but something tells me not to. To wait. That now is not the right time.
As he sketches and I try to calm myself the fuck down, we make idle chit chat. It isn't nearly as satisfying as our old banter, and I feel like I'm hardly saying anything at all, but John doesn't look uncomfortable. If anything, he looks distinctly pleased with himself.
"Cara," he says suddenly, interrupting a long, winding story I was trying to tell about my brother Keegan and his daily antics.
I ignore the way my heart leaps when he says my name. That's definitely not normal. "Huh?"
"Do you remember—" He stops himself, chuckling under his breath and staring down at his lead stained hands. "Never mind."
"No, go ahead," I insist.
"It's nothing."
"Seriously, now you have to tell me."
"It's not important."
"John; tell me."
Apparently this is more forceful than it needs to be, because he looks up with a certain value of amusement on his hard features. He lets out a breath I wasn't aware he was holding, then reclines in the overstuffed armchair he's seated in. He sighs contentedly.
"Fine. Do you remember the day that Julia…that you came over to my house? And you were in my room?"
I nod slowly, not completely sure why he's bringing it up. I just remember holding him tight, feeling invisible tears seep into my hair, and trying to forget all the things he'd done in the past to hurt me. It crushed my heart to see him like that, and even recalling memories of it make me sad.
"You hated me," he comments blandly, tonelessly, as if he's stating mere fact.
I bite my lip, hesitating. I wasn't exactly subtle with my feelings back in the day. "Yeah…"
"But you hugged me," he says, using that same tone. Suddenly, he leans forward, his elbows coming to rest on his knees, his head in his palms. His beady, nearly black eyes focus in on me, and I'm locked in their intensity.
"I felt bad," I say with as much strength as I can.
"You hated me, yet you still felt the need to comfort me. As though all the things that I did to you were nothing."
I don't say anything; what can I say? He pretty much hit the nail on the head, guessing my feelings with pinpoint accuracy. It was almost as though he'd spent a long time analyzing my actions, my feelings, my thoughts. Why did he care so much?
"You had this look in your eyes…I don't know. I sound like a fucking idiot trying to explain it. But I saw that same look the day you talked to Liam after class and then bumped into me, and yesterday, too. You looked…like something had changed. Like maybe there was a chance that you might not hate me anymore."
I try to lick my lips, but I seem to have lost all moisture on my tongue. Could something have changed without me even realizing it? No, probably not. There was a better chance that I had just misunderstood my own feelings in the first place.
"What do you want me to say?" I ask weakly, cringing at the feeble sound of my own voice.
"I want you to answer a question for me…something that's been bothering me a lot lately: When did you stop hating me, Cara?"
In that moment, I see everything about him. The gentle way his eyelashes, such a deep black, curve and frame his eyes. The long, straight slope of his nose. His lips, thin and trembling, and such a delicate, natural shade of pink. I take in those dark eyes that seem to hide so much pain, yet seem to express so much feeling. I see the courage that it took for him to come here, the heart that beats inside his chest, just barely keeping from tearing at the seams. Seams that I created. More than anything, I finally put him together, finally figure him out. My heart swells in a great crescendo, my skin tingles, my eyes open wide.
"Around the time I realized that I loved you, too."
AN: Okay. For some reason, I just feel like that was hella good. I know how horrible that sounds, but I never really like my own work. Maybe it's because I took that break on this story…I dunno, but it just felt damn good writing this. And I know it's a little longer than normal, but I don't think you guys mind that. It's ME who minds that :^). Annnyways, in case you guys wanted a little soundtrack to read this chapter to (I know it's a little late, but yeah) the song that was playing in my head the entire time I wrote this was that one duet from the movie Once. It's the one where the guy with the sorta raspy voice sings and the girl does harmony…I don't know what it's called, sorry. But if you guys want to try and look it up, that's what this chapter is set to in my mind. OH WAIT! I think it's like Falling Slowly or something like that. Okay, I'm done rambling. Goodbye.
P.S. The way I have it planned out in my head, there will be…three more chapters left. No epilogue or anything like that. And no sequel. It's just not a sequel kind of ending, it's very solid. And after that? I'll be posting the first chapter to the sequel to Any Time At All. If you never READ Any Time At All, this means nothing to you. Goodbye again.
