A/N: The Lists was nominated for an Energize WIP Award again. Last chance to vote if you are still diggin' the story!
"You what?" Did I hear that right?
"I love you?" Is he asking me?
"Wha-?" Confused.
"Oh, hell." Stricken, pale.
"You do?" Repeat that, please.
"Yeah?" Now he's confused.
"Jas. Really?" I need confirmation.
"Babe, that is not how I planned on tellin' you that. In the diner, for fuck's sake. But, damn it, I do. I love you, Bella. I've been dyin' without you."
"Me, too."
"You what?"
"I love you."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. I love you!" I rain kisses all over his face; his cheeks, his chin, his eyelids, and his mouth. Oh, yes, his mouth. It's all I can manage right now. Kisses, kisses, kisses.
And he kisses me back.
A lot.
Quite passionately.
Kisses me to the point at which the manager, a friend of my dad's, suggests very politely that we take it elsewhere. Which we do.
Walking out of the diner, hand in hand with Jas, who loves me by the way, I raise my free hand and wiggle my fingers at Ali. Wiggled them. Like a girly chick. She laughs out loud at me, but then levels a still slightly-hostile gaze at Jas, who loves me by the way. I scrunch my brow in an effort to non-verbally tell her to be nice. There are a lot of unhappy feelings all around my little circle to smooth over. I'll turn on my inner Scarlett O'Hara for the time being, though, and deal with that another day. For now, I'm just going to be happy. With Jas. Who loves me, by the way.
He leads me to his truck, and I squelch the moment of disappointment at missing out on a bike ride. Since he drove the truck, we can drive out to the pond and - No. No, no, no. Slow, Bella. Taking it slow this time.
"Where to, Babe?" he asks, helping her into the cab of the truck, all chivalrous Southern gentleman.
"The pond?" He widens his eyes and asks a silent Really? "It's a nice, quiet, private place to talk, Jas." Sure it is.
"All right. The pond," he smirks back at me. He doesn't buy the "quiet and private" excuse any more than I do.
We drive in silence, gripping each other's hand tightly, just enjoying being so close to one another again. All the things I missed – his smell, his smirk, the sparks that explode wherever his skin touches mine, that motherfucking lip ring – are all here with me, within reach, and I have this feeling of rightness intricately mingled with just a hint of apprehension and a pretty healthy dose of disbelief. It's one thing to want something, to hope for it; it is an entirely different thing to get it. But I've been through a shit ton of self-examination, soul searching, and mint chocolate chip to get to this point, this place beside him in this truck, and I'm going to enjoy every damn moment.
We reach the pond, park, sit quietly, look at the water and the rocks. And then, in a blur, we are all over each other, seemingly trying to make up for the past months of sadness and anger and loneliness with the passion of reunion. His hands are everywhere, my hair, my face, my back, my legs and ass as he pulls me across the seat, his mouth hard and almost painful on mine. I do my best to keep up with him, in body and action, at least, since my brain has shut out every thought but one, single word. Finally. Jas turns to lean his back against his door and pulls me ever closer, closer, until I am draped over him, grasping at his hair as I try to mold my body to his. It's frenzied, almost, the way we are so in need of each other. He begins to pull my shirt up. My mind stutters a quick thought as to when exactly my jacket came off, then dismisses the thought as unimportant. It isn't until I reach down to his belt that either of us remembers yet another rule we have set for ourselves. It's my fucking rule. A rule I think may be destined to be broken.
"Babe," he pants. "Babe, " he tries again, attempting to fill his lungs, pulling his mouth a hair's breadth away from mine. "Slow, remember?"
"Damn it," I hiss. He's right. In the fraction of my mind that has regained a small percentage of function now that his tongue is no longer in my mouth tasting all delicious, I know that it's the right choice. Take it slower than before, work out the trust issues before we, well, fuck each other stupid. Deal with all the swirling, conflicting emotions before we bang each other into a stupor. Resolve our heavy handed notions of being considerate versus controlling before we simply give in to the lust and absolute power of our deeply satisfying physical relationship. All that makes a hell of a lot of sense. Still sucks ass, though.
Taking a small nibble at the lip ring( because, come on, who thought I wouldn't?), I move away from him, but only enough to maneuver myself to straddle his hips. We may not be screwing today, but I am not ready to separate myself from him. We gaze into each other's eyes, and that makes me a little sick since I'm overdosing on the chick flick-ness of it all.
"I missed you, Jas," I tell him. Yeah, not syrupy sweet at all.
"Still mad at me?" He asks this question like he doesn't really want to know the answer.
"Yeah, but I'm trying not to be," I tell him honestly. "Still hurt more than mad. But it's fading."
"Another chance, Babe. That's all I'm askin' for. But… but I think…I think it has to be a clean do-over. We have to put all that shit in the past and keep it there. No dwellin', no draggin' it back out or throwin' it in each other's face. The past has to be over, or this won't work."
"Wow."
"Wow?"
"You grew up," I tell him.
"I had to. I was gonna lose somethin' very important if I didn't." I smile at him some more, but he gets a serious look on his face and clears his throat. "Have you?"
Oh. Ouch. Yeah, I guess I had that one coming. Part of me wants to be offended – the bratty part. But the rest of me, the smarter part of me, understands he has every right to ask that question. Even if he appears to be scared shitless at the dawning realization that he said that out loud. He got hurt in this mess, too.
Sitting back a little farther on his legs, straightening my back, I reply without anger and with much thought, "Yes. I think I have." I giggle against his lips at the look of relief when he hears my not-pissed voice before kissing him quickly then sit back up. "You can ask me shit, Jas. You're allowed to participate in this discussion, too. We both need to be happy and comfortable and on board with the plan, dude."
"Ok. You're right. Then there are a couple of things I need to say." Super serious. Little scared, I have to admit.
"Shoot." I can pretend to be brave. I can.
"The dates, the guys since we broke up. That gonna come back and bite us on the collective ass?" Well, shit.
"No. None of them worked out. At. All. I didn't like, I mean they weren't, except, I mean, Riley, but nothing really-" Groan. Use your big girl speech, Bella. "Riley and I went on one date. Two if you count last night, but he kind of hooked up with Jess afterward, so I don't count it. We decided last week that we really like being friends instead, anyway. So, to sum up, none of the guys I dated will come back on us, but Ri is my friend. Can you handle that?" He just looks intently at me, thinking. No knee jerk answer, and that's good thing, but I need him to really get it this time. "I mean it, Jas. My friend and only my friend. Nothing deeper. Yes, there's a past, but it was a kid thing, never serious. But he's a good guy, and he's a good friend, someone I enjoy talking to and might sometimes want to hang out with. You need to believe that. Believe me."
"Ok. I can handle that."
"You'll like him, too, if you can give him a chance."
"Don't push too hard, Babe," he smirks, but I can tell that he's a little more than half serious. Guess I can understand.
"What was the other thing?"
"Huh?" he asks, slightly focused on my fingers tracing the designs on his t-shirt where they lay across his chest.
"You said you had a couple of things to say. What's the other?" As if I can't guess.
"Edward," he says simply. We both knew this was coming.
"The red flag. I don't know what you want me to say, Jas, that I haven't already."
"It's more about what I have to hear, Bella."
"Ok."
"I can't tell you I'm all right with him. I'm not. He's not like Riley, now, is he?"
"No, he's not." We both know that, too.
"That kid had some kind of hold on you, and I need to know, beyond doubt, that you are over that. I don't want to feel like I'm in competition with that kid. I can't do that."
"I've told you before-"
"I need you to mean it." This is it, isn't it? His one insecurity when it comes to me. He got over the I'm-not-good-enough-for-you thing. He got over the I-don't-do-relationships thing. The last hurdle for him is Edward.
I take his face between my hands and stare him straight on and confess, "He is nothing more to me now than a friend. Not even a close one, but one I still worry about. That family is like my own, and I can't cut them out. Any of them. But Edward? Ed is not a threat to you, not a threat to us. I promise, Jas. I swear. I love you."
"All right, then. I can't promise I'll ever like the guy, but I won't stand in your way, either. I promise to do m y best, Babe. But that's all I can promise."
There is relief that this conversation is over. And to express my relief, I kiss him again. Hey, I said slow, not stand still.
"So, what's been goin' on?" Jas asks as he drives me home. It's been an emotional day, and I need some calm.
"Mom, Ali, Esme, and I will be leaving going on our New York trip in three weeks. I'm so excited!"
"Good God, it's time for that already?"
"Thanksgiving is Thursday, Jas," I remind him.
"Shit. Yeah, I guess it is," he says, seemingly shocked that Turkey Day has sneaked up on him.
"You should come to our house for- Um." I stop quickly, but not quickly enough.
"It's ok, Babe. You don't have to invite," he rushes out quietly.
"It's not that I don't want you there. I do! But we usually do Thanksgiving with the Cullens."
"Uh huh", he says, not quite sure why that makes me nervous.
"Would that make you feel awkward?"
"Not if you don't feel awkward." This whole fucking conversation is awkward. Shit.
"Jas. Would you like to come have Thanksgiving at my house?" I ask, smiling, because fuck it.
"Yeah. I'd like that." He's smiling now, too.
We make it to my house, and, to his immense credit, Jas shows no fear. Oh, it's there; I can feel it in the way he's holding my hand, but he's not letting on to either Jake or Seth. Jake surprises him by doing the ubiquitous guy-hug thing. I'm not going to be the one to tell Jasper that Jacob was on his side the whole time, but there you go. Seth, though, has a little harder time with Jas's reappearance. He's not hostile, but he's not greeting him with open arms, either. My baby brother knows that Jas is what will make me happy, but he's also the one who opened the door to find me a sobbing wreck in the front yard. That budding friendship might take a minute to heal.
My mother breezes into the living room before we have a chance to sit down and gives my man a smooch on the cheek, letting him know he's welcome. Dad does not, in fact, give Jas a smooch. Not a smile or a wink or a guy-hug thing. He does rise from his chair to stare at Mr. Whitlock for a minute or two. Then Charlie Swan shakes his head, huffs out a sigh, and extends his hand, which Jas takes gratefully. Dad's smart enough to understand that I brought some of the trouble we had on my self.
We go up to my room and fool around, stopping ourselves before it gets really good. I fill him in on school and the bizarre situation wherein Jess and Lauren are almost my friends. He tells me all about the band and their new songs and upcoming gigs.
"I need to get going, Babe." I can't help the dumbass grin. "What's that about? That smile."
"I missed that," I whisper, ashamed at my Molly Ringwaldness.
"What did you miss?"
"You calling me Babe."
"I missed sayin' it, Babe." And he kisses me deeply, slowly. The kind of kiss that only someone who loves you can give. And I kiss back, clinging to Jas, who loves me by the way.
A/N: A little short, but next time Thanksgiving hilarity. Guess who's coming to dinner!