Strokes, Chapter 3: PIcking Up the Brush
Off Route 2
The next afternoon
I cannot believe I am doing this, Sydney thought as the trees moved past the car windows. I am insane. I must be. This was, quite possibly, the stupidest thing she had ever done in her life. Then again, part of her whispered, it might be the smartest.
She had awoken that morning, looked at the sunlight streaming through her windows and thought, "I'm going to surprise Vaughn." She had showered and packed a bag before the complete folly of the idea truly hit her. Then she had dithered around the apartment for a couple of hours, alternately cursing herself for even entertaining the possibility and then deciding to go anyway, dammit. Finally, about one, she had stood in front of his painting of Donovan for a good five minutes. I have to go, she thought. It's insane, it's selfish, it's potentially deadly, but I'll never forgive myself if I don't. She wrote Francie a note -- "Bank trip. So much for vacation. Not sure when I'll be back. Could be a day, could be all weekend. Love, Syd." -- grabbed her bag and left before she gave herself the opportunity to change her mind again.
She'd had little trouble finding the turnoff to his aunt and uncle's cabin. Though there was no street name, the painted wooden sign that he had described was clearly visible. The road was narrow but even, and she could have driven faster, but the doubts that had returned to her mind caused her foot to sit lightly on the gas. If there had been any place to turn around, she might have used it. But there wasn't, so she kept going forward, slowly but steadily. And then there was a bend in the road, and a magnificent, rambling, one-story house appeared as if from nowhere.
There was no longer the possibility of turning back.
Despite its grandeur, the house seemed to nestle among the trees as if it belonged there. There were windows everywhere, dozens of them, and she couldn't help but blink in amazement at the two glass-topped turrets on either end of the house. It really was like a mountainside castle.
She brought her car to a stop, turned off the ignition and took a long, deep breath. Her heartbeats were so fast, they seemed to tumble over one another in her chest. I am a spy, she thought. This isn't even *remotely* the scariest thing I've ever done.
And yet, she didn't remember her stomach being quite so knotted when she was jumping off a 30-story building in Helsinki with Arvin Sloane a stone's throw away.
But she had made her decision, and there was nothing to do now but follow through with it. Without another moment of hesitation, she got out of the car and marched to the front door.
There was a large brass knocker in the shape of a dragon, and she smiled at Trish's whimsy. How many visitors did they expect up here, really? She rapped it heavily against the door, producing what seemed like the loudest sound she had ever heard. She waited for him to open the door, her body practically vibrating with nervousness and excitement. And waited. And waited. She knocked again, even harder, but there was still no answer.
He has to be here, she thought, glancing back at his car parked beside hers. Had he seen her and decided not to answer the door? Was he hurt? Was he not alone after all? Did he just want her to go away? Her heart constricted, and her doubts about being there were completely pushed aside by the all-consuming need to see his face.
Suddenly, a white bulldog bounded -- or, more precisely, chugged -- out of the trees and up to her, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. He let out a couple of short barks, but they seemed more a greeting than anything else, as he then began to dance excitedly around her feet, nudging her leg with his nose, his stubby tail wagging furiously.
"Hey, Donovan," she said, bending down to stroke his head. "Where is he?"
"Did you catch one, Donny?" His voice sent a wave of relief through her, followed by a stab of pure desire as he strode into view. He was wearing a pair of tight blue jeans and a gray T-shirt underneath a blue-and-green flannel shirt, and a wide grin split his face. She had never seen anyone so beautiful. Then he caught sight of her, and he came to a sudden stop.
"Sydney! What's wrong? What's happened?" He practically ran to her side then, his brow furrowing in instant worry.
"Nothing. Nothing's wrong. I just.... Well, I was bored, and you said you were going to be bored, and I thought, well, why should we be bored by ourselves when we could be bored together? Not that I think being with you would be boring. I'm sure it wouldn't be. I mean, we could entertain each other." Oh, God, Sydney thought, I sound like Marshall. I am babbling. Kill me now. Just put me back in the car and drive me off the mountain. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come, this was a *really* bad idea. I mean, this could get us killed. Although I was super-careful and came the long way and doubled-back and drove a rental instead of my car. I'm certain I wasn't followed. But this was still pretty stupid, right?"
For a long moment, he just stared at her, clearly stupefied, until she was ready to scream at him to say something, yell at her, laugh in her face, anything. Then he smiled, a pure, sweet, joyful smile that was worth the drive up there by itself. "Yes," he said, "It's pretty stupid. But ... I'm really glad to see you."
Relief washed over her, and she smiled back at him, completely at a loss for words.
"Well, now that you're here, you might as well come in." He grinned. "Besides, I don't think Donovan will let you get away."
---
AuthorÕs Note: IÕm glad you all like it so far! I think you can probably tell where this is going. ;-) There will be one more chapter on ff.net, and then itÕs off to www.vartanho.com for the final NC-17 chapter.
Off Route 2
The next afternoon
I cannot believe I am doing this, Sydney thought as the trees moved past the car windows. I am insane. I must be. This was, quite possibly, the stupidest thing she had ever done in her life. Then again, part of her whispered, it might be the smartest.
She had awoken that morning, looked at the sunlight streaming through her windows and thought, "I'm going to surprise Vaughn." She had showered and packed a bag before the complete folly of the idea truly hit her. Then she had dithered around the apartment for a couple of hours, alternately cursing herself for even entertaining the possibility and then deciding to go anyway, dammit. Finally, about one, she had stood in front of his painting of Donovan for a good five minutes. I have to go, she thought. It's insane, it's selfish, it's potentially deadly, but I'll never forgive myself if I don't. She wrote Francie a note -- "Bank trip. So much for vacation. Not sure when I'll be back. Could be a day, could be all weekend. Love, Syd." -- grabbed her bag and left before she gave herself the opportunity to change her mind again.
She'd had little trouble finding the turnoff to his aunt and uncle's cabin. Though there was no street name, the painted wooden sign that he had described was clearly visible. The road was narrow but even, and she could have driven faster, but the doubts that had returned to her mind caused her foot to sit lightly on the gas. If there had been any place to turn around, she might have used it. But there wasn't, so she kept going forward, slowly but steadily. And then there was a bend in the road, and a magnificent, rambling, one-story house appeared as if from nowhere.
There was no longer the possibility of turning back.
Despite its grandeur, the house seemed to nestle among the trees as if it belonged there. There were windows everywhere, dozens of them, and she couldn't help but blink in amazement at the two glass-topped turrets on either end of the house. It really was like a mountainside castle.
She brought her car to a stop, turned off the ignition and took a long, deep breath. Her heartbeats were so fast, they seemed to tumble over one another in her chest. I am a spy, she thought. This isn't even *remotely* the scariest thing I've ever done.
And yet, she didn't remember her stomach being quite so knotted when she was jumping off a 30-story building in Helsinki with Arvin Sloane a stone's throw away.
But she had made her decision, and there was nothing to do now but follow through with it. Without another moment of hesitation, she got out of the car and marched to the front door.
There was a large brass knocker in the shape of a dragon, and she smiled at Trish's whimsy. How many visitors did they expect up here, really? She rapped it heavily against the door, producing what seemed like the loudest sound she had ever heard. She waited for him to open the door, her body practically vibrating with nervousness and excitement. And waited. And waited. She knocked again, even harder, but there was still no answer.
He has to be here, she thought, glancing back at his car parked beside hers. Had he seen her and decided not to answer the door? Was he hurt? Was he not alone after all? Did he just want her to go away? Her heart constricted, and her doubts about being there were completely pushed aside by the all-consuming need to see his face.
Suddenly, a white bulldog bounded -- or, more precisely, chugged -- out of the trees and up to her, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. He let out a couple of short barks, but they seemed more a greeting than anything else, as he then began to dance excitedly around her feet, nudging her leg with his nose, his stubby tail wagging furiously.
"Hey, Donovan," she said, bending down to stroke his head. "Where is he?"
"Did you catch one, Donny?" His voice sent a wave of relief through her, followed by a stab of pure desire as he strode into view. He was wearing a pair of tight blue jeans and a gray T-shirt underneath a blue-and-green flannel shirt, and a wide grin split his face. She had never seen anyone so beautiful. Then he caught sight of her, and he came to a sudden stop.
"Sydney! What's wrong? What's happened?" He practically ran to her side then, his brow furrowing in instant worry.
"Nothing. Nothing's wrong. I just.... Well, I was bored, and you said you were going to be bored, and I thought, well, why should we be bored by ourselves when we could be bored together? Not that I think being with you would be boring. I'm sure it wouldn't be. I mean, we could entertain each other." Oh, God, Sydney thought, I sound like Marshall. I am babbling. Kill me now. Just put me back in the car and drive me off the mountain. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come, this was a *really* bad idea. I mean, this could get us killed. Although I was super-careful and came the long way and doubled-back and drove a rental instead of my car. I'm certain I wasn't followed. But this was still pretty stupid, right?"
For a long moment, he just stared at her, clearly stupefied, until she was ready to scream at him to say something, yell at her, laugh in her face, anything. Then he smiled, a pure, sweet, joyful smile that was worth the drive up there by itself. "Yes," he said, "It's pretty stupid. But ... I'm really glad to see you."
Relief washed over her, and she smiled back at him, completely at a loss for words.
"Well, now that you're here, you might as well come in." He grinned. "Besides, I don't think Donovan will let you get away."
---
AuthorÕs Note: IÕm glad you all like it so far! I think you can probably tell where this is going. ;-) There will be one more chapter on ff.net, and then itÕs off to www.vartanho.com for the final NC-17 chapter.