song
part 3: 'In Your Eyes'
Spoilers: Speculations on the spoilers for this upcoming week.
Author's Note: This is what happens where you go to a college where the answer to 'How many Mary Washington College students does it take to screw in a lightbulb?' is 'The entire student body, because there's nothing better to do on the weekends.'
Feedback: Pretty, pretty please! It's hard to write more when I don't know what people want to see!
*
There was a bad, sick feeling in her stomach. It was the feeling she had just before she had lost Lucky, in essence, forever. She wasn't psychic, she just trusted her instincts.
She looked back at Courtney, who watched her as she followed Ric towards the stairs that lead to the basement. He looked back at her, and she looked back at Courtney. It wasn't Courtney, though. Courtney was the least of her concerns. There was a man seated in the corner, his face obscured by a hat. He read a newspaper, had a cup of coffee in front of him that Courtney had set there. He wasn't bothering anyone, was unassuming, probably wearing a hat because he was bald or something, but her alarms were going off nevertheless.
"Elizabeth?" Ric asked, and she glanced at him and then shook her head. "You okay?" he asked her, and she just smiled.
"I think I'm seeing ghosts," she told him flippantly, and then she followed him down the stairs. It's probably just nerves, she told herself. Her heart was certainly pounding, her pulse going a mile a minute, her palms growing sweaty. "What's down here? Dead bodies?" she joked.
"Only a couple," he joked back. "But we have to get rid of them because of the smell. It wasn't quite the ambiance that Carly wanted."
"Carly wanted ambiance? For what?"
"For her club," Ric told her, smiling up at her as he descended the stairs. In this light, he was even more gorgeous than usual, his jaw tighter, his eyes darker, more intense.
The darkness reminded her of something, of how she had put herself in danger for other people. It was almost suffocating; no windows, no real lighting, just a couple of lazily hung lights on battered chains with faulty wires. Why was she remembering this now?
"She has a club?" Elizabeth asked, recalling that information from somewhere. She had probably been told that. She remembered the bat, the nightlight, Zander, Jason, Sonny, the fear, the lack of air, the tombs, the darkness. She had a lot of demons.
"Anybody home? You all right?"
"No. No, I don't know, I feel... Help! Somebody help me! He's got me captive! Help me! Help!"
"Yell all you want! Nobody can hear you. The last member of the Quinn family died in 1952. Nobody ever comes around."
"If you're trying to scare me, it isn't working."
"What's the matter?" Ric asked softly, and she jumped, startled.
"Nothing," she answered just as softly.
"If you don't talk to me about it, I can't do anything to help."
She thought about it a moment. It was valid. He had gone down the steps already, and she followed slowly, taking each step gingerly, afraid of an attacker jumping out of a corner. Could she count on Ric to protect her? Or would he be the cause?
"What are you looking at me like that for?" he asked, half-teasing, half- serious.
"I-a couple of months ago, I was kidnapped. They wanted to use me to get to Jason Morgan." She didn't look at him, couldn't, not at first, was afraid because of how silly it sounded, but then she met his eyes. He was looking at her not with judging eyes, not with malicious eyes, but with kind, gentle eyes. "They put me in a tomb," she said, trying to play it off as though that sort of thing happened to everyone, even though she knew it didn't. Not really. "This just-reminded me of it."
He bit his lip and looked around him at the basement. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I had no idea."
"Of course you didn't. I didn't expect you to."
"Do you want to leave? We can go. Give me the word."
She shook her head. She wasn't going to let her fear be debilitating. "I'm a big girl. I was just startled."
"Okay," he replied.
He had cared. She was surprised. He had cared that she was bothered by this place. She went and walked past him, into the place where Carly's club would be, and she looked around her. It was nice, she decided. She could paint here, if they got up all the dirt and dust and figured a way to get fresh air into the room. And music. It needed music.
"What do you think?" he asked her, watching her with amused eyes. He leaned against the frame of the door, just watching. Watching and waiting patiently.
"I think it needs a good vacuum job."
"Are you volunteering?"
"No, thank you," she replied, laughing. "After working my butt off at Kelly's, I'm not about to help Carly out."
"I can understand that. Anything other comments?"
"Well, better lighting. And a new floor. Is it a dance club?"
He began to move towards her, and she waited for him to approach her, but he went around her to the counter, and he ran a finger along the dirty surface. "I'm not positive, but I believe she wants space for people to dance, yes."
She turned to look at him, and he looked at her. They just looked at each other, their eyes locked in silence. "Well, she needs music if she wants people to dance."
"You don't need music to dance," he scoffed, grinning.
"I beg to differ."
"You do, do you?"
"I absolutely do."
"Oh, really?" he asked, cocking his eyebrow at her. Her heart started beating even faster than it had been as he moved towards her, and all anxieties about the darkness of the club, its reminiscence of the tomb, were gone. His hands moved to her hips, and he pulled her gently towards him, and she could feel the heat between them.
What am I getting myself into? she thought, terrified and excited and thrilled all at once, but mostly terrified. She couldn't stop the smile on her face, the grin that crawled from ear to ear. I can't believe this is happening to me, she thought. I can't believe this. He's . . . everything I've ever wanted in a man. Sophisticated, intelligent, suave, charismatic, confident, gorgeous, sensitive, caring. There were a hundred thousand adjectives in the English language, and almost none could do him or that moment justice.
"Are we dancing here?" she teased him. "Because I'm not really seeing how this is dancing."
"Well, we're not dancing yet," he sighed, mock-annoyed. "I was trying to ease you into it."
"I don't hear any music."
"That's a good thing. I may have had to have you committed if you had heard music."
"Now you're just harassing me."
He just grinned down at her and pulled her even closer to him. One hand stayed on her hip, and the other pulled her hand into his. He began to move to some imaginary rhythm, and she found herself forgetting that there was no music.
She found herself forgetting about everything. Jason, Lucky, Zander, Courtney, all of it. There was only her and the man who had his arms around her. "This is nice," she murmured.
"You didn't trust me."
"I trusted you. Even when I thought it was a bad idea."
He just looked at her. There was never any other place than this. This was where she belonged, in his arms, bickering with him, teasing him, talking with him.
Just kiss him, Elizabeth. That's what he's asking you to do. Just kiss him.
She felt his hand splayed against the small of her back, and there was something about it that was possessive, and it empowered her, gave her the strength to be completely and totally herself. If she had to fight for this one, she was going to. No matter what. She wasn't going to let this escape her grasp.
"Tell me something about you," she said to him softly. She could smell him, breathe in his wonderful, masculine aroma, a mixture of deodorant, aftershave, and his own lovely smell. She hoped that her clothing would smell like him after this.
"Like what?" he asked, and she thought she felt him pull her even closer to him. They were practically breathing the same air.
"Like . . . " Thousand dollar question, Elizabeth. "Girlfriends? What about them?"
"Do you want to know about the dead ex-wife or the current mistress?" he teased, grinning at her, brown eyes glinting.
"Do you see me laughing?"
He tried to stifle his smile, but it didn't seem to work for him. "Okay, okay. There . . . there was a woman. But she was a part of another life."
"Did you love her?"
He looked away from her, the smile falling from his face. "I think I was another person then. And that person was in love with her, I think. But I'm a different person now, and she doesn't belong in this life. Or with me." They both fell silent, the air between them still but churning nevertheless with the unsaid tension. "And you? Boyfriends?"
"The last one was . . . a miserable failure."
"Anyone I know?"
She dropped her head, not looking at him. She didn't want to see his reaction, didn't want to know what he thought about Jason. "Actually, yes." She thought she felt his arms tense around her.
"Who is it? Don't tell me it's-"
"Jason Morgan."
"Ah. I understand now."
"You understand?" she asked, confused.
He dropped the hand that he was holding and put his fingers under her chin, tilting her head to face him. She could feel her cheeks burning, and she wondered if it was because of him or because of the talk about Jason. He let go of her chin and brushed her cheek with his fingers. "You deserve incomparably better."
"Any suggestions?" she asked.
"I might have one."
He made no move to kiss her, even though they were so close that all he had to do was move slightly forward and their lips would have been touching. Instead, he continued stroking her cheek and looking at her.
Kiss him, she told herself.
Kiss him, damn you. If you don't do this, I'm never talking to you ever again.
She thought about Lucky. She thought about Jason. She thought about Zander. And then she stopped thinking about them. She started thinking about herself. What she wanted. What she needed. What her heart was telling her to do.
"Oh, really?" she murmured, and before he could answer, she leaned forward and kissed him.
It wasn't fair that it was the best kiss she had ever had. She hadn't been expecting that, and she didn't know how to handle that. He tasted like cinnamon and toothpaste. He hesitated at first, and then his arms crept around her, and he responded. They let the unsaid tensions, the tenderness, the gentleness, the real emotions, the feelings between them expand, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, fingers creeping into his hair.
And then they were interrupted.
A ringing.
She thought she was imagining it, but he groaned into her mouth and pulled away from her, murmuring, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I am so sorry."
"It's okay," she said, laughing. Her cheeks were flushed, her face burning. What was this?
It was crazy, and it felt so good.
An arm still around her, he reached into the inside pocket of his suit and pulled out his phone. He looked at the tiny screen, and then he looked at her. He looked defeated, disappointed, distraught. "I have to go. There's- an emergency."
"Okay, go," she told him. He looked at her again and made a low, guttural noise in the back of his throat.
"I'll be back," he said earnestly. "I promise."
"I already told you." She put her index finger to her lips and then pressed the finger against his. "I trust you."
He sighed and then turned and went, and she watched him go, happy for the first time in a long time.
But the sick feeling in her stomach had returned.
To be continued . . .
"Destiny has a funny way
When it comes and takes all your cares away
I can't think of a single thing
Other than what a beautiful state I'm in."
-- 'In Your Eyes' by Kylie Minogue
part 3: 'In Your Eyes'
Spoilers: Speculations on the spoilers for this upcoming week.
Author's Note: This is what happens where you go to a college where the answer to 'How many Mary Washington College students does it take to screw in a lightbulb?' is 'The entire student body, because there's nothing better to do on the weekends.'
Feedback: Pretty, pretty please! It's hard to write more when I don't know what people want to see!
*
There was a bad, sick feeling in her stomach. It was the feeling she had just before she had lost Lucky, in essence, forever. She wasn't psychic, she just trusted her instincts.
She looked back at Courtney, who watched her as she followed Ric towards the stairs that lead to the basement. He looked back at her, and she looked back at Courtney. It wasn't Courtney, though. Courtney was the least of her concerns. There was a man seated in the corner, his face obscured by a hat. He read a newspaper, had a cup of coffee in front of him that Courtney had set there. He wasn't bothering anyone, was unassuming, probably wearing a hat because he was bald or something, but her alarms were going off nevertheless.
"Elizabeth?" Ric asked, and she glanced at him and then shook her head. "You okay?" he asked her, and she just smiled.
"I think I'm seeing ghosts," she told him flippantly, and then she followed him down the stairs. It's probably just nerves, she told herself. Her heart was certainly pounding, her pulse going a mile a minute, her palms growing sweaty. "What's down here? Dead bodies?" she joked.
"Only a couple," he joked back. "But we have to get rid of them because of the smell. It wasn't quite the ambiance that Carly wanted."
"Carly wanted ambiance? For what?"
"For her club," Ric told her, smiling up at her as he descended the stairs. In this light, he was even more gorgeous than usual, his jaw tighter, his eyes darker, more intense.
The darkness reminded her of something, of how she had put herself in danger for other people. It was almost suffocating; no windows, no real lighting, just a couple of lazily hung lights on battered chains with faulty wires. Why was she remembering this now?
"She has a club?" Elizabeth asked, recalling that information from somewhere. She had probably been told that. She remembered the bat, the nightlight, Zander, Jason, Sonny, the fear, the lack of air, the tombs, the darkness. She had a lot of demons.
"Anybody home? You all right?"
"No. No, I don't know, I feel... Help! Somebody help me! He's got me captive! Help me! Help!"
"Yell all you want! Nobody can hear you. The last member of the Quinn family died in 1952. Nobody ever comes around."
"If you're trying to scare me, it isn't working."
"What's the matter?" Ric asked softly, and she jumped, startled.
"Nothing," she answered just as softly.
"If you don't talk to me about it, I can't do anything to help."
She thought about it a moment. It was valid. He had gone down the steps already, and she followed slowly, taking each step gingerly, afraid of an attacker jumping out of a corner. Could she count on Ric to protect her? Or would he be the cause?
"What are you looking at me like that for?" he asked, half-teasing, half- serious.
"I-a couple of months ago, I was kidnapped. They wanted to use me to get to Jason Morgan." She didn't look at him, couldn't, not at first, was afraid because of how silly it sounded, but then she met his eyes. He was looking at her not with judging eyes, not with malicious eyes, but with kind, gentle eyes. "They put me in a tomb," she said, trying to play it off as though that sort of thing happened to everyone, even though she knew it didn't. Not really. "This just-reminded me of it."
He bit his lip and looked around him at the basement. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I had no idea."
"Of course you didn't. I didn't expect you to."
"Do you want to leave? We can go. Give me the word."
She shook her head. She wasn't going to let her fear be debilitating. "I'm a big girl. I was just startled."
"Okay," he replied.
He had cared. She was surprised. He had cared that she was bothered by this place. She went and walked past him, into the place where Carly's club would be, and she looked around her. It was nice, she decided. She could paint here, if they got up all the dirt and dust and figured a way to get fresh air into the room. And music. It needed music.
"What do you think?" he asked her, watching her with amused eyes. He leaned against the frame of the door, just watching. Watching and waiting patiently.
"I think it needs a good vacuum job."
"Are you volunteering?"
"No, thank you," she replied, laughing. "After working my butt off at Kelly's, I'm not about to help Carly out."
"I can understand that. Anything other comments?"
"Well, better lighting. And a new floor. Is it a dance club?"
He began to move towards her, and she waited for him to approach her, but he went around her to the counter, and he ran a finger along the dirty surface. "I'm not positive, but I believe she wants space for people to dance, yes."
She turned to look at him, and he looked at her. They just looked at each other, their eyes locked in silence. "Well, she needs music if she wants people to dance."
"You don't need music to dance," he scoffed, grinning.
"I beg to differ."
"You do, do you?"
"I absolutely do."
"Oh, really?" he asked, cocking his eyebrow at her. Her heart started beating even faster than it had been as he moved towards her, and all anxieties about the darkness of the club, its reminiscence of the tomb, were gone. His hands moved to her hips, and he pulled her gently towards him, and she could feel the heat between them.
What am I getting myself into? she thought, terrified and excited and thrilled all at once, but mostly terrified. She couldn't stop the smile on her face, the grin that crawled from ear to ear. I can't believe this is happening to me, she thought. I can't believe this. He's . . . everything I've ever wanted in a man. Sophisticated, intelligent, suave, charismatic, confident, gorgeous, sensitive, caring. There were a hundred thousand adjectives in the English language, and almost none could do him or that moment justice.
"Are we dancing here?" she teased him. "Because I'm not really seeing how this is dancing."
"Well, we're not dancing yet," he sighed, mock-annoyed. "I was trying to ease you into it."
"I don't hear any music."
"That's a good thing. I may have had to have you committed if you had heard music."
"Now you're just harassing me."
He just grinned down at her and pulled her even closer to him. One hand stayed on her hip, and the other pulled her hand into his. He began to move to some imaginary rhythm, and she found herself forgetting that there was no music.
She found herself forgetting about everything. Jason, Lucky, Zander, Courtney, all of it. There was only her and the man who had his arms around her. "This is nice," she murmured.
"You didn't trust me."
"I trusted you. Even when I thought it was a bad idea."
He just looked at her. There was never any other place than this. This was where she belonged, in his arms, bickering with him, teasing him, talking with him.
Just kiss him, Elizabeth. That's what he's asking you to do. Just kiss him.
She felt his hand splayed against the small of her back, and there was something about it that was possessive, and it empowered her, gave her the strength to be completely and totally herself. If she had to fight for this one, she was going to. No matter what. She wasn't going to let this escape her grasp.
"Tell me something about you," she said to him softly. She could smell him, breathe in his wonderful, masculine aroma, a mixture of deodorant, aftershave, and his own lovely smell. She hoped that her clothing would smell like him after this.
"Like what?" he asked, and she thought she felt him pull her even closer to him. They were practically breathing the same air.
"Like . . . " Thousand dollar question, Elizabeth. "Girlfriends? What about them?"
"Do you want to know about the dead ex-wife or the current mistress?" he teased, grinning at her, brown eyes glinting.
"Do you see me laughing?"
He tried to stifle his smile, but it didn't seem to work for him. "Okay, okay. There . . . there was a woman. But she was a part of another life."
"Did you love her?"
He looked away from her, the smile falling from his face. "I think I was another person then. And that person was in love with her, I think. But I'm a different person now, and she doesn't belong in this life. Or with me." They both fell silent, the air between them still but churning nevertheless with the unsaid tension. "And you? Boyfriends?"
"The last one was . . . a miserable failure."
"Anyone I know?"
She dropped her head, not looking at him. She didn't want to see his reaction, didn't want to know what he thought about Jason. "Actually, yes." She thought she felt his arms tense around her.
"Who is it? Don't tell me it's-"
"Jason Morgan."
"Ah. I understand now."
"You understand?" she asked, confused.
He dropped the hand that he was holding and put his fingers under her chin, tilting her head to face him. She could feel her cheeks burning, and she wondered if it was because of him or because of the talk about Jason. He let go of her chin and brushed her cheek with his fingers. "You deserve incomparably better."
"Any suggestions?" she asked.
"I might have one."
He made no move to kiss her, even though they were so close that all he had to do was move slightly forward and their lips would have been touching. Instead, he continued stroking her cheek and looking at her.
Kiss him, she told herself.
Kiss him, damn you. If you don't do this, I'm never talking to you ever again.
She thought about Lucky. She thought about Jason. She thought about Zander. And then she stopped thinking about them. She started thinking about herself. What she wanted. What she needed. What her heart was telling her to do.
"Oh, really?" she murmured, and before he could answer, she leaned forward and kissed him.
It wasn't fair that it was the best kiss she had ever had. She hadn't been expecting that, and she didn't know how to handle that. He tasted like cinnamon and toothpaste. He hesitated at first, and then his arms crept around her, and he responded. They let the unsaid tensions, the tenderness, the gentleness, the real emotions, the feelings between them expand, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, fingers creeping into his hair.
And then they were interrupted.
A ringing.
She thought she was imagining it, but he groaned into her mouth and pulled away from her, murmuring, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I am so sorry."
"It's okay," she said, laughing. Her cheeks were flushed, her face burning. What was this?
It was crazy, and it felt so good.
An arm still around her, he reached into the inside pocket of his suit and pulled out his phone. He looked at the tiny screen, and then he looked at her. He looked defeated, disappointed, distraught. "I have to go. There's- an emergency."
"Okay, go," she told him. He looked at her again and made a low, guttural noise in the back of his throat.
"I'll be back," he said earnestly. "I promise."
"I already told you." She put her index finger to her lips and then pressed the finger against his. "I trust you."
He sighed and then turned and went, and she watched him go, happy for the first time in a long time.
But the sick feeling in her stomach had returned.
To be continued . . .
"Destiny has a funny way
When it comes and takes all your cares away
I can't think of a single thing
Other than what a beautiful state I'm in."
-- 'In Your Eyes' by Kylie Minogue