It's been awhile, huh? If you're still sticking with me, and if you're reading this, all I can say is thank you for sticking with me. I've been trying to write, but I came to a stage where I burned out, physically and mentally, and I'm finally starting to get back into the swing of things, and I'm fianally back with a new chapter. I don't know how long it will be until the next, but I promise, there will be one.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Slowly, things began to change between Nicholas and I.
To a stranger, it may not have been obvious, but to us, we were beginning to see the difference. There was a tension that had been lifted, and we were slowly growing closer. There was a new comfort between the two of us, and I couldn't have been happier about it.
We were both busy, him concentrated on Rugby and classes, me on classes, and (Uggg), yearbook. But we could push everything aside for each other, when we really needed it, and we squeezed in as much time together as possible. Although I was afraid to admit it for fear that I might jinx it, I was almost feeling happy. And it was a strange feeling.
None of my friends had met him yet. Although I had told Ashley that he went to York, I still hadn't corrected her assumption that he was in his first year. And I couldn't bring myself to tell Spinner that I was seeing someone knew. Although we had broken up, he had always been there for me, and I didn't want to screw things up anymore between the two of us. Hazel knew I was dating a good-looking guy, and didn't press for any more information than what I gave her.
After the concussion incident, I hadn't had a chance to go to anymore games, but Nicholas kept me up to date with vivid recaps of the games. I made mental notes to ask Alicia what he was talking about.
After my first trip to his apartment, I realized that he had the world's most pitiful music collection, most likely all gifts, some still in their wrappers. So after that, every time I saw him, I burned him a CD. Even if it killed me, I would make sure that he was introduced to a world of Dashboard Confessional and Chantal Kreviazuk. Tonight, it was Yellowcard.
"These guys aren't bad," he said, looking at the back of the CD. We were sitting together on his couch, a box of pizza open on the floor in front to us. We had started out using plates, but gave up after the first slice. "But the violin's a little strange."
I smiled. "I'm glad I'm able to instil some form of music appreciation in you."
"You still haven't convinced me of Brand New."
"I will. Just give me time."
He laughed, and poured more wine into my glass. I'd been to my share of parties with alcohol, and I'd been drunk enough, but he wasn't all about the hard liquor. It was a different with him, and it reminded me of just how much older he was. While I was teaching him about music, he was attempting to teach me about wine. I was starting to like it and its calming effects.
"Those can wait until later," he told me as I picked up the plates.
"What, you're planning on doing them?" I asked with a smile, putting them in the sink. "Because you and I both know that if I don't, there's going to be something growing on these plates before you clean them."
He smiled, then slowly slid his arm around my waist, over onto my stomach, and buried his head in my neck. I nearly dropped the plates and my mind went completely blank. I slowly put the plates down, and turned to face him, never leaving his hold, and faced him, his face only inches away from mine.
"That was smooth," I whispered.
He grinned. "A Nicholas Davis signature move," he laughed before leaning in to kiss me. I allowed him, but his words echoed in my mind. A signature move. He'd done this before. Of course he had, it wasn't like he was some kind of celibate prince, but somehow, the thought of him being with someone else hit me, hard. I wasn't jealous, but a voice inside my head, the voice I'd done so well at ignoring, started coming back. How many girls had he been with? How much would he expect?
"You okay?" he asked, pulling away.
"Yeah. I've just got stuff on my mind."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
I smiled. "I think there are better uses for my mouth."
As much as I tried, that voice never went away.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Come on, Paige, I have to meet him at some point," Ashley said the next day as we sat down at the dot with our coffees. We'd come with the plans to study, but ended up on the subject of Nicholas again.
"You will," I assured her. "But I kinda like having him to myself for now. You know?"
"I know, but still. . ."
"Still what?"
"I want to meet him. The guy who can make you smile like that?"
"Like what?"
She laughed. "Oh, Paige, you've got it bad."
"What?"
"You're falling for him. Hard."
I shrugged. "Maybe. There's something I haven't told you about him yet, though."
"What? He's actually a prince, in addition to everything perfect about him?"
"He's older."
"Yeah, you said he's first year university, right?"
"No. I said he's in university. You said first year."
"Then how old is he?"
"Twenty-two."
"Paige. . ."
"I know. But I really don't need any lectures."
"I'm not going to lecture you. I'm not your moth-. . . oh, Paige, I'm sorry."
I shrugged. "You can say it. I'm not going to have a breakdown." Although my words were confident, I felt something unravelling inside. I took a deep breath.
"So how did you meet him?"
I couldn't tell her that. At least not yet. I wasn't ready for anyone to know. "At a meeting." It wasn't a total lie. I had met him at a meeting. . . just after I'd met him at the hospital and a funeral home.
"Well, I'm glad you're happy."
"So am I, Ashley. So am I."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The next week, Dylan was spending the night over at his university. He claimed he had to pull an all-nighter to finish a project, but I had a sneaking suspicion that there was someone else who was going to be there. So Nicholas and I decided to just take the evening slow, stay inside, and really get to know each other. We had rushed into a serious relationship, and we had never really experienced the getting to know each other stage, leaving us with so many thing we didn't know about each other.
"What's your favourite colour," I asked him. We were lying on the floor, in front of the lit fireplace, mt head on his stomach.
"Red. What about yours?"
I thought about it a second. "Vanilla."
He raised himself up on his elbows to look at me. "I may not be totally up-to-date on all the different colours, but I'm pretty sure that vanilla's a flavour of ice cream, not a colour."
I smiled. "No, it's a colour. You know, it's darker than white, lighter than brown, but too pretty to be beige. Vanilla."
I didn't need to see him to know he was rolling his eyes.
"Favourite teacher?" he asked.
"Grade nine geography."
"You like geography?"
"I never said I like the class. I just liked the teacher. Yours?"
"Grade seven, I guess."
"When did you start playing rugby?"
"Uh. . . grade eleven. Haven't stopped since. When did this John Mayer obsession of yours start?"
"Around the same time as 'No Such Thing' came out." I looked up to him to register the blank look on his face. "His first single."
"Oh."
"I thought you would have understood by now, Nicholas, that you're the other man in my life. My Man on the Side, if you will."
"Was that a John Mayer reference?"
"Absolutely." I had decided that after enough music, he was finally ready to be introduced to John's music. And as much as he made fun of it, he couldn't have minded it that much.
"Okay, I give up. I can never have you without John attached." He put his hands up in defeat.
I grinned, then moved up to kiss him. "I should listen to John Mayer more often. If it makes you this happy."
"Shut up and kiss me."
He obeyed, but once again, I found myself wondering, so many unasked questions lingering in my mind, keeping me from losing myself in his kiss, his touch. I tried letting myself go, I tried letting everything go, but I couldn't forget, I couldn't relax. And I couldn't ask him, because then he'd go and ask me the same question, and I didn't want to tell him about Dean, and about my past. I couldn't get into that yet. I didn't want him to change the way he felt about me.
"What's wrong?"
I shook my head. "It's nothing."
"Paige, you can tell me."
I shook my head again, not trying to tell him no so much as trying to clear the doubts out of my head. Before I knew what was happening, I felt the question slipping out of my mouth. "How old were you when you first had sex?"
He moved back from me a bit, and took a deep breath. "Too young. Sixteen."
Sixteen was too young? How would I ever explain fourteen? And what did he think of me? I was only seventeen.
"And how many. . . No, forget it."
"What? You were going to ask me how many girls I've been with, right?"
I was afraid of the answer, but still nodded meekly. "You don't have to tell me."
"Four."
Only four? That wasn't so bad.
"But it's a fair question. For both of us."
I looked away from him, and answer in an even voice. "None."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"So what did you say?" Ashley asked later that night when I called to tell her about what had happened.
"I lied."
"What did he say?"
"Nothing, really. I just don't know if I should tell him or not."
"You don't have to tell him about Dean. But you shouldn't be lying to him about having sex."
"But I haven't really. I mean, I have, but that was Dean, and you can't really have him understand without him knowing both parts. And let's just imagine that conversation. 'Hey Nicholas, remember the other night when I told you that I've never had sex, well, I was lying.'"
"Then you don't have to tell him anything."
"I know. . . I just. . . I have no idea."
"Do you care about him?"
"Of course."
"And are you thinking about sleeping with him?"
I didn't want to admit it, but I told her yes.
"Then I think you should tell him. Everything."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Slowly, things began to change between Nicholas and I.
To a stranger, it may not have been obvious, but to us, we were beginning to see the difference. There was a tension that had been lifted, and we were slowly growing closer. There was a new comfort between the two of us, and I couldn't have been happier about it.
We were both busy, him concentrated on Rugby and classes, me on classes, and (Uggg), yearbook. But we could push everything aside for each other, when we really needed it, and we squeezed in as much time together as possible. Although I was afraid to admit it for fear that I might jinx it, I was almost feeling happy. And it was a strange feeling.
None of my friends had met him yet. Although I had told Ashley that he went to York, I still hadn't corrected her assumption that he was in his first year. And I couldn't bring myself to tell Spinner that I was seeing someone knew. Although we had broken up, he had always been there for me, and I didn't want to screw things up anymore between the two of us. Hazel knew I was dating a good-looking guy, and didn't press for any more information than what I gave her.
After the concussion incident, I hadn't had a chance to go to anymore games, but Nicholas kept me up to date with vivid recaps of the games. I made mental notes to ask Alicia what he was talking about.
After my first trip to his apartment, I realized that he had the world's most pitiful music collection, most likely all gifts, some still in their wrappers. So after that, every time I saw him, I burned him a CD. Even if it killed me, I would make sure that he was introduced to a world of Dashboard Confessional and Chantal Kreviazuk. Tonight, it was Yellowcard.
"These guys aren't bad," he said, looking at the back of the CD. We were sitting together on his couch, a box of pizza open on the floor in front to us. We had started out using plates, but gave up after the first slice. "But the violin's a little strange."
I smiled. "I'm glad I'm able to instil some form of music appreciation in you."
"You still haven't convinced me of Brand New."
"I will. Just give me time."
He laughed, and poured more wine into my glass. I'd been to my share of parties with alcohol, and I'd been drunk enough, but he wasn't all about the hard liquor. It was a different with him, and it reminded me of just how much older he was. While I was teaching him about music, he was attempting to teach me about wine. I was starting to like it and its calming effects.
"Those can wait until later," he told me as I picked up the plates.
"What, you're planning on doing them?" I asked with a smile, putting them in the sink. "Because you and I both know that if I don't, there's going to be something growing on these plates before you clean them."
He smiled, then slowly slid his arm around my waist, over onto my stomach, and buried his head in my neck. I nearly dropped the plates and my mind went completely blank. I slowly put the plates down, and turned to face him, never leaving his hold, and faced him, his face only inches away from mine.
"That was smooth," I whispered.
He grinned. "A Nicholas Davis signature move," he laughed before leaning in to kiss me. I allowed him, but his words echoed in my mind. A signature move. He'd done this before. Of course he had, it wasn't like he was some kind of celibate prince, but somehow, the thought of him being with someone else hit me, hard. I wasn't jealous, but a voice inside my head, the voice I'd done so well at ignoring, started coming back. How many girls had he been with? How much would he expect?
"You okay?" he asked, pulling away.
"Yeah. I've just got stuff on my mind."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
I smiled. "I think there are better uses for my mouth."
As much as I tried, that voice never went away.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Come on, Paige, I have to meet him at some point," Ashley said the next day as we sat down at the dot with our coffees. We'd come with the plans to study, but ended up on the subject of Nicholas again.
"You will," I assured her. "But I kinda like having him to myself for now. You know?"
"I know, but still. . ."
"Still what?"
"I want to meet him. The guy who can make you smile like that?"
"Like what?"
She laughed. "Oh, Paige, you've got it bad."
"What?"
"You're falling for him. Hard."
I shrugged. "Maybe. There's something I haven't told you about him yet, though."
"What? He's actually a prince, in addition to everything perfect about him?"
"He's older."
"Yeah, you said he's first year university, right?"
"No. I said he's in university. You said first year."
"Then how old is he?"
"Twenty-two."
"Paige. . ."
"I know. But I really don't need any lectures."
"I'm not going to lecture you. I'm not your moth-. . . oh, Paige, I'm sorry."
I shrugged. "You can say it. I'm not going to have a breakdown." Although my words were confident, I felt something unravelling inside. I took a deep breath.
"So how did you meet him?"
I couldn't tell her that. At least not yet. I wasn't ready for anyone to know. "At a meeting." It wasn't a total lie. I had met him at a meeting. . . just after I'd met him at the hospital and a funeral home.
"Well, I'm glad you're happy."
"So am I, Ashley. So am I."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The next week, Dylan was spending the night over at his university. He claimed he had to pull an all-nighter to finish a project, but I had a sneaking suspicion that there was someone else who was going to be there. So Nicholas and I decided to just take the evening slow, stay inside, and really get to know each other. We had rushed into a serious relationship, and we had never really experienced the getting to know each other stage, leaving us with so many thing we didn't know about each other.
"What's your favourite colour," I asked him. We were lying on the floor, in front of the lit fireplace, mt head on his stomach.
"Red. What about yours?"
I thought about it a second. "Vanilla."
He raised himself up on his elbows to look at me. "I may not be totally up-to-date on all the different colours, but I'm pretty sure that vanilla's a flavour of ice cream, not a colour."
I smiled. "No, it's a colour. You know, it's darker than white, lighter than brown, but too pretty to be beige. Vanilla."
I didn't need to see him to know he was rolling his eyes.
"Favourite teacher?" he asked.
"Grade nine geography."
"You like geography?"
"I never said I like the class. I just liked the teacher. Yours?"
"Grade seven, I guess."
"When did you start playing rugby?"
"Uh. . . grade eleven. Haven't stopped since. When did this John Mayer obsession of yours start?"
"Around the same time as 'No Such Thing' came out." I looked up to him to register the blank look on his face. "His first single."
"Oh."
"I thought you would have understood by now, Nicholas, that you're the other man in my life. My Man on the Side, if you will."
"Was that a John Mayer reference?"
"Absolutely." I had decided that after enough music, he was finally ready to be introduced to John's music. And as much as he made fun of it, he couldn't have minded it that much.
"Okay, I give up. I can never have you without John attached." He put his hands up in defeat.
I grinned, then moved up to kiss him. "I should listen to John Mayer more often. If it makes you this happy."
"Shut up and kiss me."
He obeyed, but once again, I found myself wondering, so many unasked questions lingering in my mind, keeping me from losing myself in his kiss, his touch. I tried letting myself go, I tried letting everything go, but I couldn't forget, I couldn't relax. And I couldn't ask him, because then he'd go and ask me the same question, and I didn't want to tell him about Dean, and about my past. I couldn't get into that yet. I didn't want him to change the way he felt about me.
"What's wrong?"
I shook my head. "It's nothing."
"Paige, you can tell me."
I shook my head again, not trying to tell him no so much as trying to clear the doubts out of my head. Before I knew what was happening, I felt the question slipping out of my mouth. "How old were you when you first had sex?"
He moved back from me a bit, and took a deep breath. "Too young. Sixteen."
Sixteen was too young? How would I ever explain fourteen? And what did he think of me? I was only seventeen.
"And how many. . . No, forget it."
"What? You were going to ask me how many girls I've been with, right?"
I was afraid of the answer, but still nodded meekly. "You don't have to tell me."
"Four."
Only four? That wasn't so bad.
"But it's a fair question. For both of us."
I looked away from him, and answer in an even voice. "None."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"So what did you say?" Ashley asked later that night when I called to tell her about what had happened.
"I lied."
"What did he say?"
"Nothing, really. I just don't know if I should tell him or not."
"You don't have to tell him about Dean. But you shouldn't be lying to him about having sex."
"But I haven't really. I mean, I have, but that was Dean, and you can't really have him understand without him knowing both parts. And let's just imagine that conversation. 'Hey Nicholas, remember the other night when I told you that I've never had sex, well, I was lying.'"
"Then you don't have to tell him anything."
"I know. . . I just. . . I have no idea."
"Do you care about him?"
"Of course."
"And are you thinking about sleeping with him?"
I didn't want to admit it, but I told her yes.
"Then I think you should tell him. Everything."
