To TJ or not to TJ
Summary: Sandy and Kirsten in college. There's a TJ trip but they've just broken up and don't feel like going, what happens if their friends persuade them…
Disclaimer: If I owned the OC I'd have a yacht with a swimming pool on by now.
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Almost there. Hope you survived the wait!
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Chapter Seven
There is a period of truce while you share a packet of cheese-sticks and then Sandy takes a shower. You wash and change once he's done and return to find him sat awkwardly on the bed. 'I can sleep on the floor if you're willing to lend me a pillow.'
You bite your lip, 'It's okay. We can manage this. Lots of friends crash together.'
'And friends is what we're aiming for right?'
'Y-yeah,' you answer slowly. 'Is it…does this, feel weird to you?'
He nods. 'Let's go to bed. You could probably do with a good sleep after today.'
It's your turn to nod mutely, the weird feeling intensifying as he climbs into the bed you're about to share, as friends. You follow suit, barely suppressing a shudder at the musty sheets and praying you won't catch anything.
'Just get in,' Sandy mutters with his eyes closed. You wonder how he knows you're hesitating.
'Can't you just lay off for ten seconds?'
There is no response and you fling the rest of the bedclothes back angrily. 'Make a move and I rip out your jugular,' you threaten.
'Oh, pillow talk,' is Sandy's sarcastic remark as you lie down with a dramatic 'humph'! The vague camaraderie that had made a tentative beginning earlier has dissolved. Maybe trying to be friends is just as hard. The bed suddenly seems a lot smaller than it looked before you both got in it. You stay right on the far side of the mattress and Sandy does the same. He doesn't comment when you haul more of the covers towards you. You sneak a sideways glance to find him apparently sleeping peacefully already, or at least pretending to. Being in a bed with him again, without touching, without being pressed up as close against him as possible, without indulging in something other than sleeping, feels so foreign. You thump your pillow, tugging it first one way and then the other, angry with Sandy for making you want to cry again.
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Kirsten tosses and turns violently for an hour or so before finally settling down with a discontented sigh. You wait for her breathing to even out. Since you broke up you've had trouble sleeping. For most of the past six months you've waited for your girlfriend's breathing to slow and deepen before being lulled to sleep by the soft rhythm. Now you have the chance to fall asleep to it again but you can't because she isn't drifting off. As you like there you can feel yourself becoming tense, cross with Kirsten for denying you the pleasure. It's completely irrational, you know that, but you can't help it. Of course, it was so much easier to feel her dropping off when she was lying against you, chests rising and falling together. When you think of all these things you wonder why you freaked out so much last week. You never meant to lose her over it; you were scared that's all. And truth be told, you want to be the one to raise the subject with your plan complete and undeniable. You should have known life didn't work like that. And so the complete opposite of what you wanted happened.
It brings back the old fear that it always is your fault, people can't help leaving you; you drive them away. At that point you stop yourself or you'll be up all night and another step closer to needing therapy. Rolling over to get away from the thoughts chasing their tails around your head, you find yourself face to face with Kirsten. Kirsten with her eyes closed, closer than you've been for what feels like a hell of a long time when in reality it's only a couple of days. Kirsten, the same as ever but strangely different, seemingly more beautiful, more desirable, even more unobtainable. As your eyes trace the features you know so well; the button nose, the soft lips and high cheekbones, you wonder how, after fighting so hard to get to know her and fighting to be together, you managed to ruin it all so quickly, to let her go the way you did.
All of a sudden you realise you're no longer staring at Kirsten's eyelids but rather the eyes beneath them. You wonder how long they've been open, whether she's mad at you for watching her and if she was watching you. If she was, what was she thinking?
Her eyes are dark and questioning in the room's twilight. You feel you should look away but can't bring yourself to break the connection between you. She doesn't move either; despite the fact your noses are mere inches apart.
'What are you thinking?' she asks in a voice like velvet and you know you can't lie.
'You…us.'
She blinks hastily before her eyelids flutter closed completely. You swallow the lump in your own throat as her jaw visibly tightens. It's hard to comprehend how something that was once so good now causes that kind of reaction.
'I'm sorry,' you murmur, the words rumbling up from your chest to your mouth. She sighs gently, cool breath whispering past you in the humid atmosphere. Her eyes open slowly and now you can see they are bright and glassy with tears. She attempts a smile but the movement causes a tear to spill over and track slowly down her face. Your arm lifts, almost involuntarily to brush them away, fingers lingering languidly against her cheek.
'Me too,' she whispers and then rolls over away from you. You're left slightly comforted, her tears damp upon your fingertips.
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Still here?
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