Chapter 7: The Truth

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Abby stormed to her room without looking at him and slammed the door shut. She was angry. Really fucking angry. Okay, so he did want her but he just didn't want to fuck up the friendship. The exact same fucking thing that was stopping her before. It figured. It just fucking figured. When she finally decided to say 'fuck it' and start something with him, he got all fucking mature and cautious on the subject. She paced back and forth. What the hell! Why now? Why did he choose now to show his fucking knight in shining armour complex? Finally, when she let down her shields, he brought his up. What the fuck! She heard him in the kitchen above then come down and stop in front of her door. She moved towards it, meaning to either wrench it open and let him have it or wrench it open, drag his ass inside and show him just how wrong he was by fucking his brains out. But then again, both options showed just how drunk she was. But she knew that if anything did happen, she wouldn't regret it in the morning.

That was why she'd chosen the damn bar as the stakeout! Knowing full well how much he loved bars, loved to party, and wanted to get her drunk, she knew that he would bring them back there. And then, with a little liquid courage, she could do something about this raging infatuation with him.

His footsteps moved on and she leaned her forehead against the door. She couldn't do it. She couldn't rage on King for something that was her own problem… She closed her eyes.

A second later, her eyes snapped open. No. Fuck him. She deserved to be happy. She deserved to be able to tell him off. She deserved to tell him exactly what she thought and exactly what she felt. Who the fuck was he to stop her from finally expressing something that she'd kept inside? Who the fuck was she to not be the girl that she was and speak her mind and to not back down from a challenge?

Throwing open the door, she tried to storm down to his room. Tripping ungracefully on the water bottle, she crashed into the opposite wall, barely catching herself. Throwing her hair out of her face, she got her feet back under her, squared her shoulders, and continued on to his room.

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She all but kicked in the door in. "King, we need to talk."

King was in the process of undressing, pants down, one leg raised to pull them off. He turned to look at her, lost his balance, hopped twice in an effort to get it back, tripped and landed hard on his back. "Sure," he replied casually, looking like a flipped turtle. "Make yourself comfortable…"

She would have laughed if she hadn't been so determined to tell him off. Instead, she stood over him, arms crossed. "Where the hell do you get off, King?"

He looked at her blankly before darting a glance at the bed. "Well-"

"Cut the defence mechanism. Why the hell didn't you kiss me tonight?"

King opened his mouth, thought for a second, then promptly closed it.

"I mean, we've had this back and forth bit since you came to us. Everyone can feel the tension between us. We have a zillion and a half innuendoes a day. God, we've even started to repeat them! And now, you had your chance to have me and you bail on it? What the fuck, King? Do you not want me anymore? Do you think that I'm just some dumb horny little girl that just wanted to get some? Am I not attractive enough for you? Do I revolt you somehow?"

"Whistler, I-"

"Abby! My name is Abby! What the hell is with that too? Why don't you call me Abby? Or god, even Abigail? You're not going to dodge the question this time!"

He blinked up at her. "Well, if you must know, which I figured you already knew… I have had a raging hard-on for you, Whistler-" he held up a hand as she opened her mouth to berate him again, moving himself around so he was sitting upright against the bed "-hold on. And it's easier to keep you at a distance if I call you Whistler. At least it started out that way. Now, it's just as bad. It's like a pet name that I have for you. Whistler's this kick-ass, beautiful, dangerous, sexy creature that tears into vamps. And that's hot. That's really fucking hot to me. So, that's one side of you. The other side, rare that it is, is Abby or Abigail, the girl who takes care of people, plays with Zoe, reads classics. And she's graceful and delicate and so damn beautiful that I can't even talk around her. I'm just a meathead that is lewd and makes stupid comments and can't keep his head straight when you're around. And the reason why I didn't try anything tonight was because I didn't want it to be this way. I didn't want it to be a drunken sex thing that we write off as nothing or as just something that we do when we're drunk, horny and feeling alone. I wanted it to mean something. And I didn't think it would if we were trashed. And I also think that you would have denied the whole thing tomorrow or write it off as a stupid drunken mistake because you don't want anyone near you."

"I would not!" she denied vehemently.

King gave her a knowing look. "You can't keep yourself caged, Abby. You have to let go sometimes and let someone help you. Otherwise you'll go crazy and fuck a dog or something." He grinned.

She kicked his foot lightly then slid down to sit next to him. "I would never fuck a dog."

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Of course not, dear Abby."

They were quiet for a few minutes then, "How about a goat?"

"King!"

"Sorry."

She looked over at him. "So, now what?"

He looked back at her. "We go to bed."

"I thought you said-"

"Sleep, Whistler, I need sleep." He stripped down to his boxers and climbed onto bed. "You can stay or you can go back to bed…"

She climbed up beside him.

"That's my girl…" He slid an arm around her and pulled her close.

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Well, what do you think? I know, I know, not super Abby/King romance but they're budding… :) More to come later…