Seriously, what the hell am I going to do when this story is completed? I mean, besides the obvious work, summer term, work, fall term, work...you get the picture. But still, what with no ideas to formulate, no chapters to write, no reviews to sign on at three in the morning to read, I'm not going to know what to do with myself! Sigh, I guess I will have to write another fic, but my brain is dry at the moment. I received a couple of reviews saying that chapter eight confused people, but I don't know how else to explain myself. The guy is a creep, and Ellie is ashamed that she kept letting him watch her. Good enough? Yeah, I didn't think so. Maybe one day I will get smart and re-write that part...but that day isn't anytime in the near future.
Disclaimer: Someone else's
Another Chapter, another chance to review...
I would have to guess that Heather's reasons for being hereare not the same as my own.
" You...you know each other?" He stuttered, (God, the unshakable sleezeball fucking stuttered!) clearing his throat soundly while those nasty little beady eyes of his darted fretfully from Heather to Craig to me, before settling back on the face of his young mistress.
Holy fucking nose-job batman, Heather Sinclair... oh geez...
If there was ever a time I wished I had Paige Michaelchuck on speed-dial...
Then I felt a small wave lap lazily at my exposed stomach as a slow movement before me caused the water to ripple. And I had to stop myself from gasping a little, because there was Craig, now barely a breath away, looking back over his shoulder at me with a devious glint in his eyes. Upon catching my gaze, a small smirk broke out over his lips, (gorgeous lips might I add, just how I had I never noticed this before?) and with the smallest nudge of his chin he motioned over in the direction of the happy couple. But they weren't really happy, I was just being sarcastic. I figure I had better straighten that out, since you can't really see what's going on and you might take that last statement to be the truth. Or maybe I've underestimated you, and you know me well enough by now to tell when I am being sarcastic (since it is pretty much always), and you are really starting to get pissed at me for rambling on and on when all you want me to do is get to the point about what the hell is going on here, but BACK THE FUCK OFF because Craig's mouth isn't right in front of you and his fucking gorgeous lips aren't mesmerizing you, and your own reaction isn't scaring you to death and-
The movement of Craig's chin is decidedly more pronounced now, more of a jerk than a nudge, and it is with great difficulty thatI manage to tear my eyes away from those lips and look in the direction towards which he has been motioning for several moments now.
Desperately to convey his wish that she return to the house, Mr. Nasty McPerv was making odd little strangled voices in the back of his throat while the skin stretched taut across his bulging left eyeball convulsed with a nervous tick. Miss Sinclair, however, did not seem entirely keen on following through with his plan. Staring past him, she had crossed her bare arms haughtily over her almost naked chest and was proceeding to stare me down in what I'm sure she thought was an intimidating fashion. Her squint narrowed down to dark slits almost indistinguishable against her fake bake face once I cracked a wide grin after my Craig-induced daze had worn off, a reaction that only made my smile grow even bigger. And that in turn only made her squint even smaller. Now this sort of vicious cycle I like. I don't expect much from Heather Sinclair, but come on, jealously over this old married guy? Finally, I found my voice and decided it was high time for a little fun.
"Oh, yeah! We know Heather from school...you know, HIGH school. Surely you can remember it from way back when, it's the place where us MINORS get our education."
Heather's glare was positively venomous now, and though I'm sure Mr. Nasty had not previously assumed us to all be of age, actually hearing me declare our status seemed to suck any voice he might have left from his lungs. Silly little pedophile.
We must have made quite the group, the four of us. Heather wrapped scantily in a sheet and looking ready, willing and eager to rip my throat out, her sugar-daddy trying not-so-discretely to distance himself from her while sweating and twitching profusely, Craig's (heavenly) shoulders heaving slightly with barely suppressed fits of laughter, and me smiling foolishly and stealing peeks at the boy in front of me whenever I could. Silence once filled the nighttime air, and while I'm sure the tense quiet was horribly unnerving for the other pair, it only made the situation that much more amusing for Craig and I.
Oh wow, tonight is...wow.
"So," Craig began, lifting his hands out of the water and mock dusting them off with an air of business-like solemnity, "if I'm not mistaken, I believe we have an understanding?"
Of course, such an understand hadn't been verbalized at all, barely a word had even been spoken since Heather's arrival, but I understood exactly what Craig was implying and I knew they did as well. If they would keep their mouths shut, so would we, simple as that.
I held up a single finger to my lips as they curved upward with a vindictive sneer. Though his eye continued to twitch, Mr. Nasty's body went limp with relief. Heather's narrowed eyes were still smoldering, but I knew she would keep her silence in order to make him happy. He issued us a curt nod, and without a word placed a hand on her back to usher her back inside. As they were walking away Heather threw me a triumphant smirk over her shoulder, though how she thought she had triumphed over me I have no idea. But really, who understands Heather Sinclair anyway?
Still, despite my sudden burst of confidence, I couldn't hold in the deep sigh of relief that I breathed once they were out of sight. Now once again alone with Craig, the issue of explaining my situation to him was pushed to the forefront. What a way to spoil my good mood. Avoidance sounded like as good a plan as any, so I tried to make my way towards the steps leading out of the pool, but soon I too felt a hand on my back. Mustering up a look of bored indifference, I turned to face him and found his own face creased and painted with an expression of disappointed somberness.
God, of all the emotions he could have thrown me, why did it have to be disappointment? Anger would have been okay, because I could have gotten angry back. Disgust would have been okay, because I am used to shrugging off other people's repulsion. Disappointment though, disappointment is so... so personal. Does that make sense? I know anger can be personal, and so can disgust, but you can be angry or disgusted with any old person who cuts you off on the highway. Disappointment is different. I inhaled sharply and opened my mouth.
"Craig, I don't really know.." but I trailed off when a strange little gasping sound escaped his lips.
Wait...was he...he couldn't be...but was he...laughing?
He was! Struggling valiantly to maintain his somber appearance but losing hopelessly, successions of quiet, choked chuckles were managing to escape his lips. His eyes had lost their graveness, and now were bright and twinkling withsaid laughter. The hand on my back pressed lightly onto my exposed skin as he pulled me over to him. Wrapping me tightly in an unquestionably platonic but still terribly exciting hug, he sputtered out a few words with his chin resting on the top of my head.
"Oh God Nash, I'm really going to have to keep my eye on you, aren't I?"
I smiled, not smirked or sneered or grinned sardonically, but really and truly smiled, and dared to let myself rest my cheekagainst the bare skin of his chest. Craig Manning was going to keep his eye on me.
And now, standing here with Ashley in my cap and gown and watching longingly as those eyes glanced my way once before returning to rest lovingly on another girl, I wish with everything in me that he had.
Oh well, we'll always have the moonlight.
What do y'all think about an epilogue?
