AN: Thank you for the follows and reviews and favorites!
Here's the next chapter. Let's see how they are after the kiss they shared :)
The moment I open my eyes the next morning, I am blinded by the sunlight streaming through the gap between the curtains and I scrunch my face before I hurriedly turn around, positioning my back to the morning sun. It takes me a couple of minutes to remember what has happened last night, but when I do, the pictures are clear and colorful. The feeling inside me is all-consuming. It's warm and fuzzy and in my imagination, I can still feel her lips against my own, taste her sweet kisses. Although she had asked me if I wanted to go to bed, we have stayed up a little over an hour longer, making out like teenagers with hands tangling in thick brown or blonde hair. None of us had dared to take it any further, neither of us moved past the stage of some innocent on top of our clothes touching. It was hard to fight my horny libido, but my brain won in the end, which – in my opinion – was the right decision to make.
Stretching my legs all the way down to my toes, I also raise my arms over my head, waking up even the last tired muscle in my body before I rub the remnants of sleep from my eyes. Deciding that if I am up before my alarm, I can just as well turn it off before it has the chance to blare through the air, I do exactly that and check the time. Not even 8:30 and usually, on a Sunday, I would shut my eyes tight, maybe put a pillow over my face to block out the light and pretend that I have a chance at falling back asleep. Today though, I know I it's not possible. Not with everything that has happened last night. So I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, the floor beneath my bare feet feels cold, but I stand up anyway and sleepily find my way into the living room after I put on a pair of shorts. One quick scan through the room and I conclude that Callie is probably still in her land of dreams. After all, we agreed on a lazy morning – an overall lazy day, actually – until I would have to leave for the airport. I cannot hold back the groan. Stupid airport. On Friday, I liked the airport and I didn't mind being on a plane either because it brought me here. Today, I disdain both, because it will take me away from here, away from her. If only I wouldn't have to be back in class tomorrow.
I saunter to the floor-to-ceiling sliding windows and stare through the glass at the open sea before I open one side and step onto the balcony. The house itself is truly beautiful; it looks old, but it is in really good shape and the interior design is a mix of what looks traditional and super expensive. But one of my favorite spots is definitely the balcony. When I open it, the scent of the sea and fresh air immediately fills my lungs and I just love it. The beach is so close. My eyes are set on the horizon, the thin line where blue meets blue and I can easily picture myself sitting in a similar spot – preferably this very spot though – writing page after page, book after book, maybe with a glass of wine on the small table next to me. Yeah, I can definitely see that.
With my forearms resting on the silver balustrade, I support my upper body as I let my eyes wander around, chuckling to myself. When I was traveling, whenever I came to a new place, it was the first thing I did; opening up the windows or doors to the balcony and take it all in. I guess I got a little side-tracked Friday night and yesterday, because this right here is the very first moment I actually take a look at the open water and the beach. I don't mind it though. The view this Miami Sunday morning presents me is astonishing, the sea looks so inviting and I just know I want to feel the sand below my feet at some point today. Maybe Calliope and I can take a walk along the shore? I would really like that.
I watch spellbound how the sun reflects in the water and think back to last night. I cannot remember the last time I have kissed another person that long without going any further or taking things to the bedroom. It is honestly amazing. Callie and I, we just click, in everything we talked about or did so far. It is like we share the same interests and can talk for hours, and apparently kissing for more than an hour isn't a problem either. I truly wish I wouldn't have to board a plane later. Or at least take the same plane as Callie. It's just another thing on the list of why I hate attending law school. Sighing, I close my eyes and let the sun shine on my face as I choose not to think about my classes, but instead relive every memory from last night.
Suddenly, I feel arms circling my waist and a warm body pressing against my back. "Good morning", she whispers right into my ear and kisses the shell. In that moment, I know that this is the sound I want to wake up to every day. "Did you sleep well, beautiful? Or is there a specific reason you're up so early when we agreed on sleeping in?" I feel her nuzzling my neck and it sends shivers down my spine. It's almost too much to bear so shortly after waking up. Almost.
"Mhmm, good morning.I slept amazing. With that mattress and those sheets, it feels like sleeping on a cloud", I answer and lean back into her embrace. Completely letting go of the railing, I put my arms and hands over hers, sighing at the skin on skin contact. God, I wish I could feel more of her skin. But I know that it's not a good idea to jump right into it, even though it is hard to resist the want I've had for so long. "Did you sleep well?"
"Like a rock", Callie giggles and pulls me impossibly closer. "And I had a really good dream right before I woke up." Soft lips start to trail kisses along the side of my neck and it gets even more difficult not to turn around and push her against the glass or the exterior wall and just take her. Or let her take me, whatever.
I just really want to feel her. And hear her moan like she did last night a few times when the kiss grew more heated than either of us could handle. "You did?", I ask, taking my mind away from the dirty place it was about to enter. The interest in what she dreamed isn't even faked, I just take advantage of the topic and let hope it distracts me enough from the fact that Callie is ravishing my neck with those full, soft, luscious lips.
"Mhmm", she hums, her lips moving upwards on my neck right to my ear. "You were in it. And we kissed. More passionate, more heatedly than last night." Did she have a wet dream about me, about us? "You were straddling my thighs and I had my hands on your hipbones, holding you close. There was no shirt blocking my way, though." I can hear the smirk in her voice, teasing me with her hot breath on my skin. Is she doing this on purpose? Does she know that she's turning me on? "You had your hands in my hair, playing with it as we kissed. But just as you started to move them down, hopefully to get rid of my shirt, I woke up."
I don't need a mirror to know that my cheeks are flushed, probably in a deep shade of pink. There's a sudden heat racing through my veins and my breathing is ragged. If she has dreams like that, it has to mean something. Right? We have not talked about it last night, too busy to kiss each other senseless, so my question is still unanswered. I really hope that changes before I leave. Turning around in her embrace, my eyes lock with deep brown orbs and momentarily, I forget everything. The world around me doesn't matter anymore. Even if we don't see each other ever again after today, it doesn't matter. I had last night, I have this moment and the memory of it will forever be embroidered in my brain.
"Arizona?" Her voice is just as quiet and laced with insecurity as it was last night when she said my name in the same way. But instead of saying something this time, I just stare at her. Last night, I made the move. I still don't understand where that abrupt surge of bravery came from, but I made the big move. And even though her reaction was anything but negative, I have this huge need for her to say something. "What happened last night...", she trails off and I am aware of the big lump that is about to form in my throat. It almost sounds as if she's trying to say that it was a mistake and I feel panic rise within me before I can thinkany rational thoughts, so I start to pull away. "Don't", she stops me. "I want it to happen again." And with that, she captures my lips with hers and I immediately relax at the touch. It's a slow kiss. Way more innocent than the ones we shared last night. But it's good, it is reassuring and comforting. It is nearly everything I need right now.
The second she breaks the kiss and pulls away, I open my eyes to see a beautiful, face-splitting smile on her face and right there and then, I know it is real. Yet, I still ask, "What is this? Between you and me?" The question is heavy-loaded, admittedly, despite the newness of all of it. Or maybe because of it. But I need to know what it means to her.
"I can openly confess that I like you. You have captivated my mind, Arizona, from the moment we met and even more so the more I get to know you. You're in my head, a constant thought that I don't want to shake off", she says, the honesty clear in her low voice. "And I want to see where this can go. But I also know that it is not easy to be with me and I am not talking about my often insane and beyond heavy work schedule. Even when I am away to shoot the next movie, I can make time and if we are in this together, I will make time for us. But more importantly, I am talking about what I do for a living and how this can affect my privacy." She pauses for a moment and then continues, "I have always made sure that my private life remains exactly that, private. But if we decide to explore these feelings, together, and if people see us together, it could be all over the tabloids and in the media before we know it. So if you don't want that, if you want to keep your life as private as you can, which I would understand, then you need to tell me that and-"
"I want you", I blurt out, definitely talking before I let her words even sink in. But it's true. I respect her being straightforward with me and I understand why she does it. She's trying to protect both of us. But honestly, I don't see a change of heart on my part. Not when it's about Callie and the possibility of being with her. "I don't care about the media. I have nothing to hide either. But what I care about is you, and I care about being with you", I say and give her a lopsided smile before I briefly kiss her lips. "We may not know now where this will take us, but I don't want to wake up in fifty years and wonder what if."
"Me neither", she replies, exhaling a long breath, obviously relieved that I see things this way. "So I guess I have one last question before I prepare breakfast." The smile on her face is radiantly, mind bogglingly brilliant. Her eyes are shining with happiness, glistening in the sun shining behind us as her hair flies in the soft breeze that comes from the nearby shore. It takes my breath away. "Would you be my date for my birthday next week? It's just a small party arranged by my best friend and we could have dinner before, if you'd be up for that?"
My smile mirrors hers and I beam, "I'd love to be your date."
Even before I enter my parents' house, I know that, judging from the light that shines through the windows of the living room, at least one of them is still awake – and by one of them I mean that it is most likely my father. He probably waited for me to give me a lecture and frankly, it is not a thing I want to deal with right now. I rather bask in the memory of the weekend I just spent in Miami and the revelation of Callie liking me and wanting to see where these feelings might take us. We still have to keep things low key, but she told me that I wouldn't have to keep it a secret from Teddy and Anna any longer if I trust them enough not to say anything. That is a relief.
"Arizona, come into the living room, please", my father's stern voice sounds from the same direction the second I open the front door and it immediately makes me freeze like it did when I was a kid, as if I still am a kid. I lean my luggage against the left wall, right next to the sideboard near the door – and think for a split second to just turn around and run away – and quietly follow my father's order. "Don't you think it is a little late for a Sunday night to come home when you have classes tomorrow?", he asks, raising his right eyebrow at me. "Your mother told me you've been in Miami. What was in Miami?"
The question is who was in Miami. But I would never dare to say this to my father right now. Not when his face is as unreadable as it is this moment, so I remain silent and keep my head down, focusing on the carpet underneath my feet instead. The pattern is really interesting.
"I don't like that you spend every weekend away from home and don't study as much as you should be." He takes a sip of the bourbon and places the glass back on the table next to the arm of the couch. "Law school should be the only thing important to you right now. And being gone the whole weekend will throw you back on the work you have to do. I didn't agree with the weekend you spent in LA, and if I would have been home this week, I would not have allowed you to go to Miami. Don't make a habit out of it, are we clear?"
We're actually not clear. Of course my dad would be more concerned about my studies than about me being happy. And it's been two weekends. Not every weekend. Leave it to my dad to stretch the facts. "What if I do, dad?", I ask provocatively. "What if I choose to go away every weekend, or every other weekend? What if I find something that makes me happy, that makes it easier for me to attend law school, which in return would make you happy?" There's a war of blue eyes glaring at each other going on right in the middle of our living room and I actually feel like I have the upper hand tonight. He can't be mad if I keep getting good grades. He can't force me to spend my life in front of my desk studying, especially not when remembering laws and cases and whatever else there is has never been a problem for me. "My grades are perfect, dad. I got a 98 in three out of nine classes, a 95 in most of the rest, the worst I got was a 91 and even in that class I am on top of everyone else."
"Your mother and I still don't like it", he says, his face still stern but the hard stare is softening a bit. "We just want you to be successful and happy and-"
"But law school doesn't make me happy, dad. I'm still going to my classes for you. I am studying so hard for you, so you don't feel like you did something wrong raising me and I don't get the feeling that you think of me as a failure, dad. I don't want to become a lawyer. I don't want to study law. I want to be a writer, but you simply keep neglecting this fact. You have no idea what I can do with words, how many things I can express if you give me the chance to do so. You don't understand because you never took the time to actually read my work. Because if you did, you would see that I am good at what I do, what I enjoy doing. It may take some time and I am sure that I can still learn a lot about writing, but-" I feel tears welling up and try to blink them away. All this pent-up frustration is finally too much and the dam breaks. "I found something that makes me happy", I say, my voice almost cracking. I also found someone who makes me happy, but I won't tell him that right now. It's not the right time, nor the right place, nor do I know how it will turn out to be. "Let me be happy and go away for the weekends and I promise to do great in law school for you." I am close to pleading right now because as much as I want to go back to Los Angeles next weekend and be Callie's date – which still sounds like a dream to me, I cannot do that if I have to go against my father's words. That's not how he raised us to behave.
The silence between us is so thick, you need a knife to cut it and at first I fear that I have said too much, that my father is either going to kick me out or lock me up in my room. But then he rises from his spot on the couch and walks up to me, engulfing me in a warm hug before he says, "I only want what's best for you. You need a real goal, a real perspective and writing won't get you anywhere." I sigh in defeat. So not what I have expected after my outburst, but that's just who he is, I suppose. "But if you promise me that law school with all its homework and projects always comes first, I am okay with you going away for the weekends."
"I promise, dad", I answer, my voice barely above a whisper as I hug him back. I know he means well. And maybe, at some point, when I have the courage to hand in my scripts, he will see that my writing will get me somewhere.
So, this is good news, right? Now Arizona and I need to think about a birthday present for Callie and then the story continues. But what will happen when Arizona meets Callie's friends?