Dream A Little Dream Of Me, Sweetheart

Chapter Two, Part One: Toby's POV

There she is, doing what she does best. Brooding, lost in her thoughts. She and Emma sit across from each other, occasionally staring at each other with lost looks. They're only barely seeing each other, though, and I know what--well, who--they're actually seeing. I feel the stitches in my heart rip again. J.T. Emma had been almost as good a friend to him as I had, but I know(now, damned hindsight!)that Liberty and I had more in common than either of us had known. Far from silly, nerdy, annoying schoolgirl crush, Liberty's feelings for J.T. had blossomed into something far more adult, far more profound. Even I could see it. And though I know J.T. loved her too, as much as he could, he had far too much growing up to do in order to be her equal. The mismatched pair were ok before Lib got pregnant, but after? Liberty turned even more into herself, taking on both parental roles so he wouldn't have to. Even preparing to put the baby up for adoption until J.T. had pursuaded her that they could make it as a family. Was everyone's head stuck in a book during the whole Craig/Manny crash and burn. Guess not, because Part Two played out between my two best friends. And J.T. truly needed to step up to the plate. And he didn't, not really. Getting the drugs. The trouble over the drugs and Liberty's reaction when she found out, the breakup, the fallout and the overdose. Libery's final leaving J.T. and giving up her baby. I'd never seen Lib so--I don't know. She was almost ignorant of the baby the first six month, almost clinical the last three. I can't ever remember seeing either of them rubbing her stomach or talking to it. Playing music for it. Unless she deigned to eat with us in the Caf, she spent lunchtime alone. J.T. would notice, give her a few annoying pet names then announce she wasn't with us, like I couldn't tell that. That's when I truly started to know I had feelings for Liberty, the annoying pest of a girl tripping after J.T. and me with her public causes and her annoying love for a guy who didn't want her back, and, sometimes, the downright blackmail she used to get J.T. to go to the school dance. I start to frown at her when I remember the time J.T. locked himself in the locker to avoid Liberty. The times he wouldn't take a shower after gym so he could get in the hall and to his classes faster so she wouldn't see. And let's not forget the time he decided us being gay would turn Lib off. Youda thunk, right? Oh no, not miss fix-it-up! I think she learned from Emma, damn do gooders! Lib had chased us around the school all day, J.T. wrapped around me in a manner that was going to make me clock him if he didn't move, fluttering and cooing at Liberty "Hey Girlfriend!! What's up??" while grabbing my hand. I could've killed him for that. And for the look of hurt that crossed Lib's face every time J.T. baited her. The heart wants what it wants. And hers wanted him. And now mine wants hers. sigh.

I do understand the situation, I do. I was wrapped up in J.T. in my own way. The nerdy Jewish boy with big glasses and no interests outside of art, anime, and computers. Many a time I wrapped myself up in J.T. and lived through him, saw the world through his eyes, even as I protested and tried to be the voice of reason. I remember the puzzled relief I'd felt when they finally got together. There was hope for my friend, after all! Then to notice the change--J.T. acting more like a whipped lap dog trotting along after its Master. And Master was never pleased. Everywhere they went, JT would try to joke Lib's way out of her bad mood, and Liberty would snarl at him for something. Then to find out she was pregnant--wasn't Lib too smart for that? You'd think she'd have all sorts of charts and graphs and birth control samples before he could even think of touching her--because her blind love for him let JT pick out the condom that fit his ego, if not his...ewww, that's where that line of thinking stops.

Instead of continuing to muse, I lay back against the step I'm sitting on, watching the girls. Emma's picking at her cuticles. Some girl I'd run into when RIck and I had made that stupid bet was sitting on the other side of Liberty, making cooing noises and patting her arm, whispering to her encouraging whenever my eyes swung their way. Looking up at me with soulful brown eyes and smiling softly. Is this chick flirting with me?!? At a time like this??? Well damn. Liberty gets tired of it quickly, though, and starts to the door. She stops when she notices the sheets of water cascading still down the windows, then spins and heads to the stairs where I'm sitting. She scowls at me as I scoot over--please smile for me, Liberty, I so love your smile--then practically steps over me and races up the stairs. The others look up at her, but muster no enthusiasm to go after her. Or maybe they just think she's using the bathroom. Whatever. I rise, though I know mine's the last face she wans to see, and trot up the stairs. I hear a few gasps and my sister call out weakly "Toby no! Leave her alone, she needs time." Time? How much time have we had? How much more do we need to finish turning into zombies for a friend who's no longer with us? JT wouldn't have wanted this. He'd have wanted laughter and smiles, jokes and playing silly. I smile, remembering, as I push open Ashley's door. Empty. Mom and Dad's room is still locked, a precaution they took after Ashley's last party in grade 9. A few knocks, then a cautious peek into the bathroom verifies it empty as well. So that means...

I creak open my door to see Liberty sitting on my bed, sobbing bitterly. Her hands are over her face and she's rocking back and forth. She's saying things too. Rock forward, "I miss you"...rock back, "Damn you, why'd you leave me?" I just stare at her, wanting so much to stroke her pretty light brown hair. Look into her now puffy green eyes and tell her everything's going to be ok, even if it's not. But most of all, I want to hold her in my arms and kiss her again, like the kiss when she was in the car after the memorial. Her lips had felt so very, very soft, buttery soft, in fact. I don't want to start quoting those awful women's romances, but there you had it. Buter soft, and silky soft when I let my fingers trail over her arm. She's so beautiful, then and now. And I don't know what to do. Finally the tears stop and I reach into my pocked for a handkerchief. Dad says a man always caries one. I offer it to her and she jumps in suprise, staring at the handkerchief suspiciously.

"What do you want? What are you doing here? She asks wiping her face with the sleeve of her shirt. Yup, eyes swollen. Nose swollen, mouth puffy, sunken in eyes and cheeks. She hasn't been eating or sleeping properly, I note, just as I've noticed many things about her lately.

"I want you to use this handkerchief, and this is my room, after all," I tease gently, but it's obvious humor's not on the plate tonight. She's still staring at my handkerchief like it's going to bite her, so I sigh and sit on the bed next to her, too close for comfort. She yelps under her breath but makes no effort to move more than an inch or two away from me. She tips her face up to regard me the exact moment I cup her face gently and make her face me. With my free hand I wipe away the tears that have collected in her eyes and on her cheeks. So beautiful...her smooth brown skin, the yellow lamp on my desk bathes her with its weak light, suddenly casting her in gold. A living statue to be loved and cherished. The greatest of all living prizes, this girl. Except she's not a girl anymore, is she. She moved from her parent's house, carried a baby to term, then reluctantly gave her child up, then buried the only man she's ever loved. If she hasn't sprinted past the winning ribbon of Womanhood, I don't know what else it takes. Her eyes widen, and I think she's about to protest. Fine, as long as she doesn't move. I slip aside a bit of the crochet green, light summer shirt she's wearing, slide aside her bra strap--all this just enough to bare her lovely, rounded shoulder. I press a soft, tiny kiss there. She moans slightly, so, encouraged, I feather kisses over her neck, up to her ear. More soft sighs. She shudders when I reach her ear, whispering hotly how very beautiful she is. Suddenly she lets out a loud sob, turning to face me, closing in and throwing her arms around my neck, then sliding them down my back. I shiver as I grab her hips to pull her closer, loving the swells under my hands. She really should wear clothes that suit her body more often. She's lifted those full, lush lips to mine now and I'm compelled to meet her halfway, my hands cradling her face. How could JT have been so happy with Mia when he had all this intelligence, warmth, and beauty right here for the taking. Oh wait, he didn't. He still wanted oatmeal. A small flash of anger as I remember that word. This girl in my arms is defintely bacon and eggs, and waffles with big, plump strawberries topping it with whipped cream. She's that much-anticipated cup of cocoa with the big marshmallow that Mom gives you in the big mug after you've shovelled the snow from half the neighborhood's blocks and sidewalks. And now, she was the fire in the grate when you've been too lazy to just put wood in there, but soaked it with kerosene. This was getting out of control, but I couldn--didn't want it to stop. She was groaning into my mouth as she devoured it, and I was matching it, kiss for kiss, devourment for devourment. Her nails were lightly clawing at my back and I was only moderately glad that I was still wearing my shirt. It would've been nice for those nails to score my back, I suppose, never having had that done to me before. Or much of anything else.

She's writhing against me and I start to feel my body change. I want this girl, have wanted her for quite some time. It feels more than natural when I push her softly away, only to grab the hem of her shirt and yank it over her head. She gasps, eyes widening, but makes no move to stop me. We look at each other for a heated moment, a moment full of meaning, then she rushes me, unbuttoning my shirt as fast as she can, I grabbing for the buttons she's missed. We're kissing again as she peels the shirt from my body and we drop the shirts to the floor. So much skin, and all mine! I start to peel her bra off but am confounded by the contraption. She laughs low--who knew her laugh could be so sexy?--and reached around to unclasp the garment, which she threw next to the shirts. I shouldn't stare, but she's so damn beautiful. I reach out a questing hand to touch her, each touch bringing a sigh of longing from her. Finally, she catches my hand, looking deeply into my eyes.

"I don't want this to be a rebound, Toby," she says gently. I agree, but for some reason I get the feeling we're not talking about the same things. I draw her close anyway and she comes to me, despite her words. This next kiss was more than gentle, exploratory, tasting and testing. I needed her and gods be praised! she needed me too. Those nails of hers gently trailed along my shoulders and down my back and I shivered, sighing into her warm mouth. She tasted and smelled so sweet. This was wonderful! Then it happened. Our kisses, up to now, had been soft and innocent. But the moment I felt the soft hint of her tounge, gently, testingly probing my bottom lip, I lost it. I grabbed two handfuls of her hair and deepened the kiss the best way I knew how. Must've worked because Liberty did the same to me. All the hurt and anger came out in that moment for us both, all teeth and tongue and questing hands. We had a time out of time and we were going to make the most of it. She pulled my hair; bit my lip. Hard. I bit and sucked at wonderful area between her neck and shoulder. She was on top of me, all movement as she writhed on top of me, hands everywhere. She was driving me insane. So I flipped her back, straddling her for a moment as she gave me a scorching kiss I'll always remember. I was ready. And it looked like she was, too. Unthinkingly, I slipped a hand down the front of her jeans to explore. Oh yeah, she was definately more than ready for me. That is, until I reached for the button of her jeans. She freaked, slapping my hand away, eyes wide with fear as she curled into a ball and cried, wailing JT's name. I stared at her a moment, perplexed, then I understood and started crying, myself. JT. How could we betray our love, our friend, like that? And so soon? What sort of friend was I, trying to get the woman of my dead best friend into my bed? Friend? Hell, what kind of man was I?

"Liberty," I said, reaching out to comfort her. She merely shrunk from my touch and burrowed deeper, covering her eyes as she repeated his name over and over. "Liberty," I tried again. "We have to talk about this! It's not going to go away..." I trailed off as she stubbornly clung to her position. "It's not going to go away," I repeated. "We have something for each other, and if we don't deal with this rationally, it's going to spin out of control. Think, Liberty, you're the smart one. Where do you think this is going to go if we pretend it doesn't exist?"

Liberty was watching me now. Slowly she stood up, nodding, and walked over to me, head lowered. When she reached me, she put a hand on my shoulder, say in a low, wounded voice, "Toby, I don't know what this is between us. I do know it needs time we don't have right now. I'm just...I'm just not ready to let go of JT yet. I was his oatmeal, remember?" We both laugh at that and she pulls me closer. "I do want to thank you though, Toby, through all of this you've been an awesome friend." And, with that, she slipped her arms around me. No passion in this hug, just simple comfort, simple friendship. I cradled her head in my hands and gently guided her to my shoulder, and we stood like this for many minutes. That is, until we heard a voice in the hallway.

"We'll talk in here, it's probably emp..."We look up, still locked together as a pair of blue and a pair of brown eyes stare at us, widening in shock. Liberty and I freeze, to shocked to even think to move, though the warmth of her body still seeps into my body and take a chance on enjoying it despite the situation. The girls' faces change: Emma's to puzzled anger, and Mia's to anger and disgust. Her lips curl back and a soft "Humph" slips from her lips. That shocks me from the lethargy holding Liberty and me together, and we turn our heads toward each other. Two words:

"Oh damn."