A/n: Sorry for taking so long! I just started a new job and I've been having bad anxiety-and I cannot write when my nerves are bad. So, this chapter is pretty much just a filler, cute chapter. Mostly. You know I had to put a little bit of angst, otherwise it wouldn't be me haha You get to learn Beatrice's favorite book in the chapter, which is also my favorite book haha Anyway, I've noticed not as many people are reviewing as much as you guys did in the beginning chapters, so if you're reading please review! It truly makes me so happy to get reviews, you have no idea! I hope you like this chapter, enjoy!
Chapter Nine
Beatrice stared at herself in her bathroom's mirror, ruby eyes staring straight back. Did I put on too much makeup, did I not put enough on? She had never been very good with makeup. She hardly owned any. In the end she decided that mascara and subtle pink lipstick that nearly matched the color of her lips would do. She still wasn't sure if it was enough, or too much, or if Mistel would even like it. But she thought it might build up some self confidence, which she desperately needed at the moment.
She thought she would have been happy on her birthday, that she would skip around town and greet everyone with a sincere smile on her face. Instead she had a knot in her stomach all day; so anxious about her dinner with Mistel that she had to try with all her might not to quiver as she went around town.
She had to force a smile as she greeted each villager, who all wished her a happy birthday; most of them giving her a gift. Even Melanie and Lutz had a gift to give her. She was a tad bit surprised when Fritz gave her a gift after all that she put him through, which only confirmed what she already knew—that he had a kind heart and was a good friend.
She avoided Mistel all day. She made sure not to go into the western part of town until she knew his morning stroll was over, for fear she would come across him and end up having to run in the opposite direction; which she knew would confuse him and possibly even upset him. She was relieved to see Iris strolling around town so she wouldn't have to go into the shop to greet her. She was just too nervous to see Mistel. Even now her hands trembled as she continued to stare at herself.
Klaus had gifted her with some sort of romance perfume—which confused her—and she had dabbed some on her wrists and her neck. She had noticed that Klaus still didn't look very well, but at least he had shaved and looked like he was sleeping and eating more.
She had tried on at least five different outfits before choosing a blue long sleeved dress with a scoop neck that flared out at her waist and came down to her knees. She hoped the dress wasn't too revealing. After her passionate kiss with Mistel she didn't want him to get the wrong idea; that she was ready to be more intimate with him. After all, they had only been dating for hardly a week.
She knew she was overreacting a bit, but she couldn't get Mistel's words out of her head—that nothing bad can come of tidying oneself up. So she did. She brushed out her chocolate-colored hair for the hundredth time as she stared at her reflection; her large, innocent eyes appearing even larger by the mascara, wondering, Am I dolled up enough?
She put her brush down and looked to her chest. Her cleavage was very visible and the tops of her breasts looked like they may pop out of the dress if she moved the wrong way. Am I too dolled up? She gained a little weight since moving to town, which made her curves larger and more prominent. She didn't look like this the last time she wore the dress, but that was before she moved to town.
She thought she might lose weight from all the hard work she had to do, but she hadn't anticipated the restaurant and the extra cash. She found herself having much more to eat in town than she ever did back home. Everyday except Sunday—in which her family would have a big dinner—her siblings and her had to scavenge the house themselves for food. Sometimes she only ate once a day. There were too many people in the house and not nearly enough food.
Beatrice jumped when she heard a knock on the door, followed by, "Salutations, Beatrice. Do you have a moment?" It was undoubtedly Mistel. Not only because she knew his voice almost as well as she knew her own, but because who else would say salutations?
"One second, please!" she called. She gripped the sink's edges so tight her knuckles turned white as she took deep breaths to try to calm herself. After a moment she gave herself one last look in the mirror, squared her shoulders and held her head up high, then headed for the door.
When she opened the door she was greeted by Mistel's beaming face, a basket in his one hand. His smile quickly vanished once he saw her. He looked her up and down, his eyes lingering on her cleavage for longer than they should have—which caused her to feel heat quickly rise from her neck and into her face—then he stared at her face and blinked a few times.
"As you know, I told you I'd throw a celebration for your birthday and make a special dinner for us," Mistel said calmly, his violet eyes glued to hers.
Beatrice slowly nodded her head. "Please, come in. It's freezing out there," she said in discern, opening the door wider and gesturing with her hand for him to enter.
Mistel strolled in and placed the basket on her dining table. He turned around and blinked at her a few more times. After a prolonged gaze he smiled brightly and said, "Beatrice, my dear, have you any idea how stunning you look tonight?"
"I thought I would get dressed up for my birthday dinner," she said bashfully. "Is it too much?"
"You look perfect!" Mistel giggled loudly, and the sound made her smile.
"Thank you," Beatrice said softly, looking to the ground for a moment as she felt her cheeks heat even more. She skipped to her dining table and took one of Mistel's hands. She smiled crookedly and said, "You look handsome tonight, as always."
"My love, you're trembling!" Mistel emoted, squeezing her hand. "Are you cold?"
"Oh, no, not at all," she assured him with a faint smile. "Just nervous, is all."
"There's no need to be nervous, we're just simply having dinner!" Mistel laughed. "Come, let's eat before it goes cold."
Beatrice let go of his hand and exhaled deeply. He was right. There was no reason for her to be nervous, they were just having dinner together. She wished she would have seen him earlier so she wouldn't of had the knot in her stomach all day, which she realized had vanished as soon as she saw him.
She turned around to see that Mistel had pulled her chair out for her. He gestured with his hand for her to sit. She obliged and giggled as he pushed in her chair. As he walked over to his own she said teasingly, "How gentlemanly of you."
"I may tease, but that doesn't mean I can't be a gentleman," Mistel said with a smirk as he sat down.
Beatrice watched as he pulled food after food out of the basket; far too much for them to be able to eat. Her eyes lit up when she saw the carrot cake. She noticed a blue and purple wrapped present at the bottom of the basket and wondered, "What's that?"
"It's for you, but you don't get it until after dinner," Mistel said frankly, then placed the basket on the floor.
Beatrice looked at each food item in turn, her eyes widening a little more at each one. She felt a huge grin spread across her face when her eyes reached the teacup in front of her. "Is this what I think it is?" she asked excitedly.
"If you think it's English Breakfast tea, then yes. It is what you think it is," Mistel said in a teasing tone, beaming at her.
"And the food! It's all my favorites! Well, except for the penne all'arrabbiata—that's your favorite," Beatrice said, grinning.
"You did say you liked any kind of pasta dish, and this is a pasta dish."
"Well, I can't argue with that logic," Beatrice said. "Now let's eat!"
She put a small amount of everything on her plate and began to scarf down the food in front of her. She was starving; she was too nervous to eat all day. She looked up to see Mistel had done the same, but was just picking at everything and really only eating the penne all'arrabbiata. His eyes met hers for a second, and she looked down at her plate, her cheeks turning scarlet. She realized she was acting like a pig and started to eat more slowly.
Beatrice looked up to see Mistel was done eating and was staring at her. She could have sworn she saw him looking at her cleavage, but before she could catch him ogling her his violet eyes met hers. She felt her cheeks heat slightly. His lips twitched into a lopsided smile and he giggled, "I'm glad you're enjoying this! Is the flavor to your liking?"
"Oh yes, for sure!" Beatrice emoted, waving her fork around, "Thank you, darling, it's delicious!"
"You're very welcome. I'm just happy to see you enjoying yourself so much!" Mistel's smile widened.
Beatrice gave a shy smile before returning to her plate, which was almost empty. After a couple more bites she pushed her plate to the side with Mistel's.
Mistel delicately pushed the cake into the middle of the table and asked, "Would you like to sing Happy Birthday?"
"Please no!" Beatrice nearly begged. "I don't care much for that song. I've heard it seven times a year for nineteen years and quite frankly I'm sick of it."
"All right, no Happy Birthday," Mistel laughed loudly. "At least allow me to cut the cake."
"How can I deny you that?" she said teasingly, feeling her lips curl into a smirk.
Mistel shook his head in amusement and placed a clean plate in front of her. She was waiting for him to place a plate in front of himself but he didn't. "Aren't you going to try a slice?" she wondered, cocking her head to the side slightly.
"I said I'd try it, not that I would eat a whole slice," Mistel said simply as he cut into the cake, "I detest carrots. They are my least favorite things in the world. Any way you cook them, I'll still hate them. They're disgusting."
Okay, mental note: Mistel hates carrots more than anything. "Okay, fine, but at least try a bite. Like I said, it doesn't really taste like carrots at all. More like spice cake. It just adds flavor."
Mistel absentmindedly nodded his head and put a slice on her plate. Beatrice eagerly sliced a sliver from the piece with her fork and plopped it in her mouth. It was delicious, and she hummed in satisfaction as she chewed it.
"You must try some; it's so good!" she insisted.
Mistel groaned and said, "Fine, but I have my handkerchief ready to spit it out if I don't like it."
She giggled softly as she sliced another piece with her fork. She leaned over the table and waved the fork in front of his face, saying, "Come on, open up!"
Mistel rolled his eyes but obliged. She carefully placed the fork in his mouth then removed it. She watched him chew the cake, half expecting him to gag or spit it out like he said he would. Instead he looked like he was contemplating the flavor, and she was a little surprised when he swallowed it.
"Well, it wasn't nearly as bad as I expected it to be," Mistel stated, "but I will not be having a slice. I would rather watch you enjoy it, anyway."
"O-oh, okay," Beatrice stammered, then began to eat the rest of her slice.
"So, you had to listen to Happy Birthday seven times a year? Exactly how many siblings do you have?" Mistel wondered.
She swallowed then said, "Three brothers and two sisters. I'm the youngest, so they always fussed over me... Well, actually, they still make a pretty big fuss over me."
"And their names? Ages?"
"Annabelle is the oldest, she's twenty-nine and just got married. Then there's Demetrius, who will surely hate you because he hates all my boyfriends, and he's twenty-seven. After that there's my second sister Anita, and I'm positive she will love you; she's a very warm and friendly person. She just turned twenty-four. Then I have twin brothers, Jasper and Vlad, who are twenty-one. I have a feeling Jasper will be quite fond of you, he really enjoys books. Vlad mostly keeps to himself, I'm not sure how he'll take to you. My mother and father are very nice, so there's no need to worry about them. In fact, I actually already wrote a letter to them to tell them I'm dating you now."
"Ah, I see. That's quite a big family you have," Mistel said flatly, even a little remorsefully.
"I hope you will come meet them some day," Beatrice said.
"Of course, my dear. If you wish for me to meet your family then I will happily oblige," Mistel said with a faint smile.
Beatrice pushed her now empty plate to the side and Mistel said, "Allow me to do the cleanup."
"Oh no, that's hardly necessary! Just put the dishes in the sink and the leftovers in the fridge," she insisted. "Then I'll do the dishes later. That way I can return them to you tomorrow, therefore I have a reason to visit you." She smiled brightly.
"Visit me any time you'd like! You don't need a reason!" Mistel stated with a short laugh.
Beatrice felt her cheeks flare and nodded her head bashfully. She stared at the table and listened as Mistel stacked the dishes on top of each other and headed toward her kitchen, then did the same with the leftovers.
She stood when she heard his footsteps returning from her kitchen. She watched as he picked up the blue and purple wrapped present and held it firmly behind his back. He strolled over so he was standing in front of her and said, "There. Sorry to keep you waiting. The cleanup is complete!"
"Oh, no, not a problem at all. Thank you again for the meal, it was delicious," Beatrice said with a feigned smile. She was beginning to feel nervous again.
"I'm glad you liked it so much. That justifies every last bit of effort I put into making it," Mistel said, beaming.
Beatrice's cheeks turned a pink hue and she slowly nodded her head.
Mistel took his hands from behind his back and presented her with the wrapped present. He grinned and said, "Happy Birthday, my love! This is my present to you."
Beatrice gingerly took it from his hands. She said in a low tone, "How did you know blue and purple are my favorite colors?"
"That's a secret," Mistel said with a mischievous smirk, tapping his nose twice with his finger. He laughed, "Actually, you told me! My Beatrice is so forgetful! Now please, won't you open it!"
She carefully undid the wrapping and placed it on her dining table. Her eyes went wider than she thought possible when she saw the present: her favorite book, Wuthering Heights—which of course she already had—but it was the first edition.
"Darling! You shouldn't have! This must've cost you a fortune!" she emoted, looking to Mistel then to the book and back again.
"As I said before, money is of no object to me. I wanted to get you the perfect birthday present," Mistel said with a lopsided smile, his violet eyes dancing with pure happiness.
"Well, you succeeded! I still feel bad, though... I know this had to of cost a lot of money—"
Mistel cut her off, saying firmly, "I'll hear no more of this. If you wanted a ring that cost more than my house I would have bought it for you without a second thought. As long as you love it, then it was worth every cent."
Beatrice felt as if her cheeks were on fire. She said timidly, "I do love it, it's the best present I've ever received." She carefully placed the book down on her dining table.
Mistel took a step toward her so they were only inches apart. He beamed at her and said cheerfully, "Beatrice... I hope you know that your happiness is my happiness."
Beatrice held her tongue but felt like saying, Oh, no, you have it all wrong! Your happiness is my happiness!
Mistel continued with his bright smile still plastered on his face, "So for the coming year, I will do everything I can to make sure it's a wonderful, happy time for you!"
She watched as his whole face softened: his violet eyes warming, his cheeks turning pink, and a small, pleasant smile on his lips. She felt her heart skip a beat by the look and hoped that look was reserved for her and her only.
He said softly, "I love you, Beatrice. I hope you will stay by my side—and only mine—for a long, long time to come."
Mistel put his hand to her heated cheek and stared into her ruby eyes intensely, and she felt her cheeks heat even more as she stared straight back into his violet ones. She watched as he slowly closed his eyes and leaned in, giving her the most tender, sweetest kiss she'd ever had.
After a moment he pulled away. He hoarsely said, "Happy Birthday. Would you like for me to leave now?"
Beatrice smiled mischievously and said, "Actually, I was hoping you'd join me for a game of darts."
"I'd love nothing more than to play darts with you!" Mistel laughed loudly.
She took him by the hand and led him to the right side of her home where she had a dart board on her wall.
"Fancy a wager?" Mistel asked with a mischievous glint in his eye.
"Hmm...what kind of wager?" Beatrice asked cautiously, narrowing her eyes slightly.
"If I win, I'd like a kiss," Mistel said boldly, a mischievous smile spreading across his lips to match the mischievous glint in his eye.
Beatrice felt her cheeks heat slightly again and sputtered, "B-but we already kissed!"
"I'd like a better kiss," Mistel returned.
"Fine," she huffed. "You are never satisfied, are you?"
"I did warn you," Mistel said, giggling slightly.
"What do you have in your pockets?" Beatrice questioned suddenly, narrowing her eyes again.
"Only my handkerchief," Mistel replied with a nervous laugh.
"Let me see, empty them out," Beatrice said firmly, taking a step closer to him.
"I would rather not," Mistel said, his voice wavering.
"And why is that?" Beatrice questioned, crossing her arms under her chest and giving him a pointed look.
"I just would rather not, is all," Mistel attempted to say frankly, but she knew him too well. She could hear the nervous quiver in his voice; no matter how subtle it was, or how much he tried to hide it.
Instead of asking him again Beatrice lunged forward and stuck her hands in his pockets. One was empty and the other held his handkerchief like he said, but she could feel something wrapped inside it. She quickly removed it from his pocket and looked to his face to see that it had turned horror-stricken.
She undid the wrapped handkerchief to see what it was concealing: a condom. She felt her whole face turn red but before she could ask him why he had it Mistel quickly said, "I swear I had no intention of attempting to seduce you tonight! Iris insisted I take it. Goodness, please do not think of me that way. Iris is just very serious about protected sex. No matter how many times I insisted that it was not needed she wouldn't listen. She wouldn't let me leave without one. In fact, she wanted me to take three. I told her she was being absolutely absurd." Mistel sighed heavily, crossing his arms over his chest and looking away for a moment.
Beatrice felt her flush slowly fade and began to laugh hysterically. She handed the handkerchief back to a bemused looking Mistel but kept the condom in her hand. "I'm sure Iris had the best intentions in giving you this, but of course it's not needed... At least, not tonight." She had been working on her winking and gave him the best wink she could muster, which made him smile and laugh.
"What are you going to do with that?" Mistel wondered, cocking his head slightly to the side.
"I'm going to put it in my bedside drawer, where I believe most people keep them," Beatrice said saucily with a hand on her hip.
She strode over to the other side of her house and opened her beside drawer, unceremoniously tossing the condom in it. When she returned to Mistel he asked, "So, what would you like if you win?"
"Hmm... I think I'd like for you to sleepover," Beatrice said, smirking. When she saw that he had a confused look upon his face she said, "Don't worry, I'm not going to try to seduce you, either. I just like to sleep next to you. I sleep better. You're so warm, I'd like to wrap myself around you without feeling weird about it. The last two times I slept next to you I couldn't help but to feel slightly awkward, but now that we're dating I don't think it would be awkward in the least, do you?"
Mistel quickly shook his head. He said, "No, I don't believe it would be awkward at all. I suspect Iris is thinking that I'm sleeping over anyway. Sounds like a fair bet to me. Shall we play now?" He grinned.
"Sure, would you like to go first?" Beatrice asked, smiling sweetly.
"I think the birthday girl should go first," Mistel said in a teasing tone as he strolled over to the dart board to collect the three darts. When he returned to Beatrice he handed them to her and said with a small wink, "Good luck."
Beatrice held two of the darts in her left hand while she held the other in her right. She eyed the dart board carefully and slightly stuck her tongue out of her mouth. She held the dart between her thumb and pointer finger and swung it back and forth a couple of times before aiming and quickly throwing it.
She hit eighteen points and groaned. Not too bad, but not too great, either. She did the same with the second dart and hit sixty. She jumped up and down for a second, then looked to Mistel who had a huge smirk on his face; looking at her like she was the only person in the world, or at least the only person who mattered.
She felt her heart skip a beat, then beat so quickly she could hear it pounding in her ears. Her cheeks turned a pink hue and she aimed her last dart, then threw it hard. It landed on seven. She frowned and looked to Mistel, who was still smirking. "How many rounds are we playing?"
"How many would you like to play?" he asked as he retrieved the darts.
"Two, since you threw me off my game that round," Beatrice replied, still frowning.
"How so?" Mistel wondered when he returned to standing next to her.
"You were looking at me... I don't know, with such love? It messed me up," she grumbled.
"I'm sorry, my love, I'll try not to look at you next round," Mistel chucked. "It's just so very hard not to when you look so stunning!"
"Oh, just shut up and throw the darts!" she spat. She usually wasn't a sore loser, but she thought this was the only game she'd be able to beat him at.
Mistel held the two darts behind his back with his right hand and used his left to aim the other dart. Beatrice was slightly surprised. She had no idea he was left handed. She watched him intently as he threw the dart, which landed on fifty, a bullseye. He turned his head toward her and smiled so wide she feared he'd split his face in two. She stuck her tongue out at him and gave a small huff.
Mistel threw the second dart and landed a bullseye again, and then the same with the third. Beatrice gaped at him as he fetched the darts from the board again. "How are you so good?" she asked in astonishment.
"Years and years of practice, my dear," Mistel replied with a sweet smile. She scowled at his smile, which only made him laugh. "Your scowl is truly adorable!"
"Just give me the darts," she muttered, and grabbed them from his hand, "and don't look at me this time."
This time Beatrice scored one-hundred and sixty, only twenty points away from a perfect score. She gave Mistel a smug look and he said with a bright smile, "Congratulations, my love! That's a wonderful score!"
When it was Mistel's turn she stared at him the whole time, attempting to catch his eye and throw him off his game. She failed. He scored a perfect one-hundred and eighty.
Beatrice groaned loudly then scoffed. "Ugh! I thought I finally found a game I could beat you at!"
Mistel frowned and hugged her, tenderly kissing her forehead. He mumbled against it, "I'm sorry you lost, but I'm positive with more practice you'll surely beat me in no time."
He pulled away slightly but kept his arms around her waist, smiling at her frowning face. "So I suppose you would like your kiss now?" she said a little bitterly.
Mistel grabbed her hand, asking, "Would you care to join me on the sofa?"
She nodded her head and he led her over to her sofa. They sat and Mistel put an arm around her shoulder, and she leaned her head against his.
"I'm sorry...for acting like that," Beatrice sighed after a minute. "I didn't mean to be such a sore loser. I just really thought I could win this game."
"It's perfectly fine," Mistel said. "It is your birthday, I would be upset if I lost on my birthday... Well, unless you won. I love seeing how you light up when you win a game. Your smug smile, your joyful expression...I hate to lose, but for some reason when I lose against you it's better than winning. Just seeing how happy you are when you win is enough to make me feel like I have won, too."
"No, it's not fine. I never want to be known as a sore loser," Beatrice uttered. Her cheeks turned scarlet as she whispered, "And... I didn't know that. That's the sweetest thing I ever heard. Congratulations, darling. You did great." She leaned up slightly and kissed his cheek, then laid her head back on his shoulder.
They sat in comfortable silence for awhile, Beatrice relishing Mistel's warmth. She felt so content next to him, so peaceful. She jumped slightly when she felt his hand on her knee. She heard Mistel chuckle. He began to trace small circles on her knee with his fingertips, then went a little further down to her upper thigh. If he went any further she was going to grab his hand and scold him, but he didn't. She let out a small sigh of relief.
Mistel huskily mumbled near her ear, sending shivers down her spine, "I've never seen you with your hair down before. It's very beautiful."
Her breath hitched in her throat and she stammered, "T-thank you."
Mistel ran his fingers through her chocolate-colored locks then gently pushed her hair over the other side of her shoulder. She could hear his heart beat speeding up as he did so. He hoarsely asked, "May I kiss you now?"
Beatrice sat up straight and sputtered, "Uh, yes, sure, go ahead."
She turned her head to his but he gently grabbed her chin and tilted it up and to the opposite direction. Her heart started to beat rapidly in her chest as he continued to trace circles with his fingertips on her thigh. She gave a small gasp when she felt his lips on her neck. He slowly kissed his way up to her ear, his voice wavering as he softly asked, "Is this all right?"
"Yes," Beatrice breathed. "But I thought you were going to kiss me."
"This is technically a kiss," Mistel said teasingly, then gently blew in her ear, causing her to tremble to the very ends of her finger tips.
He gently bit on her earlobe, making her squirm, before going back to kissing her neck. She felt like her nerve endings were hypersensitive, as every tender kiss he planted on her neck felt electrifying.
Beatrice moaned softly and Mistel gently squeezed her thigh. He started to kiss her neck as if he was kissing her lips, and every once in awhile he would nip and suck on her throbbing pulse.
Beatrice began to feel feverish, and her heart was beating so quickly she feared it might jump right from her chest. She couldn't take it any longer. She needed to feel his lips on hers. She pulled away and put her hands on either sides of Mistel's face. She noticed that his breathing was ragged and that his violet eyes were darker than usual, full of lust but glistening in love and adoration.
He looked slightly confused, but only for a moment as Beatrice firmly pressed her lips to his. She immediately opened his mouth with hers and started to fiercely kiss him. Mistel seemed to be in shock for a moment, for his whole body went still. After a second Beatrice felt his body relax, and he started to move his mouth with hers.
Beatrice stopped kissing him so mercilessly when she realized that Mistel wasn't matching her, but instead was kissing her slowly, steadily—far more sweeter than she was kissing him. She willed herself to calm down. They weren't wild animals—although she did feel carnal desire running relentlessly through her veins—they were lovers, they were best friends. She didn't want him thinking that she only wanted him for sex.
In truth, she needed him. She needed him to stay by her side, to make her laugh after a long day of work, to make her smile even when all she wanted to do was frown, to make her blush when he teased her, to make her happy even when she felt like crying. He was the only person who was capable of doing those things, and she wasn't about to jeopardize that even if every cell in her body was screaming at her to kiss him like he'd never been kissed before.
Once she started to match his rhythm she began to feel light headed. Was it from lack of oxygen? She exhaled slowly through her nose. No, that wasn't it. It was a foreign feeling, one she hadn't experienced before. She had never kissed so slowly, so sensually. It had always been so lustful in her past, no sign of love from either party. She found herself enjoying this kiss much more than any other kiss she'd ever experienced.
It was pure bliss; it was love.
Beatrice moved her one hand to Mistel's blond locks, entwining her fingers in them. She pulled his head to the side slightly to deepen their kiss, which made Mistel make a moaning noise in the back of his throat. The noise made her feel a warmth pool in the pit of her stomach, and it took every bit of self control she had not to straddle him and kiss him so passionately that it would probably give him a heart attack.
Beatrice felt tears well in her eyes. Oh no, oh please no. She could feel Mistel slowly running his fingers through her hair, and was happy she had brushed it so much—his fingers didn't get caught in a single tangle. The feeling was so comforting, so relaxing. So loving.
She nearly pulled away as the tears threatened to escape. She didn't deserve to be treated so preciously. She didn't deserve such love. She didn't deserve him. He was too thoughtful, he was too kind to her. He was everything she had ever wanted in a lover, in a best friend; but was she everything he had ever wanted?
She felt a single tear escape, sliding down the side of her face and to her jawline; falling until it reached her chin. She nearly gasped when Mistel put a hand on the side of her face—of course the side which the tear had just fallen.
Beatrice felt Mistel's whole body immediately tense. He removed his lips from hers and rested his forehead against hers, his eyes frantically searching her face. He softy said, "Beatrice, my love, are you all right? Have I done something to upset you? Please, tell me what I did and I promise you'll never shed another tear because of me."
She nearly started bawling—but she wouldn't. She couldn't bear to see the pain in his beautiful eyes, she couldn't bear the thought of him thinking he had done something wrong when all he did was give her a wonderful birthday. Despite herself a few tears escaped from her eyes.
Mistel gazed into her eyes, and as she stared back she couldn't help but notice the pain in his—exactly what she didn't want to see. As she inhaled sharply a single sob racked through her body. She attempted to speak soothingly, but her voice cracked as she said, "I-I love you, Mistel. Yo-you didn't do anything wrong. I'm afraid to close my eyes, that when I wake up I'll realize this was all a dream; that you never loved me, that you'll never love me, that I was foolish to think that you could ever love someone like me."
She noticed Mistel looked slightly dumbstruck, but more so like his heart had broken the tiniest bit. He put his hands on either sides of her face and wiped away her tears with his thumbs. "This isn't a dream, and if it is a dream I don't ever want to wake up," he said in a low tone. "You said something similar before, when you were drunk. What do you mean by 'someone like me'?"
She hesitated and gnawed on her bottom lip for several moments. She turned her head away slightly, miserably saying, "Someone like me. Someone who works with their hands, someone who swims in rivers and mucks barns." She lowered her voice to barely a whisper, "Someone who came from nothing. You're so high class, and I'm...nothing."
Mistel gently pulled her head back to his. She was surprised to see him beaming at her, looking like he was trying to contain his laughter. "You are so incredibly wrong," he said gently. "Goodness, Beatrice, whatever made you think I care about any of those things? I love you, I'll say it a million times if you'd like me to. I'll say it everyday for the rest of your life. If words aren't enough I'll prove it to you in any way you'd like. I love you, I will always love you. I cannot fathom ever not loving you. Please, no more tears." He leaned in and softly pressed his lips to hers for a second. "I love you, Beatrice. I love you. Nothing will ever change the way I feel about you."
Beatrice felt her heart swell with pure happiness, causing more tears to escape—but at least they were happy tears—and wrapped her arms around Mistel's torso, embracing him tightly. She hid her face in his chest, softly sobbing on his waistcoat. "I-I'm sorry," she choked. "I'm so, so sorry. I love you. I love you so much my heart aches. I love you, Mistel. I love you so, so much."
"Shh, it's all right. Please, there is no need to apologize," Mistel said softly into her hair, tracing small circles on her back with his fingertips, which immediately made her feel calm; immediately made her feel like that was where she needed to be for the rest of eternity, that nothing in the whole world could ever compare to the way he made her feel, to the way he made her so full of joy, of hope. The way he made her feel so loved. "If you ever doubt my feelings for you please don't hesitate to ask. I would never lie to you, my love. Never. We may have completely different jobs, we may come from completely different backgrounds, but that means nothing to me. Absolutely nothing. Never doubt how much I care for you, how much I love everything about you.
"I have never, in my entire life, met anyone quite like you. It's not just your beauty, nor your chiming laughter, nor your adorable way of skipping everywhere you go with that brilliant smile of yours, nor your kindness, spunk, naivete. There is something inside of you, a light. Everyone you talk to you make them smile, or laugh. There's something special about you, even a fool can see that. I don't intend on ever letting you go, so I hope you're ready to be held tight."
Beatrice was speechless. Her sobs quickly subsided. She laid on his chest for awhile more, unsure of what to say, what to do. She eventually whispered, "Thank you."
She suddenly realized she was wearing makeup; that her mascara had to of come off while she was weeping. She knew she eventually had to get up, but feared that when she did that she would see that she had stained Mistel's waistcoat. She wasn't sure if he would be angry with her. She froze.
"No need to thank me, those are just things a best friend learns. Things that a lover cherishes. You're so incredibly precious to me, my dear, so very, very precious to me. Are you all right now? Please, get up so I can see your adorable face. A smile wouldn't hurt, either," Mistel giggled softly. "I'd love to see your adorable dimples and freckles."
"Darling?" Beatrice asked nervously.
"Yes, my love?" She could hear a smile in his voice.
"Would you be angry with me if...um, if...I, uh, maybe got makeup on you?" Beatrice winced, awaiting a response that she would rather not hear.
"On your birthday? Of course not!" Mistel giggled so loudly that she could feel it. "Please, won't you just get up?"
Beatrice sighed heavily and reluctantly lifted her head. She looked to Mistel to see that he was trying to stifle back laughter, a huge grin adorning his face. He quickly pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket and gently wiped her face, his grin remaining the whole time.
"There! Now you're all clean. Can I get a smile now?" he said a bit teasingly.
She smiled faintly, and Mistel tsked and shook his head. "No, that's not the smile I want to see. Please, my dear, smile for real. A nice, big smile."
She tried again and failed. She wasn't sure why she was unable to smile her brilliant smile, as he called it.
Mistel put his arm around her shoulder again and his hand to her cheek. He leaned down slightly and softly pressed his lips to hers, kissing her like he was earlier: sweetly, slowly, and it nearly made her feel intoxicated.
After a minute, or perhaps five—she had a hard time telling how long due to feeling like she'd had four glasses of wine—Mistel pulled away and beamed at her. He opened his mouth to speak but before he could get a word out Beatrice smiled so big that she could feel her dimples.
"Now that's the smile I wanted to see!" Mistel emoted. He gently grabbed her face and firmly pressed his lips to hers for a split second. Beatrice couldn't wipe the smile off her face, and apparently neither could Mistel, as he had a face splitting grin; staring into her eyes while keeping his hands on her face.
Beatrice could have just sat there with him, gazing into each other's eyes, for the rest of her life—but she knew it had to be late by now. She gently grabbed his wrists and pulled his hands off her face, resting them on her lap. She looked over her shoulder to her grandfather clock and frowned. It was nearly eleven.
She sighed and turned her head back around. She couldn't wipe the frown off her face, and when Mistel saw it his brows knitted together. "Is something wrong, Beatrice?" he asked quickly.
"Hmm, not exactly... It's just that...it's almost eleven. That means my birthday is nearly over and you have to go home," she replied, the frown plastered to her face.
"I don't have to go home yet," Mistel protested with a small frown, then sputtered, "Un-unless you'd like me to!"
Beatrice yawned. "I'm a bit sleepy from crying, perhaps you should head home. Besides, it's quite late and I wouldn't want you to get lost in the woods," she chided mildly.
"I won't get lost in the woods," Mistel said defensively. "I could stay with you...until you fall asleep, if you would like that."
"I'm not sure..." Beatrice trailed. She was already going to be nervous about him walking home alone so late, and if he stayed longer than that would just double her anxiety.
"I could give you one last birthday present: your own personal heater," Mistel teased, beaming.
"But darling, I'd worry!" Beatrice protested.
"There's no need to worry, I'm a grown adult," he insisted. "Don't you walk home this late sometimes? I know you're more familiar with the trail, but I'm positive that if I just follow the trail I'll get home in no time. It's not like I'm going to wander off and into the woods."
"Fine," she groaned. "But just for a little bit!"
His eyes lit up, and it looked like he was trying his utmost hardest to keep a neutral expression on his face. "Wonderful! This way you won't be freezing on your birthday night. Why don't you wear pajama pants in Winter? You must own a pair, no?"
"I, uh, don't particularly like to wear pants to bed. It's uncomfortable," Beatrice explained as she stood, yawning again.
"You have the most adorable yawn," Mistel said, his neutral expression cracking as a small smile spread across his lips.
"Thanks," Beatrice said dryly as she walked to her dressing room, although her cheeks turned a pink hue.
She could hear Mistel laughing behind her and turned around to say fiercely, "No peeking! I mean it, Mistel!"
"I am not a pervert, Beatrice. I'm not going to sneak into your dressing room!" he called after her.
As she closed the door behind her she could hear him saying, "Unless you'd like me to." She rolled her eyes, but felt her lips twitch into a lopsided smile. She shook her head in amusement. He really was something else...but in a good way.
She quickly threw off her dress and kicked off her flats. She was about to unhook her bra, but hesitated. She never slept in a bra. For one, it was uncomfortable, and for another, she knew it wasn't good for you...but she wasn't sure about how comfortable she was not wearing a bra and falling asleep with Mistel there. Not that she thought he would try anything while she was asleep—besides, she was a very light sleeper—but because she thought her nipples would show through the light sleep shirt, and that would probably cause her face to ignite in flames.
She thought about it for a minute before deciding to hell with it. She quickly unhooked her bra, tossed it to the ground, then threw her blue night shirt over her head. She inhaled sharply when she noticed how short it was. She really hoped Mistel would steer clear from her legs and only stick to her back if he wanted to trace circles on her.
When she emerged from her dressing room she thought Mistel had left without saying goodbye, but then saw that he was already laying on her bed, his boots already off. With a small smile on her face she strolled over to him, her footsteps making a plopping noise on the wooden flooring. Mistel turned his head toward the noise and smiled from ear to ear. "You do have quite beautiful legs, my love. They go on for miles," Mistel said, a mischievous smirk spreading across his lips as he looked her up and down.
Her cheeks turned scarlet. She crawled into her bed next to him, and Mistel wrapped her bedspread around them. She snuggled up close to him, laying her head on his chest and entwining her legs with his. She wrapped her arm around his torso and let out a small sigh of pleasure. He was so warm, so soft.
She heard Mistel chuckle, "I can see every adorable freckle on your face! I think I'll count them while you sleep."
She felt her blush deepen and wondered how many times he'd made her blush today. She leaned her head up slightly to look at his face, saying in a low tone, "Thank you, darling, for giving me such a great birthday. And for the wonderful gift. I..." She hesitated. "I just wanted to let you know that kiss was the best I've ever had. I've never been kissed like that before... It was so sweet and full of love, unlike other kisses I've received. So thank you, you've made me so happy knowing you love me more than you lust for me."
Mistel's face softened again as his adorable blush appeared, his eyes warm and so full of love. "That was the best kiss I've ever had as well. I'm so thrilled that I made you feel that way, because it's true. My love for you will always overrule my lust for you, Beatrice. I love you, my dear, now please get some rest. You have hard work to do in the morning."
Beatrice laid her head against his chest again and smiled. She said softly, "I love you so much, darling. Goodnight."
"Goodnight, my love. I love you more than you'll ever be able to comprehend," Mistel whispered.
Beatrice felt her heart swell with pure bliss. She hoped one day she would deserve to be loved so much.
Mistel began to take turns tracing circles on her back and softly running his fingers up and down her back, and she let out a small yawn. She murmured sleepily, "I love the feeling of you doing that; it's so comforting. Promise me you'll leave as soon as I fall asleep."
"I wasn't aware you enjoyed it so much. I just like to do it so I can touch you, but now that I know you enjoy it I'll do it more often," Mistel said quietly. "And I promise, now shush and close your eyes. Goodnight, my dear."
"Goodnight, darling."
Beatrice closed her eyes, relishing Mistel's warmth as her breathing evened out. She'd never felt so happy in her entire life in the moment. She quickly drifted off to sleep, feeling Mistel caressing her back and knowing that the man she loved more than anything loved her more than anything back. She couldn't of asked for a better birthday—it was perfect.