Chapter Eight: Rolling With the Punches
It takes me a full two minutes the next morning to remember where I am. Immediately upon waking up, I'm aware of two things. One, and perhaps the most important, is that I'm sleeping on the couch in my own apartment. Now why would that be the case? Second, it is much colder than I ever keep my apartment. Great, did my thermostat break over night? Just in time for fall, too…
Cracking my eyes open, however, I instantly notice the pale blue walls surrounding me. Mine are a boring white. Then, I look at the coffee table in front of me and see two cups of now-cold tea.
Then it all comes flooding back.
Last night. Elsa. Elsa not having an arm. Elsa's dead parents. Elsa inviting me—pleading me, I recall with a flutter of my heart—to spend the night.
Before I know it, I'm pushing myself up off the couch and cautiously tiptoeing down the hallway. I come to a stop in front of a half-closed door before I stop to catch my breath. I want to believe I had gotten up with the intention to go to the bathroom, but I can't help but feel that what's on the other side of this door is anything but the bathroom.
Gods, Kristoff was right, I am a stalker.
Perhaps against my better judgment, I carefully push open the door a bit. Luckily, it doesn't creak at all, and soon I'm staring at what has to be the most beautiful and serene thing on this planet.
Elsa remains fast asleep in her bed, wrapped in her blankets in such a way that only her head is visible and it is absolutely the cutest thing ever.
Not to mention the adorable, child-like smile she dons in her slumber.
Grinning until my cheeks begin to ache, I keep quiet as I retreat back into the hallway, closing the door back to the way I had found it. Don't want Elsa to know I was creeping on her. That would be awkward.
Completely bypassing the bathroom on my way back to the main room, I come to a stop back in front of the couch. Stretching briefly, I contemplate what to do now. Do I stay until Elsa wakes up? Thanking her for last night and letting me stay would be the polite thing to do, but would that be weird to just wait in someone's living room while they are sleeping? Should I just leave a note and leave? After all, today is Saturday so we'll be seeing each other later tonight for training anyway.
Before I can debate further, my stomach lets out such a loud growl I wouldn't be surprised if it woke Elsa up back in her room.
My eyes dart down the hallway, to the cups of tea still on the coffee table, and to the kitchen in front of me. Biting my lip, I weigh my options only for a moment before I'm collecting the mugs from the table and heading to the kitchen.
Smiling softly, I decide to have breakfast waiting for Elsa when she wakes up. Forget the fact that this is her house and I'm the guest; it's the least I can do after last night.
Eyes catching the clock on the microwave above the sink, I roll my eyes.
Okay, so it'll be more like lunch since it's nearly two in the afternoon already. But you can hardly blame us since we were up until three in the morning and engaged in an emotionally taxing conversation.
Luckily, Elsa's kitchen is set up similarly to mine and I have some eggs and bacon going before I know it. Knowing Elsa will come out any minute to see me cooking in her kitchen for her does something to me, and soon I can't keep the flush off my cheeks. I mentioned last night that feeling of domesticity, right? Well, it's returned ten-fold now.
But, man, do I like it.
In the midst of cooking and rummaging around the kitchen looking for some pepper, I open a drawer at random to see a lone business card within it. Milo Thatch, PsyD is engraved elegantly in it, along with the name of what I assume is a hospital or office at the very least.
Picking up the card, I examine it more critically. This must be Elsa's therapist she mentioned. Flipping it over, I find it blank, not really quite sure what I was expecting.
Suddenly, I'm dashing to the couch where my phone lays before I'm back in the kitchen, one hand grasping the card, one hand busy unlocking my cell. Before I know it, I have Dr Milo Thatch's phone number, address, and office number stored on my Notepad app.
What am I supposed to do with that? I put the card back where I found it—don't want Elsa to know I'm rifling through her stuff anymore than I am for breakfast. It's not like I can just casually call the guy and ask how Elsa's therapy is going. I mean, I may not be a psychologist, but there is a thing called patient confidentiality, of that I'm sure.
Still, it somehow feels reassuring knowing I have Elsa's doctor stored in my phone.
"You're still here," Elsa whispers behind me then, an air of perhaps shock and surprise in her tone.
Startled, I jump before turning around. Immediately, my heart stops for reasons other than surprise.
She stands not five feet from me in an overly-large NYU t-shirt and tiny, tiny shorts—seriously, they're, like, sinfully short—shuffling her bare feet against the cool hard wood beneath our feet. I bite my lip as my eyes trace her lithe form, completely bypassing the black brace and the secret I now know it's hiding, and simply appreciating what the good lord gave her.
Then, I realize she said something and I probably have a string of drool trailing from my mouth.
"Uh…" I stammer, looking down at the floor. "Was I supposed to leave?"
Before she can answer, my tendency for rambling surfaces and I'm on a roll.
"I thought about leaving, I did, but then I thought that would have been rude. So, then I thought I'd leave a note 'cause that wouldn't be as rude, but then I was hungry and I thought it'd be nice to make breakfast 'cause I know how tired you have to be after last night—not that I'm saying you have to be tired, of course! I mean, we both got, like, ten hours of sleep, and you look completely refreshed—beautiful, even; considering you just woke up. But that's beside the point, and maybe that's creepy to say-."
"Anna!" Elsa's bubble of laughter stops me. "It's okay!"
"It is?" I repeat dumbly.
She nods and blushes a bit as she responds, "I'm glad you stayed; I was hoping you would."
"You were?"
Okay, Anna, stop talking in questions.
"I mean," I shake my head, "I made eggs. And bacon."
Fuck me.
She laughs again and approaches me.
"I can see that," she says. "Thank you."
God damn, she's so close. And smiling; seductively, might I add.
"N-No problem," I mutter. "I like cooking."
"It smells delicious."
"T-Thanks."
Grinning, she slowly leans forward, her hand moving like it's going to encircle my waist.
I'm sure I'm sweating bullets by now, as my heart thuds a mile a minute and I'm sure to go into cardiac arrest any second now. I can't keep my eyes off her smile as she looms even closer, a sly twinkle in her eye and no trace of a blush anywhere.
I gulp once she's inches from my face. God damn, is she going to kiss me? I'm not ready for this! I mean, not that I don't want her to kiss me, I've wanted nothing so much ever since I first laid eyes on her, but… This is crazy! I just woke up! I can't look remotely like anything somebody would want to kiss! What about my hair? I have a knack for waking up with quite a tangled mess, surely that would turn her off?
Then, she's pulling back, a plate of bacon and eggs in her hand. Giving me a shit-eating grin, she fucking winks at me before heading over to the kitchen island and the two barstools there.
And I swear she fucking sashays her hips like some kind of model just to agitate me further.
"Anna?" she asks with a little laugh. "You okay?"
I nod dumbly before grabbing my own plate and sitting down next to her at the island like a kid sitting next to their crush in school. I know I'm blushing madly, and I silently thank Elsa a thousand times for not mentioning it.
I suppose the only thing I have going for me at this point is my female anatomy. At least I don't have to suffer through a boner to make my arousal even more noticeable.
Thank the gods I'm a girl.
We get through breakfast with no more teasing or flirting, just casual conversation of which I'm truly grateful for. Elsa never mentions her "advance" on me, but when our eyes meet every now and then, her face softens like she's apologizing, before giving me a gentle, honest smile.
It's half past two by the time we finish breakfast, and, as politely as possible, I tell Elsa I need to go home. I see a hint of sadness flash behind her eyes for only a second before it's concealed with a look of understanding.
"We're still meeting tonight for training though, right?" she asks like she's afraid I'm going to bail.
"Of course!" I affirm while beaming. "I'm counting on you to prepare me for this tournament!"
She returns my smile before looking to the floor. "Good," she whispers. "I just…" Hesitantly, she reaches to cradle her right arm.
"Elsa," I say with a firm voice, acting to take her hand in mine. "Last night doesn't change, anything, okay? I told you that. I don't care that you lost your arm. I mean, it's tragic, obviously, and I can't imagine what you're going through, but one thing you don't have to worry about is me, alright? I'm not leaving."
Smile pulling at the corner of her lips, she finally looks back at me.
"I'm stuck with you, right?" she says.
This time, I wink at her and a blush immediately ignites her cheeks in a supple pink.
"You bet."
She bites her lip before she's looking away again and I can only roll my eyes. How someone can go from making such a bold move on someone to being reduced to a shy, blushing mess so fast is beyond me.
Yet, it just makes Elsa that much more endearing in my eyes.
"I'll see you tonight, okay?" I say mainly in hopes to reassure her before I turn to head towards the door.
Then, she's pulling me back and into a hug, and fuck if it isn't the best hug I've ever been given. I wrap my arms around her as she buries her nose in the crook of my neck.
"Thank you so much, Anna," she mumbles. "I just… Thank you."
She pulls back and kisses my cheek quickly but softly before I'm let go. Not giving myself a chance to say anything stupid in response, I simply beam before turning on my heel once more and exiting her apartment.
Once I'm outside in the hallway and I hear the door click behind me, I can't hold it in any longer and I start jumping up and down in utter elation, trying to keep my cries of "fuck yes" and "oh my god" as quiet as possible.
When I make it to the library an hour later—where I work—I must still be glowing or grinning too much because it's the first thing Olaf says to me as he runs to give me his ritual warm hug.
"Annie!" he cries. "You look happy!"
"I'm always happy when I get to see you guys, kiddo!" I tell him as he's set back down on the floor.
The kid rolls his eyes at me and says, "Happier."
"What are you going to do about it, little boy?" I ask him, swooping down to tickle him. "You gonna try and take my happiness away from me?"
He squeals in laughter as he tries to evade my fingers, but manages to squeak out, "No, no! I like it, Annie! Honest!"
I release the poor child and, hand in hand, we join the rest of the kids for reading hour.
Just to explain briefly, I work at a library that holds a daycare kind of program for little kids. And yes, they have daycare on Saturdays as well. The group is never as big as it is during the week, but I'm not complaining; I need all the money I can get.
"What do you want me to read today?" I ask, this time addressing the four kids plus Olaf in front of me.
There's a moment of adorable debate between four year-olds before one kid who comes only twice a week drags over The Very Hungry Caterpillar.
"This one, Anna!" he exclaims, tacking on a "pwease"—yes, "pwease"—at the end.
I read the book about the silly bug twice before we move on to another one, and am quite surprised when no one brings up what happened between Elsa and me last night. After all, Olaf and Grammar Girl are both here again today, and they were the two who seemed most interested.
Although, I'm not complaining; I mean, what am I supposed to tell them?
I suppose I spoke too soon, however, as Grammar Girl speaks up after I finish One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish.
"Did you ever talk to that girl?" she asks with a look of complete rapture on her face.
"Yeah!" Olaf chimes in. "You were supposed to help her, right, Annie?"
"Well, actually, I did talk to her," I tell them. "And I think she's feeling much better."
So, that may not be one hundred percent true, but I like to think Elsa was in a much better state of mind when I left her than she was upon my arrival last night.
"What was wrong?" Grammar Girl asks, batting innocent eyes at me.
"Um… Well, you see," I trail off, thinking of the most subtle, child-friendly version I could tell. "She was hurt and just needed a friend to comfort her."
"And you did?" Olaf asks.
"She's better now?" Grammar Girl adds in.
I shrug, a crooked smile on my face. "For the time being?"
That, of course, is good enough for the lot of four-year olds and they instantly split to go play games, leaving only Olaf in front of me.
"What do you mean, Annie?" he asks, crawling into my lap like he likes to do. "You said 'for the time being.' Does that mean she'll get hurt again?"
This boy is way beyond his four years, if you ask me.
"It's hard to explain, buddy," I tell him truthfully. "She's not hurt like when you get a boo-boo; this is a different kind of hurt. Like…"
"Like losing your nana or pawpaw?" he offers.
That's it! Bless you, Olaf.
"Exactly," I confirm with a grim smile. "She hasn't lost a grandparent, but she has lost something equally as important. Three things, actually… Anyway, don't worry, little guy, when I'm on the case, no one can stay hurt or unhappy!"
That gets him to laugh and soon I'm laughing along with him.
"She should be happy she has you, Annie," he mumbles as I carry him over to where the two other boys in the group are playing with toys. "You can fix anything."
"Thanks, Olaf," I say sweetly. "Now you play with the others. We'll have naptime in another hour."
He grins at me before joining the other boys and soon he's lost in a world of dinosaurs and Transformers. My smile is subdued as I walk over to the desk that has my belongings on it as I go over Olaf's words.
You can fix anything.
Can I? The glaring answer is no; this is much more complex than putting the head back on a toy, taping a book back together, or getting the DVD player to work. This is a completely different realm. This involves human emotions and trauma; things I'm not very good at addressing or have been through. I've always known unconsciously that I was lucky my parents are still alive and together, but Elsa just puts everything in a different perspective. Now, I'm almost guilty they're alive, as bad as that may sound. Why should I be able to bask in the comfort and love of parents if someone as kind and undeserving as Elsa had them stripped away?
It's too bad you can't give one of your parents to someone.
I roll my eyes as I admonish myself for the thought. Even if you could do that, it wouldn't accomplish anything. If anything, it may make things worse. Here, you lost your parents, have one of mine because I pity you. Even though I know my mother or father would do everything in their power to make Elsa feel loved as a child should, it would never ever replace what she's lost.
Huffing, I pull out my phone and stare at my lock screen's background. My fingers dance an inch from the screen as I contemplate the buzzing in my head that hasn't left me alone since this morning. Deftly, my fingers unlock my phone and bring up my notepad before I can realize what they're doing.
I'm suddenly staring at that name and number once more; all the while a constant drum in my head tells me to do it, do it.
I think it over once more before my resolve hardens and I bring up the Phone app. I'm entering the number and pressing the green call key before I can change my mind. Gulping, I turn my back on the kids as the other line begins to ring.
Half of me is praying to everything out there that someone will pick up, while the other half is hoping against all hope that no one will. After all, it is Saturday.
Then, there's a click and I hold my breath.
"Hello?"
Some lighthearted fluff and kids to make up for last chapter. 'Cause it's just downhill from here… ;)
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