Next chapter. Abby's drunken behaviour is explained. Hope you all enjoy.
When I woke the next morning it was to the sun streaming in through the open curtains. I groaned and groped around on my nightstand for my eye mask without opening my eyes. Finally locating it I lifted my head to place it over my eyes and groaned at the sudden influx of pain. A marching band starting playing in my brain, using my head as its drums and I grimaced. How much had I drank last night?
Something stirred beside me as I placed the mask over my eyes and I froze, caught midway between sitting up and lying down.
"You okay?" A gruff voice sounded close to my ear, warm breath heating my shoulder and making me relax and pull the eye mask off. Paul was laying across the bed, his feet dangling off the end. He was shirtless and before I answered him I allowed my eyes to scan the perfectly sculptured contours of his stomach and chest.
"I'm fine." My voice was cracked and huskier than usual and I flushed, lying down again. My memories from the night before were a little murky and I couldn't remember, for the life of me, how Paul and I managed to get here. I vaguely remembered the walk to the house but everything after that was a blur.
"Remember much?" He asked me softly, his hand coming up to rest against my cheek. He ran his fingers through my hair and it came back to me suddenly, in broken flashes. I closed my eyes and groaned. "I'm a drunken idiot."
Paul chuckled and nodded, leaning on his elbow so that he was looking down at me. His gaze was so intense for a second that I stopped breath and concentrated only on him.
"You're a beautiful drunken idiot." He told me. I huffed and hit him with the pillow, giggling when he used one hand to pin me down and the other to tickle me. Loud shrieks filled my room as his fingers found the spot on my hip where I was most ticklish.
"Stop! Paul, stop! I'm going to pee myself." I threatened through my laughter. He stopped and smiled down at me, his dark eyes filled with an emotion I refused to acknowledge. I wasn't ready for that emotion yet. It had only been three weeks. In my world, people had to know each other for a lot more than three weeks to even consider that emotion. I pushed him off me with a groan and threw my legs over the side of the bed.
"I need to pee." I told him as I headed for the bathroom. I turned back at the door, just in time to see him stretch, and my mouth dropped. His arms were over his head and his eyes were closed but I couldn't pull my focus away from the shifting of the muscles beneath the perfectly tanned skin of his stomach. My mouth was suddenly dry and as he replaced his arms by his side I rushed out of the room, not wanting him to catch me staring.
I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, mortified that Paul had seen me like this. The gel I had used in my hair the night before was now making it stick out at all sorts of odd angles and my eye make up was halfway down my cheek. I brushed my teeth quickly and attempted to finger comb my hair into a somewhat sensible style before tackling the make up. How could he have possibly called me beautiful when I looked like this? I looked like the Bride of Frankenstein. I frowned and spat out the toothpaste, and quickly removed the eye make up from my cheek and eyes, humming to myself. I could hear Paul moving around in the bedroom and I half hoped he was putting clothes on. Seeing so much delectable skin this early in the morning and while I had a hangover was not a good idea. There was no telling what I would do when my defences were low. At the same time, it was a sin to keep that gorgeous body covered, I mused.
With my appearance somewhat normal, I opened the door. I shrieked when I realised Paul was leaning against the wall right outside, smiling. I put my hand on my heart, feeling the hard, fast beat and scowled at him.
"You scared the crap out of me."
"I'm sorry." He smirked, leaning down so that we were eye level. I smacked his shoulder lightly and moved out of the doorway to let him in. I could hear him chuckling to himself as he closed the door and I shook my head.
My red numbers on my alarm clock said that it was only 9.15 and I groaned. Usually when I had a hangover I lay in bed until at least one and then I loafed about the house all day, doing nothing except listen to music and drink coffee and enjoying myself. I frowned as I gazed at my clothes from last night, a memory on the edge of my mind. I strode back towards the bathroom again and banged on the door a few times.
"Hey, Paul, did I play last night?"
The door opened and his head appeared. I caught a glimpse of his bare shoulders and was left momentarily speechless as a single drop of water slid down his neck and across the broad expanse.
"No, you didn't" He replied. "Mark cancelled the show and I brought you home. You were too wasted to play."
I flinched at the words even though they had been delivered in a completely non judgemental tone. I nodded at him and turned away, silently cursing myself for being that stupid and getting that drunk. Alex would never let me live this one down and Mark was bound to be pissed at me.
I wandered into the living room, digging around in my bag until I found my phone. I had four missed phone calls and three text messages. Three of the phone calls were from Alex and one was from Mark. The text messages were from other friends of mine, wanting to know why we hadn't played last night.
I dialled Mark's number and held my breath while the phone rang. He didn't pick up and I sighed, leaving him a message to ask him to call me back. When I turned around again Paul was leaning against the doorway, his arms folded in a way that showed off the definition of each muscle in his arm.
"You alright?" He asked softly. I nodded at him, slightly distracted.
"I'm going to go and get dressed and then I'm going to make some breakfast."
"Great, I'm starving." He smiled widely at me and I found myself returning it. It was amazing how young he looked when he smiled like that. Paul's face was rarely so open and free and I found that I lov… liked it. A lot. I rushed towards my bedroom, closing the door behind me and stripping out of my clothes. I slid on my most comfortable pair of jeans and an old wife beater that belonged to Mark. It was too wide at the arms and was too baggy to wear in public but it suited me for my day of lazing around the apartment.
"Hey, scrambled eggs and bacon okay?" I called to Paul as I passed the living room. I could hear the sounds of cartoons and I sniggered slightly. So big, manly Paul liked his cartoons. That was interesting.
"Whatever you're having is fine."
I led out a loud, undignified and very girly screech when I heard his voice directly behind me and he began laughing loudly. My heart was pounding again, I could hear it in my ears.
"Jesus, Mary and Saint Joseph are you trying to kill me?" I squealed at him, slapping him on the shoulder with little success. He simply lifted my hand off his chest and brought it up to his mouth, kissing the palm softly.
"You're going to feel so guilty when I die of a heart attack." I pouted at him. He chuckled again as I turned back to the food. He leaned against the counter and watched me as I moved around the kitchen, making the food and coffee. I dry swallowed two Advil and poured two glasses of juice, handing them to Paul and ordering him to bring them into the living room.
The smell of the bacon made my stomach growl loudly and I could hear Paul chuckling in the living room.
"Stupid Paul with his stupid sensitive hearing." I muttered. His chuckles got louder and I smiled. He came back into the kitchen to take the coffee off me and as I passed him the cups he leaned down to kiss me softly on the lips. I sighed slightly and leaned closer to him, frowning when he pulled away. He winked at me and lifted the cups out of my hand, strolling out of the room while whistling under his breath. I rolled my eyes in amusement and picked up the pan, dishing the food onto the plates, ensuring that I gave Paul at least three times as much as I gave myself. We had gone out for food a few times and I had noticed that the boy could eat.
"Bon appetite." I sat the plate on the table beside him and took a seat next to him. I could feel the heat of his body wash over me and I sighed, content to snuggle slightly closer and relax against him as I ate.
We were silent as we ate the food, both of us watching the old Johnny Bravo cartoon.
It was a few hours later when Paul finally asked the question I had been dreading. We were lying on the sofa, facing each other and he was gently massaging my feet.
"So, when are you going to tell me why you were so drunk last night?" He asked quietly. I looked away from the DVD we were watching and sighed.
"Do I have to?"
"I want to know what upset you so that I can make sure it never happens again." His voice was soft but fierce and I groaned with realization that he wasn't going to give up.
"I had to go to my parents house for a dinner party so I had a few drinks before hand to steel my nerves." I told him.
"A few drinks does not a drunken Abby make." Paul retorted. "I've seen you after a few drinks and you're a world apart from how you were last night."
"Fine. You want to know? I can't go within three miles of my parents house unless I'm so drunk that I'm numb. My step mom hates me. She's hated me since the day she married my dad for his money and she still hates me now. And you know what, I don't care. Because I hate her too." I was almost shrieking now and I could see the surprise in Paul's eyes as my voice got gradually louder. "But she still has to invite me over because she doesn't want my dad to know that our relationship is worse than Cinderella's and the wicked step mother's." His lips quirked at this slightly and he reached over and took my hand, lifting it to his lips and kissing it softly a few times. I could feel that soft kiss in my very bones and I fought not to sigh.
"So you got drunk because you hate her?" He asked when he realised I wasn't saying anything else. I shook my head, wondering how to explain.
"She thinks I'm nothing. She has these two kids, Charlotte and Adrienne, who are honour list students with these huge dreams to be lawyers or doctors or something like that. Then there's me, the girl she was stuck with because she married my dad for his money. I was the consolation prize that came along with him, you know? And I've never shown any real interest in having some high powered job and working my life away. I want to live, you know? I want to travel. So my dreams are stupid and frivolous and she thinks I waste my time being in the band. And since she has my dad wrapped around her bony little finger, he agrees with her. Ever since I was sixteen he's been telling me I need to wise up and go to college, get a good job. Any maybe one day I will want to go to college, I mean I haven't completely ruled it out but right now I'm happy with my life. I own this place and I'm far from stupid, I can get a good enough job if I really tried." I took a deep breath and ran a hand through my hair. Paul was watching my carefully, still clasping my fingers in his. "But they can't see that. All they can see is that one of their kids is messing up the perfect family reputation. Every time I go back for dinner or something like last night there are snide remarks from my step mom and sharp words from my dad when he realises I'm still not doing anything worthy with my life. So experience has taught me that it's better to go when I'm blind drunk than when I'm sober. It makes the whole experience more amusing and it gives Susan something to moan about to her friends while she spends my dad's money and it gives my dad an excuse to treat me as if I'm a three year old behaving badly rather than a nineteen year old trying to live her own life. So I got drunk on a bottle of vodka before I went and then I drank champagne while I was there and I'm not one that can handle mixing drinks. I guess you saw that last night."
There was silence for a few seconds as we stared at one another.
"I'm sorry you saw me like that." I told him. "I really didn't want to make a bad impression. You didn't have to take care of me, Mark or Alex would have brought me home but…"
"Yeah, Alex, sure." Paul suddenly spat, looking away from me. I narrowed my eyes at him and smacked him on the arm. I knew it hadn't hurt him but it did get him to look at me.
"Yeah, Alex. You need to get over this. I went out with Alex, it was a long time ago. He's still my friend and you need to accept that."
"Oh please, I saw the way he was looking at you last night." Paul's voice was louder than usual and I shrank back a little. "He'd have taken you home, crawled into bed with you and the two of you would have sex."
"Didn't I explain that I didn't have sex with Alex if I was with someone else? Did you miss that part of the conversation the other day? If you're going to act like this every time I mention his name then there really isn't much point on going on is there? Because he's my friend and he's in my band and he isn't going to be gone from my life anytime soon."
Paul looked stricken suddenly, reaching out blindly to grab my arms.
"No. I'm sorry, okay. I have anger management issues."
I sighed and allowed him to slid me onto his lap, his warm hands toying with the frayed edges of my vest top. I sighed a little as he slid his hands beneath the fabric to stroke the cold skin at the small of my back. His hands were huge. I had noticed it before but actually feeling them on my skin threw that into sharp focus. Both his hands covered almost my entire back, causing my blood to heat up in my veins. I could feel my face flush as he stroked the skin softly twice and I could barely remember what I was talking about. All I could contemplate was that he was very good at using those hands as one strong finger slid slowly down the length of my spine.
"Don't push me away." He whispered against my mouth, moving one of his hands away from my back and placing it along my jaw. He pulled me towards him and I felt my eyes flutter as his lips slanted over mine.
The kiss was soft at first, delicate and hesitant, before he applied more pressure. I felt like I was drowning and I loved every second of it. His lips were soft but commanding and I knew I couldn't pull away even if I tried. I wrapped my arms around his neck and felt him smile against my lips before he pulled me closer.
"Don't push me away, Abby." He murmured as he pulled his lips off mine. I groaned at the lack of contact but he smiled at me and used the hand at my jaw to lift my head back gently before placing his lips exactly on my pulse point. I was sure he could feel it pounding against his tongue as he licked the spot before biting lightly. The pleasure was so intense that I gripped his shoulder in an attempt to stay focused. I wanted him, I decided. I couldn't decide what I wanted on my skin more his lips or his hands and as I contemplated his he pulled back at me, watching my flushed face with darkened eyes.
"I have no intentions of pushing you away." I assured him, wrapping my fingers in his hair and pulling him close again. He smiled at me, opening his mouth and singing softly.
"Baby, baby, baby. Baby, baby, baby. Won't you be my girl?"
I laughed and buried my face in his neck. "How the hell did you remember the song?"
"I downloaded every song that you've sung. If they're important to you, then they're important to me."
I smiled at him, pressing my lips to his again with a laugh.
The song belongs to the Vibrators and the only characters i own are Abby and the band and her parents.