What's here? A cup, closed in my true love's hand?Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end:O churl! Drunk all, and left no friendly drop to help me after? I will kiss thy lips; haply some poison yet doth hang on them, to make die with a restorative…
Tate appeared into the room. He stalked out of thin air, his face wrought with emotion. He looked surprised to see Lola sitting on the bed. He looked at her, words bubbling. She cut him off.
"For never was a story of more woe than this of Juliet and her Romeo."
"What?" Tate said.
"We're doomed to this, aren't we?" Lola followed up. She stood and threw the worn book across the room.
"Lo-"
"You and I can't be together, Tate. As much as you want it, and as much as I'm fighting to not want it. We aren't from rival families, right. But we are from different worlds. You killing my family aside, we're from different worlds. You're a ghost. I'm a human. What are we supposed to do? You're going to have to wait seventy years until I die for us to finally be together? Or are you going to kill me? We can't be together. It just isn't… it isn't meant to be."
Tate rubbed his jaw. His eyes were cast down at the ground. He listened to the sound of Lola huffing, fresh off her rant.
"Then I defy you, stars," Tate whispered to the ground.
Lola was stunned. She stomped her foot and demanded,
"Say that again."
Tate looked up. He caught Lola's gaze and held it. When he spoke, his words were hard.
"Then I defy you, stars!"
Lola was drunk with emotion for the boy standing in front of her. He was a rugged daredevil in a wrinkled shirt and suspenders. He was a ghost, and he was a murder. But there was something about him that made her forget all of that. To her, he was just Tate.
She rushed forward, throwing herself into his grasp. He attacked her with his mouth, devouring her face. He picked her up and threw her on the bed, his mouth never leaving hers. He layered himself over her, frantically groping every inch of her body, as if he'd never feel it again. Lola, too, was wildly feeling every inch of Tate's body, amazed that it actually existed.
After a few minutes of heavy petting and rushed kisses, Tate hastily ripped Lola's shirt off. She broke away, panting.
"Tate," She breathed. "I don't know if we should."
"Yes. Yes. Yes," Tate growled against her skin.
"I just," She hesitated. "I've just… never been with anyone before."
This caught his attention. His gaze was laced with lust and concern. He gingerly touched her face.
"I've only had one boyfriend," She admitted.
Tate kissed her softly and said, "We'll take it slow. Okay?"
A long beat passed before Lola bit down on her lip and nodded her head up and down.
It was obvious Tate wanted to do nothing more than ravish her, but he was courteous of her wishes. He knew sex could be an intimidating thing, and he was determined to make Lola as comfortable as he could.
Lola was draped halfway over Tate. She looked up at him with lustful, lazy eyes. Tate was damp, and the sweat had made his hair curl even more. It tipped wildly over his face. His eyes were cast down as he watched Lola recover and come down from the clouds. Her breath still ragged, she recited,
"My only love sprung from my only hate! Too early seen unknown, & known too late! Prodigious birth of love it is to me, that I must love a loathed."
A cold hand grazed Lola's exposed back. Tate was rubbing soft circles over her skin. He was completely amazed by the women he was lying with.
"You've got that right," He muttered with a curving grin.
In a sleepy hazy, Lola was even more beautiful than she had been before. Her skin was so creamy and soft, and her eyes were drooping ever so slightly. The curve of her body fit perfectly into his.
Tate's hand still caressing her creamy skin, he asked,
"What is your nationality?"
"I'm from America."
Lola couldn't help but smile at how cautious he was sounding.
"I'm from America. My skin is white, and yours is like… wet sand. I know that there are Negros, but I did not think there were any more colors of people."
Lola had forgotten that Tate wasn't from her time. He was from the sixties. Civil rights hadn't happened yet. But still, he at least should've known there were other ethnicities.
She positioned herself up on one elbow, slightly tilting her body off of Tate's. Her lips were pressed, and Tate looked afraid that she was going to verbally attack him for saying the wrong thing. Naturally, he wasn't a very cautious person, but he was trying for her.
"My mother is Inuit," She explained, but continued when Tate gave her a puzzled look. "Like, Native American…. or Eskimo. She is from the Newhaven village. It's a really tiny place, like 100 people. My father, who is white, was passing through the village on a fishing trip when he saw her. It was love at first sight."
Lola was smiling as she remembered the stories her mother would tell her of how her parents met before Lola grew older and uninterested.
Tate enjoyed seeming Lola like that- taken back to a place of fondness. He whispered softly,
"Love at first sight… like me and you."
"Maybe for you," Lola admitted quickly. "I still don't know what or how I feel about you."
"I think it's obvious how you feel about me," Tate said, making a gently motion to their bodies. "Lola, why can't you just accept the fact that I did all of this for us. It was all for you."
Blood is thicker than water. Of course Lola loved her family. She missed Aaron and RJ and Josh and her father. But she tried not to dwell on those feelings. Sometimes, in order to survive, you have to move on. And maybe that's what she was going to have to do. She was going to have to move on.
Hey, all! Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Sorry for the briefness/lack of posts. Like I said earlier, I'm swamped with school work. But I've been trying to pick up the speed. As always, feedback is welcomed!
Also, my dear friend Devin is making me some promotional pieces for this story. I know you can't post pictures in the stories (or at least I don't know how) but I'll defiantly include a link to the images. He is a stunning creator and also my best best best best friend!