Chapter 3 – Hear Me
Hear me, I'm cryin' out! I'm ready now! Turn my world upside down. Find me.
I'm lost inside the crowd…
I've been skipping out on tutoring ever since the day Pietro and I touched. At first I was hiding out of pure fear of… I'm actually not quite sure. But now my trepidation has morphed into rage.
Honestly, at first I thought that maybe I could touch anyone. For some reason I wanted to believe that my powers had mutated to a heightened state in which I could finally control them. One quick tap on Kitty's shoulder totally knocked that idea out the window and me through the floor of the institute. Phasing powers really aren't all that grand.
After that experiment-gone-wrong, I made myself believe that maybe it was the time of night that affected my abilities. I mean after harmless years of pretending I could touch at that hour, would it be that farfetched for it to actually happen?
…I was blue for four days after pouncing Kurt at almost a quarter past three. He was sneaking an early morning snack in the kitchen when he met my wrath.
After that, I was at a loss…and grounded. I have no explanations to myself or to my housemates for my bizarre behavior. I feel weak. The need to touch has stirred desire in my gut, and the obsession is driving me insane. Even more so now that I have come to the conclusion that it may be only Pietro who can quench it. Sick, sick irony, why must you always come into my life?
At School
"I'll speak with you after class," Mrs. Calendar says, her lips pursing tightly as she hands me my latest failing grade. A forty-two. I'm impressed with myself.
I just nod my head meekly as she gives me another stern 'no nonsense' look and struts down the line handing back assignments.
The class reaches its end a bit too quick for my liking and now I'm standing by her desk awkwardly, praying that she won't start her lecture until the last of the stragglers are gone. No such luck of course.
Turning from the dry erase board, Mrs. Calendar towers condescendingly above me in her black stacked heels. She places the black marker she was writing with on her obnoxiously orderly desk, and flicks a freshly bleached strand of hair from her face.
"Rogue," she says tiredly, "Why haven't you been going to tutoring?"
"What makes yah think Ah haven't?" I ask, defensively stuffing my test securely in the front pocket of my hoodie.
"Your grades speak for you," Mrs. Calendar says, pointing a slim finger at the traitorous paper peeking out from the corner of my hoodie.
"And I've spoken with Pietro. He told me you've missed several sessions." I just stare at her so she continues, "Rogue, at least out of common courtesy tell him you're not going! The poor boy is wasting his lunch hour to help you."
I frown, and play with the loops on my belt. "Ah'm sorry," I say. But I can tell Mrs. Calendar knows I don't care.
She crosses her legs and leans toward me, "If you fail you will have to repeat this class next semester. Is that what you want?"
Hell. No.
"No," I say, shuffling away from her.
"Than get your act together," Mrs. Calendar sniffs at me, opening a side drawer on her desk. She pulls out a math packet and hands it to me saying, "Take this to Pietro today. He'll help you with it. Its extra credit so I don't have to see you in here next semester. "
Oh, come on…
"Yes Ma'am" I reply, taking her oh-so-clever ditto packet and picking up my discarded messenger bag from the floor.
"Be smart, Rogue!" Mrs. Calendar intones, as I close the door.
Math Help
I feel awkward and slightly vulnerable walking into the small math lab room to be tutored by the only being on earth that can touch me without suffering some dire consequences. Peeking through the narrow glass window on the door I see Pietro. He's sitting at the far right of the classroom. His head lies on his crossed arms, which rest atop our assigned "student help" desk. A pre calc book is open on the desk and surrounding it is a crumpled brown bag that has crumbs sprinkled around it.
I swallow guiltily. Had he actually kept coming to all the sessions?
I feel a bit selfish at the thought but then I remember that it's just Pietro, so I get over it and open the door.
"Ah'm here!" I announce, slamming the door with a bang. Pietro jerks up frantically, pushing his calculus text off the table as he flails his right arm spastically.
"Shit!" he says, starring at me with bewildered eyes. It's weird but I've never seen him look so unguarded before, and it's a bit attractive. He slumps in relief at seeing me, and absentmindedly brushes a hand through his hair. That simple movement brings a dusting of blush across my cheeks. Obviously this touching thing has already ruined me.
"Where the hell have you been?" he asks, as I walk toward the desk.
"Around," I say, spitefully. But honestly, I'm just trying to keep my nerves down by being a bitch.
"Yea well I've been bored out of my mind waiting for the chance to talk to you!" he growls at me.
"About what, Speedy?" I say, playing dumb as I drop my bag on the table, and go to grab a random chair from another desk.
"About this!" he snaps. And before I know it his hand rests on mine, atop the metal chair I had just been pulling over.
I know it's stupid, and I know that I already know that he can touch me but…him touching me again feels exactly like the first time.
The rush of conflicting emotions well inside me again and as I decide to make a move for the door his hand locks around my wrist.
"Don't you want to know?" he asks, looking as stunned as I feel. His grip on me is taut and uncomfortable.
"Know what?" I'm asking now, feeling slightly anxious.
"Why you and I can touch? I thought that you couldn't do shit like that? You got that freaky vacuum power."
His lack of tact makes me relax for some reason, and I shake off his grip.
"Yeah, Ah guess." I answer, copying his trademark move by sweeping a hand through my hair. Pietro gives me a weird look, which I feel inclined to ignore.
"You guess?" he says, arching a white eyebrow, "This shit is so sweet. I could like-"
He stops when he notices my expression. "Could like what?" I ask crossly. A series of fill-in-the-blank responses run through my head as I watch him try to rephrase his sentence.
"I could like, beat the shit out of you."
"I could like, rape you."
"I could like, abduct you and hand you over to my terrorist father!"
"I don't know," he finishes, after my horrific train of thought. "It's just sweet."
Rightttt, like that's going to fly after what I was just thinking.
"What?" I ask him, annoyed. "How is this sweet?"
"It just is, okay? Jeez Rogue, chill the fuck out!" he says, defensively. He fidgets in place, in what I can only guess is nervousness. I have that effect on people.
After a moment's pause, where I'm just staring at him with my arms crossed, he says, "Want me to kiss you?"
"Wha- what??" I sputter out, "What makes yah think Ah want that!"
I can feel my face growing hot, and I'm more than uncomfortable now. Leave it to Pietro to say something so out of the blue and totally out of the question.
Pietro shrugs, "I just figured I could give you what you want. You know, since I'm available now?" he winks, leaning toward me suggestively.
Ah yes, the Pietro all the girls know and love at this school and that I thankfully never had to endure…until now that is.
"Get ovah yahself," I say, pushing a hand against his chest to stop him, "Just 'cause Ah can touch yah doesn't mean Ah'll be all ovah yah."
"I'm the only person you can touch," he corrects, cockily removing my palm from his breast.
"So?" I say darkly, but his words are like a knife in the gut.
"Soooo," he sings, leaning a breath away from my right ear, "Think about it and tell me if you want more." Before I can ask what he means, he finishes with a quick kiss on my cheek and shoulders past me to the door.
I want to act like myself and say something nasty and spiteful…I want, no more like need to get the last word and make him know that he hasn't gotten to me, and that I won't be thinking about it.
But I can't. Because he has gotten to me, I will be thinking about it, and…his lips were just too damn soft.
So unfortunately instead of acting like my usual obstinate self, I'm frozen in place like an idiot. And I know that I must have the dumbest deer in the headlights expression engulfing my entire physic, as he calls by the door with an overly cocky jerk of the head, "Meet me tonight, if you're up for it."
And then the door shuts and I'm all alone.
-Institute -
School was disconcerting to say the least. Not only am I failing my math class but my math tutor is propositioning me and I'm actually thinking about it…
I feel very unsettled right now. I'm shifting through books in the Institutes decently stocked library, looking for any sort of novel to distract me. So far nothing's interesting to me, but the persistent urge to vomit up the two bites of lunch I actually did eat today, makes me keep searching. Usually I make a beeline for the tiny but amply supplied romance novel section, in an attempt to immerse myself in a mental picture of a lover's touch. But considering my current dilemma I'd rather not think about that.
Pietro, Pietro, PIETRO.
These past couple of days I feel as though I've thought about nothing but him. And now this offer is on the table. This opportunity, which slammed headfirst into me not once, but twice, is willing to give me experience. But I just can't figure out which option would be worse. And believe me, I can tell from now that neither will end well.
On the one hand I could go. Pietro and I could engage in a level of sexual exploration that I have only read about in books with Fabio's muscular build plastered on the cover. I could knowthe feeling of not just a man but human contact once again.
I could make up for years past where I felt the need to ostracize myself from humanity, for the benefit of a society which hates me. I could have secret rendezvous with the 'enemy', wild thrusts in the dark of night, moonlight skinny dips, and share in forbidden kisses.
But at what expense? Possibly becoming too attached? Becoming addicted to the contact and reliant on his touch. Being needy and dependant and resentful for the fact that it's only him that I can touch and there can be no other options. And then, undoubtedly being cast aside, rejected, left behind without a thought or second glance the day he decides there's something better.
Or, I could not go. I could refrain from my nightly walks. Burrow myself more deeply into my reclusive ways. Protect my heart and my sanity and remain safe. Reject him, and his outlandish ideas of a physical relationship, before he can reject me and (what I know) will only develop into something I do not wish to feel.
But then what? Live with the what-if's? That's just a different kind of insanity. To remain numb just as the ice has begun to melt, and lose my humanity further. What then will I become? The shell of a shell… I'll be nothing.
I feel the book I've been holding slip from my grasp. It lands on my foot with a painful thud. I'm wearing the fuzzy pink and blue socks Kurt gave me for Christmas so the ache is not too bad as I place the book back on the shelf.
I feel like leaving this solitude. No more libraries for a while. Sometimes even loners get lonely I guess. And for once I feel in over my head. Too deep in a situation I have no knowledge about, and I need…advice.
God help me but I cannot believe what I'm about to do.
-Bedroom-
It would be overdramatic to say that I was avoiding stepping into my own bedroom, or that my heart skipped a nervous beat as I heard Kitty butcher a relatively decent song from outside the door. But I will admit to taking a deep breath to mentally prepare myself for the carnage I'm about to unleash on my personal life.
I hesitate momentarily before I crack open the door. Kitty abruptly stops singing, and plops on her bed in flourish. Her cheeks pink with embarrassment.
Does she honestly think I care by now?
She eye's me warily as I walk over and take a seat at the edge of my bed. Now we're facing each other. I'm vaguely aware of the radio playing some random mainstream pop song while I clear my throat.
There's a moment of awkward eye contact, than, "Is there something you, like, want?" Kitty asks, sitting Indian style on her rumpled cornflower comforter. She looks slightly annoyed and mildly curious, as she watches me fidget in place. This moment is being made even weirder just because this if the first time we've actually spoken to each other since our little tiff.
Oh well, might as well cut to the chase.
"Ah need yah help." I begin, and I see Kitty grimace. She's probably thinking I want some outlandish favor from a convenient frenemy.
"Go on…" she says, sitting up straighter.
"There's this guy-"
"Ah! O.M.G.! Rogueeee!" Kitty screeches excitedly, not giving me a chance to finish.
"A guy? Is he cute? How did you meet? Does he go to our school? Would I know him?" She interrogates, without taking a breath. Her fingers are bunching her bedspread in unnecessary excitement and anticipation.
"Um," I cough, shifting uncomfortably. This was such a mistake.
"It's not like that," I answer, trying to get rid of the goo goo eyes she's sending my way. How easily grudges can be forgotten when boys are involved…
"Like you tots have to dish! I want to know the 411 like A.S.A.P.!" She went on, obviously not listening.
"I hate when you talk like that," I grumble.
Kitty ignores the comment, saying, "Wait! Did you like tell him about your powers because-"
"Kitty!" I growl, raising my voice to warning level. The tone must have made something click it her tiny pea brain because she's finally shut up and is staring at me wide eyed.
"About mah powers," I say, taking the edge off my voice, "That's what Ah've been tryin' to tell yah. We kinda accidently touched and-"
"You killed him!" Kitty cries in dismay. She's giving me a scathing look I can't really describe. It's something between panic, worry, and absolute horror.
I'd roll my eyes but I'm getting a little annoyed at being interrupted.
"No, and will yah shut up." I say, smacking my hand down on my bed for emphasis.
"Heh, sorry," Kitty says, sheepishly.
There's another awkward pause of us just looking at each other, then, "Okay so dish!"
This time I do roll my eyes. "Ah don't know," I say skeptically, "Yah've been known for yah loose tongue. Ah don't know if Ah can trust yah."
"ME!" Kitty exclaims aghast, holding an overdramatic hand to her chest. "Who's been saying that about me?"
What's funny here is that she actually seems insulted…
I give her a deadpan look and she sticks out her right pinky. "Pinky swear on my grandmother's grave! I, like, won't say a word!" she says to me.
"Both yah grandmotha's are alive," I reply unimpressed.
"Rogueee," she whines, "Pleaseee. I promise! I pinky promise!"
"Ugh, fine." I say, hooking my pinky with hers. I know this may seem juvenile but the one way to keep Kitty silent is via pinky promises.
Sucking in a breath, I look at Kitty. She's practically bubbling with suppressed anticipation. Her big brown eyes are glittering with the knowledge of expected gossip. I cannot believe I've been reduced to confiding in this. It just goes to show that I really have no friends.
"Ah met a boy…we touched on accident one night," I explain, pausing in case I'm interrupted again. When Kitty makes no move to cut me off, I continue.
"An' nothin' happened." I finish, exhaling slowly.
I can see her squinting at me in confusion. It's interesting, but for once in her life she's not wearing makeup in the house. She looks more tired that way. But I digress…
"Like…" Kitty says, "What do you mean?"
I sigh. "Ah mean," I say, "Mah powers didn't work. There was no pull. He didn't pass out or anythin'."
This time Kitty is unsettlingly quiet as she stares at me. "So you're saying nothing, like, happened?" she questions dumbly.
Ughhhh.
"Yes. Ah already said that," I grumble.
"So, like, what's the problem?" Kitty asks me.
"The problem is he can touch meh," I snap, flinging myself further on my bed. I bump against the headboard with a thud and look at Kitty crossly.
I see her frown from the corner of my eye. Than her eyes light up as if she's come to some great conclusion.
"Oh my God! Rogue! But isn't that just awesome for you?!" Kitty exclaims, throwing her hands over her mouth as she giggles with girlish glee.
I roll my eyes for the nth time tonight. "No." I respond, clicking my tongue with disapproval.
"Um, like, why?" Kitty asks, "Don't you like each other?"
"Hell no." I respond, pinking at that thought.
Me and Pietro? I can't even begin to imagine anything remotely romantic ever developing between us. The twisted carnal attraction between the two of us is barely fathomable as it is.
"Okayyy," Kitty sings, with a slightly annoyed look on her face. "If you don't, like, like him, than I still don't get your issue?"
I pink even further now. This is the part where I'm supposed to confess to Kitty the reason for my impromptu "help" session. How embarrassing…
"…he wants tah mmHm with meh," I mumble, looking down.
"He wants what?" Kitty asks, she leans toward me and I flinch at the brash and unforgiving volume of her voice.
"He wants tah have sex with mah," I state more clearly.
And now my head is buried in my pillow as I hear the awaited gasp of my very predictable and overly dramatic roomie.
"Like, Rogue!" Kitty exclaims shrilly, "You're not going to do that, are you?!"
From the refuge of my pillow I peek up at Kitty and say, "Ah was thinkin' about it."
My response provokes an instantaneous reaction of horrification on her dimpled face, and I'm squishing desperately into my bed sheets while avoiding eye contact.
"Rogue, you can't just like do that with the first guy that offers!" Kitty chastises me, "you have to wait until, like, that one special guy who-"
"—who what?" I cut her off. My eyes are blazing and my face is flushed in a mixture of resentment and embarrassment.
She just doesn't get it. No one does…
"There is no one special guy for mah," I hiss, pathetically. And I see the light finally turn on in that simplistic little head as Kitty's eyes widen in realization.
Yea that's right bitch. I can't touch people.
"This is mah one shot," I continue listlessly. "Would Ah be horrible to take it?" I ask, finally meeting Kitty's sympathetic eyes.
I feel a flash of annoyance at the sight of her pity. I don't need an empathetic friend right now (or ever), I need advice.
"I think…" Kitty says, after a few moments of contemplative silence, "that if I were you I would…"
"Would?" I urge, slightly tense at her response. Right now I really don't know which answer I would be more relieved to hear.
Kitty gives me a helpless look before exclaiming, "I don't, like, know Rogue!" she huffs for a bit, throwing her arms in the air in exaggerated frustration.
"I can't, like, make this decision for you! It's too huge!"
At my look of despair, Kitty's shoulders slump. "All I can tell you," She says in a defeated tone, "is to think about what would keep you up more at night. If you ask yourself that, you'll have your answer."
I nod my head at her, a bit disappointed but still slightly relieved at the vague directional advice.
We share a smile and I'm once again aware of the radio playing bad pop music in the background.
I heave a deep breath. It's quarter to three and I've made my final decision. Slipping out of bed I'm careful not to wake Kitty as I sneak to our closet.
As I slide open the mirrored door I've come to realize I have no idea what to wear in this kind of situation. Usually I just pick the first most revealing thing I dare to put on with my…condition. But tonight is different, and I don't want to go out looking like a two bit whore. Still, I refuse to look like my normal prudish self.
"Wear a dress." A voice says, and I jump. I look over at Kitty's bed and she's sitting up, staring at me with sleepy brown eyes.
"Right…" I reply, uneasily shifting through clothes.
There's a soft padding of feet and within another few seconds Kitty is standing next to me in what looks like a constricting pale pink tank and blue plaid boy shorts. Her pajama's are very unlike my grandma grey cotton conservative two piece set, which sags on my body like it was meant for Hank.
She elbows me to the side a little so she can aid my search. In reality though, I've completely stopped looking. I think I'll leave her to create my ideal outfit because God knows I can't.
Kitty pulls out a short pale pink thick strap dress and presses it against me.
"This would look nice," she intones, with a decisive nod of the head. Then, "Try it on."
Now I'm reluctantly obeying her request and stripping down to my unmentionables just try on a ridiculously girly box cut dress.
Starring at the closet door mirrors I say, "This looks retarded on meh."
Kitty gasps. "Rogue you look, like, totally stellar! I don't even know what you're talking about! I am so jealous, you, like, look better than me in it!"
Ugh, standard girlfriend pep talk. Like that's what I need…
"Are yah sure?" I ask, playing into the praise against my better judgment. My hands are playing with the hem of the dress, which ends a couple inches above my knee. I feel absolutely uncomfortable right now.
"Positive!" Kitty sings, pushing me over to our desk (aka her personal vanity table).
"What are yah doing?" I ask. I'm anxiously looking at the time. Its three o'clock now and I really should have left already.
"Make up time," Kitty says, "You weren't expecting to go all barefaced now where you?"
At my blank look Kitty sighs, "Listen Rogue," she says, "No matter what, this is like your first official date ever. You have to look nice and blow this guy away!"
She plays with my hair a bit, pinning it up random places but I shake her off. "Leave mah hair." I grumble. I know from personal experience there's no helping it. It's in the awkward stages of growing out right now and never looks nice…
Kitty shrugs absently, applying clear gloss to my lips. "The trick is," she advises, "Is just to put as much on to make it show. Too much will make a guy not want to come, like, near you. No one wants to kiss gooey lips!" she laughs.
I don't say anything because I'm almost certain I'm having a minor anxiety attack as I watch Kitty paint blush on my cheeks like a china doll.
"Just remember, less is better!" she continues, mindlessly. And I can tell she's thrilled to be educating me on the art of makeup.
"I mean really Rogue," she chastises, "You cake so much makeup on! Sometimes it looks like if you stay in the sun too long your face will crack apart!"
At my venomous look, Kitty backs down. "But that's your personal style," she amends, smoothly evading my wrath.
"Still, doesn't help to take tips though!" Kitty smiles, taking out bronze eye shadow.
Oh God, here we go. "Is this really all necessary?" I ask, feeling like a beauty pageant contestant with the way I was being fussed over.
"Rogue!" Kitty says, "Do you want to blow him away or not?!"
I roll my eyes. If she keeps using that phrase, I will have to hurt her soon.
"Ah'm kinda on ah time limit," I explain, prying her fingers off my head. …Didn't I tell her to leave my hair alone?
"When are you supposed to be there?" She asks me, persistently shoving my hands away from my mutilated head and spraying it with God knows what.
"Now," I deadpan, hoping for some sort of mercy from my roommate.
Kitty winks at me. "It's good to make 'em wait!" she shrugs, brushing my bangs back, and clipping them into that notoriously trend diseased hump that everyone seems to be sporting lately.
"Take it down." I demand, with no room for argument and Kitty pouts, but obeys reluctantly.
"Who is this guy anyway?" she asks me, "I mean, you like, never told me?"
…I was hoping it wouldn't come to that question.
Feeling skittish I stand up abruptly and place a grease ridden lock of hair behind my ear, "Ah'd rather not say…" I reply nervously.
Kitty smiles supportively, "Is it because he's fugly?" she asks in an annoyingly understanding tone.
[Insert blank stare here]
"Ah'm going," I say, not even justifying the question with a response.
3:25 a.m.
It is three twenty-five in the morning and I feel like a fool. I am standing outside by the same path in the park where Pietro and I had bumped on the previous night with no sign that he had been here or was coming at all…The chances of a speed demon like him being late are really rare. And so it is highly likely that right now, as I stand in my slightly washed-out pink dress, in ridiculously nice shoes, with my hair actually brushed, that I was duped and am currently being stood up.
I feel like such an idiot. My cheeks are flushing with a mixture of rage, anxiety, and embarrassment as I begin to turn off the pebbled pathway. I can vaguely see the distinctive silhouette of the institute against the turpentine sky, but the walk that I used to thrive off of now feels suppressing and uncomfortable.
I made it three steps when a voice hidden by the nearby foliage called out. "I guess I've made you suffer enough!"
Jerking around spastically, I instinctively got into the standard defensive form taught at the institute, preparing for my attacker. Upon seeing Pietro, my fists drop down to my sides. That bastard.
"How long have yah been hur?" I question, annoyed. I cross my arms and stand tense and self-conscious, as I drink in his laidback form. He's leaning against a particularly large oak tree, wearing what I suppose he believes to be an appropriately seductive outfit for the evening, and even has the audacity to have the moon shining on his face in just the right angles.
"About ten, fifteen minutes," he quips, nonchalantly. And the urge to strangle him heightens even more as he continues with, "before you even got here," a smirk plays on his lips, as I swallow the lump of irritation in my throat.
"Do yah think this is funny?" I growl, stalking up to him. Honestly I'm mortified beyond belief. Thinking back, I did ridiculously girlish and out of character things while waiting from him to arrive. Things such as, re-applying the lip gloss Kitty gave me, brushing out my hair again, and even attempting a sexy facial expression in a small compact mirror I had tucked in my purse... A pink hue rises to my cheeks as I think about it.
Pietro laughs in reply, tilting his head back and clapping his hands together with mirth. "Yeah, kind of," he says with a humor filled smile. And all I can honestly think is: is he really this dumb? Or is this just because he really does not give two shits about me?
Feeling enraged I take a step back, clench my fists, and turn around. Walk away Marie, I tell myself, it just isn't worth it, nothings worth it anymore. Life for me has been nothing but a self deprecating and never ending bout of exclusion, solitude, and depression. Disappointment is only to be expected, and heart break? Unanticipated, yet predictable.
Before I get the chance to protest I'm shoved abruptly unto the scabby bark of a pine tree, my pasty white arms held steadfastly above me by Pietro's lightly calloused hands.
I feel like crying, but like always my eyes are dry as I glare at his grayish blue one's glinting at me through the darkness.
"Where do you think you're going?" comes a feral growl, seeping through his lips like an unsavory hiss. His back is arched as he pushes me more firmly into my temporary prison, and I can feel him lick his lips in slight indecision.
Still, I'm ashamed to admit that I can't even focus on the immediate fear I feel, or how imminent and real the danger that I could be in really is. All my mind can comprehend is how much softer his palms feel against my skin then I would have ever thought to imagine, and how nice it is to have a person's lips just a breath away from my earlobe with no fear or hesitation.
I let out a whimper, and like me, Pietro is aware that this is my first real sign of vulnerability. I know this because of the sly smile that etches unto his face before he forces his lips on top of mine for my first real kiss.
A kiss that was nothing like the decade's worth of romance novels that I've been devouring over my seventeen years of life. It was not soft, sweet, or intimately breathtaking…He wasn't holding me in his arms tenderly, or dipping me romantically during an impressively talented and explosive meeting of our lips.
In fact, his method of making out, not surprisingly mirrors his nature, quick paced and unforgiving. With a practiced tongue he pries my mouth open skillfully. His lips feel rough and chapped, and his technique, overpowering and aggressive.
Then after what seems like an hour of him attacking me orally, there is a sudden yet subtle shift in his demeanor and I feel his body cave into mine. Now my heart is speeding up and I'm sure he can feel it, because I can feel the steady drumming of his against my breast.
My breathe hitches as he lets me up for air then plunges back down for softer, sweeter pecks. Pecks that start on my lips and trail to my collar bone, my cheeks, my nose, anywhere within reachable distance from my mouth.
As he continues his ministrations I feel an unfamiliar stirring in my gut that I both want to act on and run from at the same time. Feeling panicked, I finally find the strength to push Pietro off of me.
"Sto-stop!" I stutter hesitantly, and I know my eyes are wide, cheeks flushed, and lips swollen. I hear him groan in protest and suppressed lust.
"What?" Pietro whines, still gripping my arms.
"Don't yah think we're going a bit fast?" I mumble out hesitantly. Dodging his piercing gaze, which I'm sure, is riddled with impatience.
"Um yeah, that's kind of the point of tonight isn't it?" He asks me, sounding flippant and annoyed.
I look down, feeling embarrassment. I know he has a point, but I'm also aware that I can't possibly commit to the implications of what this night was supposed to be. Just one kiss has me reeling and feeling unprepared, inadequate, insecure…the list goes on and on.
I hear him sigh, and I feel frustrated with myself as I watch my opportunity slip through my clenched, pale fingers. Way to go Rogue. Way. To. Go.
Just as I open my mouth to take back the deal that had been monopolizing my mind all day long, Pietro's voice halts me.
"Okay so we'll take it slow, yea?" He says, brushing back his hair and actually smiling at me. His lips, slightly pinkish, curve up at the ends to form an incredibly alluring smile, and I feel a blush illuminate my cheeks.
"Huh?" I ask stupidly. The surprise of his conceding so easily to my request has caught me off guard.
"A fuck's a fuck, right?" he states crudely, "Whether I get it now or later doesn't matter. I still get it."
So much for being courteous, I sigh to myself. In my rush of hormonal adrenaline I almost forgot that the roughly 5'9" boy in front of me is a lackadaisical, spoilt, and egotistical asshole. Subtly is not in his vocabulary and manners are not heredity to any member even remotely connected to his gene pool.
I feel as though I should feel anger at his words but honestly, the reason we'd both come to night was for that. So any agreement dies on my tongue.
Feeling stupid, I ask, "So what now?"
The look I receive tells me that he knows exactly what we can do now.
Ahh I'm sure you guys want to kill me for taking so long but I have an explanation! (Actually several). First I got a fever and could not function, then I had extremely stressful midterms, then I lost the USB that I had my story on with more than half the chapter on it! …I found it days later in my school computer lab, because some wonderful man handed it in!
Now even with copious amounts of projects, me and my editor finally merged our schedules for about an hour and a half and I completed the chapter! SO I hope you liked it, I will try to get the next chapter out by mid December the latest, because schools ending on the tenth of next month and I'll be free from responsibility until a little after new year's!
REVIEW and I will work harder to get the chapter out! That's the only reason this chapter came out now…my guilt because of your wonderful comments lol.
I felt so bad! I was going to wait until the end of this semester next month to even attempt at finishing this chapter because I'm so busying working, interning, having to actually go to classes, etc. But I couldn't do it! So please leave comments.
Tell me what you think and any suggestions you may have the story would be very much appreciated! I'd love to hear your thoughts!
-my monologue is complete. Until next time!
Thanks for reading!