Playlist: More of You by MoZella
Word Prompt: Zero
Chapter 15
When I was eight I had the stomach flu for three days. Katie had moved out, Garrett couldn't be trusted to take care of me, and Mom and Dad had work, so I stayed at Bella's with Gran Swan. She'd been living there for almost a year, and I knew her well. She was like my grandma, too, only I had no living grandparents.
Gran Swan fed me lots of liquids and tried to keep me full of saltines, which to this day, I detest.
When Bella came home from school the first day, she insisted on helping Gran make the chicken noodle soup I was going to eat when she sent me home. It was yummy even though I threw it up.
The following day, Bella played board games with me, and we watched cartoons until my mom got home.
On the final day, Bella asked me when I was getting better. When I told her I didn't know, she sighed, slumped outside, and played with Cory, who liked to kick my shins and steal my hat when I wouldn't give him quarters for the ice cream man.
I have never felt so betrayed in all my life. But Bella was eight. She just wanted to play. I get that, but it doesn't change the fact that when I'm sick or forced to be a patient, like I am now, I don't like it. Not one bit.
So far, I've managed to avoid everyone by sleeping in, but eventually I have to make contact with people, so I head into the bathroom to get cleaned up. While I'm in the shower, faint chatter filters in through the vent. I think Katie's here.
I brush my teeth and throw on some shorts before heading into the kitchen for breakfast. Katie's at the stove flipping pancakes. "Morning, sleepy head. 'Bout time you woke up."
"The next time you have a head injury, you see how early you wake up."
The pantry door opens, and Bella's closing it behind her, apple juice in hand. "There's no cran-apple," she says, her eyes wandering to my bare chest.
"Hi," I say, smile broad. This is a pleasant surprise.
"Well, I was going to ask if all this got settled, but obviously it did," Katie says, putting more batter into the pan.
"What did?" I ask, keeping my eyes on Bella. She's freshly showered, too, and wearing much more clothes than she was yesterday, thank goodness.
"You two. Geez, the looks on your faces are like a countdown to copulation."
"Um . . . where's Mom?" I ask.
"Work. She had to go in for a little bit, but she'll be home by lunch. Dad's staying home, though. It seems it takes three adults to care for you."
"An me!" Caleb announces his presence by wrapping his hands around my shins and poking his head between my legs.
I pull him up and hold him against my chest. "So you're gonna make sure I'm okay?"
"Momma said I sing."
"Oh, yeah? That'll make me much better."
"You get uh hurted." He jabs my injury with his stubby little finger.
"Yep, but let's not touch it. Okay, little dude?"
"Otay." Once I set him down, he totters off to find something else to do.
Bella opens the juice and leaves it on the counter, then begins cutting up bananas and strawberries. It's like gourmet up in here. I've got to get sick more often. I'm used to Cap N' Crunch now that Mom's moved out.
I lean over the counter, beside Bella, grazing her side along the way as I get a glass from the cupboard. "Sorry," I say.
"It's okay."
"Don't you have school? And practice? We've got playoffs next week."
"Dad called me in."
"He did?"
"Yeah."
"Just like that?" I stand next to her as I guzzle my juice, her eyes lingering on me as I drink.
"I sort of insisted. And I figured I could help take care of you since, well, I felt bad for breaking your phone."
"Uh uh, no," Katie pipes in. "Girlfriend, that was the best thing you did." Katie goes in for a high five, and Bella obliges.
Bella turns around, resuming her chopping. When she's finished, she asks what she can do, but Katie's done with the pancakes and sends Caleb to get Dad.
We all sit at the table, eating breakfast together. I like Bella here with my family. Well, most of it anyway. And I like the way she's staring at me with my shirt off. Maybe being a patient's not as bad as I remember.
-NSID-
Katie puts Caleb down for a nap, and Bella and I are left with only Dad to bug us. And he does. He's asking us questions about school and the playoffs and Bella's teammates. I'm glad he's interested, but go away, old man.
He doesn't listen to my silent plea and challenges us to a game of Scrabble, which Bella wins because she always wins that game.
Dad sits back and reads the paper while Bella and I clean up the kitchen. We're quiet loading the dishwasher and stand exceptionally close as we wash and dry a few dishes that won't fit. I forget how quickly the washer fills when we're all here. And I forget what it's like to be attracted to someone and want to kiss them but you can't because your dad is in the freaking room. It sucks.
Bella folds the towel methodically and hangs it from the oven door. We both lean back against the counter and stare at each other. Bella blinks first and shakes her head, grinning.
"Wanna go to my room?" I ask, but she denies me.
"Your dad's not an imbecile."
"Wanna get some toilet paper? The bathrooms are low. It's all the way out in the garage. I bet it takes us awhile to find it. We could be gone a whole, oh," I say, glancing at my non-existent watch, "five minutes, I'd say."
"You're a dork," she says.
"You love it, I know."
"Never said I didn't. Cookies?"
"Yes, please."
"Any requests?" She begins rifling through cabinets and gathering the basics: flour, sugar, baking soda.
"Gran's oatmeal raisin."
"Okay, on it."
She gets started, getting all the supplies, and I stand in her way. What else am I going to do? She begins stirring ingredients in a heavy metal bowl on the counter, her right foot pressed against her left knee, like always. Only this time she's wearing black and white striped socks. She looks like a zebra. A flamingo zebra.
I watch her carefully, enjoying her in my kitchen, making me delicious treats. I taste the dough as she goes. I'm a tasting expert. Gran Swan always told me I was, and she never lied. She even said Bella would learn all of her best recipes someday. That's turned out to be true; these cookies are on that list.
I clean off my spoon, the sugary goodness dissolving on my tongue. I share my thanks with Bella by brushing her neck with my lips. She leans her head back on my shoulder, exposing her neck. I kiss her there more forcefully, and she grips the countertop. I want to turn her around, lift her up onto it, and press myself against her. But I can't because my dad is still shuffling pages of the newspaper in the living room.
So I have to get creative. The island is blocking his view of our lower halves, so I aim there. I wrap my hands around her waist, my chin pressed to her shoulder, and she starts on the cookies again, this time mixing in the raisins. As she stirs my hands wander, timidly brushing up and down her ribcage, then following down her tiny waist to her full hips and lower still. I get both hands nearly wrapped around her thighs and squeeze when she lets out a little squeak.
She exhales loudly and brushes her hair back. "What were you saying about toilet paper? You needed some, right?" She pushes me toward the pantry which leads to the garage, and once we're through the door, I'm pressed against the shelving, being molested. Hell, yes.
She presses her hands to my chest and kisses me, full on the mouth. She's not playing around one bit. I wrap my hands around her back to pull her close, but she slaps them away.
"Okay, stop touching me. I'm making Gran's cookies, and your dad is, like, right there." She's trying to be stern, but it's not really working because her lips are darker now from kissing, which makes me want to do it again.
"I'm sorry."
She narrows her eyes and pulls her lips to one side. "You are not."
"I'm totally not sorry," I admit.
She turns, but I stop her, pulling her in again. "Where're you going? Toilet paper takes a long time to . . ." I let my words dissolve when my mouth makes contact with hers again. Damn, she can kiss. I can't believe I've been missing out on this all these years.
She pulls away and presses her fingers to her lips. What is she doing? Checking if they're still there?
"I can't believe this," she whispers before backing out of the pantry, a warning finger held out in front of her. Yeah, that'll work. "No more touching." I shove my hands in my pockets. She adds, "And put a shirt on"
"I'll put a shirt on if you lose those sexy socks."
"What? They're stripes. And knee socks are either nerdy or sporty and—"
"They've played a huge part in my dreams as of late. That's all I'm saying."
Her eyes go wide, and she giggles. "Really?"
"You have amazing legs, Bella."
She puts her hands on her hips, disbelieving. "Okay, now you're being stupid."
"Stupid in love."
"I have to finish these cookies," she says abruptly and leaves the pantry.
I stay there a few minutes to cool off. It doesn't help because when I exit the door, she's bent over at the waist putting the cookies in the oven.
Please, Dad, leave now.
Katie saunters into the kitchen with a whiney Caleb on her hip. "Why are you standing in the pantry doorway?"
"I thought you were putting him to sleep," I say, trying to divert the conversation.
"I did. It was an hour nap on the breast. That's probably all he'll do today, and he'll be crabby the rest of the day. Let this be a lesson to you. If you abstain from sexual intercourse—which you should because you're my baby brother—you'll have zero chance of making a pooping, needing, screaming little guy like this." Katie sets him down, and as if it's staged, he screams at the top of his lungs, like he's in agony. Bella looks to Caleb then to me with serious eyes as if to say, I like that plan.
I like that plan, too, the part about not making babies. The other part not so much. But we're in the early stages of fooling around. It's all good. Should be for a long while, too. Bella and I are brand new in terms of a physical relationship, so we have a lot to explore together. I'm looking forward to it.
"Will you stop staring at her sex legs?" Katie scolds.
"What?" Bella asks, shocked.
"Seriously, he can't stop looking. And if I batted for the other team, I'd be looking, too, Bella. You have nice legs. Do you do any special exercises?"
The girls chat as though I'm not there, which sucks because I am, and Bella and I had a flirty thing going before Katie ruined it.
Mom comes home early, and we all eat lunch together, my mom leaving pain pills next to my plate like she used to do with my vitamins when I was kid. How embarrassing. She also chastises me about not wearing a shirt when we have company and picks one out for me to wear—a striped button down, which I never wear but she always hopes I will.
After lunch I hope to commandeer Bella, but my mom and Katie monopolize her time. I'm nothing compared to her, apparently. Not that I'm jealous, I just want more time with Bella—to talk and stuff.
Bella goes home for the night after Katie leaves. It's only been an hour or so, but I miss her. When Mom and Dad are tucked away in their bedroom, I sneak over to Bella's.
She's seated on the couch under a blanket, watching I Love Lucy. She bends her head back awkwardly to say hello.
"Hey, mind if I hang out?"
"We were with each other all day." She looks happy to see me, though.
"As it should be. Move over."
She positions herself on the opposite end of the couch. I take a seat and stare. She's so pretty; it's hard not to.
"You make me insane. Did you know that?" she asks, eyes playful.
I shrug. "Can I ask you a question?"
"Of course."
"Why now? Why are you okay with this now when two days ago you hated me?"
"I've never hated you. I think that's part of the problem. I—you are the most—look, going from friends to something else was so, so scary because what we have is great."
"I know," I say, nodding. It is, and it's time to amp that sucker up.
"I mean, do I go for it and risk losing what we have, or do I stay in the safe friend zone? There was so much to think about. But that car accident put things into perspective, and I," she fiddles with the edges of the blanket, her eyes cast down, "I was ready to talk to you anyway. I feel silly for the way I overreacted after prom. It's just—I'm . . ."
"You're what? Talk to me." I want to keep this going. This is good. Talking is good.
"When I'm around you I'm a sensitive basket case. I don't know how you can stand it—my mood swings and the way I've been treating you. Edward, you—"
"The way you've been treating me? Are you kidding me?" Sure, she's been sensitive, but I've been the idiot. Not her.
"No, not at all. I said we needed to clear the air the other day, but we just, um, kissed, and then this morning . . . we should've talked."
"It's okay. We're talking now."
"I feel craptastic about what happened with Jake, too. I know it wasn't fair; I knew it at the time, even. I mean, going on dates with him and then spending the rest of my time trying not to jump on you. It just didn't feel right."
She's being serious, but my smile is wide. She wanted to jump on me? Cool.
"I don't know for sure, but it seemed like the more he knew about you trying to get with me, the more he liked the challenge or something. It felt like it turned into a game for him."
"Well, I do think he really liked you."
"Yeah, but neither of you deserved that back and forth nonsense, but I just . . . I don't know. I really did like him. But after that night when you—you asked me to stop kissing him, well, I did. I knew that I wasn't giving him a fair shot, that I couldn't, because I liked you more. I've always liked you more, but at that point, Jake and I were really close, and I didn't know how to ask him to just give up completely. And he'd asked me to prom already. I wanted him to have a good time at the dance. It seemed like the least I could do, and he knew at that point. I could tell he was disappointed, but we're tight enough that he won't hold it against me. In fact, he wished me luck when he dropped me off after prom."
"Like you needed luck." I laugh. "He should've texted me, told me I needed luck."
"Do you—are you mad at me?" Her eyes are on mine. They're soft, pleading.
"Bella, I haven't even really thought about it. I didn't even think about it like that. I was honest with you, and you were honest with me. I knew what was going on. It was your choice. It's not like we're married. And you weren't even his girlfriend. If you feel like you need to apologize that's fine, but I don't need it. That's over, and I'm fine. I have you."
She smiles and whispers, "You're kind of amazing."
"So are you," I offer. "Are we good?"
"So good. Thank you. For listening."
"You're welcome. And thanks for talking to me. Oh, and, Bella, what we have is better than great."
Her smile reaches her eyes before she turns them back to the TV.
I lie down taking up loads of space, lowering my head into her lap. I wiggle it around, hoping she'll play with my hair. I love that. I even left my hat at home. When she doesn't take the hint, I place her hand atop my head and swirl it around. "Ah," I say, "the life of a patient is blissful."
She chuckles and begins pulling her fingers through my hair. "You're needy."
"Yeah, so. You're a giver. We're a perfect match."
She doesn't say anything and flips through the channels. We pass up Batman Begins, and I stuff my desire to ask if we can watch it.
She sighs and flips around the bend, landing on Christian Bale and Liam Neesen training in the snow. "Sometimes I'm too giving," she admits.
I reach up and cup her cheek, getting her eyes on me. "Yeah, you are," I say. "I'll try not to take so much."
"Okay." She leans lower, hovering over me until her silky hair's in my face.
"Except maybe this," I whisper, pushing her strands aside and brushing my lips against hers.
I stare at her, and I feel incredibly lucky to be here. In her lap, in her presence, in her heart. In some way, at least. It's then I have to know . . . "Will you be my girlfriend?"
"Yes." She kisses me again, soft warm lips on mine.
"Will you go on a date with me?"
"Yes, but not until we get you all better."
"And how will you do that?" I ask, hoping she'll say something dirty. I'd pay her to do it. Maybe someday. Now's not the time. But she surprises me with her response. In a good way.
"I have some ideas . . ." She fades off as she tugs me up and slips her tongue into my mouth.
Yeah, being a patient isn't so bad.
A/N: Lots of talking in this chapter. Big sigh.