Chapter 7: Chance

It happens more often now, that she nods off in my arms, and that I carry her to bed. It's becoming very tempting to not get comfortable and hold her all night, or even carry her into my own room. But I don't want to freak her out when she wakes up, and I also don't want to tempt myself to do more than sleep.

The way in which I'm attracted to her, it's almost ridiculous.

I thought at first that I was just reliving a childhood crush, but now my affections are sort of taking over to the point that I start to worry.

To me, she has the body of a goddess, and when she's lying in my arms, every move she makes feels sensual, even when I know she's trying hard to be unattractive. Maybe that's why I want her even more.

I wish she would let me show her how beautiful she really is. But I know she won't hear anything about it.

To her, all my feelings are simply caused by hormones and nostalgia. And any affection I might have that goes beyond horniness, only exists because I am believed to have a false image of her.

She claims to be evil, but to me, she's just Bella. A girl with a rough childhood and trust issues, true, but I can't see a single bad thing about her.

Maybe she's right, maybe all my visions are clouded by my immature but powerful crush on her.

Again I start to wonder how I'm ever going to hide my feelings for my teammates in the next few weeks, when she's going to be around every day, touching me, touching them…

"What are you thinking?" she asks with a grin and I chuckle.

"You stole my line."

"What gives you the sole right to pry into my brain?" she says with an amused tone.

"You never need to pry, I'm an open book to you."

"Just spill it," she nudges me impatiently.

"Fine. I was thinking about who I'll be most jealous of next week, when you massage them all."

"Hmm," she replies, "at least that keeps you from wondering whether or not you'll jump me when I massage you." She playfully elbows me in the ribs.

"Still wondering that too," I tease her back.

She laughs out loud and it's the most wonderful sound. The way my belly flips when she does that, sure that's not caused by hormones, right?

I get cheeky and say "I think you should give me a preview."

"Sure. Which teammate should I massage to test how jealous you get?"

"Yep, that's your evil side right there," I say, and she laughs again. But when I look at her, waiting for her to reply to the real question that still hangs in the air, she sobers up.

"I don't know, Jake."

"What, you don't trust me?"

She raises her eyebrows as if that was a stupid question. And I guess it is. She falls asleep in my arms on a regular basis and lets me tuck her in, so that must mean she feels pretty safe.

"I just think it could be weird."

"Weirder than us cuddling all the time?" I ask her, pointing out the obvious as well. Obvious to everybody else at least.

I told my friend and team mate Paul about her, when he kept trying to set me up with some of our groupies. I explained that I'm already head over heels with my roommate. He gave me a worried look at first, a look that said "be careful." But when I gradually told him about our interactions, he became more and more convinced that it's only a matter of time. He keeps asking me if she's figured it out yet, keeps making jokes about me and her acting like a married couple already, staying in for the Saturday night movies on TV and all.

But I know better.

There used to a time where she was just as close to me. A time in which I once believed that it was only a matter of time till she'd be mine.

And she never did.

In fact, I am convinced she's only allowing herself to be so close to me, because there's no chance that we'll ever be more. Kinda like how a girl loves to be close to her gay best friend. Someone to cuddle and pet, while still feeling safe.

I don't want to spend all my time waiting, for that second chance, for a break that will make it okay.

I don't want to hope.

When she's not answering, I know I should probably let the subject drop. She often freezes when the topic moves too close to my feelings, or any possible weirdness between us, and I mostly let it be.

But not this time.

I need to know that we'll be okay next week. I need to know that she'll still feel safe being even closer to me.

"What's the matter, Bella? So what if I think you're sexy and what if I like you more than I should? You're a professional, right? You massage men all the time."

"That's different," she mutters. And I see it right there. She shuts herself off and looks away.

But I won't have it. So I lean in closer to her and place my fingertips underneath her chin, forcing her to look up at me.

"Bella, don't do this, please." I whisper.

"Do what?" she murmurs, still trying to look away.

"Don't shut me out. At least try to explain what you're so afraid of. Me, I'm not afraid I'll lose control, even if I might feel tempted. I won't. I just need to know you won't choke when it's me. I'd hate for you to be comfortable around everyone else, but me. Just because I'm too close."

She finally looks me in the eyes and seems to understand.

"You're worried about me?" she asks in a small voice.

"Well, yeah, and about me too. If you freak out on me now, I'd be hurt. I don't want to depend on you, but right now, you have the power to really hurt me."

"I know," she whispers with a sad voice.

We both sit in silence for a while, until she casually takes my hand in hers.

I think she wants to resume the movie and close the topic: she sometimes holds my hand when she's focused on the screen. But her eyes stay intently on mine.

Slowly, she starts to massage the palm of my hand, with strong and confident fingertips, working her way from my wrist to my thumb. And up again, repeating the same motions to massage all my fingers.

I smile at her reassuringly and then lean back against the couch, enjoying the relaxed feeling that comes over me. I never knew a hand massage could feel this wonderful.

And sensual as well.

I try my hardest to keep my thoughts pure, knowing that she's scanning my face for every possible response, but I fail miserably. The way her fingers work their way over my skin makes me crave that same attention on another body part. I grow so hard in my pants that I'm starting to feel uncomfortable, but I manage to keep my breathing under control and I don't think she notices.

Not much at least.

After some time, fortunately the tension subsides, and I feel a new kind of peace come over me.

My affection for her flows freely and I wish I could just melt into her, right here, and make the world stop. She's still watching me intently, but in her gaze, I notice the same kind of affection. Only a bit more guarded.

I wrap the fingers of my free hand around her massaging hand, holding it still, and then softly pull her closer to me.

She leans in for a hug, but somewhere between her sitting up right and laying against my chest, I lean in as well, so that my lips land on hers.

Instinctively, I place both my hands on her cheeks and kiss her gently, without hesitation.

For a moment, for just one wonderful and surreal moment, she kisses me back. Her lips move and I nearly sigh in bliss into her mouth.

But then the predictable thing happens.

She pulls back, and instead of giving me that same speech about her not being good enough, she shuts down completely and rushes off into her bedroom.

I'm left on the couch, alone and disappointed. I'm mad at myself, but not enough to push down the hurt of her rejection.

Again I realize it's not a matter of time. She wanted to be closer to me, she wanted to kiss me, but she simply won't allow it. This isn't something that will be fixed with time.

And maybe I've broken it for good by being so stupid.

I can't let her retreat like that. For all I know, she might be packing her bags at this very moment.

I slowly get up from the couch, wipe away the tears that escaped, and walk to her door.

"Bella, please… I'm sorry," I try, but she won't answer.

I want to explain, I want to apologize a thousand times over.

The more I think about it, the more I feel like slapping myself. This is exactly why she didn't want to massage me. This is exactly what she hates about men. And here I go and prove that I'm just like all the rest.

"Please," I whisper again, before I slide down, my back against her door, holding my face in my hands.

I imagine her packing her things, leaving the apartment without saying goodbye, and new tears start to fall.

The nightmare vision dissolves when I nearly fall back, as she softly opens her bedroom door.

I scramble on my feet and whisper again, "I'm sorry."

She steps back and sits on her bed, leaving the door open. I hesitate but when she looks up at me, I walk inside the room and sit next to her.

I have no idea what to say so I simply stare at my hands.

With relief, I notice that she hasn't packed anything yet.

Suddenly, I feel her soft fingertips on my cheeks, wiping away the fresh tears.

"I shouldn't have walked away," she mutters, which almost sounds like an apology.

"It's okay," I reply, "I shouldn't have kissed you, you were clear enough."

From the corner of my eye, I notice her shrug. "You're confused," she murmurs.

At this I look up at her, and notice that she's been crying as well.

I shake my head, "I'm not confused, Bella. I know what I feel, there is no confusion there. Maybe you are confused?" I try.

I would like to hear from her why she kissed me back, that first moment.

But she shakes her head. "I'm not," she objects.

I sigh, and she continues, "maybe I'm giving mixed signals. And I apologize for that, but you said you'd understand if I did."

Her last line sounds accusing, so I mutter defensively, "you said you'd understand too, if I blurred the lines."

"I would. And I do," she replies in a soft tone.

"Then why do you run off?"

At this she sighs. "Not because I don't understand. I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at me."

"Why?" I don't understand what she did wrong, apart from being so wonderful I can't help but fall for her.

"For being stupid. For allowing images of things that can't be."

"What kind of things?" I ask, hopeful almost, wondering if she's been thinking about me and her together.

"Stupid things," she mutters.

I feel that she's tempted to hide away again, but I'm right here on her bed, and she's got no where to run from me. I can see the fear in her eyes, but I won't allow it.

"Bella," I sigh, leaning closer to her. I make it clear that I only intend to hug her this time, and she lets me. I feel how tense she is, but I try anyway.

I whisper in her ear, "Bella, talk to me. Tell me what happened to you. Who made you believe that a chance for happiness is a stupid thing?"

She shakes her head, but I know I hit home because she trembles in my arms. I squeeze her tight, pulling her closer even to me, hoping that she'll finally feel safe enough to talk to me.

"I know they hurt you," I whisper.

She doesn't ask who, so she is very well aware who I mean and I know I'm right. Her trembling becomes more violent, but still she doesn't make a sound.

"Bella", I breathe against her neck, "it's okay…"

Suddenly, she puts both her palms on my chest and pushes back.

"It's not okay."

Her voice sounds cold and her eyes look the same.

I know I went too far, I pushed her too much.

"You and me, we can't be," she says, looking away from me.

"I wasn't talking about you and me right now," I make a final attempt.

"You need to forget about me," she continues, as if she hasn't heard me, "you need to move on and find someone better. Someone who can give you what you need."

I start to get upset and ask her, a little harsher than I intend to, "how do you know what I need?"

She looks at me again, with a defeated and pleading look, "you need someone sweet. Someone who is just as giving as you are. Someone who won't push you away when everything about you is pure kindness. Someone who isn't damaged, like me. You deserve someone better."

I open my mouth to answer, to tell her I only want her, but she won't let me.

"Can you please go now?" she pleads.

I try to fight it, but I still get mad at her. I should probably give in, knowing that her behavior right now is my own fault for pushing her, but I've simply heard this line one too many times.

"I'm sick of you trying to tell me what I deserve."

"That may be true, but I won't… I can't allow it. It's still the truth," she states.

I shake my head and command her, "Bella, look me in the eyes and tell me that you want me to be with someone else."

To my surprise, she does. She looks up, straight at me, and she says in a steady voice, "I want you to be with someone else."

She might as well have ripped my heart out, but I'm too mad to be hurt right now.

"You don't want that," I say in a low voice.

"I do," she says stubbornly. "I'll never make you happy and you won't make me happy. I honestly want you to move on and be with someone better."

"Fine," I say, getting angrier with each passing minute.

"You agree?" she asks and the hope in her tone cuts through me.

"Not yet. But I'll make you see that you don't want me with someone else."

"Alright," she says hesitantly.

Still filled with anger, I get up from her bed and finally let her be alone.

Instead of going to my own bedroom, where I know the pillow would be stained with tears, I grab my coat, put on my shoes, and leave the apartment.

My mind is already scanning through the list of possible girls to bring home. If I would bring home a bitchy girl, who doesn't know me at all, and who isn't kind or giving, Bella will see that I'm not better off with someone else.

And maybe, just maybe, she'll give herself a chance.

AN: Thanks for waiting, you guys! What do you think, will his plan work or backfire?