Hello all! So here's chapter 3 (Park 3?) I don't know what to call it.
It's almost 4 in the morning here in Alberta, and here I am, posting a chapter...
Now I'm not sure if I should end it here, or keep going. Let me know what you guys think! Do you want to hear what Stefan and Rebekah have to say in the morning? See what happens with they get more stolen moments alone on this fun little road trip? Or should this be the end?
Please let me know what you guys think of this "First Kiss" scene- It was a lot of fun to write :) -Cheers
The hotel room isn't big. Rebekah begins complaining the second she walked into the drab looking lobby, and hasn't stopped, even as she reluctantly lays down in a bed her and I will be sharing for the night, she huffs and pouts.
"No one asked you to be here," I remind her, pulling my hair into a bun at my neck, my bangs promptly falling in my eyes, I splash cold water on my face, grateful for the change of temperature. Sitting in a car for seven hours does not agree with me... Or anyone.
"Oh please, you think I'm going to let you lot track down the oldest witch in the world, not to mention my mother's best friend without my supervision?" She shifts uncomfortably in the cheap sheets.
I press a soft towel to my face. Reaching back, I rub a knot in my shoulder. Ouch.
Stefan has passed out in the other twin bed, and Klaus lies on the floor between the two beds. His arm is draped across his face, his breathing even. He looks so natural like this. I stand in the doorway of the small bathroom, and lean my head against the door frame, watching his features relax into something very different than I've ever seen.
As he sleeps, he begins to look his age, and at the same time, not. The youth of his body is unmasked; without the stresses of his reality to cloud its smooth lines, caught up in a chill dreamland. He almost looks as if he matches his twenty-year-old body.
On the other hand, watching him fall away from himself in his exhaustion, so tired and gone, makes it easy to believe that this man is anything but youthful. The way he carries himself, you can tell he's lived through Hell, and Heaven; rage; pain and betrayal and revenge, for a thousand years. More years than I could ever imagine living.
Without warning, tears prick at my eyes. Because this is the man I am supposed to hate. The one who came along and ruined everything; yet here I am, watching him sleep. Wondering what it would be like to let myself trace the lines of his arms, his face, and jaw. Maybe smooth out some of the tension, the lines that bend his forehead with anger and frustration. For just a second, breathe life back into his soul. Bring back the times were he was a young boy, with his whole life ahead of him. Was he ever happy? Sadly, I cannot picture it...
I feel a tear slide across my cheek. I swipe it away with the towel in my hand, breathing a heavy sigh into the soft, quilted material.
I drop it back beside the sink and tuck my thin sweater tight against my body as I slip out the door of the room.
The wind peals right through the layers I'm wearing, sprinkling goose bumps across my arms and stomach. My bare feet prickle as I step onto the cool concrete of the balcony. I lean my elbows against the metal railing, and watch as a young couple and two little girls pull into the parking lot. The smell of their blood wafts towards me as their car doors slam.
The vervain has been in Mystic Falls water for weeks. It's been a while since I've smelled human blood without the taint of it on their sent. I smile as the father picks the smallest girl up and they all file into room 312.
I hear the click of the room door open behind me, and shake my head.
"Look I understand that you're angry about having to share a bed with me, but I just needed a minute to—"
"Now how could I complain about sharing a bed with you?"
I spin around, and Klaus has an eyebrow raised in amusement.
He has shed the clothes from earlier, leaving him in a white undershirt with a small hole at the collar, and loose plaid pajama bottoms and his bare feet match mine. He looks more human than I've ever seen him.
"I thought you were Rebekah." I say, turning back to the parking lot; clasping my hands together to keep them warm in the chilly night.
"My sister isn't exactly the picture of grace or subtly, I assure you, it's nothing personal." He takes a few steps forward, mimicking my pose at the railing.
"I know," I say with most certainty, and he chuckles low, his laugh sounds strange in the dark setting, almost like he could wake everyone in the motel with a quiet laughter.
Strange but nice.
There's a beat of silence, and I contemplate returning to a grumpy Rebekah.
"Caroline..."
In that one word, the dam breaks. Everything said at the grill, every strained look, every stolen glace, flooding in like river rapids.
"I know," I say, too loudly, "I know what you're going to say," I grip the cold metal railing, and look at my hands.
"Why are you doing this? Fighting me— what have you got to be afraid of?" His voice sounds like true confusion and frustration festers there, below the surface.
I scoff and throw my hands in the air.
"How about everything!" I turn towards him, scrunching a hand through my hair, "I'm scared of you. Of everything you're capable of making me feel. I'm scared that I'll wake up one day, and you'll have done something that makes it impossible to forgive and forget. And I'm terrified of when you decide to leave. Because that's what you do, Klaus, you run." I run my hands down my face, my fingers shake.
"And I know that if one day you decide to go..." I open my mouth, waiting for the words to come, but they don't, and I shake my head, and press my palms to the sides of my face, feeling the heat that sits there.
He straightens out of his leaning stance, turning away from the railing completely and looking me head on. Squinting his eyes, as if trying to understand a difficult math equation.
His hand touches my fingers, working on removing it from where I've glued it to the side of my face. I resist, but with persistence, he pulls it away, and grazes my hands against his, hardly touching— yet the electricity strikes through us as if our fingertips were live wires.
"Stop," He breaths, leaning his head towards mine, keeping my focus on his eyes. "Caroline, please, you exhaust me." His other hand touches the back of my other hand, effectively loosening my grip on the thin iron railing.
I close my eyes and attempt to clear my head, but it's impossible, he intoxicates me.
"Caroline," My name sounds like smooth honey coming off his lips. He slips his hands across my wrists, my palms tingling as his thumbs smooth circles across them. "Let you're self go Caroline," He's so close I can feel his breath on my cheek. I open my eyes, startled with his proximity, and try to step away, but his hands tighten ever so slightly. Not forcing me to stay close, but asking.
"Let me in..." His nose skims the line of my jaw, until his lips are right by my ear, his breathing has become more jagged, and I close my eyes again; his fingers sliding slowly and cautiously into place with mine. Out fingertips aligning perfectly; his calluses press carefully into my palms, his hands could swallow mine up.
When I feel his lips brush, light as air, across my temple, I flinch back. My heart sputtering as I grasp at my last strands of resistance.
"Please don't make me feel like this." I breathe into the hot air between us.
"Like what, Caroline?" his lips brush against my cheekbone with his questions feeling heavier than I think we both expected.
His hands shift millimetres, subtly lining up his fingers, with the spaces between mine. Easing my fingers apart, with another brush of his lips against my eyelid, he intertwines our fingers.
"Happy," I sigh, dropping my head a little, his lips press to my forehead before he leans his own forehead against mine. Our hands rest on the railing, interlaced; as the others he brings between us. My hand moving of its own accord, twisting and moving with his, both of us watch, as if our bodies are having silent conversations as we stand aside; helpless to stop it.
"Please don't make me feel like..." I let out a shaky breath as he lets go of my hand on the railing, and traces a line up my arm, to my shoulder, and rest his palm against my neck. Catching my earlobe between his thumb and index finger gently.
He drops our hands in between us, and my fingers suddenly feel cold. But the rest of my body seems to be being licked by flames as he brings it up to my chin and forces me to look him the eye once again.
"Like what?"
I sigh, and let a pool of tears cloud his face, this blue eyes blur in front of me.
"Like I can't live without you..."
He watches me, doesn't react, only waits as I blink the tears clear from my eyes, and he comes back into focus. His eyes are a smoldering, like coals after blue-hot fire.
His hand lets my chin go, only to slide against my neck, his fingers tangling in my curls.
"I know you don't want me to do this," He says this with a certainty, and lightness, that almost makes me afraid that he will walk away, leave me standing here, drained.
But then he takes a step closer, our hips touching, his bare feet touching my chilled toes; I have to rest my hands on his waist to keep myself upright, my head swims with Klaus.
He was right; I didn't want him to kiss me. It is in every way a bad idea to let him in. Even just for a second. Accept he was already in. From the moment he inserted himself into my life, he was under my skin. Already capturing my minutes, claiming my thoughts, flooding himself through me like water into a spring. Natural, and against all odds, right.
"But I'm going to do it anyway."
And as quickly as he closes the space between our lips, is as quickly as I forget why this was ever a bad idea...
His lips capture my bottom lip, a cautious amount of pressure as he hesitates, I feel his body fall back, as if his instinct is to self protect, protect himself from the inevitable rejection that will indubitably follow.
I bring my hands up to his, taking them in mine, against my neck. I pull away, only centimeters. It feels like miles.
"Don't think Caroline," He whispers against my lips.
I open my eyes, finding his open as well, glassy, and guarded, as if waiting for me to answer a question he'd asked. And hadn't he?
I lean in, closing the space I put between us. Pressing my mouth to his, shivers roll down my spine. I place my hand behind his neck, holding him to me, and pretend that I'm strong enough to hold him there.
I let my lips part, breathing the same air, we move together. I step onto his feet, cold on cold, and he turns us, pressing his hips into mine; and mine into the railing above the small parking lot.
Carefully, as if he's scared to spook a wild animal, he glides his tongue along my bottom lip.
I sigh, relaxing into him, and our cautious kisses becoming fervent as we both run out of air.
He pulls away, his hands slide out of my hair, for a second gliding lightly across my collar bones, and then he leans away, putting a few inches between us, allowing us to catch the breath we lost...