Chapter Twelve

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*Peeks out*  Um, hi.  So...this is reaaaaaaaaaaaally, super late, and there a whole shitton of RK drama, but yay! chapter!  :P  So sorry for the delays. 



Chapter Twelve 


TPOV

No one had ever bought her flowers before.  

Ever.  

In her life.  

That was some seriously fucked up shit.  

And she seemed so shocked by just the thought of it—and that was even before I’d given her the wallet.  

I mean, she cried.  

I just…  These things seemed so ordinary, so usual, but to her they were completely foreign, and a first.  

Sure, my mom cried when we gave her presents sometimes, but that was different.  This was like she was so overwhelmed with a foreign emotion, not because she was affected by the gift or really, it was both, but…presents were a fairly common custom, and the fact that no one gave her any, or it was so rare that she reacted this way…  Shit, I just felt bad.  I felt bad for her.  

It really pissed me off, too, because she was such a great person, and I fully understood that life was cruel and all that, but, Jesusfuck, I wished I could go back and erase all of that for her.  It made me want to give her things all the time just to see the light in her face, and to make it a normal thing.  In a purely selfish part of myself, I was glad I was the first one to give them to her.  

After the flowers and the wallet, my plans for dinner sort of just automatically lined up.  I hadn’t really decided where I was going to take her that night, but it became obvious that, with the presents, she needed something low-key.  So I decided on pizza, and it was the perfect decision.  She was comfortable and at ease in the parlor.  

We didn’t rush through the dinner or anything, but I really wanted to get back to her apartment, and she seemed to feel the same way.  It wasn’t that I had expectations; I just wanted the atmosphere there, and maybe some cuddling on her couch.  

There was warmth in her apartment that was missing from mine, and it was obvious to me why.  I mean, I lived with Aidan, king of beer and party central.  It wasn’t just because she was a girl.  It was the slowness of everything, the build, the affection and intimacy.  

It was nearly midnight when we got back to her apartment and she went straight for the couch, so we were totally on the same page.  I sat down next to her, and instead of letting her just rest her head on my shoulder I risked putting my arm over the back of the couch, and she folded herself right into my chest that way.  Her hand landed on my chest next to her head and I would have been happy falling asleep right there.  

The longer we stayed that way the smaller the couch seemed, and the more I really wanted to kiss her again.  It was so late, though, I really needed to go because the more she allowed, the more I wanted.  

“I should probably get outta here.  It’s really late,” I whispered into her hair.  

She sighed but nodded against my chest.  “Yeah…  You want see where I put the flowers before you go?” she asked.  

She seemed so fucking excited as she pulled away from me, like half bouncing and turning to me all expectant, that I couldn’t say no.  

I smiled.  “Yeah, absolutely.”

We got up from the couch and I followed her to her bedroom.  There on the dresser, smack dab in the middle of the back like it’d been arranged with a fucking ruler or something to make sure it was right in the middle, were the flowers.  They looked great there.  The walls were all white, so the splash of color against it looked amazing.  They really were pretty flowers.  The bouquet was mostly reds and pinks, but there were little touches of purple and yellow and white.  It was really nice.  

“They look really great.  Good spot for them.”

She nodded, appraising them, her fingers covering her mouth.  “Yeah, I think so.  I love them there.  I wish they wouldn’t die.  I’d like to keep them there.”

Hmm.  I’d look into that.  I smiled.

“Do you know what kind these are?” she asked, pointing.

“They’re lilies.  I know the lady told me the specific kind, but they’re a type of lily.”

“Those are my favorite.  They’re really beautiful.  I like that they have more than one color.  These are nice, too—the purple ones.  And these—with the two different pinks.  They’re all nice.”

“I know the pink ones are carnations.  I have no idea what those purple ones are,” I admitted.  “She told me all of them, but it didn’t stick.”  But she had a favorite!  A new favorite!  

She nodded again before tilting her head and looking at the jar the flowers were in.  “They need more water.  They drank a lot.”

And she was gone with the flowers.  I chuckled and sat down on the edge of the bed.  She brought them back a minute later, the jar filled to the top.  It was adorable how much she cared.  I had to figure out a way for her to keep them.  

Her eyes sort of darted around the room for a second before she realized where I was and I smiled from my position on the bed, my eyebrows up.  

I pointed to the chair. “If your chair didn’t have so much shit on it, I could have sat there.  Chairs are functional pieces of furniture, you know.  That’s what they make dressers and closets for.”

She was smirking.  “You forget that I’ve seen your bedroom and you have just as much shit all over.”

“True, but any chair in the apartment can also be sat in.”  

She didn’t reply.  She knew I was teasing, but I also wanted her to know I wasn’t asking for anything.  I’d just sat down because I didn’t know how long she was going to take with the flowers.  

She had a way of surprising me, though, too.  I wasn’t the only one who could shock the other in this relationship.  She went around to the bottom of the bed and climbed in it, reclining behind me.  I turned to look at her.  

“Lay down with me?”

I didn’t need to be asked twice.  This was the exact opposite of how we’d slept last night—I’d been closest to the wall and she’d been on the outside.  I moved closer, so our heads were sharing a pillow and we were lying close but not touching.  She was watching me, and she looked nervous.  

“I…  Can we talk about something?”

“Yeah, of course.  What do you wanna talk about?”

She fought with herself for a few long minutes; it was starting to worry me.  She tried to start a few times and just couldn’t seem to get it out.  I grabbed her hand finally, trying to ground her.  “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

Our eyes met.

“It’s just…confusing.  And kinda embarrassing.”

“Is the kissing too much?  Too fast?”  I honestly didn’t know how I could be any slower.  I’d waited ages and never even kissed her goodnight.  The only reason I had last night was because I felt vulnerable myself.  

“Fuck, no.  I liked—I like kissing you.  That’s the problem.”  She sighed, frustrated.  

“Just spit it out.  Whatever it is.”

Her lip went behind her teeth while she looked at me.  “I don’t know how.”

“What’s it about?”

“You.  And this morning.”

“Ok.”

I tried to figure out what could be going through her mind.  We’d kissed last night.  The morning had been ok—a little awkward, but ok.  I’d only kissed her once before I left, and I didn’t think I’d pressured her or that she didn’t like any of it.  She’d said as much.  

“So…you told me you liked it when I kissed you.  And it wasn’t too fast.  So that can’t be the issue.  Is it something I did?”

“No.”  She shook her head against the pillow.

I ran my thumb over her knuckles slowly, trying to be soothing.  I had no fucking idea if it was helping or not, but she wasn’t pulling her hand away or anything.

“It’s the kissing, though,” she said suddenly.

“Ok.  What about the kissing?”

“After you left…it’s all I thought about.”

I smiled.  “Yeah, I thought about it a lot, too.”

“You did?”

“Yeah.  I couldn’t stop thinking about you all fucking day.”

She sighed, “Really?”

“Yeah, really.  Is that what this is about?  That you thought about it?”

“Yeah.  Well, part of it.”

“What’s the other part?”

“I don’t…do this.  It’s like it’s… God.” She ran a hand over her face.

“Allison.  Tell me.”

“I fucking got off.  Later, after you left.  I feel like such a moron.”

I was silent for a second until my brain kicked in and told me I should really fucking be saying something back.  “You’re not a moron.  Why do you think you’re a moron?”

Her hand fell away and she glared at me.

“What?  Getting off?”

She nodded.

“Why would that make you a moron?”

She looked confused.  “Well I’d been thinking about the kisses and it wouldn’t go away, so I was trying to just get on with my day, but it just wouldn’t leave, and so I got.”  She paused and then started again.  “I got my vibrator out and, I dunno, then I was thinking about you and…”  She shrugged, sighing.

My mind was racing because on the one hand, she just admitted to me that she not only had a vibrator, but that she used it today while thinking about me—so my dick was already getting hard and I had to completely ignore it because she was being honest with me and trying to communicate whatever was going on with her, and she was looking for me to be responsible and shit.  So I couldn’t fuck it up, and I couldn’t let my own wants take over.  So I told my dick to shut up and tried to focus on what she was saying and what she wasn’t.  She had a vibrator, so masturbation was not the issue.  What she was telling me was that masturbating and thinking of me was the weird part for her.  So…masturbation must have been mechanical and not emotionally attached to anyone before me.  

Ok.  I could go with that.  

I tried to summarize.  “Ok, so you’re saying that normally when you get yourself off, you’re not thinking about anyone in particular.”

“Yeah.”

“And so you’re weirded out because you thought about me and got off.”

“Yeah.”  She sighed again.  “I mean, is that normal?”

Sometimes when she looked at me or asked me shit, or I’d say something and she’d be completely shocked or surprised by something that was normal, it made my heart hurt because she still really hadn’t told me much about her past, and it was so obvious that this was all tied together.  It was like she was sheltered, but not, because she was a goddamn stripper.  But relationship-wise, or in relation to the world at large, there were things that were normal that were completely new to her.  

I had to make sure that she knew it was ok to ask me this shit or that I didn’t make her feel bad about any of it because that’d be a surefire way to fuck this up and cut off the way she was talking to me about shit.  

I didn’t want to be condescending either.  I had to be supportive and understanding and prepared for shit because I was sure this was only the first of many conversations we’d have like this.  

“Yeah, Allison.  It’s completely normal.”  It was probably time for an admission.  That’d probably make her feel better.  “I mean, you drive me crazy.”  I smiled and she looked at me oddly.  I just told her it wasn’t weird and it was completely normal.  “I think about you all the time when I get off.  What it’s like to kiss you.  What it would be like with you.  It’s a fantasy thing.  Whatever turns you on to get you there, ya know?”

She was processing that, I could tell.  She finally said, “I’ve never had that before.”

Filing information in the Allison Lexicon: Fantasy was new.  That was pretty basic, and it was something she hadn’t developed, but I had no idea why.  Why, after kissing me, she had her first orgasm that included a fantasy or an extension of one.  The sex thing wasn’t really weird in itself—lots of girls had hang-ups about sex—but I needed to know what hers were if I was ever going to help her with them.  Her past was fucked up, that much was evident, but I needed to know if it was abuse or some sort of abstinence thing or some fucked up religious thing.  It was just hard to know where to go, how to proceed without any information.  

And I probably needed to respond to that.  “That’s ok.  I’m glad you did.”  

Well, that was lame.  

She smiled, though, like she was proud I said that, or happy that I was glad.  I dunno.  “Can I ask you something?”

We’d moved to a point of wariness, but she wanted to answer me, wanted to be able to, wanted to believe that I wasn’t asking something she wasn’t going to want to answer.  That was good progress.  She trusted me more.  

“Yeah,” she said quietly.

Maybe I should tell her why first.  “I just… I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, and I don’t want you to do something you don’t want to.  I’m not asking if you want to have sex, or if you’re ready for that or anything.  I just don’t know how much you want.  Or if I’m doing it in a way you want.  Or at the pace you want.”  Might as well just barrel right into it, then.  “The ‘I don’t date’ thing, is that just a recent thing, or have you never dated anyone before?”

“Uhm…”

That shouldn’t have been a hard question.  I didn’t say anything else, though.  

“I…  This kind of dating thing,” she made a motion between us, “no, not really.”

Ok.  “What other kind of dating is there?”

Her brows furrowed.  “I…don’t know how to explain it, Tyler.”

She was getting stressed out.  “It’s fine.  Just forget about that.”  Too close to the grenade on that one.  I sighed quietly.  

She looked at me and I smiled back.  “I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.  I’m just trying to figure out how to do this.”

She nodded.  “Someday.  I’ll tell you someday.  It’s just not an easy subject, and I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“It doesn’t have to start tonight.  It’s cool.”  

Pushing her too far too fast would get us nowhere and she’d wind up resenting me.  

She nodded again, smiling gently at me.  

So I had some new knowledge, but I really didn’t know anything else.  I tried to figure out where to go from here.  I thought about last night, the atmosphere and how it’d started, and tried to go with that.  

“Ok, so…how about when I think about doing something else or something new, I ask you if it’s ok?  You can tell me if there’s something you don’t like or something you don’t want.  Or if you want to try something, you can just ask me instead.  Like tonight—you asked if we could talk and we went from there…” I trailed off, hoping she got the drift.  

She thought a second and then nodded.  “Yeah, that sounds good.”

“Good.”  It took all of three seconds for me to ask, “Can I hold you?  Would that be ok?”

More confusion.

“Or just…if that’s not cool, is it ok if I touch you?”  I amended quickly, “Not in, like, a sexual way.  Just...touching.”

It was funny because I think she wanted the sexual touching more.  She almost looked disappointed—must’ve been a helluva fantasy.  Also, I don’t think she understood what I meant, either.  So another fact for the Allison Lexicon: Affection for affection’s sake? Also new.  It was obvious she knew about affection—she’d given me a spontaneous hug in the hallway earlier; we cuddled—but in a sexual context, or a in a potentially sexual context, not something she was familiar with.  

She didn’t answer.  

“Do you trust me?”  That was probably not a good question to ask.

“Honestly?”

“Always.”

“I want to.”

“Can I ask you to?”

“Yeah, ok,” she breathed out.  

I always moved slowly, in case she wanted me to stop, and I started with her cheek, cupping it and running my thumb over her cheekbone like I’d done earlier in the hallway, as well—familiarity was probably the best way to ease anyone in.  My finger roamed over her ear before I gradually moved my hand until it was running over her hair.  Her eyes closed and she breathed out a sigh.  I shifted a little closer, my hand skimming back over her face and down her neck to her shoulder.  I trailed my hand down her arm and back up again, slowly making the same trek until her breathing picked up.  When I looked back at her face, her eyes were open again and watching me intently.  

I didn’t ask that time, but I didn’t think I needed to, either—I could read the answer in her eyes.  We were close enough that all I had to do was shift my head closer and we were kissing.  It started slowly, just like it had last night, and I made sure that deepening the kisses was gradual.  Her body was tense, but she was more angled toward me than she had been the previous night.  I took both lips in turn between mine and was happy that she kept responding to it.  I moved my hand back up to cup her face while we kissed, and kept up the same kisses before gently pushing my tongue against her lips on one.  She let out a puff of air that was laced with a moan and instantly opened her mouth to me, pushing her tongue against mine, and I stopped pulling away from the kisses.  Everything was still gentle, but more insistent, her tongue caressing around mine as she moaned louder when I nipped at her lip and ran my tongue over her teeth.  I smiled against her lips when she shifted herself closer, pressing her body against mine, and maneuvered my other hand under her to sprawl over her back and pull her closer.  

She pulled back and nudged my forehead with hers.  “I want to touch you, too.”

“Hell yeah,” I said before I could stop myself, and she chuckled, her hand moving over to me as slowly as I’d moved to her.  

I’m not sure who was waiting for it more—her or me—but I let out my own moan when her hand landed on my chest and kneaded gently, her mouth seeking mine again, and shit, this was great—her hands on me and her body pressed to mine and kissing her like this.  It felt perfect.  It all felt perfect.  My body felt like it was vibrating, and I think it totally fucking was, just anticipating the feel of her hands, and then the actuality of it being better than I imagined.  Her hands were warm over my shirt, her fingers digging in, pulling at the material.  Her other hand wormed under me just like I was holding her, and I sighed when she cupped the back of my neck.  

Having her this close, and the kissing and everything, wasn’t doing any favors for my dick.  Or rather, it was doing a great favor for my dick, but it needed to shut up.  I let it continue for a few more minutes, greedy with what she was giving me, and she didn’t seem to be stingy once she was giving, happy to follow my lead.  

Her tongue ran over my teeth—fast learner—and slid against mine while our lips stayed in an open-mouthed kiss until I knew I had to pull away because I needed air, and if I didn’t stop we were going to go further than she was ready for.  

She pulled at my shirt when I moved back from the kiss; she wanted more.  Her other hand flexed on my neck, playing with the hair at the base until I had goosebumps running all over my fucking body.  She felt too good.  

“We need to stop,” I forced myself to say.

“I like this.”

“I know.  I do, too.  But we have to stop.”

“Why?”

“Because otherwise I’m going to let things go too far.”

“Maybe that’s ok.”

Oh, fucking hell.  Don’t encourage my dick.  

“No, it’s not.”  I shook my head and inched away from her, putting a tiny bit of space between our bodies, enough that I wouldn’t be tempted to grind myself against her.  “I want to, but we can’t.”

She understood—I knew she did—she just didn’t want to either.  “I know,” she said, pulling my head back until she kissed me softly.  “Thank you.”

I nodded, chuckling, “Yeah.”

“You could stay,” she said quietly, searching my face.

“I should probably go.”

“You slept here last night.”

Again with the encouraging!  Being the responsible one fucking sucked.  “I know, and I want to, but I think I should go.”

“I don’t want you to go.”  The even quieter way she said it nearly made my heart break.  

“We can’t make out if you want me to just sleep here.”  I chuckled.  

“Ever?”

I snorted.  “No, not ever.  Just not right now.  We weren’t…  It wasn’t this intense last night.  It’s just not a good idea tonight.  I don’t want to fuck this up.”

“I don’t either.”

“So I should go.”  

“Ok.”

Neither of us moved.  We weren’t kissing, but my hands were still on her back and running up and down her arm again and hers were burning a hole through my shirt and making the fucking goosebumps roll over my body in waves.  I really didn’t want to leave.  I sighed and started to move back and her hands moved away, and I felt instantly colder without her hand on my chest.  

I sat up and she followed suit like she was going to walk me out.  “It’s ok.  I can let myself out.”

She nodded, staying seated on the bed while I got up.  

I cleared my throat.  “I, uh, I have to work tomorrow, or today, I guess, and pick up Caroline from school.”

She nodded.  “Yeah, I work until close today.”  

That sucked.  She looked as disappointed as I did.  “I have class the next day, but I’m free after that.”

“I think I work until close then, too.”

I nodded this time.  

“The tips are better for that shift,” she added.  I really didn’t need to hear that, but she was telling me because she wanted me to have a reason for the late work hours.  

I smirked.  “Yeah, I’m sure drunk assholes tip better.”

“Yeah, they do.”  She smiled back.  “What time is your class?”

“Two.”

“Yeah, my shift starts at four—that won’t work.”

“What about the day after?  I don’t care what I’m doing, I’ll clear it.”

She laughed.  “I might be off that day.”

“Cool.  We could spend the day together.”

“Ok.”

“Should I call you?”

“Yeah.”  She smiled.  

“Ok.”  I moved closer and bent down, kissing her gently and cupping her cheek before moving back to kiss her forehead.  “Goodnight, then.”

“’Night.”

Walking out of that room was like walking in quicksand after trudging through muddy water with leg weights—it fucking sucked.  And it sucked more knowing I wouldn’t see her for days.  

“Tyler?” she called when I’d just gotten past her door.

“Yeah?” I stuck my head back in.

“I trust you.”

Oh, Fucking Christ.  Come on!  I wasn’t sure which part of me liked that more: my ever-betraying dick or my heart, which might as well have melted.  I swallowed thickly.  “Thank you.”  It was much more gravely than I wanted it to be, but I was doing a decent job here if she was saying it, so I was pretty fucking proud of it.  “I’ll call you.”

I picked up my jacket from the couch and let myself out.  I got as far as the street before my phone was ringing.  I smiled when her name was on the display.  “Miss me that much?” I teased.

“You’re not going to walk home, are you?” she asked.

“I hadn’t really thought about it, I guess.”

“I don’t want you to walk home right now.  Not when it’s this late.  This neighborhood sucks.  You’ll get stabbed or something.”

God, this night couldn’t really get any better.  She was worried about me.  “Ok.  I can call a cab.”

The relief in her voice was evident.  “Ok, good.  That’s good.  You wanna come back up while you wait?”

“Nah, I don’t want you to have to get up again.  It’s ok.”

“I’m already up.  I had to lock the door behind you.  I can see your shadow on the sidewalk.”

I chuckled, moving out farther and looking up to her window.  I swallowed thickly again, though, when I saw her.  “You look beautiful,” I said before I could stop myself.  She really did, though.  Her hair was down and around her shoulders, and she looked relaxed sitting on the windowsill, the light from her lamp putting her in muted, yellowy hue.  “I better not.”

She sighed.  “Ok.  You want me to call a cab?”

“Sure.”

“’K.  I’ll call you back, then, keep you company until they get here.”

“All right.  Thanks.”

She hung up without saying goodbye and she left the window for a minute to find cab numbers, I guess.  I watched the window until she came back and I could see her dialing.  
I answered before the second ring.  “They’ll be here in ten, they said,” she told me.

“Ok.  What are we gonna do for the next ten minutes?” I asked.

“I think we should discuss how we’re going to get through the next few days.”

I chuckled and I didn’t ask for clarification as to what she was asking. “Well, you have a vibrator…”

She snorted.  “I do.  You have a hand.”

“I’m sure I’ll be using it.  It’s gonna be hell being away from you.”  

“You think we should talk about that?”

“Talk about masturbating?” I’d looked away from the window, but I craned my neck up again.

She scoffed.  “No, I think we talked about that already.  Sex, I mean.”

“We can talk about whatever you want.  What do you wanna talk about with sex?”  This was a strange conversation to be having on a phone…on a street corner…at three am.  

“When we should be having it.”

Well that was direct and to the point.  “I think we should be having it whenever you’re ready.”

“What if I told you I was ready right now?”

“I’d come back upstairs.  But I don’t think you are.”

She sighed.  “So, then, what?  What do we do?”

“We keep doing what we’ve been doing.  We just add whatever you feel comfortable with.”  I realized suddenly that this was actually kind of perfect because she didn’t need to see me to ask me any of this, and it was probably easier to discuss it like this.  It was still kind of odd, because I felt like we were mapping our sex life, but I’d sort of been doing that all along anyway.  

“Right, but how do we know when to add?”

“Well, I’ll ask.  Or you can tell me.  Just like we’ve been doing.”

“So, if when I see you again and I want to try something, we can?”

“Yeah, of course.”  Fucking hell, of course.  Good God, did she know?  Did she know what she wanted to try?  Telling me would give me time to figure out how to make that happen, or make it comfortable and relaxed, but…  Fuck, I was already thinking about it, if she told me specifics I wouldn’t be able to do anything else.  I purposely didn’t ask.  

“I’ll miss you,” she said quietly.

I smiled.  “I’ll miss you, too.  You can call me, though, anytime you want.  And do—call me—because otherwise I’ll feel like an asshole when I call you from the cab.”

She laughed.  “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Ok,” I sighed.  

The cab pulled up and I waved goodbye, ending our call.  I spent the entire ride with my thoughts swimming about what she was thinking about.  I’m not sure if that was worse than knowing or not.  If she’d told me, at least that could have been all I fixated on.



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