The Misadventures of Daria Pigwidgeon (17 page)

Bouncing back with a girly yelp, I mutter “Ugh, coat. Sorry.”

He laughs and holds up something that looks oddly like my coat. On second thought, it is my coat. I quickly snatch it out of his grasp.

“Um, thanks, I forgot it.”

Obviously, he knows this moron. Otherwise he wouldn’t have brought it for you. Ugh, sometimes, I can be so, so something that’s irritating.

We stand awkwardly facing one another for a heartbeat. He watches me with an expression that I can’t really read. All I know is that the smile is gone and he’s far too serious. It kind of makes me wish I didn’t storm out here just to prove a point. I mean the dude has been stalking me. That can’t be anything good can it?

Before I can tell him I’m just going to walk, he moves away to his car. I sigh in relief. He must know I only agreed to go with him out of some sort of loyalty, and knows I can walk home just fine. This makes me feel better, and in a way, like we understand one another. And then he clears his throat.

Turning to face him, I find that he’s holding open the passenger side door. So much for the understanding of one another, clearly there is some miscommunication. What do I do now? Get in the car with him for, what I’m sure will be an awkward car ride? Or do I tell him to forget it because he kind of creeps me out and coming from a demon that says a lot?

I get in of course.

Sitting beside Chance in his car for only a minute and I already know it was a bad idea to get in. This is mostly contributed to the thick silence that coats the two of us like a fog. I almost wish it was my memory block taking effect, because I could so use it right about now. I suddenly feel like I just betrayed myself, or my feelings rather.

For the better part of a month I’ve been so, hurt, lost inside myself, and all because of the boy beside me. Then one day he shows up giving me his winning smile. And everything is instantly forgiven? It shouldn’t be this way. I shouldn’t be this way. I thought I was stronger than this, but apparently not. Under all my soft girl exterior, and inner demon, turns out I’m more girl than demon.

A stupid girl it would seem.

“Rabbit?”

Chance’s voice is no more than a whisper, but I flinch none the less. His voice wraps around me in the small space of the car, and I want nothing more than to hold onto its warmth of safety. But it’s a lie.

Staring I the window and purposely not looking at him I mutter, “Hmmm?”

“I’m so sorry. I know I already said it before, but it stands to be said again. I really mean it you know.”

I sigh and watch the way my breath coats the cold window glass. My image fades from it while covered in the breathy fog. I wonder not for the first time if I should’ve just memory blocked Chance back when I first had the opportunity. Would it be better to be the only one feeling this way? I mean do I even really believe he’s sorry? It’s funny, after all this time, I don’t even remember what he has to be sorry for.

He was a jerk yes, but we hardly know one another. It doesn’t seem right, or feel right, to judge something so harshly. At least to me anyway, and I very well may be a little biased on this. I just wanted so badly to start over, be someone new, and then he came into my life. I didn’t expect him, never even wanted anything like him before, but here he is. Now I kind of need him.

I just wish he kind of wanted me in a way that didn’t leave me wanting.

“I know you mean it. It’s fine.” I mutter into the silence of the car, more of my breath coats the window.

He sighs. The steering wheel grinds as his hold tightens on it. I don’t even flinch. I can feel a numbness coating me like my breath on the window. I’m ready to be lost again. Maybe it’s the only way to get by.

“Damn it rabbit, it’s not fine. You’re not fine. Will you talk to me?”

His voice is urgent, like he can sense I’m fading from him. But why would he care? I’m doing this for him, he doesn’t want me.

“There is nothing to say Chance. It is what it is, and I’m okay with that.” I tell him in nothing more than a whisper.

I hear him shifting beside me, but I simply continue to stare at nothing in the window. Then I feel the warmth of his hand cover my own on my lap. I flinch, not able to hold it back. He doesn’t pull away though. If anything he grips my hands, like they’re a lifeline.

I bite my lip to keep from facing him or even telling him something I’ll regret.

“Well I’m not okay with it. I screwed up, I know I did, but I had my reasons. I’m not going away again I can promise you that. Just give me another shot to prove it to you?”

The pressing tone of his voice finally makes me turn to him. He’s watching me and not the road (I should really talk to him about that, it’s not a good habit) with haunted eyes that make me want to sob into him. His hold on my hands tighten and well missed tingles travel up and down my spine.

Tingles are one thing, but can I really give him another shot? Is he worth it? Can I really go through something like last month? Ugh, too many questions and not enough answers. That seems to be the way of things of late. But really, only one question means more than the others. Is he really worth it?

Guess I’ll find out. “Why should I?”

He turns back the road, and stays that way for a few agonizing seconds. His hold on my hands doesn’t loosen though, if anything it gets even tighter.

“I don’t have a good reason, just that I want you too.” He says finally.

I watch the profile of his face, like I was watching the fogged window a moment ago, like I’m trying to find some hidden depth that just isn’t there. Is his answer good enough? He did say he wanted me to forgive him. And technically that’s what I wanted, for him to want me. But is it really the same thing?

I remove my hands out from under his. He turns to me with sad wide eyes that sparkle in the darkness of the car. I offer him a small, very weak, smile and oh so gently place my hands on top of his. I literally hold him to me, and allow the feeling of tingles coursing from the spot his hand touches my thigh, to travel all the way to my spine.

He smiles, taking my wary grin as a confirmation that I can in fact give him another shot, and goes back to paying attention to the road. I should feel glad he’s actually driving safely again, but honestly, I’d rather him looking at me. I feel like I’m wounded and trying very hard to heal faster than possible. Like I’m forcing the issue before I’m ready or something. Maybe I am, I don’t know. I just know, I can’t push him away because I’m scared. He’s trying here, it’s the least I can do is to try to.

The rest of the drive is in silence, but it’s not an awkward one though. So when Chance parks the car in the garage and turns it off, I know that both of us don’t want it to end. The darkness of the car is like another world, a safe one. I know that when we get out, all the promises will have to be attempted. The idea of it (us) not working makes me want to stay in here forever. His lack of movement makes me think he feels the same.

Then his voice startles me out of the bubble, as he says “You know, I wasn’t kidding when I said that we could hang out earlier. That is, if you want to I mean. I can’t guarantee an overly enjoyable time, but I can try.”

I can’t hold back the startled laugh when I look at him. He can be so weird sometimes. It’s nice though, because I’m weird too.

“As long as you don’t mind hanging out in my boring apartment, then I’m not against it.”

Even as I smile, I watch his face become overly serious. And I have a quick OMG moment. I think I totally just insinuated that hanging out meant something other than just hanging out. Leave it to me to ruin a perfectly good attempt. But then he nods, still with the serious look.

His eyes are even darker as he says, “I’m not against that either.”

Huh, boy gets a cookie, and apparently he’s not against the non-hanging out hanging out. That’s when it hits me, along with the knowledge. A deep blush coats me in a warm wave. I quickly nod at him and rush out of the car. I’m already at my door unlocking it, when I can feel him behind me. My hands shakes and I miss the keyhole twice before successfully getting the door open. And when I do, I practically stumble inside.

I don’t have to worry about crashing on my dark floor, because I am no sooner through the threshold when Chance is wrapping his arms around me. I gasp as he pulls me back against him, only to sigh into him as he does. His arms are tight and warm around my middle, but I can’t help to shiver as he lowers his face into the space between my neck and shoulder. His breath is even warmer than his arms, but it’s nothing compared to the way his mouth touches me.

My arms rise without protest and my hands sink into the soft waves of his hair. My entire being sighs at this, I never knew it was possible to miss something I only felt once. Chance groans into my neck, and he pulls me tighter to him until I let out a breathy sigh. His whole body presses into me, until I feel every inch of him, and I mean every inch of him too. Enough to know he really isn’t against hanging out, and I’m not either.

The arms around me middle loosen a little bit so that he can keep one holding me with a tight grip on my hip, while the other slides up my body until it grips my chin. As he raises his head up from me neck, he uses his hand to turn mine to face him. I have a second to see that his face is flushed and his eyes are a darker shade of blue, before his lips crash into mine.

There is no lead up to a deep kiss, it just is, and I find myself liking it very much.

I’m thinking Chance does to, because in the next instant he spins me in his arms until the front of me is flush against the front of him. I sigh and open myself up to him, loving the sensation of being devoured. The hand that was on my cheek travels to the back of my head and tangles at the base of the knot of my hair, his other holds me even tighter at my hip. My own hands are wound in his hair trying to bring him closer to me still. As if he needs any urging.

Bodies twined in each other, Chance moves me backwards until I feel the couch at the back of my knees. I barely feel the bump before he is lowering us with him on top of me. While the movement was gentle, the crash landing was not, but I’m not complaining. The weight of him pressing down on me causes a moan to escape from my lips, one that he swallows. His hands are roaming every inch of me now, and it takes my breath away more that his lips on mine.

Every little touch and skim sends hot chills through my entire being until I feel like I might explode. Somehow I managed to get my hands under his shirt, and cling at the lean muscles of his back. He groans into me then, and his hips press just a fraction tighter than before. My legs open up for him and welcome him to come closer. He does. Starbursts are firing behind my eyes, and I feel like I need to be closer to him. I have to be closer to him.

With the urge to tell him to take off his shirt now, I pull back from his mouth, but the look on his face stops anything from slipping past my lips. His eyes are still dark, but they are widened with a shocking horror. His flushed face goes pale. Before I can ask what’s wrong, he pulls himself off of me until he’s standing beside the couch. I lay frozen in the same spot, staring up at him in confusion, afraid to even say anything.

Hunched over with his hands covering his face, he says “Oh God help me. What have I done?”

All the breath rushes out of me until there is nothing left but a cold empty space. His words register, but at the same time they don’t. Numbness takes the place of the cold, and I don’t even feel any of the hurt I should feel at his dismissal. Not even when he lowers his hands and gives me a horrified look. I feel nothing.

“I, I’m, I can’t. I’m sorry.” He tells me in a hurried voice.

I look away when he starts to shake his head. I close my eyes when I hear him move. I don’t even flinch when I hear him open the door and close it behind him. So this is it then. He had his one shot and he failed. I failed myself. Opening my eyes, I find myself staring at the time on the cable box. It’s midnight.

Happy Birthday to me.

***

The following morning dawns with a familiar recognition, one that has me up and out of the Harris’s perimeter before anyone sees me or I see them. Unlike before where I was consumed with a grief like numbness, I allow myself to stay alert. Well, not really alert, but a little more like myself still. I’m not going to lie though. The urge to hide within myself is definitely strong. But I use it to let me keep going. I knew this could happen the moment I agreed with Chance, so I have to be stronger this time.

Or that’s what I tell myself while I walk to school all alone. The remnant’s that yesterday was Halloween shows everywhere. Where the streets are oddly quiet at this early hour, they aren’t as empty. No sign of human life, but there is a plethora of discarded candy wrappers hidden within the un-raked leaves. Decorations show the signs of too much fondling as most lay lopsided or fallen to the ground all together. Everywhere I look, things appear like a town wide street party took place.

I know that didn’t happen, it’s just the signs of rambunctious children vying for attentions with their costumes and running with laughter. It almost makes me wish I enjoyed the holiday, maybe even once took place in it. It’s a stupid wish I know. It would be silly for a demon to dress up and go trick-or-treating. What would I be anyways, a human girl? Ha, it’s funny. I kind of already am playing dress up. I get random treats, only to be taunted that they were but tricks.

Turns out, it’s not so funny.

By the time I get to school, others are arriving and I let myself bled into the masses. I manage to keep my head held high and try not to appear like a wounded animal, and it works, for most of the day anyway. I go through the motions of smiling and taking part in conversations I don’t even care to hear. I succeed in my lie, and before I know it I’m exiting a classroom realizing it’s now time for lunch. This makes me be more than just an anonymous shell moving around, but only because I know the day is almost over. That alone makes me almost giddy, almost, but not quite.

Still, I don’t bother to hide the spring in my step as I make my way down the hallway. I weave in and out of bodies, thinking I should probably make a stop at my locker. I dodge bodies until I see my locker in my line of sight, or rather a body blocking it. My first instant is to bolt, thinking it might be Chance or worse his sister, but the figure isn’t familiar. No, that’s not true. It’s very familiar, too much actually. I stop cold in the middle of the hallway.