Chain Reaction 1.24: Pancakes

     Graham and I have a fantastic dinner date. He flirts every time he sees an opportunity, and I try to flirt back, albeit clumsily. I'm out of practice. This must've been what Grayson felt like on our first date. Remembering how I felt, I watch Graham. He loves this. He wants this. I'll bet that even if I royally screw up, he wouldn't care. I imagine with everything I say that he reaches out and snatches it out of the air to then bring and keep close to his heart.
     "Time has not changed how I feel for you," goes through my head, remembering what he told me not even an hour ago.

      "Where do I take you from here?" Graham asks after we leave the restaurant and walk up the boardwalk a ways. I want to hold his hand, but I still can't bring myself to make a move like that on my own.
      They probably frown upon employees spending the night on the breakroom couch. "I have no idea, actually. I'm...not wanting to go back to the Goths."
      "Where were you planning to go, Brielle?" he asks, and I sense a suspicious tone to his voice like he suspects I'll go set up another campsite.
      I rub the back of my neck. "Um, well, I was going to sleep in the breakroom, but I don't think they'll let me now that I think about it. Oh yeah. I forgot to mention I got a job as a bartender there." I gesture across the street with a jerk of my head. "I don't know."

     He reaches down and takes both my hands, and part of me sighs with relief. "Forgive me. I am not about to drop you off in the woods so you can go set up a tent or whatever. I am not about to let you get on the trolley to destinations unknown. I hope you know me well enough to know that I won't stand aside and let that happen."
      I know where he's going with this. He'll offer I sleep at his place before he'll have me go somewhere where he'll worry about me. "Graham... Don't worry about me. I'll be fi-"
      "No, you won't. Call me a stubborn jackass, but I'm not letting you." He pauses. "Sade's house?"
      I shake my head no. "She may be my best friend, but I don't want to be up all night satisfying her curiosity about Alex and me." I look at him. "I have some money. Let me go to a hotel tonight, and I'll shop for an apartment tomorrow."
      "Save your money. I can sleep on the couch," he says, confirming my suspicions.
      "Graham, I have quite a bit of allowance saved up. I can afford it as long as it's not a five star hotel or something along those lines."
       He whispers, "Please." I hear all the anguish he must've felt over the past year as he wondered but didn't know how I was doing, what I was doing, who I was with, and so on. "Please, trust me. I promise from the bottom of my heart that I'll stay on the couch."
      I finally nod my okay.

     "Thank you," he breathes and wraps his arms around me. At first, I stiffen from the contact, but I relax when I realize that, again, I don't feel sick. I wrap my arms around him too, and he exhales happily. He holds me in a rejoicing way, and I realize that this is the first time he's fully held me like this since all the way back to that night he first told me he loved me.
      This is so nice! I think with a huge smile, and I turn my head to the side to rest my cheek on his shoulder. I remember how much I used to like this. It's because it's Graham. It has to be.
      He doesn't try to kiss me like he might've before, and I can't tell if I'm grateful or disappointed. We hold hands on the way back to his deep blue Nissan Maxima, and he gently kisses my knuckles before opening the car door for me. His lips feel fantastic, and I zero in on them.
      Kiss me, Graham! I suddenly scream at him in my head. I don't care about what happened to me. With Graham, I'm safe, and I need him to kiss me right now.
     When he lets go of my hand and does nothing but hold onto the door, I take a step towards him, putting very little space between us, only as much as the door needs. I look up at him, hoping he can see in my eyes what I want him to do. I can't say it; I'm not that far yet.
     He looks down at me and swallows, gulps. He HAS to see. Boldly, I reach up to grasp the upper part of his lapel. The fabric feels like it has silk in it, almost smooth under my fingertips. I tug.
     Quickly, he kisses my forehead, breathing fast and deeply as he does, and my heart sinks. Stupid, stupid, Brielle! I tell myself. He knew, but there he goes only kissing my forehead. Like a little girl.
      He pulls back and looks down at me with a desperate expression, not speaking. I only see it for a second because I then look down at his handkerchief. Turning, I get into the car.
      We stay quiet on the drive to his house. He doesn't hold my hand.

      When we get here, he follows me as we walk inside, and I turn around and gesture to his bedroom door. "I assume you'd like to change into some sleepwear before I commandeer your room."
      "Yes, please," he says in a tense tone, almost gritting his teeth. He robotically walks past me before turning around and saying, "Don't disappear while I'm gone."
     I giggle. "I promise."
     His half-lidded expression is the only response I get, and he closes the door.

     Pancakes, I think when I wake up the next morning. Looking around, I see I'm in Graham's bedroom. He kept his promise; he stayed on the couch.

      I silently open the door and peer into the kitchen to see my... Boyfriend? Yes, he's my boyfriend again... boyfriend deep in thought. For the moment, I don't wonder what he's thinking about. Instead, I stand here and secretly admire him. I'd wondered if it was the cut of his clothes that made him look so good. No, he just looks that good. The graphics of the laptop don't do him justice, but he's incredibly muscular. I start wishing he'd gone shirtless last night.

      I stealthily pad my way to the kitchen. "Good morning," I say, remembering the stressed look on his face as he'd told me goodnight last night.
      His head pops over to me. "How long have you been standing there?" He smiles.
      "I just walked in here. Well, I stood here for a few seconds." I fold my hands in front of me to give them something to do. I want to throw myself at him, but I sat up and thought last night, and I came to the conclusion that what I did, asking him with my eyes to kiss me, must've reminded him of what Kristy did to him. That's why he didn't kiss me except on the forehead.
      "I assume pancakes are okay with you?" he asks, oblivious to my inner struggle. I want to run my hands down his arms.
      "Yes," I nod my head happily and smile. "I'll... make coffee."

       I must be losing my mind, I think as I realize I'm acutely aware of every movement he makes. Forcing myself to stay put, I look out the window as the world wakes up.

       He asks what might've been bothering him for a little bit. "You slept in my bathrobe?"
       "Oh," I say and try to hide my smile, my ring finger doing something that a good pose designer would never let happen. "I forgot to pack pajamas."
      Halfway in the process of collecting more pancakes on his fork, he pauses. "You're... You... You mean you're..." He closes his eyes, and his nostrils flare out. I look at his hand and see it holding the fork much too tightly. His whole body sits stiffly in the chair in front of me. Syrup starts dripping down the fork and onto his fingers, and I have the bizarre want to lick it off them myself.
      "I'm wearing more than the bathrobe, Graham," I say quietly.
     "Brielle, I'm really wanting to be good."
     "I know. I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking. I don't mean to tease you." I really needed you to kiss me last night, though.
      "Huh? Don't dare think that. You're not doing anything on purpose. It's my imagination I have to control." He looks down at his hand and sees the syrup there. Without thinking, he lifts it to his mouth and licks it off himself. I almost fall out of the chair in a dead faint.

      "So, how do you plan on going about the apartment hunt?" he asks, changing the subject.
      I shrug. "I guess roam around and see what I can find."
      "Um, Brielle?" he asks, and I look at him in question. He goes on to mention an organization that offers help to women like me, those that want to get their life going after going through what I went through. They offer to help me find an apartment and a job if I need one. "There's also a small chance they could offer you a scholarship too. From what I've heard, it was started by a woman that had similar experiences, and she started this foundation." He pauses. "You have to prove that you're really wanting to get your life going instead of mooching off them. They monitor your progress, but I don't think you'll have any problem proving you want to make it on your own."
     "I'll... contact them," I say and slump. That's why he didn't kiss me. He thinks I'm still in the deathgrip of the torture of memories of what happened to me. He doesn't understand that I've come a long way. I'll never be able to forget it, but I still want everything --with him-- that I'd want otherwise.
     "I think I'll call in today, take the day off," he says decidedly.
     "No, don't. It's fine. I'll be fine," I say and force a smile.
     "I don't want to leave you," he says almost too quietly to hear.
     "You need to work. Save the time off for another day." My smile is real this time.

     He gets up to wash the pan, and I help by wrapping up the leftovers. "Thank you for that suggestion," I tell him, meaning the foundation.
     Turning to look at me, I see love fill his eyes as he says, "I want you to get your life back. I want you to have what you've always wanted: independence. You can finally have it, and I want to help you however I can."
     I can stand it no longer! Graham does know me, and he does love me.

       I don't bother with the 'kiss me' eyes. I kiss him.
       A surprised grunt escapes him, and he stiffens again.

      The hand on my waist starts pushing me away! No! I lean in as much as I can.
      Breathless, he pulls back. "I'll push this. Brielle, I'll push this farther than you want it. You have no idea what you're doing to me with that just-woke-up look, and you're wearing my bathrobe and little else. I love you so much, but I won't push-"

       I make him stop talking, being sure to wrap my arms around him this time. He lets out a groaning whine and opens my mouth. Yes! I'd not forgotten how great a kisser he is, and I happily kiss him back with everything I have.
      He exhales and wraps his arms tighter around me, kissing me harder. One of his hands moves down to squeeze my rear end, and he takes a baby step into me, pressing me into him.

     Panting, he jerks back again. He doesn't push me away, though. I don't know what goes through his mind as his eyes devour my face.
     "You won't push it too far, Graham." I reach up and run my fingers down his cheek. "You'll push it just far enough."
     A harder look comes upon his face, and he grabs the back of my neck and kisses me roughly, balling his fist into my hair to hold me still so he can own my mouth. Shuddering for a second, he lets go of his fragile control, and his hands are suddenly everywhere. His tongue demands that I respond to it, pulling me along in its crazed frenzy. He leaves my mouth to kiss my neck for a second, but it doesn't last long until he's back, relentless in his need to tell me just how much he's missed me in other ways.

     "I wanted so badly to kiss you last night," he tells me in a deeper voice before twisting me around to dip me and kiss me again.
      I joyfully reach up and thread my fingers into his hair. He DID want to! He was just afraid of what it could lead to, afraid that I wouldn't want it.
      "I wanted you to," I tell him when he gives me a chance.
      "Why? Because you thought I expected it?" he questions honestly before raining light kisses across my closed eyes.
      "No," I breathe. "It was a bunch of reasons, really." He kisses me more before I can continue talking. "One being that with you, I don't know why, but it's okay. I don't know if that's normal or what."
     "What's okay? Because I doubt everything I want right now is okay," he moans to me. "I really do want to take the day off now."

      He treats me to another unrelenting kiss, making my grip of him weaken while his hold of me tightens. I start to get a strong suspicion he doesn't want me to tell him what's not okay.
      He has to stop kissing me so he can bend down and lift me in his arms. I suddenly realize he's headed to his bedroom! Gasping for air, I still manage to say, "Yes, that's too far."
      His eyes close, and he takes a deep breath before placing my feet back on the floor. "But kissing you is fine," he states as a question.

      "Yes," I reply, and he kisses me again. We spend the rest of the morning kissing, making him late for work. He doesn't act like he cares, wordlessly saying that if kissing is okay, he'll get as much of that as he can.

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Graham on the desktop computer:

Brielle was right. The laptop doesn't do him justice.