Only you can save me (A Paul Walker fanfiction)

Chapter Twelve: A taste of paradise

I texted him the next morning: Thank you for giving me your number, I must say it surprised me. How do you know I'm not an axe murderer? and sent it to him while smiling. A few hours later my phone pinged with his reply: Good question. Are you? which pretty much set the tone for our interactions to follow. At first we just teased through texts, then started meeting up. I took him to a little market I liked to roam, he gave me my first surfing lessons at the beach near his house. I cooked him stuff I liked to eat and we talked about a hundred different things. Our likes and our dislikes, things in the news we were passionate about and plans for the future. We were friends more than lovers it seemed to me. Sure, we kissed and held hands and smooched but the sex part was fairly low key. I didn't mind one bit as I never actually enjoyed doing it.

That is not to say we never had sex. Things in the bedroom could get pretty steamy if we actually made it that far. I usually bailed before, even though I loved kissing him. He was a gentle lover, never really in a hurry to get it over with. For me, I enjoyed having him close, watching him and feeling him but it didn't do much for me. With the abuse I had endured and continued to endure, it was not something I could really enjoy, but at least it wasn't something terrible. I guess you could compare sex with Paul, for me at least, to someone rubbing your arm. Not particularly painful but not something you get a kick out of either ... I did however like lying in his arms after ... that was pure heaven for me.

We went on like that for around three years, meeting in hotelrooms or sometimes at his house in a sort of shadow relationship. He knew I was married and I knew I wasn't the only woman in his life either but it was a silent agreement to not say anything. Lately though, every time I would leave, he would ask me to stay longer and sometimes we touched upon a future together. You must wonder why I didn't jump at the opportunity and believe me, I wanted to, but things were always complicated. There was a whole world of abuse hidden from him and simply getting out of my marriage would also be more than just saying "bye dear". But as time went on, I found myself wishing we could stay together, wishing he was the one I woke up with. I started looking around how a divorce worked, quietly, without telling even my closest confidant. I would tell him about the abuse before I left, I would be honest about what had happened to me in terms of being raped and being tormented. But that of course made it a very difficult conversation to start. 

I still remember the night very well. The time before had been in his house and he had done something that amounted to more than just "rubbing my arm". Something with his hand ... For the first time in my life I was curious about the sex thing. I had liked what he had done and that feeling was completely alien to me, confusing and exciting me at the same time. I hoped he would do it again so I decided to "help" a little. I put on my red push up bra (they look amazing in that trust me) and a black mini dress that barely covered anything. I put on some light make up, red lipstick cause he liked it and my hair set in loose curls around my face (I didn't want pins pushing into my skull at the crucial moment). I combined that with a pair of simple black suede high heels and I left for a hotel this time, hoping that ... well, just hoping.

He was already there, dressed in a shirt of his AE performance brand and his eternal jeans and flip flops. I dropped my bag behind the door and kissed him, already sort of on fire. He kissed back but I could tell he wasn't in it as much, and when he pulled me in a hug after the kiss, he started talking.

"I'm leaving the franchise. I'm going to quit making movies."

I smiled against his cheek. I had heard this a few times before ... I didn't doubt that he meant it but something always pulled him back in, making it a sort of running joke. 

"I told the people in the studio, that I want to be taken out of the next installments of Fast. We are negotiating about terminating my contract, and I'm letting my agent go."

OK ... this was new. I pulled away from him and saw that he wasn't smiling (practical joker, trust me, best to check!) so I let him lead me to the little sofa that was in the room and sat down, trying to gain the most advantage of my scrap of a dress. I briefly looked at the bed, sort of wishing we were on it, realising "the hand thing" wouldn't happen today. Bummer ... 

Holding hands, we talked, and as we talked I realised how serious he was, and how scared. Scared to let people down, scared to do the wrong thing. I told him no one could decide this for him and I meant it. He smiled when I asked him if that meant he would go back to school. 

"No, maybe. I'd like to train more for Reach out worldwide, or maybe see if I can get a spot somewhere as an unqualified marine biologist. Mostly now I want to spend time with Meadow you know? She's growing up so fast, I feel like I need to start spending more time with her."

I knew what he meant, his daughter was super important and at times he didn't see her months at a time even though officially she lived with him. I tried not to meddle but I had know for ages that this was all stuff that occupied his thoughts and I felt that if he wanted to spend time with his daughter, then that's exactly what he should do. I told him as much and watched the stiff set of his shoulders relax a little. 

"You do know that you stand a great chance of winning sexiest marine biologist of 2014 if you do decide to go down that road, don't you?"

It made him laugh, as I had intended, and then we kissed. I would support him, of course. I had known since 2005 that his heart was not fully into making movies and he was reaching an age where he felt he was running out of time. I asked him about the non profit but that wasn't a problem he said, since donations and sponsors were coming in, ROWW wasn't relying on Pauls personal income anymore. And, he said, he still had some set aside just for that, just in case. I was just happy he wouldn't give it up, because it meant a lot to him. 

I don't remember what remark I was making when I noticed his eyes were not on my face anymore. They had "drifted" down to another part of my anatomy and as far as I could tell, he liked what he saw. Hm ... The clothes were not wasted on him after all! He pulled me first on his lap, and then towards the bed where we spent ample time finding out about "the hand thing".

After, I looked on my watch (he really hated it when I did that) and started to get up when he effectively caught me in his embrace, pulling me down beside him by holding my torso. 

"Stay with me?"

He nuzzled my neck behind my ear, making coherent thought difficult. I couldn't stay, we both knew that. I tried to get up but he still didn't let me go, whispering please stay in my ear. Oh Paul, I really want to. And so for the first time in three years, I stayed. I relaxed in his arms and dozed off. We woke up with breakfast (not a whole buffet this time, he seemed offended the hotel had such a limited choice) and coffee and most importantly, kissing and holding hands at the breakfast table. Whatever future he had planned, he wasn't cutting me out of it. And I was in seventh heaven when I realised that ...