Well hello there! As you can see, this chapter is much longer than usual. I was going to cut it in half and make it two chapters, but then I was all like “Nahhh, I'll give them the whole thing because I ruv them!”
SO YEAH
Dedicated to TheSlyWolfRachel for being neighborly ^.^
Picture to the right is Jenna, the girl you meet in this chapter ~>
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Arabelle's POV
I wake up for the second time that day to a pounding headache in my skull. I flinch slightly as I open my eyes to a bright white room, with Mom and Dad talking to a doctor at my bedside. Blinking away the fog in my eyes, I decide to remain quiet, listening to their conversation. I close my eyes to keep up the sleeping facade in case they look at me.
“No Doctor, we would never hurt Arabelle! I don't know where those bruises came from, but they certainly weren't inflicted by us. We'll get to the bottom of this when she wakes up. If someone is hurting my daughter, they will not get away with it,” I hear Dad promise grimly. Aw fuck, they saw the bruises... How am I going to explain that?
“Well Mr. Lock, we'll have to talk to Arabelle when she wakes up. Of course the initial worry would be that someone hurt her, but given the current situation, I'm afraid the bruises might be... self-inflicted. If you say she has a history of getting panic attacks, then it's very much a possibility. It's not uncommon for someone who deals with anxiety and panic to resort to self harm,” the doctor sighs.
“What?” my mom gasps. “Self... harm? Really? How could she... Why...” I hear her choke up, muffling a sob.
“It's okay Mrs. Lock, we just need to talk to Arabelle. Which we can begin now, I see. She seems to be very much awake. I open my eyes, giving the doctor a guilty smile as he frowns down on me. Hm, guess he doesn't like it when patients pretend to be asleep. “Since you've been listening to our conversation Arabelle, I don't need to catch you up on my concerns. Can you please tell us how you acquired those bruises?”
I bite my lip as my parents stare at me in concern, waiting for an answer. My mom is still choking down tears, and Dad just looks worried. “I... um, I did it to myself,” I finally admit quietly, twisting the white sheets in between my fingers. Mom begins to cry openly, throwing herself into my arms and hugging me tightly.
“Oh sweetie... I don't know why you do this, but there has to be a reason. Whatever that reason is, we're going to get through it as a family, and we're going to support you, you hear me?” she sobs into my shoulder. Her touch burns mildly, but not that bad. I hug her back hesitantly, trying awkwardly to comfort her somehow. The doctor clears his throat beside us.
“Well, since you passed out because of a panic attack, there's nothing physically wrong with you at the moment. But because of your self injurious behavior and obvious anxiety, I'm going to strongly recommend seeing a psychologist. From there, he or she can decide whether or not you need to be put on an anti-anxiety medication. Mr and Mrs. Lock, is it okay with you if Arabelle sees a therapist. Mom and Dad share a look before mutually nodding.
“Yes, we think that she could benefit from that,” my Dad agrees.
After doing some paperwork and signing off at the front desk, the three of us leave the hospital and climb into the family car. Driving back is awkward and silent. All I can think about as I stare out the car window, is my promise of telling them everything. No more secrets. Just the thought makes my stomach twist painfully and my heart beat faster. Can I really tell them everything? The idea of coming clean, spilling everything, sharing my burden, is exhausting. A familiar urge to run away from my problems rises inside of me, reminding me that I can always opt for the coward's way out. Who needs to tell them now? Why not tomorrow? Or the day after?
The moment we pull into our driveway, I jump out of the car and enter the house before them. I take the stairs two at a time as I rush into my room, throwing off my clothes and exchanging them for a long sleeved dark gray v-neck, black skinny jeans, and my black combat boots. Snatching up my school bag, I stuff a few necessities into it before slinging it over my shoulder and opening my window. I slide out nimbly, climbing down the conveniently placed tree with ease and dropping to the ground on my feet.
“Arabelle?” I hear someone ask from behind me. I whirl around to find Dad gaping at me incredulously. “Where do you think you're going? You promised us answers, and we have a lot to talk about!”
I grimace at being caught. This is awkward. I start walking backwards as I struggle for the right words. “Please, Dad. I can't... I can't do it right now, okay? I just can't. I'll stay out of trouble, and I'll be back by tomorrow night. I just can't face this yet.” With that, I fling open my car door and jump in.
“Now wait just a minute young lady, I didn't say-”
“I'm sorry! I'll be back, I promise!” I interrupt as my car roars to life. Jerking it into reverse, I get away from the house as fast as I can, leaving behind my baffled father.
To be honest, I have no idea why I'm leaving. All I know is that I can't face it yet. I drive aimlessly, trying to ignore the tidal wave of emotions building inside of me. As if the weather can read my mind, it begins to drizzle lightly. Looking at my radio, I see that it's 8:34pm. Great.
Spotting Fern park to my right, I pull into the empty parking lot and turn my engine off. Sliding out, I slowly walk into the park.
I wonder around with no specific destination, letting the rain sprinkle on me. Finding the pond, I sit down on the bench beside it and watch a duck couple swim around with their duckings following them in a line. I close my eyes, tilting my face upwards toward the rain, trying to empty my mind with little success.
There's so many conflicting emotions and thoughts buzzing around in my mind, leaving me confused and just as clueless. Where do I go from here? I grimace as the song “Where do we go from here” from an episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer flits across my mind, a TV show Lily and I used to watch when I was new in town. Lily had a small obsession with Spike and Buffy, and she always said I looked exactly like the character Dawn. Personally, I don't see it.
I can always go over to Lily's house for the night. She'd let me stay over in a heartbeat. But as I sit here, rain landing soundlessly on my face before rolling off in tiny droplets, confusion tangling up inside of my mind, makeup probably being fucked up by said droplets, I could only think of Marissa. There may be quite a few confusing things in my life right now, but I didn't want my relationship with Marissa to be left on such a bad note. I know that before I go home, I'm going to go to her house and apologize. Just... maybe not today.
I'm not sure how long I sat there, just thinking about Marissa and my parents. Eventually, my grumbling stomach snaps me out of my grim thoughts. Might as well find somewhere to eat. Lifting myself off of the wet bench, I leave the bark and trudge a couple of blocks down to a small diner called Aunt Haley's. Pushing past the door, which rings annoyingly, I plop myself down in one of the many empty booths. There's only about 4 other people in here. Two minutes later, a waitress approaches me looking confused.
“Arabelle? Arabelle Lock? What are you doing here at 9:30pm?” she puzzles. I stare at her blankly.
“Do I know you?” I drawl. She rolls her eyes teasingly, which admittedly annoys me.
“Jenna Washington? From European History class, with Mr. Kilbourn? We literally sit right next to each other,” she explains. I continue to look at her blankly, even though by now I recognize her. “We even did a project together! On Louis the fourteenth!” she adds. I shrug.
“So?” I reply tersely. She looks uncomfortable now.
“Um, nothing, I was... I've actually been meaning to talk to you,” she mumbles, sliding into the booth across from me. “I heard that you do... favors for people sometimes. And that your bisexual? I was wondering if...?” she trails off suggestively. I narrow my eyes slightly.
“If we could have sex,” I finish for her. She winces at my bluntness, but nods quickly. I immediately stand up and start to walk away. I'm about to exit the diner when I'm stopped by a delicate hand grabbing my arm.
“Please? We could just fool around for a bit. The thing is, lately I've been attracted to girls, but I've never actually been with a girl before. I want to know what it's like, but I don't want to come out of the closet at school,” she pleads. My arm is burning where her hand is grabbing me, but I ignore it. How many times have I done favors exactly like this for other girls in her situation? I shove her hand off of me, crossing my arms and looking into her eyes. From what I could gauge out, she's desperate, pretty shallow, childish, but generally sincere. She was also attractive, which I'm sure she thought would help her case.
“Fine,” I sigh, “Where are we doing this?” Her whole face lights up in a grin as she takes my hand and leads me out of the diner.
“Could we just do it in my car? I'd bring you to my place, but my parents are probably still awake,” she worries. I shrug once again.
“Whatever. But weren't you just working?”
“Eh, my shift was about to end in 15 minutes anyway. It's alright,” she assures, as if I was worrying for her. Ugh.
Of course, Jenna has a fancy expensive car. Unlocking the doors, she slides into the backseat and beckons for me to join her after she lays a sheet down since I'm wet from the rain. I follow suit tentatively, experiencing something that I've never felt before during these little sessions.
Uncertainty. This feels wrong.
I close the door behind me, and Jenna smiles at me seductively. Pushing away my uncertainty, I crawl over to her and begin explaining the rules.
“There are three rules to this, okay? First, do not try to kiss me. Second, let me do the intimate touching. And finally, don't try to force me to do anything. Got it?” She nods quickly, looking only a little confused by my rules. “Good,” I mumble, and begin to slowly kiss down her neck and unbutton her shorts, hearing her breath quicken bellow me.
Forty minutes later, Jenna is lying breathlessly on her back while I sit next to her, arms crossed casually. “That... was... awesome!” she pants, still in the afterglow. I stare straight ahead at the back of the drivers seat, starting to feel the same queasiness I felt before. I feel dirty. I've done this many times before, and I've never felt like this. I've always derived a certain feeling of power from these little escapades before, a feeling of control. This time, all I could think about was Friday. How Marissa called me a slut.
“Hey, um... are you, like, okay? You look like you're about to start crying or something,” Jenna say nervously. I quickly fix my expression back to the emotionless mask I usually wear, and turn my attention back to her.
“Don't worry about it hon. I should get going though.”
“Oh, um, alright. I'll see you at school then?” she asks. I nod before climbing out of her car and starting to walk away. “Hey Arabelle?” she calls out the window. I pause to look back over my shoulder.
“What.”
“This is confidential, right?”
“Of course. It never happened,” I mutter, turning around and leaving.
Finding my car still in the Fern Park parking lot, I climb in and drive over to Lily's house in silence. After I grab my bag and lock up my car, I walk over to her door. After ringing the door bell, the door flies open to reveal Lily's Dad.
“Oh, hey Arabelle. I'm guessing you're here for Lily?” he mumbles, scratching his head.
“Yeah, is she in?” I murmur.
“Yup, come on in. She in her room. Just go ahead and let her know you're here, I guess.”
“Thanks, sir.”
“No problem kid.” Lily's house has one floor, but it's still spacious. I head over to her room and knock on her door.
“Come in!” she shouts from the other side. When I enter her room, she spins around in her desk chair. Lily's eyes grow wide when she sees my face. “Oh Arabelle, what's wrong?” she coos, walking over and giving me a hug. “You look like shit.”
“Gee thanks,” I chuckle. “And nothing's wrong. I just need a place to stay for tonight. Got in a fight with my parents.”
“No problem, you know you can stay here any time. And obviously something is bothering you, but I won't push it if you don't want to talk about it.” I smile softly at that, grateful that she wasn't going to make me talk. “Now, go change into these. I don't need you getting sick because of those wet clothes you're wearing,” she scolds, throwing me a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. I grin thankfully and go to her bathroom to change.
Coming out of the bathroom, I find that Lily has already gotten into her pajamas and is in her bed. “Hey, I figured we could get to bed early tonight. You look like you need it,” she says. I nod thankfully and climb into bed next to her, seeing on her clock that it's 10:30pm. Early indeed. Lily leans over and flicks her lamp off, leaving us in darkness. I'm silent for a few minutes before I finally decide to ask her the question that's been on my mind.
“Lily, am I really a slut?” I whisper. There's a beat of silence before I feel her snuggle up to my side.
“As in have you slept with a lot of people? I guess you've had more partners than some people at our age, but you're different. You don't do it frequently, and you don't do it for your own pleasure, because you don't let people touch you intimately. You do it... I don't know, it's almost as if you do it for the control, even though it's not in my place to assume that. That's just what I've observed. Besides, you've only slept with... was it thirteen people?”
“Fourteen. Eight girls, six boys. I just fooled around with a girl tonight in her car.”
“Really? Who was it? How did it go?”
“Jenna Washington. And it went... okay, I guess. I don't know, it just felt a bit different this time. And not in a good way.” There's another beat of silence before Lily responds.
“Hmmmm... is it perhaps because of a certain Mar-”
“It's not because of Marissa,” I snap, blushing in the dark.
“Whatever you say, honey bun.”
“... Goodnight Lily.”
“Goodnight hot stuff.”
* * *
The next day, I find myself walking back to my block to talk to Marissa, feeling just as empty and confused as I had the night before. I leave my car at Lily's, not wanting my parents to see my car parked in front of the Sipple's house. Approaching the front door, my fist hesitates before knocking softly. I fiddle with my fingers nervously, hoping that Marissa is the one to answer.
Fifteen seconds later, Charlotte opens the door with a furious glare.
“Get off my doorstep, bitch.”
Marissa's POV
“Get off my doorstep, bitch,” I hear Charlotte say to whoever is at the front door. I wonder who it is? Curiously, I climb down the final steps and walk over to her.
“Charlotte, who-” I stop immediately when I spot Arabelle. My eyes widen, and I suddenly have no idea what to do. Looking at her now, I can't find it in me to be mad at her any longer about the club incident. She has a tired, confused, sad look in her eyes. She looks at me pleadingly, asking wordlessly for a chance to talk to me. “Charlotte, let her in.”
“Marissa! I am not letting this fucking slu-”
“Charlotte.”
She glares at me heatedly before spinning around and stomping up the stairs back to her room. Two seconds later, I hear her door slam. Ever since Arabelle let it spill that she and Charlotte have done... stuff... before, and that Charlotte's boyfriend is a cheater, things have been tense and silent between us. I tried talking to her after the club, but she refused to speak to me.
“I'm sorry about her. Come in. And by the way, her parents and my mom and out for their Sunday breakfast, so... yeah,” I say awkwardly. She nods, running her hand through her hair nervously as she leaves her boots by the door and steps inside.
“Listen, I don't have to stay long. I just wanted to apologize about Friday night. It was uncalled for, and I feel horrible about it,” she apologizes shakily. I stare at her. Something is very different.
“Arabelle, what's wrong?” I ask quietly. She looks at me in confusion.
“I, um... nothing. It's all good,” she lies none too convincingly. I give her a droll stare, showing her that I don't believe her. She fidgets a few moments more before sighing. “It's nothing I can't handle.”
Definitely different. The girl standing in front of me is not a cocky sarcastic rebel. She's lost, and I want to be the one to find her. Oh goodness that sounded cheesy... “Come on,” I say, walking upstairs. After a few seconds, she follows. I lead her to my room, closing the door behind her. When I turn around, she's shivering slightly.
“Want a blanket? You look cold,” I observe.
“No no, it's okay, I really shouldn't even be-”
“Arabelle. You look like you need a friend. And while I may not have known you for years like Lily, I still care about you. A lot,” I say sincerely. She grimaces at that.
“Oh god, this is the second time I've been told that I look like I need a friend this weekend,” she grumbles. I chuckle, shrugging.
“Well maybe you really do need to talk, then,” I point out. She laughs softly, not agreeing or disagreeing. I grab the blanket off of the big comfy chair beside my bed, throwing it to her and sitting down on the chair. She catches it and sits down on my bed hesitantly.
“Thanks. I think walking around in rain-soaked clothes might have made me sick yesterday,” she sighs. “I should have known better.” I furrow my eyebrows.
“The rain from last night? Why were you out in the rain?” I ask curiously. She unfolds the blanket and pulls it tight around herself, pulling her legs into the blanket as well and resting her chin on her knees.
“Just some conflict with my parents. They want to know my secrets, and I was too nervous to tell them. I'm still nervous, actually. I really wish I didn't promise to tell them,” she admits, looking weary.
“Secrets?” I repeat. She shrugs her blanketed shoulders.
“Um, yeah. Just some stuff about the past, why I changed, yada yada yada.”
“Changed?” Oh god, I'm starting to sound like a parrot. She tightens the blanket, frowning slightly.
“Yeah. Changed.” We both fall silent while I wait to see if she's going to explain, but she never does. “Look, I didn't come here to spill my life story. I just wanted to apologize,” she says tiredly.
“Well, I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have called you slutty. You were just drunk,” I reply, even though I didn't approve of her being drunk in the first place. She shakes her head.
“No, you were right. I was acting pretty wild, I should have taken you guys into consideration. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, I'm just used to it being me and Lily alone. I suppose Charlotte is sort of right. I am kind of a whore,” she murmurs. I frown at that.
“I highly doubt you're a whore, Arabelle,” I argue. She lifts her eyes to look at me.
“Lily says that too, but I literally just screwed around with a girl last night with a random girl I hardly knew. She was just curious, wanted to know what it was like to be with a girl. And even though I don't let people kiss or touch me, I guess I'm still technically sleeping with them...” she says, looking confused. I push away the jealousy that rises inside of me at her words. Now is not a time to fawn over my crush on Arabelle.
“What do you mean? You don't let people kiss or touch you?”
“Uh, yeah, I just don't... like letting people touch me. It kind of... burns a little bit, even though I know that sounds weird,” she responds nervously. I stare at her curiously. It burns when people touch her, and she's afraid of letting someone kiss her? I'm not stupid, I know that those are common symptoms in people who have been sexually assaulted before. I wonder if... no, I shouldn't ask her that. If I'm right, I don't want to upset her. She takes a breath before continuing. “Marissa, I don't want to freak you out, but I feel like I should tell you that, um... I think I... like you,” she admits, flinching and burying her face into her blanket-covered knees. “God, I feel like I'm back in fucking middle school,” she groans. I gape at her with wide eyes. Arabelle-freaking-LOCK likes ME? “Please don't freak out,” she pleads, “I promise I'm trying to get over you, because I know that you're straight, but I just thought I should tell you.” A grin slowly creeps onto my face as I register her words.
“Hmm, I might not be as straight as I thought I was. Lately, I've been having these feelings for this certain girl...” I reply with a sly smile. She removes her face from her knees to stare at me with wide horrified eyes.
“Oh dear god, PLEASE tell me it isn't Charlotte, because that would be weird as fuck!”
I crack up, shaking my head vigorously. “No, Bell. I like you,” I clarify. Understanding dawns on her face before it falls into worry.
“Oh...” she mutters. She chews on her lip for a bit before continuing. “You know, you're the first person I've ever wanted to kiss,” she admits shyly. My goofy smile widens. I have never seen her act shy before, and it's absolutely adorable.
“And you're the first girlI've ever wanted to kiss before,” I retort. The room is quiet while I slowly stand up and sit next to her on my bed. I put one finger under her chin, guiding her to face me. Fear and desire shine in her eyes. “Bell? Can I kiss you?” I ask quietly. She nods uncertainly, eyes glued to my lips, reminding me of that night in the club when we were close to kissing.
“I'm, um, sick remember? What if-”
“I have a strong immune system,” I interrupt softly with a grin.
I lean forward gradually, both of us nervous as hell. Finally losing my self-restraint, I lean forward the rest of the way and press my lips gently to hers.
I hear a small gasp escape her before she begins to shake slightly. She reaches forward with a trembling hand, placing it delicately on my shoulder to draw me closer. Slowly, she begins to move her lips with mine, falling into an intoxicating rhythm while currents of want and desire swim through me. Her lips feel as smooth and soft as rose petals. They feel so foreign, so new, yet so enticing and right.
She picks up the pace, and I carefully run my tongue along her lower lip, asking for entrance. She hesitates, probably not understanding at first what the gesture meant, before opening her mouth and letting me in.
We simultaneously let out a low moan when our tongues touch, and she surprises me by pushing me back onto the bed and straddling my waist. She hastily reconnects our kiss, continuing where we left off. She sneaks her hand under my shirt, running over my stomach with a delicate touch before tentatively cupping a breast. I shiver and moan at her touch, arching my back into her hand. I reach up and place my hand on her lower back, pulling her down closer to me.
“Holly fucking shit, I am not seeing this right now,” I hear Charlotte growl from the door that neither of us heard open. We immediately let go of each other and pull away from the kiss, but Arabelle remains straddled over me. She leans back, crossing her arms over her chest and raising an eyebrow at a furious Charlotte, which was slightly comical since she was still breathless from our kiss. I touch my lips with my hand, smiling lightly. Our first kiss.
“Can we help you, Charlotte?” she drones. Charlotte opens her mouth angrily, but no words come out. Closing her mouth, she glares at us furiously.
“I can't believe you Marissa,” she hisses. I frown at her.
“Can't believe what, Charlotte? So what if I like Arabelle,” I reply. Shaking her head in disbelief, she backs away from us.
“Fine. But from this point on, as far as I'm concerned, you're both dead to me.” With that, she turns on her heal and slams the door shut, storming away. Arabelle taps her chin thoughtfully.
“Hmm. If we're dead to her, does that mean that she's going to ignore us from now on, or does it just mean she hates us?” she ponders. I roll my eyes and slap her arm playfully.
“I'll talk to her. But in the mean time, I have a question for you, Miss Lock.”
“Mm, and what might that be?” she replies with a smile. I lean up on my elbows, cocking my head to the side with a grin.
“Will you be my girlfriend?” I ask. She smiles brightly, leaning down and kissing me lovingly.
“It would be my honor, Miss Oliver.
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:o Oh my... That was one longass chapter.
BECAUSE I LOVE YOU
Hehe things got a bit... STEAMEH
Comment?? :)