Chapter Three *drumroll*
Title: I’ve Just Seen A Face: Chapter Three (I Can Do This)
Author: thetenwords
Rating: R sexual situation, profanity, and violence
Plot: Anne is your average small-town girl who gets herself caught up in her own version of her favorite fanfic, “Living Lennon”. Things don’t go like she planned and all she knows is she won’t forget her life before or after this bittersweet experience…
Warning: READ LIVING LENNON BEFORE YOU READ THIS STORY!!!! This isn’t a sequel, but it will help you kind of understand the plot. Plus, it’s a kick-ass story.
Disclaimer: As often as I check eBay, the Beatles are never ACTUALLY for sale. So I don’t own them. (Yet.)
“I can’t do this.”
I roll my eyes. “And why would that be?”
“I don’t know you. And it’s a REALLY REALLY slutty dance.” She glowers, quickly perking up. “But Trevor doesn’t know that.” She laughs so hard she falls on the wood. “Holy shit! A fuckin’ REPRIEVE!!! I finally get one!”
I can feel one of my eyebrows climb my forehead. “How so?”
She looks at me, like she has no idea why I would ask such a question. “I don’t have to strip in front of Trevor. Or YOU. I can just make up some stupid dance that isn’t NEAR as slutty, and then get away with it.”
“What do you mean by slutty?”
“Well, I start out wearing a button down and short shorts, but then I take off the button down and there’s a tank top.
“And that’s IT?!?!?!”
She rolls her eyes. “There’s some hip movement, too if you know what I mean.” She looks at me, trying not to look ashamed. I walk out of the room, toward her bedroom. “Wait, where the hell are you going???” she follows me, pulling up the tank top.
“You can’t be prude. If you really were prude, you wouldn’t allow yourself to sleep in a bra and pants with a man you don’t know.”
She grits her teeth. “Boy is more like it.”
I can’t help but laugh. I pull down my pants or, HER pants, to reveal my manhood. “Is THIS big MANly enough for you?”
She winces, waving her hands in front of her face. “Pull your pants up!!!”
I laugh, knowing she wouldn’t even attempt to do the task herself. “Tell me it’s huge!”
“AlrightAlrightAlright!!! You are of… significant size, George Harrison. Now pull up your pants before you ruin my eyesight.”
I do as she asks, pulling the band to my hips. “Ruin your eyesight because I’m so HUGE.” I kiss her cheek just to piss her off, leaving the room and spanking her ass as I leave, much to her perturbance. I can hear her shouting back at me from her bedroom as I find razors in her bathroom.
“You SUCK, George Harrison!”
Really? Because if I have anything to do with it, she’ll be the one sucking. I grab a razor, man-scaping myself so she can’t do it herself.
…..
She exits her bedroom, tromping and leaping on the wood. By the time I’ve shaved my pubic hair and found a bag of baked potato crisps, she’s emerged. Her eyes are red and intolerant, obviously mad at yours truly. “Hello, honey. How was your day?”
She rolls her eyes. “Don’t talk to me. Leave me alone.” She sits on the couch, crossing her legs and looking away from me.
I sit down next to her. “You know what I was just thinking?”
Her plan to ignore me doesn’t last long. “Oh, so you DO think?”
I nod, not offended by her. “Yup. Anyway, I was just thinking that…” but I stop. She’s obviously pretty hurt. And I kind of feel bad for her. I say something; though it may be the first time I’ve ever said it. “I apologize.”
She looks me in the eye. “You’re serious?” I nod, strangely meaning it. “Then I forgive you.”
“Thanks.” I look at her face, actually paying attention to it. She’s really beautiful when you really think about it. Her eyes are a teal grey, her lips looking soft, her skin freckled, and the curve of her face strangely familiar.
“What are you staring at?”
“A pretty face.”
She looks disgusted, yet amused. “Where?” she looks at me shyly, biting her lip as though she needs to stop herself from saying something.
I kiss her cheek, baby soft to the touch, bright red to the eye. “That one. The pretty one.”
She has a completely different reaction to cheek-kissing this time. She covers her cheek with her hand, though it still shines a crimson color. She looks at her hand, at me, and unexpectedly returns the favor. Her lips are exactly as her cheek, smooth and soft as satin, red as a rose petal in summer. She moves her head back, looking at me as though she’s trying not to giggle. “Muy suave, mi muchaco.”
“What the hell did you say to me?” It’s like she’s speaking a foreign language or something.
She sighs. “It’s Spanish. My mom taught me so she could take me to Mexico. And my dad taught me German out of boredom.”
Oh. “What the hell does it mean???”
“It means ‘Very soft, my lad.’”
So she speaks German??? I just might need to check that out. “Wenn sie Duetsch sprechen, dann meinen lippen zu küssen.” I cross my arms, waiting for her to go through with it.
She rolls her eyes and slides on the couch closer to me. “Natürlich habe ich Duetsch sprechen, jackass sie. Aber ich denke, ich werde dich trotzdem küssen.” And with that, she leans closer to me, closes her eyes, and gently lets her lips touch mine. Since she’s shorter, I lean in a little, kissing her back, gently as she does to me. She ropes her arms around my neck, pulling us closer together as lips collide. I don’t realize my tongue is in a dangerous dance with hers until she pulls away and I miss the taste. She folds her hand on her lap and looks down at them, ashamed. “No. I can’t do this.”
I swear that may have been the best kiss I’ve ever had. Not the first, but probably what should have been first.
…..
Her feet quietly creep across the floor, her hair still dripping water from her shower. A towel is wrapped around her body, hiding her luscious curves that I was hoping to get a different view of. She quietly changes behind her closed bedroom door as I continue thinking about her kiss. If she was so prude, how was her kiss so wonderful?
She emerges, tapping on my knee. “Let’s go. We can’t be late.”
I hop up, trailing at her heels like a puppy. The drive there is torture. No conversation whatsoever, whether it be teasing, joking, or flirting. It’s just silence, except for a soft, “I can’t do this,” from her mouth when we get out of the car.
The dance she makes up fortunately fools Trevor, being just slutty enough but not too much or too little. He nods in satisfaction as he spectates her twirl around the floor, impressing the additional small crowd of additional veiwers. When it’s all over, I give her a hug, still acting for her dirty ex-boyfriend. He approaches us. “You win. You did it in public before you did it for me. Here’s your winnings, my love.” He sneers, handing her a bill.
She grabs the green piece of paper, still clutching on to me. “Always glad to take your money, Trevor. Let’s go, George.” She glares at him a final time before grabbing my hand and leading me out the door. She leads me the opposite direction of the car, much to my confusion. She leads me to a dark alley, pinning me to the wall. “Listen, you’re right. I’m NOT as prude as you think. In fact, I grabbed a guy’s but when I was FIVE. But that doesn’t matter. The point is, I would be willing only to be romantic with you if it was to be understood we are to be boyfriend and girlfriend. Which means you and myself both only be romantic physically or verbally with each other. Comprendo?”
I nod.
“So… do you accept the offer?” She doesn’t sound as gruff when she says this, even smiling for me.
“I do. As long as you don’t feed me McGriddles.”
She rolls her eyes, this time with a laugh. “Deal.”
“Kiss on it?”
She nods urgently, leaning forward as she utters out, “I can do this.”