Gentlemen Don't Ask Questions

"What do you want for your birthday?"

I was walking her home, fingers interlaced and the early Summer sun beating down on us. I couldn't wait for school to finish for the holidays, couldn't wait to make plans with Isabelle, not having to arrange everything around her busy school timetable. She was moved into a music class and was already practicing for her college auditions, so I rarely saw her at lunch anymore. The only time I could see her during the school week was when I walked her home, and I'm not going to lie, it was getting hard for me. My body craved her.

"You know as well as I do, Gerard, that I'm spoiled rotten," she smiled cheekily at me,
"I have everything I want. I just wanna spend the night with you."

My chest tightened as she squeezed my hand gently, my heart pounding. I knew that I was in love with her after dating her for about a fortnight, but I hadn't said it to her. I didn't want to scare her off, or have her think that I was some clingy sociopath.

"What do you want to do then? Your birthday's on Saturday."

"I have so much work to get done on Saturday, I don't think I'll be able to meet you," she sighed as we stopped on her front porch.

I gave her what I hope was a convincing smile, though to me it felt like it was nothing but a tight lipped facial spasm.

"But," she started as she stepped closer to me, pulling me towards her for a kiss,
"My parents and Megan are going to be gone all of next weekend to look at colleges. You should come over," her lips brushed against mine.

I swallowed convulsively, every inch of me heating up as I gave her a slight nod. She smiled that Cheshire cat smile of hers, but I could see it in her eyes that she was as nervous as I was. In some ways, I envied her, I was jealous of how she could hide her emotions so easily. She only ever let people see what she wanted them to see, whereas I was an open book, my facial expressions always giving me away. Isabelle said, before she left, that, that was one of the things she loved about me. She said it made me honest, and she loved always knowing where she stood with me.
I pressed my lips harder against her, savoring the taste of the cherry gum she had been chewing before, before she gently pushed me away.

"I have so much homework to get done. I'll phone you tonight? We can talk about next weekend?"

I nodded and gave her one last kiss goodbye before walking down her driveway. I was praying to God that we were on the same page here.



I didn't see Isabelle for almost a week, she was busy with studying and music practice. She phoned me every evening, but it wasn't the same as having her sitting in front of me. I just wanted to have her beside me, to be able to kiss her whenever I wanted. I was starting to worry a little, was starting to think that maybe she wasn't as into me as I was her, but one of the guys that had started hanging out with us, Tommy, had commented on how she did miss seeing me at lunch. I felt like a fucking teenage girl at that moment, high on the lust of the most beautiful girl in the school.
I was nervous as I trudged up the driveway of her house, I hadn't seen her in a week and I had butterflies in my stomach. I shifted the parcel under my arm and rang her doorbell, hoping she still had a free house for the weekend. She answered and my stomach churned with excitement as she stood in front of me, wearing a blue sundress and no shoes.

"I haven't seen you in forever," she mumbled as she pulled me into the house and straight in for a kiss.

"A week," I smirked, not wanting her to know that I thought it felt like an eternity too,
"Happy belated birthday."

She frowned as she took the parcel off of me, sitting down on the arm of the couch.

"Gerard, I told you not to get me anything."

"It didn't cost me anything," I shrugged as I watched her slowly tear off the wrapping paper, desperate to know her opinion of the present.

She lent me all of her Edgar Allen Poe books, and I had spent every free minute I had reading them. I enjoyed them, but probably more so because I knew that he was her favourite writer. I had bought three small canvases and painted a scene from her three favourite stories, The Raven, Mystification, and The Premature Burial.
Her jaw slacked when she finally got rid of the wrapping paper, her green eyes snapping up to meet mine.

"These are amazing," she murmured as she gently ran her slender fingers over one of them,
"How long did these take you?"

"Not long," I shrugged, internally glowing as she stared down at them.

She gently put them to the side, standing up and embracing me tightly.

"Thank you so much. No one has ever given me something so personal."

She pulled away and told me she was going to hang them up, letting me follow her up the stairs and into her room. I sat down on the bed and watched her as she knelt on her study desk and carefully took down the photo frames she had on the wall. My eyes were fixed on the curve of her neck as she hung up the pictures, and I felt the words falling off my lips before I could stop myself.

"I love you."

The room was silent bar the music softly playing on her stereo, and she froze for a few seconds, before slowly turning around to face me.

"What did you just say?" she asked softly as she got off the desk and walked over to me.

I swallowed thickly, my face heating with mortification and my fingers started to fidget.

"I love you," I mumbled pathetically, unable to bring my eyes up to meet hers.

"Do you mean it?"

I nodded jerkily, wanting her to just drop it. She sat down beside me and said nothing for a few seconds.

"I love you, too."

It took a few seconds for her words to register with me, the gears of my brain working furiously, and I frowned when I eventually realized what she had just said.

"What?"

She grinned, not her usual Cheshire cat grin, but that small half smile that she always saved for me, always saved for moments like this. Her cheeks were pink, I was seeing that vulnerable side of her again, and it made me grin like a Goddamn idiot.
I tilted my head slightly and connected our lips, kissing her softly until our hormones took over, leaving us gripping at one another and breathing heavily. She moved so that she was straddling me, her hands gripping the sides of my face as I allowed my own to trail down to the base of her back, growing bold and moving down further to grab her ass. She ground her hips lightly against mine, and I could feel the material of my boxers starting to strain. We were just two horny teenagers, trying to find our feet and trying to feel like someone gave a rat's ass about us, just like everyone else our age. We were practically clawing at one another, Isabelle still straddling me as I gently moved my hand to the zipper of her dress, waiting for her to give me some conformational sign. She pulled her mouth away from mine and kissed along my jawline, and I took that as a green light, slowly pulling down the zipper and pushing the sleeves of her dress off her shoulders. She moved her hands behind her back as she kissed me again, undoing the clasp of her black bra and throwing it to the side. I felt like I was drunk, like I had no control over my movements and actions, no inhibitions whatsoever.
I moved my hand up to her bare chest, cupping her gently as I ran my thumb along her nipple. She pulled back slightly and tugged at the hem of my tee shirt, indicating that she wanted it off. I hastily tore it off and meshed my lips against hers once again, gently flipping us over on the bed so that I was on top.
This was it. I finally going to have sex. And with Isabelle fucking Clarke.