If Love Is The Answer, Could You Repeat The Question?

The next morning you’re awake before he is. He’s lying on his stomach with his face towards you and an arm thrown over your waist still. He looks so peaceful and adorable you almost aw out loud. You consider pressing a light kiss to his cheek but he abruptly rolls over onto his side, freeing you of his sleepy grasp.

You sit up and slowly inch to the bottom of the bed. You know he’s a decently heavy sleeper but you still don’t want to wake him up before you’re done everything you have planned. You grab your pajama shorts and a loose, off the shoulder shirt, pulling them on as you quietly leave the room. You pin back your bangs with the bobby pins that you kept attached to your shirt because they’re ridiculously long since you’ve neglected to get them trimmed for the past few months.

You enter the kitchen and the early morning sun in pouring in through the windows. As quietly as you can you search through his cupboards for frying pans and bowls that you need to make pancakes. Everything is really organized so it’s not very hard to find everything. Once you have it all spread across the counters you get out the ingredients you bought yesterday and start mixing them into one big bowl, adding more chocolate chips than necessary.

And okay maybe you’re cheating slightly by using pancake mix but it’s the thought that counts right? While you pour some of the batter into the frying pan you think back to last night and still how shocked at the entire thing you are because nothing in the world could have prepared you for one of the hottest make out sessions you’ve ever had. You smile to yourself at the fact that it actually happened and had it not been for you asking him to stop, it probably would have gone so much further.

And then the words that he whispered in your ear before crawling off of you echo in your mind, and a chill runs down your spin. Six simple words spoken so softly had the power to make you weak in the knees and almost drop the cup of coffee you were making while the pancakes were cooking. Twenty six letters arranged in a string of passion, promise and lust and every time it played over in your head you got a little more excited and a lot more curious.

I’ll have you eventually, I swear

That sentence tore you apart and embedded itself throughout your body, the meaning branded across your mind and was the only thing holding you together. You didn’t know when he would follow through on that, but you knew he was going to by the look in his eye after he said it. You also knew it would have to be in the next two weeks because you’re sure he wouldn’t try anything on tour.

You’re about half way through cooking when you hear footsteps behind you. You turn to see him stand in the doorway, messy haired and boxer clad. You could see him like this every day for the rest of your life and still never get used to how gorgeous he really was.

“Good morning,” You smile, handing him the coffee you had just finished making him, knowing he would be getting up soon, and you were right. You weren’t sure if you should kiss his lips or cheek or even at all, and it’s like he reads your mind and kisses you on the cheek instead, leaving a tingly spot where his lips connected.

“Good morning,” He smiles back, “What’s all this?”

“Breakfast,” You answer, flipping a pancake in the frying pan.

“Do you want help?”

“No this is your day off. Go sit, I’ll be done soon. And I swear if you touch any of those papers or laptop you regret it.” You tell him with a small smile. He complies and leaves the kitchen while you work on the last few pancakes. There was just enough batter left to make one with Mickey Mouse ears for him. The only hard part was trying to flip it over with it falling apart. You carefully maneuver it and flip it over, resisting the urge to fist pump when it doesn’t break.

When it’s done cooking you slide it onto a plate with two others and grab a fork and syrup. You take the plate out to the living room and set it on the table in front of him.

“Enjoy,” you say before going back into the kitchen to get yours and then take a seat next to him. “Are they good?”

He nods and after he swallows the mouthful of food says, “Is there anything you can’t do?”

“Play any kind of sport.” You answer. “I’m like physically unable to do anything but snowboard.”

“Yeah you don’t strike me as the athletic type.” He smiles. “Do you watch any sports?”

“Sorta, but still most American sports are a different league from Canadian sports, except hockey. But I know enough about the sports themselves to know what’s going on.” You explain and you’re not sure you make sense.

“Well, by the end of the tour I’ll make sure you’re an Eagles fan.”

“Really,” You raise an eyebrow. “What makes you so sure you’ll be able to convince me?”

“Trust me,” He says, setting down the empty plate and leaning in, “I make a very convincing argument.” He smirks slightly and closes the small gap between your lips. This was new because he usually saves his kisses for night. You get up after he pulls back and take out the dirty plates. And you’re left wondering where you really sit with him again. It’s not like he’s being hot and cold, he’s definitely hot all the time. You start to wonder if maybe the only reasons he’s being like this is because he’s been single for well over six months and probably hasn’t gotten laid since then and you’re the only female around now. But if that was the case, why did he say all those things to you in the bathroom that night and try so hard to convince you they were true?

Things weren’t only physical either though. You had that connection with him and you got along with him better than anyone else you’d ever been friends with. Although you could probably see the sexual tension between you and him, it also ran a lot deeper, for you at least. You had no idea what was going on in his mind no matter how desperately you wished you did.

“You okay?” His voice snaps you out of your own worry filled world.

“Yeah, I’m good, just zoned out.” You answer, finally finishing the dishes.

“So what do you have planned now?”

“Well, I thought we would lounge around on the couch and watch movies all day. It’s relaxing and you don’t even have to get dressed.”

“That sounds like a really good idea.” He grins, looking down at you. “Nice neck by the way.”

You haven’t even bothered looking in a mirror today so you haven’t seen the damage he did last night. You pull out your phone and bring up the camera app to inspect your neck and wow, those are dark love bites.

“I’ll just have to get you back eventually,” You grin back to him, before brushing past him into the living room. You go over to the stand that he keeps his movies in and you grab the first Disney one you see which happens to be Lady and the Tramp. You get it set up and ready to go while he lies down on the couch. You go to take a seat on the other couch but he pats the empty space he left, inviting you to lay with him.

You considered doing it before he offered but you’re still really hesitant on what you can and can’t do since you’re still not technically with him so you’ll just let him have control over everything for now. You lay down and he instinctively puts his arm around your waist, partly to keep you from falling off since there’s very little space. You bodies are pressed together and you can feel every movement he makes. He rests his chin on the top of your head as the movies starts and you feel him take your hand.

Things probably couldn’t get any better than they were this very moment.

The rest of the morning and all of the afternoon is spent watching more Disney movies, eating junk food and laughing at basically nothing. It was probably the best time you’ve had doing almost nothing with someone. Things took an abrupt turn when it started getting later though.

“What movie now?” You ask as you roll over so you’re lying on top of him and your chin is resting on his sternum.

“I have a better idea,” He says and motions for you to come closer. You push yourself up so that you’re on your knees are on either side of his waist and you’re hovering over him.

“And that is?” You ask and he answers by kissing you, softly and slowly. His hands start above your ribs and slowly slide down and the further they go the rougher the kiss gets until one hand is on the back of your bare thigh and the other on your ass and he’s biting your lip.

You bite his lip ring in return and he arches his back slightly off the couch and you can feel him through the flimsy fabric on his boxers. And maybe you can get a little more from him this time. You trail one hand lightly down his chest stopping just above the band of his boxers, breaking the kiss the process. You leave kisses on his cheek and jawline before attacking his neck, biting and sucking to get him back for the love bites he left on your neck. While you work on the love bites you’re still playing with the line of his boxers, waiting for the right time to take this step further. You bite down on the sensitive part of his neck at the same time you lightly palm him through the fabric.

He inhales sharply at the sudden contact before moaning and lifting his hips off the couch briefly. You continue this motion for a few moments, loving the pants and moans falling from his mouth. He hasn’t objected yet so you bring your hand back up to the band. Just as you’re about to reach in and finally get a piece of what you wanted, he grabs your hand and stops you.

Your head snaps up to look at him, you were almost positive he was going to let you go further. The lust and want which had almost been need that had been written all over his face was now replaced with uncertainty and a hint of worry.

“Not tonight,” He says and you feel a bubble of annoyance rise up from the pit of your stomach. He pulls his head up to kiss you but you turn your head and sit up, almost pushing yourself completely away from him. He gives you a helpless look and you can tell he’s trying to fight himself on this. He wants this, he really does and you don’t know what’s stopping him from just letting you.

That feeling of not being good enough slams into like a freight train and you can barely stand to look at him now. The room is wrapped up in an icy silence, mainly coming from you. He shifts uncomfortable, still staring at you, his eyes begging for you to look at him, but you bring your knees to your chin, pulling yourself into an untouchable package.

He gives up trying to silently apologize because apparently he’s forgotten how to use words so he gets up and disappears down the hallway and moments later you hear the shower running.

And now you want to throw something across the room out of sheer frustration. This is exactly why you didn’t want to take control because any time you try anything he shuts you out. Rejection seeps in and it’s ten times worse than the incident in the bathroom because this time it was real and you were two seconds away from getting him off and he basically looked you in the eye and said no.

You can’t bear to sit there any longer in a deafening silence so you get off the couch and head into his bedroom, not that you really want to be in there though, except there’s nowhere else for you to sleep and you’re not going to be sleeping in another bathtub for a long time.

As you change you can still feel his hands on you and you wished that feeling and all the other ones you had would just go away completely because it’s not making this any easier for you. You pull on full length pajama bottoms and a tank top before climbing into the bed and lying down. You spread out, taking advantage of all the extra space for now until you hear the shower turn off and automatically move to your own side and curl into a ball facing the wall.

You hear him shuffling around the room getting dressed and you’re even more annoyed at the fact that you’re extremely irritated with him but still have the urge to glance over your shoulder. Minutes later you can feel him get into the bed with you and you move further away from him causing him to sigh quietly.

“I’m sorry.” He says and you don’t really believe that he is. You don’t bother answering him either because you’re afraid you’re going to let something slip and make things worse and all you want to do is yell at him which won’t solve anything anyway.

But in your mind you have every right to be mad at him. All rejection and humiliation aside, he’s still not the only one who gets turned on by the intense make out session, and isn’t the only one left hanging and disappointed, even if he chooses for it to be like that for him. And this is the second time he’s gotten you worked up and then completely stopped, and yeah, it’s frustrating as fuck so you’re allowed to be angry.

You almost don’t even want to go to sleep because you know in the morning things won’t go back to light and easy, instead that irritated and angry look will be back in his eyes, directed and caused by you again and you don’t think you’ll be ready to face that.

So it’s like this: Rejection hurts like a bitch.