She's Like a Piece of Home

Make sure you read Sept 4th first... two updates today. :)
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She only felt slightly bad about lying that there was an emergency and she had to go. She was careful to say that it had to do with Brooke, since he would likely find out from Quinn if she had said otherwise. It wasn’t that he was a bad guy. He seemed nice enough, except for that comment he had made about history being a waste of time. She had attempted to brush it off, but it was pretty hard to put aside the fact that he thought what she did was useless. Luka hadn’t done that. Even if he wasn’t interested, he had at least pretended to be. Zach had been uninterested in anything she had to say about Mac and he had asked her an awful lot of questions about her dad, despite her telling him that she didn’t really like to talk about him. And his laugh, it sounded so forced. Actually, he no longer seemed like that nice of a guy. She frowned and kept her hands tightly folded on her lap.

Looking out the window, she was relieved to see her neighborhood come into view. Thank God. She hoped for a quick escape as she glanced over at Zach when they reached the stop sign at the end of her street. His head was turned just enough that she could see him looking her legs from the corner of his eye. She tugged at the hem, slightly willing the dress longer. She realized in that moment that there was definite difference between the way Luka looked at her and the way Zach did, or at least in the way she felt about it. Beginning to feel dirty, she pulled harder on the bottom of her white lace dress. She should have picked something longer.

There was a tiny skip in her heart when she spotted a familiar car in the driveway as they approached her house. Her relief was hastily diminished when she realized that she couldn’t see him today, not when she was coming home from a date, even a miserable, failed date. She didn’t notice they had stopped until she heard Zach’s door open. Oh, God. He was going to walk her to the door. She unbuckled slowly, trying to prepare herself for what she knew was coming. Forcing a smile on her face as stepped out of the car, she mumbled a quiet “thank you.”

He kept close to her as they walked to the door. “I hope your friend is okay,” he offered as he looked down at her.

“Oh yeah. I’m sure she’ll be fine. I’m just going to head over and check on her,” she lied, tightly gripping the clutch in her hands. “Thank you for dinner. It was… nice,” she said when they reached the door. She wasn’t sure what else to say. It wasn’t nice. She was bored. And insulted. And uncomfortable. She desperately wanted to get in the house.

“I had a good time tonight, Raleigh. I’m sorry our evening was cut short.” She inched to the door. Please don’t move closer. Please. He took a step towards her and she froze. He was going to kiss her. She had nowhere to turn to. Just go with it and he will leave. His eyes were closed as he dropped his head towards her. Had she given any indication that this date deserved a good night kiss? When his lips touched hers, she squeezed her eyes shut. This was rough, his lips were rough… and getting more aggressive. She felt fingertips touch her thigh causing her to back up instantly and pull away from him. It didn’t feel the same. It didn’t feel good. She reached blindly for the door handle and almost cried from relief when she found it.

“I – uh, thank you… again for dinner,” she was stuttering trying to regain her composure. “I – I have to go. Have a good night.” She pushed the door open enough for her body to slide though and darted into the house. She shut the door as fast as she could without slamming it. She thought she heard a “good night” back but wasn’t listening all too closely. She felt disgusted. He touched her. She shivered hard at the thought. He kissed her, terribly. He was an awful kisser. There was nothing there that was even close to the way she had felt just a few days ago hiding behind the playhouse.

She pushed herself to the kitchen to find something to eat. She had mostly picked at her dinner. In fact, she couldn’t even remember what she had ordered. She dropped her clutch on the island. Digging through the refrigerator, she ignored the laughter she heard coming from the patio. Wasn’t there fruit salad in here somewhere? She shifted a few more containers before giving up. Screw it. She pulled the freezer door open. A half-gallon of Neapolitan ice cream was sitting front and center, staring at her. Oh, ice cream… you shall be my date tonight. She snatched it out of the freezer and pushed the door shut with her hip as she went for a spoon.

She looked over at the table for a brief second and shook her head. There was no way she was eating in here. She debated on heading to her room, but changed her mind as she passed the living room and caught sight of the TV. It had been awhile since she had watched anything. She shrugged to herself and kicked her heels off to the side of the room. She plopped the couch and grabbed the remote, leaving her ice cream to the side. She flipped through the DVR and noticed an icon with a small hockey puck and sticks. 24/7? She opened it up, curious as to what it was. After Denver, hockey was a sport she had never given much attention.

“Penguins and Capitals,” she murmured to herself. She glanced over her shoulder; she was the only one in the house, everyone else was outside and Mackenzie should be in bed. These episodes were all old. Quinn must have forgotten to delete them. She looked at the doorway one last time before selecting play. Dropping the remote at her side, she pulled the lid off the ice cream and took the first bite of the strawberry as she kicked her feet up to the coffee table. This was so much better than a date.
*
It was as he was coming out of the bathroom that he heard a familiar voice from Quinn’s living room, his own. Mid text, he lowered his cell phone and stepped quietly towards the room. The response to Valeryia could wait. She was still trying to pull him back in, now offering to come visit for the beginning of the season. It would be easier if they spoke in person, she had just sent.

He was genuinely surprised to see Raleigh sitting there, dead center on the couch, watching an old HBO special about his team. Leaning against the doorframe, he observed her, amused by this enigma of women in front of him. She was wearing a white lace dress that stopped just above her mid-thigh – she had some seriously great legs – and had straightened her auburn hair. A container of ice cream sat in her lap, the spoon moving leisurely between her mouth and the carton, sometimes tapping against her mouth as though she were pondering some great mystery. Something wasn’t right about this, it seemed too early for her to be home. Neither Cami nor Quinn had outright told him that she was on a date, he only knew because he overheard Cami make a comment about it.

“I have no idea what is going on,” she told the TV as Carter was being interviewed. He studied her a bit more intently when his face appeared on the screen next. The spoon lowered slowly and settling against the container. She had sat up, bringing her back off the couch, her jaw slightly dropped. He was discussing their winning streak and it cut to images of him and Alex on the ice together. “You liar,” she blurted out, pointing her spoon at the screen. “Your English doesn’t suck as bad you are making it sound. I’m pretty sure you just don’t want to be interviewed.”

He bit his tongue trying not to laugh. She was right about that. He hated media interviews. He almost felt guilty watching her when she was so unguarded, but he didn’t see this version of her very often and this was truly entertaining. Her next move though, that did him in. When they switched to the Capitals, she leaned back into the couch again.

“You and me, ice cream,” she sighed as she tapped the container with her spoon, “till death do us part.”

“Getting pretty serious in here,” he laughed, unable to hold it in. She jumped, her feet flying off the table and she quickly straightened herself out, still clutching the ice cream tightly. Her head snapped in his direction, eyes wide and face growing progressively redder with each passing second.

“Jesus!” she yelped. “How long have you been standing there?” She looked frantically around the couch.

“Long enough to hear… elegant proposal,” he answered between deep breaths. She had the remote in her hand now. “You not have to turn off.”

She cocked her head slightly and furrowed her eyebrows. “And why not?”

“Just stay here. Be back.” He turned before she could answer and sped to the kitchen. He tried to remember which drawer Cami kept the silverware in. He found them in the second drawer he opened. When he reappeared in the living room, she had set the ice cream container on the coffee table and was leaning forward, her elbows on her thighs, face in her hands. She had a puzzled look on her face as she looked him over. He held up the spoon and walked towards her. She didn’t take her eyes off him, eyeing him carefully as he approached. When he sat down next to her and set his phone down on the coffee table, she only moved a few inches away instead of her customary opposite end of the couch. “You should not eat ice cream straight from carton alone.” He reached his spoon out to take a bite.

“Don’t you have a home?” she asked, a slight air of sarcasm in her voice, as she moved the ice cream away from him. He could see the corners of her lips twitch as she tried to suppress a grin. His spoon caught the container and he began to pull it back towards himself.

“You should be on date, ja?” he countered as he picked up the carton. He went to scoop out some strawberry and was shocked to see it almost gone. “You eat all strawberry? Just chocolate and vanilla left.”

“I ended it early.” She folded her arms across her chest. “I like to eat it in order. Strawberry, vanilla, chocolate.”

“You think I weird,” he muttered taking a bite of the chocolate. “Why you end it early?” he inquired, raising an eyebrow. She seized her spoon from the container. She scooped out a bit of vanilla. He didn’t miss that the movement had brought her slightly closer to him.

“I was bored, if you must know,” she said dropping the spoon back in the container he was still holding. She settled back into the couch again. She had propped her feet onto the edge of the table so that her knees were in the air and she tucked her hands between her thighs. She had turned her attention back to the TV. He tried so hard not to notice the hem of the dress dip towards the couch, exposing another good couple inches of her legs.

“Bored?” He forced himself to look at her face.

“Yeah. Well,” she paused, glancing over at him, “apparently history is a terrible thing to devote your life to. I believe the exact words were ‘useless’ and a ‘waste’. Numbers! Numbers are a good, solid choice.”

Luka was so stunned and it took a minute for him to come up with something. He had actually said that to her? What a dick. “Nothing wrong with history. Is important to know where we come from.”

“Right.” She was almost inaudible as she smiled shyly at his response, but did not take her eyes off the TV. He set the ice cream down on the table leaned back next to her. He never watched these things so he wasn’t sure what all they showed. He remembered them recording and doing the interviews, but that was all kind of a blur since it had been right in the thick of the season. She was sitting close enough to him that he could feel her cringe as one of the guys from the Capitals was getting stitches after a fight. “Four stitches and you really go back out and play?”

He looked at her from the corner of his eye. She was watching him, both disbelief and curiosity on her face. He turned his head the rest of the way and leaned back just slightly. “Yeah,” he replied casually with a small shrug. Four stitches was nothing. They had all played with far worse. As the screen faded into the next game, he began to feel agitated. He recalled this game almost immediately. He needed to turn it off. He had gotten hurt during this game. Badly. He had ended up being out for almost a month. This was the game where after he gone into the boards skates first so hard he had injured his left leg. He had collapsed on the ice when he tried to get up to skate off to get looked at. The pain had been immense. She didn’t follow hockey in the slightest. She didn’t know about this. He didn’t want her to see one of his weaker moments.

“We should watch something else,” he declared in a rush and he reached over her for the remote. Perplexed, she swiped the remote and held it out of reach.

“Why?” He reached further across and almost had it, when she pulled her hand back and shoved it behind her. “Why?” she repeated, her eyes narrowed on him. His heart was beating harder; his breathing had become shaky. He really didn’t want her to see this.

“I just – ” he gave up. She was looking past him at the screen again. He fell back against the couch and looked up at the ceiling. It was too late. He could hear the commentary. Injured. Collapsed. Helped off the ice. Would keep him out. The words were hollow. It was the sensation just above his knee that brought him back.

“Jesus!” she gasped. She had jumped and was sitting up completely, one hand covering her mouth and the tightly squeezing his leg. She was focused intently on the screen, suddenly her hand recoiled and she was looking down at his leg. “Sorry. I – is it okay now?”

“Yeah. That was eight months ago.” She was biting her lip, thinking.

“Oh.” She reached for the remote. “I’ll turn it off.”

Too late now. He shook his head. “Not have to.” She looked at him skeptically. “Really. Is okay.”

“Okay.” She sat back, somehow edging herself closer. She was now up against him, had her hands tucked between her thighs, knees pointing toward him as they rested against his legs. This was not expected. “How long were you out?” Her voice was soft, quiet. It was as though she were trying to draw him closer to her.

For the first time, he felt unsure of himself with her. His usually cool demeanor stumbled and there was a falter in his voice. “A-about month.”

“Does this kind of stuff happen a lot?” Her head was down and voice was still low. She was twisting the hem of her dress between her index and middle fingers.

He hesitated. Injuries were just part of the game. They happened. He hadn’t really thought about it before. Get hurt, get better, play. “They just…happen,” he finally answered.

There was a moment of silence before she suddenly leaned forward and grabbed the ice cream again. She shifted slightly away from him so that she was facing him, tucking her legs almost under her. She took a bite of the ice cream. His eyes were instantly drawn to her mouth. When she pulled the spoon away, he willed himself to look her in the eye again. A smile was pulling at the corners of her mouth. That mouth. He hadn’t stopped thinking about Saturday. Quinn, man. The fucking timing. He turned so that he was opposite her, resting his left arm on the back of the couch and brought his left leg up, his knee pushed into the back cushions.

“So, why are you here tonight anyways?” she asked.

She held the carton towards him and he shook his head. With a shrug, she put it back on the table. She tugged on the bottom of her dress just enough to pull his attention to her legs again. The lace rested against her skin. He clenched his fist, resisting the urge run his fingers over it. He couldn’t pin down why, but he wanted her more in that moment than any other. He really took her in now. It was the lace. It softened her. He had to touch her. He had to kiss her. He blinked remembering she had asked him a question. She was still waiting for an answer. He compelled himself to talk. “I was invited.”

She rolled her eyes, but the playful smile remained. “I figured that!” When she reached across to give him a teasing shove, he grabbed her hand and tugged her towards him. This was the opportunity he wasn’t going to miss. His left hand was tangled in her hair, gripping her neck to bring her closer. He stopped when she was less than two inches from him, she didn’t break eye contact with him. Her mouth twitched and when she closed her eyes before he did, he felt his heart pick up. She wanted this, too. Her mouth pushed on his as she inched towards him on her knees. She freed her hand from his and she slid both hands to his neck, her fingers dragging across his skin. He was surprised by her forwardness when she began gently pulling him towards her.
*
She couldn’t breathe. Her heart was thundering in her chest. She wanted him to stop freaking out over what she had just seen. She wanted to be closer to him. Luka’s free hand had moved to her waist, delicately at first. When she ran her tongue over her upper lip, his hand clutched the dress, the fabric tightening around her waist. He held a steady grasp on her neck, keeping her mouth firmly on his. Not that he had to, she wasn’t about to leave. He would only loosen it when he needed to move his head, like now. He nipped at her lower lip causing a brief, but low moan to escape her. Her back arched, her body now pressed up against his. His hand flattened against the center of her back and in an unexpected swift movement, she found herself on her back.

She let out an exaggerated groan, “Umph.”

She couldn’t suppress the grin when a concerned gaze met her eyes. “Kidding.” She yanked his face back down to hers. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy to see your car in the driveway,” she muttered right before their lips met again. She squirmed under him trying to spread her legs to either side of him so she could use the couch as leverage to move her hips. The coarse material of his jeans rubbed against her legs. She lifted her hips against his and her dress slipped back, revealing more of her legs.

When his fingers hit her skin, her back arched against him again. As his fingers crept under the dress toward her underwear, she struggled to get her arms between the two of them. She pulled hard on his shirt, balling it up in her hands as she tugged at it. She let her mind go blank. Nothing wrong with enjoying this. That was her last thought before she heard his cell phone’s loud vibration on the coffee table. They both paused and looked at it. As she lifted her head, it was hard to miss the name ‘Valeriya’ at the top of the notification. A girl’s name. Of course.

*
He lifted himself off of her and stared at her unable to move. Her face said it all. Her wide hazel eyes were staring back at him, confusion first, then the distrust. There was a quiet voice in there somewhere cautioning him not to lie to her, not to brush it off.

“Ex.” His breathing was heavy. “In Russia.” He suddenly felt guilty, incredibly guilty. He was no longer with Valeriya, but tonight wasn’t the way he wanted Raleigh. He lifted himself off of her and stared at her unable to move.

She closed her eyes and swallowed hard. She looked down at her dress and then back at him. Panic appeared to set in as she scrambled away from him and then quickly changed to embarrassment. The red started low in her cheeks and rose up to ears.

“Oh God,” the words muffled by her hands. Within seconds, she was on her feet, backing away from him slowly. He was upright now, kneeling with one knee on the couch and the other foot on the floor.

“Raleigh, I – ” he choked as she held trembling hands out in front of her. She was misreading this.

“No.” Her voice was shaking, but it still somehow came out a strong and clear statement. He had screwed up. Her eyes wide, she licked her lips before biting them. He went to stand up and she took another step back. “Just no,” she repeated. Her hands lowered and she pulled at her dress, straightening it out, but kept her eyes locked on his. He took a wary step towards her and with that she spun on her heels and left.

He brought his hands to his face, rubbing his eyes hard and then pushed it through his hair. He stood there, head in his hands, gripping his hair for a few seconds. The sound of a distant door shutting broke his despair. He could fix this. He just needed her to give him another chance. He needed her to spend time with him. Just him. He could explain. He could. Taking a deep breath, he headed to the hallway she had just escaped to.

It wasn’t a long hallway, but he was still greeted with five doors. The door at the end clearly led outside. The first door on his right was shut. The one across the door was open and scattered with toys. He kept moving. The next open door on his left revealed a room that was lit dimly by a small lamp and the remaining sunlight. Books. A lot of them. And what he could only assume were antiques. She didn’t just like history, he realized, she loved it. He heard a small thud behind him and turned, remembering why he was in there to begin with. There was the door he was looking for. Several drawings clearly done by Mackenzie covered the door. He was distracted again taking another glimpse into her life. Happy blobs and hearts covered the papers along with a badly spelled ‘Aunt Raleigh’. He knocked lightly on the door and braced himself.

*
What the hell? Hands plastered to the door, she slid along it to the ground. Had he followed her? Did he really need follow her to remind how of how ridiculous this situation was? Coming home from a date, making out with him, and then his “ex” texts him. What the hell was she thinking? Was she thinking? Did she ever fucking think around him? She reached up and felt for the door handle. Locking the door, she called out, “Go away, Luka.”

“Can you – can we talk for minute?” his voice finally broke through the door. Her back still against the door, she wrapped her arms around her knees and dropped her head down. Please go away.

“No.”

“What?”

She lifted her head and leaned back against the door again. She bit her tongue and could feel her lower lip tremble. No. You will not cry because of him. Because you had a weak moment thinking you could trust him. She swallowed hard and blinked several times. Deep breath. It hurt. “Just go, Luka,” she forced the words from her mouth. The door vibrated slightly against her. He must have dropped his head to it, because it didn’t feel harsh like a kick or pound.

“Raleigh, is not what you think. Can we talk…please?” His voice was flat, he sounded defeated. She shook her head. That wasn’t possible.

“No.” She was repeating herself. Hoping he would take the hint. She pulled her knees in closer to her, wrapping her arms around them tighter. The sunlight was fading. Her room was getting dark. She could climb into bed and push tonight out of her mind, sleep late. She felt a tiny ping of relief at this thought.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” His voice had changed again, sounding tight now. She had a brief moment where she considered opening the door to see his face. Was he for real? After what just happened?

“Are you seriously asking me out right now?” she asked unable to keep the disbelief and exasperation out of her voice.

“No.” He paused. He wasn’t above her anymore. He must have been on his knees, his head directly behind hers. “You owe me. From zoo.”

Son of a… she had forgotten about that. “I’ll let you know when.” She almost cried out of frustration. Now? Now?! There was another part of that deal. She made herself talk and fought to keep her voice steady. “Friends only.”

“Yes.” He was agreeing with her. Okay. That was okay. The white of dress was still bright in the darkened room. Her left hand dropped to her thigh, brushing against where he had touched her. Her eyes were watering again. She blew out another heavy breath and shook her head.

“I – I’m done with all of whatever this is,” she declared uncertainly. She gulped. Steady, girl. Be firm. He’s going back in the box. “I will go somewhere as friends. This once.”

“Okay,” his response was so quiet she could barely hear it.

“Fine. I’m off tomorrow.” He didn’t answer her right away. Why was she agreeing to this? Did she really just tell him she was off tomorrow? That she was basically free for the whole day? “I have something to do with Brooke tomorrow night,” she added hastily.

“Can I pick you up in morning?”

“What time?” she asked with a slight hesitation.

“Ten?”

“Fine.” There was shuffling from the hallway.

“See you at ten. I – goodnight.” His voice was over her again. The floor creaked. He was moving away from her.

“FRIENDS.” Just friends. And friends don’t make out. You don’t want to drag them into your bed. It doesn’t matter if friends have ‘exes’ in other countries. Friends are friends. Period. She heard footsteps moving away from her room. He was leaving. Her mind raced. She admitted to him that she was glad he was he was there. What was wrong with her? She was so…so stupid. She could feel it starting again. It started in her chest, rising up faster than she could control it. The first sob escaped her louder than she wanted it to. She clamped her hands to her mouth. The footsteps stopped. Shit. She was breathing hard into her hands, the first tear running against her thumb and trickling against her wrist. She heard them again, moving away from her. She pushed herself off the ground and crawled into her bed, curling up into a ball. She felt safe there and was finally able to release the tears she had been holding back.

“So stupid,” she muttered as she fell asleep, her face still wet. “So stupid.”