Loser, Whatever!

A couple hours later, I knocked on Oliver's door. It was surprisingly quiet, sor Oliver. He yelled at me to come in. I obeyed and walked in to find him on the couch with my old notebook on his lap. He was reading.

"Oh, you found it." I stated.

"Shh!" He shushed me. I shrugged my shoulders and headed for the kitchen with the quiche I had prepared.

It was long before I felt his familiar hands around my waist. He was trying to twist me around so we were facing each other, but I had a knife in my hand from slicing the quiche. I put that down before allowing him to turn me around.

"That didn't take long." I pointed out as I gave him a quick peck on the lips.

"It was very good." He told me. "But why did you end it like that? I want to know what happens next."

"Thank you. And I didn't say anything about it being over." I explained.

"Oh, so there's more?" He asked.

"Of course." I assured him.

"Okay, I'll give you some time right now to finish it up." He grinned.

"I'm glad I have your permission to do something on my own time, Oliver." I chuckled.

"I didn't mean it that way, and you know it." He smiled and planted another one on my lips.

This one started much faster than any of our usual kisses. It practically skipped the slow, hesitant, cautious stages and headed straight for the passion. There was urgency in this kiss, though I had no idea why. Where we running out of time?

He picked me up and set me down on a kitchen stool so he could make sure I didn't run away, if that was ever a possiblility, never breaking the kiss. He ran his hands slowly up my torso, exploring all the parts between, and rested them on my cheeks. He pulled my face even closer, if that was possible, to his and ran his tongue almost longingly along my lips. I let him in.

By now, I had my hands on his head and was running my fingers through his already messy hair. We broke apart for a fraction of a second for air, then immediately resumed. He released one of his hands and placed it underneath my shirt and then under my bra.

"I want you so bad." He breathed.

"Oliver..." I warned.

"Yeah. I know, I know." He backed away. I was upset. I didn't think he would totally go away. I liked that!

"Oliver..." I repeated.

"We need to talk about this." He finished. He took the plates from the counter and brought them into the dining room. I followed him.

"What is there to talk about?" I replied.

"Like when this silly infatuation of yours that your father is going to burst in on us if we ever take it too far is going to end!" He exclaimed. He was very nearly shouting now. I sat there with my mouth open for a moment before I pulled myself together.

"When are you going to stop being so sex-crazed?" I retorted.

"Bridgette, I've waited for you for two summers. Before that I was waiting for someone exactly like you to show me the kind of a person I am now and make me feel like I'm worth something when I'm off the Quidditch pitch. I'm through waiting! I need to have all of you, or none of you!" He shouted the last part.

"If you really loved me..."

"I'm done waiting!" He interrupted. I froze. The expression in his face clearly said that he hadn't meant to say it quite like that. I felt my eyes go moist.

"Then, I guess it's time for me to leave." I said and stood up.

"No, Bridgette, no! I didn't mean it that way. Come back, don't go!" He pleaded. I shook his gropping hand off my shoulder and pulled my sandals on. Then I walked out, despite his pleading and disapparated.

I wasn't paying attention when I apparated. So I didn't really know where I was going to end up. I knew I had a destination in mind, but I couldn't remember what it was.

I thought Oliver was different. I thought he loved exactly the way I was, and because of that, he'd be willing to wait until I was ready. He was the one who showed me the way out of my dark, protective little corner. He was the only one I could tell everything to and not feel totally stupid about it. I thought he was different. I guess I was wrong. Maybe my father was right about all guys being after one thing and one thing only.

I opened my eyes to a house I thought I'd left almost two years ago. Why did I apparate here? Because I needed a mother, that's why. I took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

It wasn't quite dark out, and I was worried I would interrupt their supper. But sure enough, the womna I hadn't seen since my breif engagement to Rick opened the door.

"Bridgette? Is that you?" Man, she had aged. Kurt must have been a lot more trouble than I thought he was.

"Yes, Mom. It's me." I answered with a shrug. To my utter disbelief, she pulled me into her arms and held me tight. And I just stood there, sobbing into her nice sweater. I wrapped my amrs around her and just let it all out.

She never asked why I was so upset. So all I knew, she thought I was apologizing for the way I left and never stayed in touch. But she didn't care, she just let me get it all out onto her beautiful top.

I eventually managed to control myself and let her lead me into the living room. There was no sign on my father or brother.

"Do you want to talk about it?" She asked as we sat down and I lay my head on her shoulder. She ran her fingers through my hair.

"Rick and I broke up." I said.

"I was aware of that." She answered. For some reason, this didn't come as much of a shock.

"I think Dad was right about Oliver." I sobbed. She held me tight again.

"Oh, honey." She rubbed my back and didn't say a word until I was done. "Oliver's a nice boy, I'm sure Dad was wrong about that."

"No, he wasn't." I insisted.

"How so?" She querried. She wasn't being pushy, she was being my mother.

"He doesn't want to wait until we're married." I never thought I'd have this talk with my mother in my entire life.

"That's always hard. It was the same with myself and your father." She explained. That caught my attention. I was quiet until she continued. "You see, he was certain that when we got engaged, we were meant to be, and I don't disagree with that. He managed to convince me that because of that, we could give ourselves fully to each other before that. And we did."

Whoa, this was a little too much information about my mother. But after a few seconds, I got over it.

"I'm not saying that what we did was right, but we're still together and as in love as we ever were. We have our disagreements, like the Oliver misunderstanding, but we eventually work them out. I have never, in all my 47 years seen a couple as in love as you and Oliver. You can't just give it up for something like this."

"Thanks, Mom." I said.

We just sat there for a bit, her, running her fingers through my hair, and me just resting on her shoulder. It got dark out and there was still no sign of anyone else in the house.

I eventually got up and left, after thanking her again.

I cried myself to sleep.