Love Bird. - Emily. Z. (highly recommended books txt) 📗

to see him. 

With a groan, I rolled into a sitting position. Throwing my legs over the side of the bed, I searched with my toes for my slippers. While I searched the bedside table for my keys. When I finally found them, I slid my feet into the soft, warm shoes and stood up. My pajamas consisted of fluffy pants, and a silk shirt, which I bought from the convenience store. I felt damn comfortable.

I felt my way to the door, seeing as I was too lazy to turn on the lights. But halfway there, my foot hit the corner of...something - god, was it something - and seering pain shot up my leg, causing it to buckle slightly. I sucked in a breath through my teeth, and a string of profanities let forth from my mouth. This one's for you, Mom.

When I was done hopping around in the darkness, my eyes fully adjusted, I limped to the door, more annoyed than before.

The hall was empty when I stepped out, as it was late at night. I played with the keycard in my hands as I walked, staring at the floor. When I reached the elevator and pressed the button, I took a deep breath. Was I really going to do this?

It seemed only fair. I mean...Victor was probably going to beat it out of Logan anyway. Maybe.

Or maybe it was just me. Maybe I'd just had enough.

My thoughts swirled lazily in my head as I watched the numbers of the elevator lazily make their way down. When the doors opened, I stared out at the lobby, which was empty as well, save for the woman at the desk, who read a magazine. I waved to her when she looked up, and she paid it no mind. I was usually out this late getting icecream, I realized.

While I laughed to myself about that revelation, I left the lobby and headed down the street to the parking garage. My car awaited just inside, and I paused, staring at it.

I was seriously going to do this. Suddenly butterfies filled my stomach, and Victor's face filled my vision. My hands shook, and I blinked rapidly. I was nervous.

"God I'm a wimp," I groaned to myself as I forced myself to move, my pink slippers sliding along the concrete.

My palms sweat against my keys, and I unlocked the car, forcing the door open as it stuck yet again. I slid into the seat and took a deep breath yet again as I rolled the engine over. It purred...well more like violently growled beneath me as I contemplated what I was about to do. 

But without further ado, I pulled out of the parking space, and left the garage. I hummed the tune of I Will Survive as I navigated the very light traffic. At two AM there wasn't much happening. I knew his adress from a previous B&E involving a closet, and stealing a shirt, but it was still iffy...meaning I drove around the block twice before I remembered which house was his...or maybe I was just stalling, but I'm gonna go with the former.

I pulled into his driveway, noting that his lights were off. Of course he was asleep. If he wasn't I'd probably be worried. A part of me - the chicken shit part - said to let him sleep. To go back to the hotel and just let this all go.

But of course, who ever listens to the chicken shit?

So, I pulled the keys from the ignition, and the car gave a pathetic rumble and a few chokes before it settled into slumber. With a few long and deep breaths, I steadied myself, and got out of the car.

It was a little chilly out, but I braved it and made my way to the door, running a hand through my hair to make sure it didn't look like a tangled mess. I straightened my shirt for some stupid reason and smoothed my pajama pants. I was stalling again.

Taking a deep breath, I reached out...and stopped just short of the doorbell. Did he have a long day? Maybe he was tired. Maybe I shouldn't-,

No. I shook my head, and smacked my palms to my cheeks a couple of times. Get it together!

With a grunt, I reached out and punched the doorbell. And managed to accidentally press it twice. Shit. Now I felt bitchy.

But I waited, rocking in my slippers, heel to toe, heel to toe. Shit, did he not hear me? Maybe he is too fast asleep. Maybe I should knock? But then again, that would be quieter than ringing the doorbell. Maybe I should have just gone home, he probably didn't want to see me anyway-,

But my thoughts cut off, and so did my breath, when the lock on the door tumbled. My eyes were wide and my stomach was in knots when the door swung open. And there he stood. Shirtless, in basketball shorts and barefoot. He certainly didn't look tired, as he froze with his alert, golden eyes set on mine.

And it felt so good to see them in person.

Trying hard to hide the fact that my legs were trembling, I lifted my hand in a cheeky wave and said, "Hey sexy."

He blinked. And then he blinked again. He was frozen in place. His eyes traveled from mine, all the way down to my feet, and then back up again. I let out a sheepish laugh.

"Yeah, yeah I'm not in my Sunday's best. But hey, at least I came. I didn't exactly plan this...I mean...I kind of just missed your face...well that sounded creepy-,"

"Jane?" He asked, and there was a desperate edge in his voice, as he finally took a step closer.

I shut up, blinking up at him. "No it's the jehova's witnesses. Do you have time to learn about our lord and sav-," But before I could get the rest out, he took another step forward, and captured me in his arms.

It was such a relief to feel his strong arms around me, that I forgot about everything for a while. I forgot about our problems, and my problems with Logan, and my father, and Ike. God, too many men causing problems in my life.

At that moment, though, it was only us. Two people in love, without a care in the world.

"God, Jane." He squeezed me tighter.  He repeated my name, as if it was the only thing he could say. 

I didn't reply, wrapping my own arms around his torso as I let my hand stroke his back. He buried his face in my neck, and we stayed like that for a long time.

"Jane," He repeated in a softer tone, his body relaxing as his breath brushed my neck.

"I'm here," I whispered, my hand coming up to play with his hair. 

"I'm home."

God, I've Missed You.

 

I sat with hands folded in my lap. His kitchen was moderately sized, with a wooden table sat in front of the bay windows that overlooked the front lawn. The dark stained cabinets over the black granite counters gave a cozy, yet masculine feeling to the room. The tiles underfoot were deep burgandy, and fit the color scheme nicely.

As usual, his house was spotless. I wondered breifly as the smell of hot chocolate reached my nose how he kept such a clean house with such a busy schedule. 

A steaming mug was set down in front of me, and he sat down next to me with his own mug of coffee clasped in his hands.

I blew on the hot chocolate in an innefectual attempt to cool it off, before lifting it to my lips and taking a small sip. He sipped his own in silence. We sat without speaking for a moment, and I could tell by the way he gazed down into his cup, golden eyes unfocused, that he was trying to figure out what to ask me first.

I fidgeted in my own seat, feeling a bit of regret for coming here. I wasn't ready to answer what he wanted to ask. In fact I didn't think I was ready to see him at all. I couldn't believe I had actually gotten into the car, let alone knocked on his door.

The hell was I thinking?

I went through a list of things in my mind that would have been a better, less troubling option. Instead of coming here, I could have just called him. Instead of coming here, I could have talked myself down in an ice cream shop with a douple scoop of banana split. Instead of coming here, I could have just stayed in bed and smelled his shirt. I could have done anything else.

But of course my brain has never exactly won the nobel prize for thinking things through.

"Jane," I blinked from my reverie and looked up. 

He wore a reluctant expression, his eyebrows turned down with the corner of his lips in a frown, and I realized that he was as much dreading asking these questions as I was answering them.

I let out a heavy sigh and held up my hand. Victor watched as I carefully collected myself, gathering my courage in a big gulp of air and letting it out in a heavy sigh.

"First off," I began, curling my hands back around my cup and staring down into the liquid, "Logan found me. I was out buying icecream when we...I guess ran into each other. I thought I got away from him but he'd followed be back to my hotel. We talked and...and he left," I swallowed thickly.

Victor tilted his head. "You're lying."

I winced. Was I really that horrible a liar? 

"Come on now," I complained, "I can't be that bad!"

"Your eyebrow twitched," He explained, lifting his hand to brush my hair from my face, "You can't have forgotten about that?"

I groaned, dropping my forehead against the lip of my mug. "I thought I fixed that."

He smiled briefly as I glanced at him, but it slowly faded. "He didn't just leave, did he?"

I lifted my head fully, letting out yet another sigh. "Not...exactly...,"

Victor's eyes darkened to that familiar cold stare that he got when he was angry, "He kissed you, didn't he?"

"Yes but only once!" I blurted, and he raised his eyebrows.

"He kissed you multiple times?" He reached up to run a hand through his hair.

Damn eyebrow.

"Okay, yes, multiple times," I admitted, pouting.

Victor sat in silence for a few long seconds, before he pushed his chair back, and began to stand. I reached out in a flash, wrapping my hand around his wrist before he could get any further.

"Please," I pleaded, staring into his cold eyes, "If you're going to be mad at someone, be mad at me. Don't hurt him."

Victor slowly stood up, despite my grasp. His eyes didn't leave mine, however, and he let out a soft sigh.

"Jane," He murmured, and his voice was softer, "Do you love me?"

I blinked as he slid his wrist out of my grasp, and wrapped his fingers around my own.

"Of course I love you," I mumbled in confusion, as he slowly pulled me out of my chair.

"But you love him, too." This conversation seemed familiar somehow.

"I-," I tried to protest, but my words died yet again. I couldn't say it. So I settled for, "Not as much as you. Not...not nearly."

Victor