Watching Her Chapter 16 - Fa Mulan

~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~
Chapter 16 - Fa Mulan - Mulan
Mulan is courageous and self-reliant. She is outspoken and independent.

"Hell fucking yes," I say forcefully as I burst through the tree line. I don't even look around, nothing but a quick glance toward the side door she walks out of and a pass over of the window in the bottom left corner of her house. Seeing nothing out of place, I head straight inside her building.

As usual, the scent of peppermint and sugar cookies is strong. I'm dying to know how that combination of scents winds up together, and I know once I'm able, that's one of the first things I'm asking her. I stop, taking just a moment to breathe in deeply and let my eyes wander. I'm damn sure not going to squander an opportunity to look around a bit. I notice a few things I didn't before – there's a soccer ball on top of a bucket in the corner, as well as a few orange cones and a pair of shin guards. The ball by itself would indicate just a hobby. Pairing it with the cones and the protective gear gives it a whole new meaning, one that sets my mind spinning. Not taking the time to contemplate exactly what any further, I continue to look. On the loveseat is a well-worn copy of To Kill a Mockingbird splayed open and face down. My first thought? I wonder how long ago she sat here and read. Was she just here, or was she out here earlier? I realize I have no idea at all what she does with her day, and I want to know. Just like I'm dying to find out what kind of car is hidden beneath the tarp and why there is a picture of a single saguaro cactus on the bookshelf and why there's a scuffed and faded baseball beside it.

So many questions. So many things I want to know.

With that thought, I move beside the drum set. Her notebook, well mine I suppose if I want to be technical about it, is closed and placed carefully in the center of the stool. I imagine her setting it down, then taking a step back and tilting her head to the side trying to get it just so. Move a little to the right, then scoot it up just a little until it's centered perfectly. The thought makes me smile and that weird fluttery feeling in my stomach comes again.

Whatever that means.

I pick up her notebook and leave mine, taking one more quick look around and know I need to get the hell out of here. My hands shake a little bit as I flip open the page. A bead of sweat slides down the side of my face and slips beneath my t-shirt. I unconsciously hold my breath and then let it out when I snort, unable to stop myself.

Her opening line, "Hey, Creeper," makes me laugh, really fucking loudly. I snap my head toward her house to make sure no one hears me. When the house doesn't light up like a Christmas tree and I don't see any unexpected movement or peeks out from behind curtains, I figure I've pressed my luck enough as it is. I hurry back toward my spot, glancing back over my shoulder as I go and wonder if there will ever be a day when I don't have to slink off and hide in the dark.

Although, when I see her walk out of her house just a few minutes later, I find that I don't mind so much even if I feel like a cross between Lloyd Dobler and that dude from One Hour Photo half the time. She's as hot as ever in a pair of bright red shorts and I swear they are even tinier than the ones she wore last night. Her t-shirt tonight has a picture of Mulan on it and I can't help but wonder if there's a significance there. She's barefoot which is just about the sexiest fucking thing ever and her hair's in a low, loose ponytail.

Jesus, she's gorgeous.

Her legs look even more fantastic than they normally do, but that might have something to do with seeing the soccer ball just before. Fuck, I can't even think what it means if she plays that, too. She stands on the top step, a soft, serene smile on her face and it makes me sigh. Her posture's as relaxed as I've ever seen it. A gentle breeze lifts her hair around her face and she tilts her head toward the crescent moon high in the sky. She looks almost like a fairytale, like there should be furry woodland animals scurrying around her feet and little blue birds fluttering around her head while she sings a song about a prince and happily ever after. The thought makes me feel a little bit like a pussy and I'd sooner die than let Emmett or Jasper find out even a hint of that thought, but it's true just the same. It could be the shirt making me think that way, but mostly it's just her.

I settle in and relax against the tree as she walks down the steps and heads straight for the drums … and my letter to her. Even from as far away as I am I hear her sweet, sexy giggle when she excitedly opens the notebook and flips the page. A warmth spreads through my entire body and I look down at my hand, wanting nothing more that to read her words, but the desire to watch her, to spend as much time as I can in her presence, even from a distance and shrouded by darkness, is more than I can withstand.

Honestly, I could stay here for days and simply watch her. I'd need a chair or something though; I might be young and in pretty damn good shape, but even I'd get tired after so long.

By the time I get home a few hours later, I'm exhausted and cold. The house is still, silent … dark and it makes me want to crawl into my bed, burrow under the covers and sleep for days. Of course all it takes is for a picture of her, hair flying, arms moving up and down, and it's enough to wake me the hell up … not to mention when my fingers clutch the notebook I'm still carrying. I don't waste time when I get to my room. I toss the notebook on my bed and shed my clothes in record time, kicking them toward the general vicinity of my laundry basket. A loose pair of basketball shorts, a wife beater, and then I throw myself forward, twisting to land on my back.

"Don't break my heart, Drummer Girl," I whisper into my silent room as I reach beside me and pick up the notebook.

Hey, Creeper,

Or should I keep calling you #18? I happen to like Creeper better if you want to know the truth. And #18, does that mean you play sports of some kind, maybe it's your jersey number? I really hope it means you're at least not a sick old man thinking about turning me into some sort of indentured servant. 

Wait, you are a guy, right? I mean, it doesn't sound like you're a girl. 

This is really weird. You know that, right? And what's even weirder … I'm not as freaked out about this as I think I should be. 

I'm still not sure what you want or why you come, but the fact you do is oddly … comforting.
No one has cared what I do in a while. It's going to take me a little bit of time to get used to the fact you can hear me play; that's never happened before. Do you play anything? I have a feeling you do. Only a person that plays an instrument would drive an hour away to buy drumsticks, unless you just happened to have a spare pair lying around? 

As for why I go outside every night, well, we definitely need to know each other better before I answer that question. 

Doesn't anyone care where you go every night? How did you find me? Why do you come back? 

I hope I can trust you. It'd be nice to have a friend. I need one of those …

I would say I'll see you around, but I'm not ready for that yet, but maybe someday. 

DG 

"Oh my God." I groan as I lay the notebook down on my stomach.

I am sorely tempted to squeal like a girl and kick my feet up and down on my bed. She's fucking amazing. I pick up the paper and read it again, then again … and again and again until her words are embedded into my brain. I can picture her almost as if she were sitting right beside me, curled up in the corner of her loveseat as she writes, her toes curled over the edge of the cushion and her hair tucked sweetly behind her ears. Her handwriting is a little neater than in the first one, like she spent more time thinking about what she wanted to say. That thought immediately makes me smile and I rub my chest with the tips of my fingers, lingering on the spot right above my heart. The heart that's beating double-time right this second just thinking about her.

I reach over, hook my phone up to the charger, and turn off the light. Within seconds I'm drifting off to sleep, knowing that my dreams will be only of her.
~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~