Watching Her Chapter 22 - White Rabbit

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Chapter 22 - White Rabbit - Alice in Wonderland
White Rabbit is very stressed. He is terrified his Queen is going to say "Off with his head" because he's running late.

"I'm going to fucking kill Jasper," I grumble as I approach Bella's house. The entire walk over I told myself I was the stupidest, most idiotic bastard on the planet for doing what I was about to do.

A pen?

I was about to give Bella … a pen.

"Just do it, man," Jasper had told me as we walked through the drugstore earlier in the afternoon. We'd been standing in front of the woefully pathetic school supply display at the only drugstore in town … and had been there a good thirty minutes already while I debated with him, and myself, about what the fuck I was doing.

On the one hand, I hadn't really done anything wrong last night. I'd hung out with my friends to celebrate my birthday. Sure, I'd had a little too much to drink and passed out, but it's not like I slept with anyone. I didn't even fool around … and it's not like Bella would know one way or the other, anyway.

I would know, though, and that made all the difference in the world.

On the other hand, I know for a damned fact if I were in Bella's shoes and she didn't show up when I expected her to, all kinds of things would go through my mind. Our situation's so weird it's not even funny, but I know, deep down inside, that there's a part of Bella, and it might just be a big part, that enjoys the fact that I watch her. I can tell. Every night there's this one moment, so brief that it's almost like it doesn't even happen, where I know what's she's feeling. Her shoulders drop just the tiniest bit when she sees the notebook waiting for her on her stool like she wasn't sure I'd come back. Even when she's happy, and I know her body language so well by now I can tell the instant she steps outside what kind of mood she's in, there's always this one little moment when she seems vulnerable and afraid.

We've come a long way in some aspects, and in others, it feels like we're still firmly ensconced at square one. She's told me generalities, just surface stuff for the most part, though there have been a few peeks into the real her. She mentions being homesick a lot, but it doesn't seem like it's for someone specific, but more like a time when she was happy. I might not know a lot about my mysterious girl yet, but one thing I am damned sure of … she's not happy.

Not even close.

She might be able to find some semblance of freedom or some relief, however brief it is, from what's inside her house that weighs on her so fucking much, but it's not enough. She smiles though, a real, honest to God, heart-stopping, beautiful smile, when she sees the notebook. The thought of that smile not being there because of something I did, that I hurt her, makes me want to hurl. I might not have meant to do it, but that really doesn't matter.

All that matters is that she smiles again.

And so … I'm going to give her a pen.

The knot that's kept me company all day loosens when I step out of the woods and find the bay doors open and the lights on. I didn't think she'd shut me out, I felt like we were past that stage at least, but I wasn't positive. I've been around girls enough, Alice and Rose mostly, to know that sometimes they have a tendency to blow things out of proportion. The knot loosens even more when I see the other notebook is waiting for me on her stool.

"Jesus, it smells good in here." I moan, inhaling deeply. The aroma of sugar cookies and peppermint that I will forever associate with her affects me as it always does. My skin tingles, my heart calms, though my entire body feels like it's thrumming with electricity, and that pull deep down inside that only happens when I'm in here comes to life.

When I inhale again, because yes, I'm that big of a fool for her, I notice just the faintest scent of something medicinal. Instantly I'm on alert, though I know it's silly. I've played soccer long enough to recognize the smell of Icy-Hot. My only question is why? Did she hurt herself dancing? Playing? Working on her car … or is it from something else? I curse my rotten fucking timing, though I realize I wouldn't have been able to do anything anyway, and now I just hope she's okay.

I'll see for myself soon.

Thank Christ.

After seeing her daily for almost three weeks, going almost two whole days without her feels like fucking forever.

I lift my arm to itch my nose and then scoff at the ridiculous pen in my hand when the fluff on the end tickles my cheek. This better make her smile is all I have to say. It's without a doubt one of the most ridiculous things I've ever seen in my life. Some bright pink bird-looking thing with googly eyes, with a plume of glittery nylon imitation hair. Just looking at the thing makes me shake my damn head at myself … and the things I'm willing to do for this girl.

I rest against the arm of the loveseat, taking just a moment to look over the letter I wrote her.

Drummer Girl, 

I'm sorry. 

I didn't mean to miss seeing you last night. I wanted to be here; I hope you believe that. 

It was my 18th birthday and my friends wanted to have a party and I ah … um, had a bit too much to drink and fell asleep. I didn't pass out though, so don't go thinking I had a wild time or anything, in fact … I spent most of the night wishing you were there. 

Do you think sometime you might want to meet my friends? I really want you to. Of course you know that means you and I would have to meet first. I'm totally not opposed to that, just so you know. 

It's a little embarrassing to admit how often I think about you, but it's the truth. Did I hurt you by not coming last night? Could you tell I wasn't here? Sometimes I think you can sense me, other times, I wonder. 

And uh … the pen. It's stupid I know, but I wanted to make you smile. 

You don't smile enough. I want to change that. 

Please don't be mad at me. 

Please don't hide from me again. 

#18 

I pick up her notebook and leave mine in its place and set the goofy pen on top. I can't even imagine what she'll think when she sees it, though a quick glance at my watch tells me I won't have to wait long. I'm more reluctant than normal to leave, and as usual, I wonder how much longer we can keep this up, how much longer we have to keep it up.

I know the answer though. It's simple.

I'll wait as long as I have to.

There's no other way.
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