Watching Her Chapter 30 - Mad Hatter

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Chapter 30 - Mad Hatter - Alice in Wonderland
Come have tea and COOKIES at the tea party!

The walk to Bella's seems very different from all the ones before it. It's not like I'm worried, not really anyway, and I'm not exactly scared, though I suppose I should be. If I had half a brain I would be, but strangely, I'm more excited than anything. I left a lot of myself, most of it in fact, in my words to her and laid everything on the table … my heart most of all.

I've never done that before, and it's pretty fucking terrifying truth be told, but it's time to see what this thing between us can be.

Now all I can do is hope that she doesn't upend the table and stomp all over the broken pieces of my heart when it shatters if that happens.

Most of me thinks she won't, that she feels what I do and is probably just as freaked out and yes, excited, too, by whatever is happening between us … but there's a small part that's pretty damn afraid that I've pushed her too far, too fast. I've been watching her for almost a month now, but she's only known about me for not quite two weeks; of course she's going to be careful. Besides, with all the uncertainty about her mom, and how much she's dealing with, I probably shouldn't even expect too much in the first place.

But I do.

I want it. I want more, but whether she does or is even in a place where she can let me in, is still up in the air. Sure, she told me about her mom, but even in my at times somewhat convoluted mind, I know that was due to her need to talk to someone … anyone. At least in part anyway. Deep down I hope it's a tiny … miniscule … part.

The bay doors are open, silver-white light from the fluorescent bulbs spilling out toward the driveway. Bella's Escalade is in its normal spot and the small gray car from before is again parked beside it. I wonder if it's Maggie's or Kate's? As I get closer to the building I can't help but glance toward the window in the bottom left of the house. I know it's Renée's, even if Bella hasn't told me. I stop and stare at it and try to put myself in Bella's place, put my mom in her mom's and I can't.

It's too hard to even think about.

The notebook in my hand brushes against my leg, and the twisty turny thing in my stomach instantly revs back to life. I hurry inside her building, as if there's an invisible thread pulling me forward. It seems like fucking forever since I've been here, though it was just last night. So much has changed since then.

Everything.

A few steps farther inside and then I stop abruptly.

"Holy shit, it smells like a damn bakery in here," I murmur, ignoring the way my mouth waters from the smell. I close my eyes and turn around in a circle, the aroma too delicious not to inhale deeply over and over again. I stop, only because I start to get dizzy and then my eyes widen in surprise and are riveted to her stool.

"Oh, no, she fucking didn't." I chuckle and shake my head in both happiness and surprise.

And, yes, she really fucking did.

There, sitting on the center of my notebook is a plate of what can only be sugar cookies judging from the concentrated scent of vanilla and butter and sugar. On top there's a piece of paper taped to the foil with the word 'Creeper' written in big, bright purple letters. The fact it's not in black marker catches me off-guard, and I can't help but wonder if there's a significance there.

I walk forward a few steps and carefully set her notebook down on top of the snare drum. I need both hands to peel back the tin foil because there's no way in hell I have enough willpower to wait to try one. God, if they taste as good as they smell …

I have to smile, not that I try to stop myself, when I see the plate and the notebook on top of a clear plastic container along with a bottle of water. Apparently, Bella wants to make sure I plan on staying a while tonight. Then I have to laugh. Holy shit, all these days later and I just now realize that not once since I've been coming to her have I ever brought along something to drink. I've never taken a leak either, and I shudder just thinking about it.

Great … now I have to pee.

Pushing that uncomfortable thought to the back of my mind because yeah, I have a few hours until I can go, I hold my breath while I carefully unwrap the plate. The smell that fills the air can only be described as orgasmic and I let out what has to be the most obscene groan to ever leave my mouth.

"Oh, hell, she's seriously trying to kill me." My voice sounds like something between a groan and a whimper.
Stacked neatly and with extreme precision, as if she'd made a house of cards that would topple with the slightest provocation, are intricately and beautifully decorated sugar cookies: treble clefs, bass clefs, eighth notes, pianos, rectangles covered with snow white frosting and Oreo black music notes painstakingly painted on them. Lemon yellow, cobalt blue, Creamsicle orange, mint green, an explosion of color that's as big a feast for my eyes as the cookies will be for my stomach. Each cookie must have taken her an hour to decorate because they're covered with lines and dots, perfectly spaced, as if each is its own masterpiece.
I've never seen anything so incredible in my life.

They look almost too good to eat.

Almost.

Gingerly, I reach out and pick up a bright orange eighth note cookie and when I take a bite, it literally melts in my mouth.

"Holy … ummpf …" I know my eyes have rolled back into my head and I can tell I've just sprayed crumbs everywhere, but fuck me sideways, I've never tasted anything so good.

I shove the rest of the thing in my mouth and lick the frosting off my fingers. Once I take a swig of water, I get down to business because my time's running out. I grab the notebook beneath the plate because I'm dying to see what she wrote. Things were, and maybe still are, up in the air after last night, but the girl did leave me cookies. That has to be good, right?

Flipping to the newest letter I burst out laughing at her first line:

You gave me a pen, I made you cookies. 

God, she's fucking perfect and gorgeous and so mine, even if she doesn't know it yet.

You did say sugar cookies are your favorite, right? 

Um … I just wanted to say, well … thank you for listening. 

And for coming back. 

Especially for coming back. 

You didn't have to, but I'm really glad you did. (Because, if you're reading this that means you did and if you didn't well, I can just rip out this page and pretend none of this happened. That would really suck, by the way) 

I'm nervous to see what you have to say about what I told you, but I'm glad I did it. It's been a long time coming I guess. 

Is it weird for me to say I'm glad it was you I told more than anyone else? 

I would say see you soon, but that's your line, huh? 

Hope you like the cookies …pay attention to the white ones …

DG 

Of course that makes me immediately look down at the white rectangle cookies.

My heart's pretty much beating at least triple-time and I kind of can't breathe. I feel warm all over, but it feels good, a lot like it does when I get into bed and realize there are sheets fresh from the dryer beneath my blankets.

Oh.

Ohhhhhh.

I blink a few times, just to make sure I'm seeing what I think I am.

If I wasn't sure of what I want from Bella, I damned sure am now as I stare at the cookies.

There, painted on the white frosting, are the notes of the song she was playing … my song. Just bits and pieces, combinations, but I'd know that song anywhere. I hear it in my head often enough.

She hasn't played it again, not since that first night, but I can't help but hope that now, I'll finally get my song.
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