Chapter eleven

"Alright. We really need to come to a decision," I stated, looking at two couches sitting in front of us. I was getting impatient and he seemed oblivious.

"I can't decide..." he said, looking first at the beige leather couch, and then at the worn brown couch. Personally? I'd pick the brown one. It just looked so much more comfortable and homey.

"Get the brown," I snapped at him, shifting my weight from my left leg to my right leg. My feet were starting to hurt.

"Hmm..." was his only reply.

"Get the damn couch Sidney and stop being a jackass!" I whisper-screamed at him. "You know I get impatient, and yet you sit here and pretend to contemplate which couch to get. The girly one, or the manly bachelor pad one." He turned to me and flashed his melt-me-in-a-puddle-on-the-floor smile.

"You know I'm kidding."

"I know," I admitted, calmer now, all because of a smile.

"So stop worrying I'll get the one you hate, because we both know I'm going to get the brown one." I sighed in relief. I really actually, for a second, thought he was going to get the one I'd see in my mother's house. Not to say my mom doesn't have style, because that's where I got mine from, but her style is just... older.

"God, I feel like I'm buying furniture for a house we're buying together. You know? 'Honey, do you like this one?' That crap," I said, feeling a pillow as I walked by on our way to the beds. What I had just said didn't really register until it was already out of my mouth.

"So you want to buy a house with me?" he asked me with a grin on his face, while he looked at the price tag on a coffee table.

"No. That's not what I said," I stammered, still walking towards my destination.

"That's what it sounded like."

"It's not what I meant."

"So you'd never buy a house with me?" he asked, coming up beside me now and wrapping his arm around my waist. I wanted to wriggle free and say, 'Never in your dreams', but this boy? He's almost magical.

"Well, maybe if you could grow a beard."

"Ouch. That one stung," he whispered in my ear. "You'll pay for that one later."

"Should I be scared?" I asked, leaning into him only the slightest.

"Very," he stated, his lips on my ear. This was getting to be too much. I shrugged his arm off me and skipped over to a fluffy bed. When I turned back around, he looked like a little kid who just had candy taken away from him, head hung low, but when he brought his head back up, he was smiling, trying to disguise his disappointment. Don't get me wrong, I wanted him so badly, but there's always this... thing, holding me back whenever I meet a decent guy.

"Sorry..." I said, trailing off, fingering the edge of the down comforter in had between my hands.

"Why do you always do that Avery?" he asked, a hint of annoyance to his voice.

"I don't know," I lied.

"You know," he said, taking a step towards me, filling the gap. "You know perfectly well what's holding you back."

"It's not you," I said slowly, thinking about how I was going to say this.

"You wouldn't be standing here if it was me," he said, wrapping me up in a hug. "You'd have already run away if it was me."

"It's just, my dad was sort of not in the picture when I was growing up. He struggled with all sorts of addictions, was in and out of rehab, and was just not a very happy or nice person in general. I don't know. It's messed me up," I said. I could feel the tears leaking out of my eyes, staining his shirt.

"Avery, that was a long time ago. You're not there. He's not here."

"I know you're going to tell me that I need to get over it and move on with my life, but it's not that easy," I stammer, trying to pull away from him, but he keeps me where I am. I can't believe we're doing this in the middle of a furniture store where people are staring and scrutinizing Sidney's every move. Every time he touches me, I can almost hear a collective gasp coming from the staff.

"It'll always be a part of you," he said, kissing the top of my head. "How you handle it is the test."

"That's why I have Emma," I stated. "Most people think she's bad for me, but she's exactly what I need. She's my exact opposite," I paused to think about my next words. "And now I have you."

"Don't worry Aves, I'm not a drug addict, I promise," he said with a smile, as I leaned away to look at him. "Let me all the way in Avery. Let me be what you need."

"You're closer than you think," I whispered, feeling my walls crash down around me as he leaned in to kiss me.
----
I have a feeling that stupid brown couch will be used for nothing other than making out. Seriously, we got the dumb thing through the door, more like Sidney heaved it through and I watched and made sure nothing broke, and the second we sat down, we were going at it like high schoolers. After our little talk in the furniture store, I felt so much closer to him in every way possible, and apparently making out is a good way to show this.

"Sidney," I moaned, feeling his hand make its way up my back. My shirt was on the ground next to his on the wood floor. He was kneeling on the couch over me, using one hand to prop himself up.

"Mmm?" was his response.

"Should we be doing this here? On your brand new couch?" I managed between his lips. He pulled away for a second before answering.

"Just think of it as breaking it in," he said, reaching for my pants, and for once, I didn't stop him.

Chapter ten and a half

Because the last one was so short. :)

“Hey, Em, what about this one?” I asked her, holding up a sweater the next day in J. Crew.

“What the hell Aves, are you trying to look like a grandma? Because if so, you are so far succeeding,” she stated bluntly before turned back around to the rack of pants she was inspecting seconds ago. I’m sure even the pants cringed at the way she just attacked that argyle sweater.

Shopping with Emma, always an experience. I can always count on her for her brutal honesty, even if it makes little kids cry. The way she describes the clothes, is, for lack of a better word, redic.

“What about…” I started, picking up another sweater, my new fetish, but before I could even finish, she looked at the sweater, ripped it out of my hand and threw it back on the table.

“Avery, you’re twenty-freaking-four. Just because sweaters are comfortable doesn’t mean you have to buy every single one you see for God’s sake,” she lectured, picking up a lumpy oatmeal colored cardigan for emphasis. “Go, look over there at the brightly colored things. You need some spice in your life.”

“And neon colored sweaters will provide said spice for me?” I questioned dumbly, walking blindly in the direction she pointed, knocking over a rack of graphic tees on my way.

“It possibly could,” she stated, and then paused before continuing. “If Crosby isn’t doing the trick, that is.”

I stopped looking at the traffic-director neon orange sweater that was staring back at me and looked over in her direction. Did she really just say that? Someone’s a little bitchy today, aren’t they? I wasn’t sure how to respond. She was still staring at the rack of blazers in front of her and didn’t seem to think anything of what she just said.

“Uh, actually,” I started, getting ready to tell her about yesterday.

“I knew it!” she yelled in my direction, but I’m pretty sure the saleswoman a few feet away thought she was yelling at her, and looked up alarmed, and actually quite scared. “He’s not as great as you thought he’d be, right, right?! I’ve heard that’s how all hockey players are,” she stated, quite loudly, so before she could finish her sentence with what I knew was coming next, I towed her outside the store, throwing my bubblegum pink cardigan on the floor on the way.

“Shh, Em, stop,” I pleaded as we got outside.

“He’s not good in the bedroom,” she said triumphantly, a silly grin on her face.

As much as I wanted to agree with her and nod my head yes, make her think she’s right, I just couldn’t. I glanced down at the ground and then back up to her. Her smile faltered.

“Wait,” she started slowly. “You’ve slept with him?” she asked in almost a whisper.

“No, no, Emma, I haven’t, honestly, it’s just, we came kind of close yesterday, and I really, really like him, and I feel like I’m myself with him, even though I know that’s so ridiculously cheesy and corny, it’s true,” I said breathlessly, my breathing a little heavier.

“Okay,” she said after what seemed like, 6 hours of waiting for a response. “You’re my best friend. So what if you’re dating my hockey idol, I should be thrilled. I’m sorry I’m such a selfish bitch,” she said with a slight smile. “I’ll try and keep myself in check from now on.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” I said, giving her a hug. “To keep your ass from doing something stupid.”

“Thanks girl,” she said, returning the gesture. “I feel really bad that I just called out your boyfriend… I’ll buy you a sweater!” she said with more enthusiasm than a little kid going to get candy.

“Oh, what about thi-“ I began once we got back in the store, but Emma slapped my hand away from the yellow cardigan I was reaching for.

“Do you want to look like Big Bird?” she snapped at me. “Just go stand in the corner while I get you something decent.”

“Fine. Way to be a pushy bitch.”

“Oh, now I’m a bitch?” she asked with a smile, picking up something with her back to me.

“Yes, you are,” I stated blankly.

“When it comes to what you’re wearing and what you’ll be wearing in public with me bitch, I don’t care how pushy I have to be to get you in something decent.”

Chapter ten

So Cephalaspidomorphi got pretty boring, pretty fast.
This chapter's pretty short, but whatever. I got a chapter done. :)


“Sidney, stop,” I giggled, his lips pressed against my neck “I thought you wanted me to do the…” I paused, gasping slightly as he slid his hand under the back of my shirt. “furniture,” I finished, finding my words again.

“In a minute,” he mumbled pulling me even closer to him, wrapping his arms around my waist, and pulling me towards the couch.

I turned my head away from his lips, but that didn’t deter him. They found my hair as he pulled me down onto the couch with him. “Alright, stop,” I said, sitting up and away from him, my steel wall going back up.

This is how it had been the past few days. He’d call me and tell me he needed help with some random thing around his house, but when I’d get there, he’d greet me at the door with kisses, which would then migrate to the couch, where I’d get angry and sit up, serious again. I’m not sure why I always said yes to helping him. Maybe because I always thought there’d actually be something to do, and I can never say no to a job, or maybe because I just can’t resist that cute Canadian accent.

“Stop Sidney,” I snapped, swatting his hand away from my arm when he reached up to pull me back down to him. I usually gave in, but I wasn’t in the best mood.

“Come on Aves,” he started. “Look, you wanted furniture, we’re sitting on it.”

“I hate this couch.” I paused, thinking. “I hate when you do this to me.”

He feigned confusion and asked, “Do what?” A slight smile crept over his lips.

“You know I can’t say no to you. So you call me, all frantic, acting like you actually care about what your house looks like, when all you really care about is making out with me,” I stated, huffily, crossing my arms.

“You want to go look at furniture?” he asked me, unfolding my arms, and pulling me back down onto his chest. I rested my head on its side, listening to his heart beat rhythmically in his chest, and nodded against him, but I didn’t move. I stayed in that position for at least ten minutes, just listening to his heart beat, his arms wrapped around my back.

“Actually, on second thought, let’s not look at furniture,” I whispered, closing my eyes and letting his heart beat take me away.

I woke up in the same spot I fell asleep in; lying on Sidney’s chest, one of his hands in my hair. I raised my head and glanced at his face. His eyes were closed and his breathing was rhythmic. Did I really just fall asleep on Sidney Crosby? Oh God. I sat up quickly, waking him up as I did so. He looked up at me with a slightly confused look on his face before he remembered what I was doing there.

“Hey,” he said, sitting up with me, so I was straddling his torso, my arms around his neck.

“Hey yourself,” I replied, kissing his stubbly cheek. I ran my hand across his cheek. “You need to shave. Or are you already starting your beard for the playoffs?” I asked him with a smile.

“Ha ha, you’re so funny,” he mocked, returning the kiss, but on my lips.

“I saw that ‘beard’ from last year,” I said, making sure to put air quotes around beard for emphasis. “Pretty pathetic.”

“Hey. Watch yourself,” he said, eyeing me with a look I couldn’t quite figure out.

“Or what?” I asked, getting up from his lap, but before I could walk towards the kitchen, my destination of choice, I felt a little tap on my butt. I stopped dead in my tracks and turned to look at him. He had a cheesy grin plastered on his face, like a little kid who’s trying not to laugh.

“What was that?” I asked, pivoting around completely to face him, and putting one hand on my hip.

“Just letting you know who’s boss,” he stated, getting up from the couch and taking a step to fill the gap between us.

“Boss of what?” I asked sarcastically. “You can’t even grow a beard,” I stated with a smug smile dancing across my lips.

“Now you’re asking for it,” he said, pulling me back down on top of him on the couch.

His touch ignited something in me. Something I had never really felt before. This feeling? I wanted him so badly it wasn’t even funny. My hands were wandering under his shirt, but I could feel some hesitation on his part; almost as if he was holding back.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, breathlessly, pulling away from him for a second to take in his face. Confusion mixed with excitement, a combination I had never seen before.

“Who are you? And what have you done with Avery?” he asked with a smile. I blushed and looked down at my disheveled shirt that revealed part of my bra. I quickly fixed it and sat up straighter. “Oh, there she is…” he said, trailing off, his smile fading. “You really need to work on having fun,” he stated, kissing my neck.

“I know,” was all I could muster, because really? He’s right. I’m boring, and all I do is work. But with him? For some reason, he makes me feel like I can be myself, as cheap and Hallmark-greeting-card-like as that sounds, it’s true.

good gracious

So I just got back from Maine, and first off, let me say, it was probably one of the most beautiful places I've ever been in my life. Everything was so unspoiled and perfect.

Now, down to business. School is creeping closer (September 8th) and I have schoolwork to do that includes reading 3 books, creating 2 biology charts, doing 5 chapter summaries, 250 vocab words and a paper. I haven't done any of it yet, so please, don't think I'm neglecting you, it's just that I have to do well in school this year (I'm taking 2 AP classes) if I want to go to a decent college, and by decent, I mean somewhere along the lines of UVA, or Virginia Tech, maybe even Carnegie Mellon.

I also have to work to pay for the car I just bought, and sometime in the near future, I'm going to need a laptop, preferably a Mac, which is ridiculously expensive. Sorry, but all these things take priority.

Bottom line, don't be angry if updates are far and few, I still love you all. If you really want, read the last chapter and give me suggestions for what I should write, I always take them into consideration when writing. :)

Anyway, enjoy the rest of your summer, and maybe look for an update within the next few weeks. (I know I just rambled on for what must seem like days.) <3